Lacking in Sheen, Brilliance, or Vitality

BLOGGING ABOUT NOTHING...

2010-05-15T19:47:00.000-07:00

While sitting here coloring and trying to get through the first few episodes of FLASH FORWARD, it occurred to me that I hadn't done a blog entry since Wednesday. So I thought to myself... if I am in fact committed to this blogging shit, it's high time to make with the a new post.

So here is my new post...

The only problem is that I don't really have anything to blog about. The last few days have been mundane as fuck and there is no way I could bring myself to craft even a mildly interesting blog entry from it. I'm boring myself right now, just thinking about how "blah" the last few days have been. You know it's bad when you would rather blog about having nothing to blog about, then put forth the effort to mine an anecdote worth telling from the yawnfest my life has been.

So why am I blogging, right?

Out of a sense of obligation, I suppose. Which brings me to the point of this post... is it better to:

A) Blog about nothing in order to keep momentum
or
B) Not blog at all because you are going to bore the bejesus out of whomever read this?

If you believe the answer is "A" then I am happy to have done my job. If the answer is "B" then I apologize for wasting the last minute and a half of your life.

FIN

2010-05-12T22:34:00.000-07:00

It may be Wednesday night to you folk, but to me... it's the Wednesday night after I finished my mutherlovin' screenplay!

I am happy.

I am relieved.

I am at a loss for what to do with all of the new space in my brain piece...

And for those of you wondering... YES, there will be rewriting and reworking of the material which means NO, I'm not really finished with the damned script. But here's the thing... you only type "THE END" once and get the really awesome sense of accomplishment that comes along with that. It's a super freaking high. It's like a weight off my back. It's makes me wanna say, "Fuck yeah, this bitch is done!".

Now I'm in this euphoric post-writing stupor that'll last for a couple days. Then it'll wear-off and I will start compulsively going through the laundry list of half-written, half-baked story ideas that I have on my computer. I will then choose one of my partially developed concepts and I will promise to myself that THIS TIME I will finish the damned thing. I will mull the idea over. I will read and reread whatever materials I have previous collected or written. I will let the idea permeate my being. It will be with me in the shower, in the car, at the gym. And then when I am completely immersed in the process...

I will have to go back and rewrite the fucking script I just finished.

HARD EIGHTS, MOTHER'S DAY, TV SHOWS AND 225 LBS

2010-05-10T21:03:00.000-07:00

Another injury-free weekend.

On Saturday, I went with my Aspen pals to an annual Casino Night fund raiser for the North Venice Little League. It was my second year going and I was hoping to win a whole bunch of fake money at the craps table like I did last year. It's not that I have an affinity for fake cash, but the fact that at the end of the evening the fake money turns into very real raffle tickets. Last year I won an iPod for Paris, so I went into the night armed with some major greed.

Frank Mastromauro and I both built up nice stacks of chips thanks to our own dice-throwing prowess. Between the two of us, we rolled for a good half hour. Sadly, before the dice could come back around to us a third time (which everyone knows "is the charm"), the peeps in charge ended the gambling portion of the evening. It was over an hour earlier than the previous year, which was more than a little annoying since after the gambling we had to wait FOREVER for the raffle to occur.

The results? Frank won TWO different raffles for California Pizza Kitchen gift certificates. Kelly (Frank's wife) won BOTH things she really wanted (something Burke Williams related and a gift card to Bloomingdales). Sadly, I was shut out of the thirty something prizes they had.

But at least I had company to my misery... Mark Roslan didn't win shit, either.

I spent mother's day with my mother, and we went to see IRON MAN 2. It was my second time seeing it and I actually liked it more this time around. I think the first time I watched it with a more critical eye and I was disappointed by several missed opportunities to maximize the drama/conflict in the plot. This time I just allowed myself to get Robert Downeyfied. Mom also liked the movie, but that's because she's an awesome Mom who likes comic movies, Lost and Sons of Anarchy.

This leads me to the third leg of this post... TV SHOWS. Last night I caught the latest episode of LOST online (as I am wont to do while coloring). Now I'm not going to talk specifics about the episode, so as not to eff it up for anyone who isn't up to date. I will say that it was a REALLY GOOD episode and I did get a little teary-eyed near the end. Anyway, I what I really wanted to say is that I am bordering on distraught that Lost is ending... one more favorite show bites the dust.

I'm more than a little bitter that in 2010 I find myself without the usual stockpile of "MY" shows to look forward to. In the last few years I have lost my all-time favorites... Galactica, The Wire, The Shield, Deadwood, and now Lost. In addition, once-dear-to-me shows like Smallville, The Closer, Heroes, Gray's Anatomy, Rescue Me, Nip Tuck, Entourage and Weeds have all outlived their awesomeness. Now I am left with only a few shows that are must watches... Breaking Bad, Mad Men, Sons of Anarchy, and In Treatment. That's it. That's all I have left. Hung and Nurse Jackie are pretty good shows, but I'm not going ape-shit over them like I do with all my faves. This sucks. Yo, where are all my awesome new joints at?

Okay, one last thing...

225 lbs -- it's no secret that among my workout pals Frank, Mark and Vince... I am the lightest in the ass AND the weakest (not counting Chaz who is a newbie and will be surpassing me by the end of the year). So 225 pounds on the bench press isn't that significant a number to them, because they're way past that. But to me, it's a milestone. Two plates on each side represents my own personal idea of what "a man" should be bench pressing. Put it it this way... at the NFL combine they test draft picks by how many times they can bench 225. And bench it they do, to the tune of 15-35 times. So being able to bench 225 lbs JUST ONE TIME would make me at the very worst 1/35th the man that a football player is.

I can live with 1/35th...

But today, despite the fact that it was one of those low-energy mondays, I managed to bench 225 lbs 1 and 1/2 times. That means on a good day I can be approximately 1/20th the man an NFL football player is.

Hurray for me!

MY BLOG TITLE

2010-05-08T17:09:00.000-07:00

This post is gonna be short.

This is partly because I want to start slow and manage expectations (as previously stated), but mostly because I am supposed to be working on my script right now. I'm almost finished with the bedazzled screenplay, so it would behoove me to stay on task.

Anyway, the purpose of this post is to divulge the meaning of my blog title. It used to be called Brian Booch Blather because, well, that's what my brother Steve named it when he set the blog up for me way back in 2005. At some point I decided that I should be the author of my own blog title. So I did.

What does it mean?

It's the dictionary definition for the word "dull".

Now you know...

BABY, IM BACK!

2010-05-08T00:32:00.000-07:00

Okay, I guess it remains to be seen whether or not I am truly back. But after a three year hiatus and a bout of impulsiveness, I have decided to seriously consider committing to the possibility of maybe, perhaps giving this bloggy crap another go.

I'll start out small and manage expectations...

Welcome Back, Me!

OFF THE GRID

2007-09-25T09:34:00.000-07:00

Hi all... it's been a LONG time since my last post. It's been a busy month and I haven't really had the time to throw down with my usual blogging nonsense.

Speaking of nonsense... we all know by now that the only reason I even have a blog is so that I can post pictures of myself. So here is a REALLY current picture of me. I'm talking minutes old.

In the picture you may notice a few things.
1. I'm growing my hair out.
2. I have sideburns
3. My beard is getting longer
4. I'm going bald

Feel free to discuss amongst yourselves. I'm moving on...

Recently I started getting back into drawing and painting, which is something I haven't done since C & C Music Factory was telling Everybody to Dance Now. Anyway, I started with charcoal, then moved to pastels. And after getting seriously frustrated with my inability to control the pastels (and get fine detail), I moved on to watercolors. My first few tries were so-so, but I really like my latest piece.

Take a look and see for yourself...

I still have a long way to go before I am comfortable with the medium, but I thought this was a pretty good start. I also have to get more (better) supplies and I really need to learn many watercolor techniques. Oh yeah... and I need to find the time to add painting into the mix of my daily life.

Good luck with that, self.

Catch ya'll later!
b

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME (or setting the world record for most times using the number 37 in one post)

2007-09-02T23:40:00.000-07:00

Howdy all,

It's about twenty till midnight, which means I can still get this blog in on time.

I'm 37 years old and I'm not sure I like it. I will reserve judgement since I've only been 37 for 23 hours, but my first impression is that it's nothing to write home about. Honestly, I'm not really feeling 37. I don't even know what 37 is supposed to feel like.

If anyone who has lived through 37 would like to offer some insight, let me know what I'm in store for. Because it's not a landmark age so I don't really know what to expect.

Anyway, that's it for now. I'm sleepy...

Happy Birthday Self!
b

I'M GOING TO RUN THIS JOKE INTO THE GROUND

2007-09-01T16:05:00.000-07:00

Hey peeps,

I'm still pretty swamped with work and polishing my Grey's Anatomy spec (what else is new), so this is gonna be another short blog entry.

Enjoy this picture of my brother STEVE and his son ALEX...

Alex is getting big, huh. They grow up so fast!

b

FAMILY PICS PART 3

2007-08-31T18:02:00.000-07:00

Hi all...

I'll try to get on later so I can write something incredibly inane, but for now you will just have to tide yourselves over with a photo of my cousin, ELIZA!

Enjoy!
b

NO TIME FOR LOVE DOCTOR JONES!

2007-08-30T16:50:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to stop by (virtually speaking) and get in a quick blog before I scoot off to class. So this one is going to be short and sweet... like me circa 1984-85.

For years I have batted this idea around my ahead, and I wanted to put it out there in the universe... you know, throw it on the fridge to see if anyone salutes it.

Okay, mixed metaphors aside... I've been wanting to write a book called...

The Longest Suicide Note Ever

No, I don't want to kill myself... what I want to do is use the concept of a suicide note to say every bizarre thing that I ever wanted to say about anything and everything. No apologies, no holding back... I'm talking pure unadulterated booch dialectics. It will be like my Aristotle's Poetics. (Wow, that feels way self-centered and over-the-top-full-of-myself just writing it... and it might actually be a new low for me).

Okay, I may be overstating things a bit...

Seriously though, I've been bandying this idea for a while because for some reason I am obsessed with the idea of writing a character who believes that he wants to commit suicide, only he is too ineffectual to actually do it. Basically he has serious commitment issues about this upcoming suicide. So everyday he adds another page to The Longest Suicide Note Ever. Is that even mildly interesting to anyone besides myself?!

Any thoughts?

After reading through this, I had to resist the urge to erase the entire thing. Why? Because I think I there is something wrong with my brain, and I am opening myself up to some serious psychoanalysis. Anyone want to venture a guess as to the meaning behind me wanting to write an innefectual loser as my mouthpiece?

Geez... something is really, really wrong with my brain. Luckily I have to go to school, so I have no choice but to stop this rambling.

Somebody FIX MY BRAIN!

:)
b

MORE FAMILY FIRST...

2007-08-30T00:18:00.001-07:00

Hi all..

just thought I would drop another family photo for my little series. This is of course... PARIS!

He favors his father quite a bit, doesn't he?

Goodnight!
b

FAMILY FIRST...

2007-08-29T14:35:00.000-07:00

Okay, in an effort to be less VAIN and SELF-CENTERED, I have decided to start posting up photos of people OTHER than myself. But in keeping with the personal nature of this blog, I will only be posting up pictures of family members.

So without any more fanfare, here's the first family member to grace my new pictorial series called... FAMILY FIRST!

This is my teenage cousin, DAWNETTE...

Isn't she absolutely darling?

Until next time...
b

NO ENSEMBLE CAST HERE

2007-08-28T14:39:00.000-07:00

It has been brought to my attention (by multiple blog readers) that I have a tendency to post only photos of MYSELF on this blog. While I do NOT deny the accuracy of this , I do take exception to the pejorative implication.

And here's my vehement response to that...

1)

2) This blog is strictly a star vehicle.... there's no ensemble cast here. This blog aint called "Brian Booch and his Amazing Friends". It's not "Friends", it's "According to Jim".

3) It's simple mathematics! A picture is worth a thousand words, so think about how much time and energy I'm saving.

4) It's MY blog peoples. The fans come because they want their daily dose of all things Booch. And like any respectable pusher, sometimes I have to hook them up with the good shit... the real primo visuals. When I have that extra potent, high quality shit... I GOTS to lay off on the masses. If you are up on your street game, you will know that it's all about the come back. Gotta keep them coming back for that next fix... and what better way to do it than with pictures of ME.

5) I'm incredibly self-centered.

Okay... I'm done. If I have to justify my actions, then maybe you all don't deserve ANY MORE OF THIS...

:)
b

AN EXCERPT FROM MY SPEC

2007-08-27T21:14:00.000-07:00

Me again... like who else would it be writing on a blog called Brian Booch Blather.

I thought it might be nice to post up the first 6 pages of my Grey's Anatomy spec for any Grey's fans out there who are also Brian Booch Blather fans (yeah, I know that narrows down the field considerably).

I put together an album for the 6 pages (below), but I have no idea if it's easily readable or not. If anyone cares to read it and comment on the relative ease or difficulty... that would be AWESOME! Or at least mildly appreciated.

Anyhoo, here it is...

My Grey's Anatomy Spec... the Teaser!

Enjoy!
b

A LITTLE PROJECT

2007-08-27T19:39:00.000-07:00

Hi all...

Today I decided (in honor of my upcoming 37th birthday) to ATTEMPT to collect pictures from every year of my life. I know for a fact that there are going to be some holes... probably a lot of them, but that's okay.

I think what I'm striving, for rather than just a year by year chronology, is to capture the various looks that I have had over the years. And there were many. I'm not going to make any promises about WHEN I am going to post the Booch pictorial retrospective, but hopefully it won't be more than a week or so.

I guess I can just put up as much as I have... then try and fill in some of the holes over time.

Anyway, that's my latest hair brained scheme. Wish me luck! And of course if anyone happens across any embarassing pictures of me, they can feel free to pass them on. I promise to include even the MOST God awful ones (and there are many).

That's it for now...
:)

HURRAY FOR ME!

2007-08-26T18:10:00.000-07:00

I must be on some kind of natural high, because I am blogging like an addict over here! The reason for this one though, is because I just finished the first draft of my Grey's Anatomy spec!!!

I don't know if it's worth a crap and it's running way too long, but at least it's done. And by done I mean just in that first draft, destined to be re-written a bunch of times, sense. I ended up at 68 pages, so I have to cut at least 10 and probably more.

But you wanna hear about prolific? In the past day and a half I cranked out 25 script pages-- which is a bunch, for those who aren't in the know. In fact, it wins the coveted title of most output ever BY ME in a 36 hour period. I'm not sure if its Guiness worthy, but I'll take it.

Too bad they haven't brought back that TV classic, THAT'S INCREDIBLE, because with output like that... I'd be all over that bitch!!!

Anyway, my eyes burn, my ass is sore, and my fingers are bleeding a little... so that's all for now.

HURRAY FOR ME!
b

AN OLD PROMISE

2007-08-26T11:26:00.000-07:00

Hey there...

A while ago I promised to upload some pictures from my trip to Mexico, but being the LAME S.O.B. that I am, I never got around to it.

I woke up this morning and decided to try and undo some of my wrongs... so here's an album for your enjoyment!

TRAVERSING MEXICO 2007

:)
b

3X IN ONE DAY!

2007-08-25T23:50:00.000-07:00

I don't really have much to say, but I figured I might as well drop another blog entry before I get too sleepy.

Why? Maybe Im making up for last time. Maybe I feel guilty. Maybe I just smoked 1/6th of a very expensive cigar and am feelin' a little light headed.

Here's a picture of me... taken a approximately 11:49 PM.

Don't I look just darling? Or at the very least mysterious?

Feel free to discuss on your own. Me... I'm gonna hit the hay! Now I will end this blog with the exact words Paris and I exchange EVERY night...

Goodnight, sweet dreams, don't let the bed bugs bite, buenos noches and I love you!

And I'm out!
b

CHAPTER 8

2007-08-25T21:41:00.000-07:00

Hi all... just thought I'd put up the long overdo Chapter 8. I haven't read it since 2003, so hopefully it doesn't suck!

Chapter 8

The following day an inordinate number of Totally Toys employees straggle in late, each sporting their own brand of hang over. The director of human resources, Miranda Fellows, knows right away that something is amiss when Henrietta staggers in an hour and a half late. Miranda, dubbed the Tinman by her peers because of her freakish gray complexion and her apparent lack of a heart, interrogates Henrietta. She learns of the previous evening's activities, minus Henrietta's affair with Edwin, wisely omitted from the story. Miranda reprimands her, then forces her to draft and distribute a company memo forbidding employees from going to Hardballs between Mondays and Thursdays.

Henrietta and her stack of memorandums go first to the marketing department, where she is forced to leave Joan's copy on her chair, since she is still not in. Mae, one of the few punctual bar hoppers, takes her memo, reads it, and tosses it in the trash. It is not an act of defiance on her part. In her mind the memo is superfluous; fed up with bars and their inherent falseness, she has decided never to return to Hardballs. Besides, she doesn't even like sports. Henrietta apologizes for the memo and moves on to the next department.

Joan arrives minutes later, sporting a bounce in her step and beaming with satisfaction. Mae spies her arrival from behind the wall separating their cubicles, taking notice of her exuberant manner. Mae's internal alarm goes off immediately. Joan leans over and winks at Mae, and like that, a wave of doom hits her. The hairs on the back of her neck to stand up, confirming that her worst fears have been realized; Joan fucked Danny last night. Mae turns away from Joan, picks up the phone and fakes being busy in hopes that Joan will go away. But Joan doesn't go away. She waits Mae out so she can deliver her grand announcement. Five minutes go by, and Mae's resolve begins to weaken. She runs out of made-up things to say to the empty phone, so she decides upon a new tactic.

“Okay then.” Mae says to the empty line. “I'll drop those reports off at your desk right now. “ She hangs up the phone, grabs a random stack of papers.

“Good morning.” Joan's tone smacks of smugness.

“Morning.” Mae gets up with her papers and starts to walk off. Joan calls out to her, loud enough that Mae cannot keep walking and later claim to have not heard. Mae turns around. “Yes?”

“What time did you get in?” asks Joan.

“On time.”

“Did you have fun last night?”

“It was okay.”

“I'm so worn out from last night. I was gonna call in sick.” Joan walks over to Mae, forcing the conversation. “Have you spoken to Danny?”

“No.”

“I bet he's not even in yet.” Joan winks.

Mae turns to leave, disgusted with the implication but trying to take the high road. It takes only a heartbeat for her feistiness gets the better of her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I don't kiss and tell.” Joan winks again.

“You don't?!”

“Nope.”

“Do you swallow and tell?!” Mae winks back at her, then storms off.

Joan, returns to her desk, in a shock caused by what she perceives as unwarranted attack. She allows herself a few minutes for self pity, before trying to figure out why Mae mistreated her so. It doesn't take long for her figure out that Mae has a crush on Danny. Although Joan is relieved that there is at least a justifiable reason for Mae's behavior, she is not sure how she feels about it.

Danny spends the morning writing in his journal. He gives an objective and accurate account of the previous evening, with the exception of his treatment of Joan. Fueled by guilt, he is unusually kind and understanding in his characterization of her failed seduction. He offers up a conclusion that she was fueled by alcohol and perhaps some ambiguity on his part, for not telling her outright that he wasn't interested. He condemns himself for not spotting her intentions sooner, so he could have diffused the situation.

Yet most of his writing that morning is about Mae. He fills page after page with complimentary adjectives, explaining to himself what it is that he really likes about her. After exhausting a thesaurus worth of synonyms for amazing, he spends a little too much time examining exactly why he is so attracted to her. It is his analytical nature that makes him do this, even though the answer is simple-chemical attraction. He fills up several pages explaining the obvious to himself, that he and Mae have extraordinary chemistry, and that there is nothing he would like more than to get to know her better. But, then he fills even more pages with all the reasons why he is not going to pursue Mae. He invents a slew of assorted excuses to masquerade the fact that he is afraid of being rejected. Yet, in all this writing, he never mentions the real reason for his cowardice; if she finds out that he is an ex-convict, and sooner or later she will, then she will surely break his heart. He has felt that sting before, and won't allow himself to go through that again.

Danny finishes his writing exercise and decides to go get some coffee. He tells himself that he is tired and in need of some caffeine, but what he really needs is a fix of Mae. Even though there can be nothing between them, there is no harm in looking. He walks by her cubicle on the way, but she is not at her desk. Her purse and jacket are there, so he is sure that she in just away momentarily. So, he takes his time going to the cafeteria, walking without purpose. Once there, he leisurely fixes his coffee and inspects the snack machine for the millionth time, as though somehow a desirable snack will appear if he looks long enough. When he has killed a reasonable amount of time, he takes his coffee and does another walk by. But she is still not back, so he is forced to leave without having laid eyes upon her.

Mae is outside the business complex, steaming about her encounter with Joan while watching her cigarette burn away to nothing. She doesn't feel like smoking, it is not a social situation, after all, but maintains the smoker's charade by wielding a lit cancer stick. She curses her former friend, even though she is without cause for such condemnation. Mae has a knack for embracing her feelings of personal injury, however unjustified. By holding on to her pain, she can better justify the inevitable lashing out at others that follows these feelings. She tells herself that Joan was most likely lying to her about Danny. She tells herself that Joan's lies were an act of malice, intended to harm her. She tells herself that Danny is too much of a nice guy, and way too smart to fall for Joan's primitive methods.

The unsmoked cigarette extinguishes itself at the base of the filter. Mae takes this as a sign that it is time to go back inside. She decides to return to her desk by way of the first floor, a route that is the long way back and passes by the computer room. She stops by the computer room, peeking her head into the room in search of Danny. She is disappointed to find him missing from the room. She will have to take another trip down here later, so she can look into his eyes and see for herself that Joan is a liar.

The rest of her morning is spent quietly catching up on work. Mae follows through on several old tasks that were put aside out of sheer laziness. She redirects her anger with Joan, using it as fuel to have the most productive morning since her first week on the job. Joan and Mae avoid each another for the rest of the day. Sometime after lunch, Mae's phone rings. It is Danny, calling her under the guise of checking to see how her computer is doing.

“Hi, Danny!” Mae says. “How are thing down there?”

“Not too bad. A little boring. I was wondering, is your computer working okay?”

“Like a dream. Thanks again for fixing it.”

“Anytime.”

“And thanks for driving last night. I had a good time.”

“Me too.” There are a million things Danny would like to say to her, but somehow with opportunity knocking, he is at a loss for words. After a long silence, in which Mae begins to wonder why he even called, Danny ends the conversation. “Well, I gotta run. It was nice talking to you.”

“You too. Catch you later.”

In spite of its brevity and lack of substance, the conversation is enough to carry them through the rest of the afternoon. Danny sits at the workbench for most of the day, feeling stupid for calling her and having nothing to say, but grateful to have at least heard her voice. He decides that he detected genuine joy in her tone, another sign that she likes him. It makes him feel good to be liked, especially since he doesn't really have any friends. It's not that he is an antisocial person, he is just very cautious about adopting friendships, and the right situation for one has not presented itself in the two years he has lived in California. He starts to think that perhaps he can become a friend with Mae. He enjoys her company, and even if he is too chicken shit to pursue her romantically, there is no harm developing a platonic relationship.

Mae stays busy with work for the remainder of her day. Danny pops into her head on a few occasions, but for the most part she is preoccupied with the business at hand. She doesn't even think much about Joan or anyone else for that matter. She stays in a working “zone” that lasts until it is time to leave.

She is out the door and in her car at exactly one minute past quitting time. She races home to grab a quick bite to eat and take a shower before her Wednesday night yoga class. She looks forward to the time spent stretching and meditating, wanting to release all of the pent up negative energy she has collected in the last 24 hours. She also feels like she needs a break from obsessing about Danny, the object of her desire that she has forbidden herself from having. All of the waffling back and forth has drained her mentally to the point were she needs the refuge yoga provides.

Edwin Rolle drops by Joan's desk on the way out of the office. He pretends that he is just stopping by to say hello, but his real mission is to begin spreading his latest gossip. Figuring that she is the candidate most likely (after himself) to champion a rumor, he makes sure to casually mention his sexual encounter with Henrietta. But Joan doesn't respond with her normal zest for company dirt. Her disinterested harrumph is enough for him to end the encounter quickly, and seek another agent for his rumor-mongering. He hunts down and faux-confides in Oliver Monpierre, the customer service manager and a capable gossiper in his own right. Edwin's news is well received by Oliver, who vows not to tell a soul; a sure sign that it will make it's way to every single pair of ears that pulls a Totally Toys check.

THREE WEEKS IS TOO LONG

2007-08-25T11:33:00.001-07:00

Sorry Folks,

Once again I have to come back to my blog, hat in hand, asking for forgiveness. I can go on and on about how LAME I am (BTW-- i think lame has replaced LOVELY as my most frequently used word on the blog), but instead I will assume that I am fogiven and will move on.

Moving on. Sort of...

I'm busy as usual... doing the same assortment of coloring and writing. SHOCKER-- I'm trying to catch up, which of course never actually happens since more stuff always comes up. SO maybe I'll stop bothering to mention that in future blogs. It's always the same crap.

I'm sitting here at Starbucks, taking a break from my GREY'S ANATOMY spec script that I NEED to finish by Monday. It's going a little (and by a little I mean A LOT) slowly because, frankly.... I'm sick of Grey's Anatomy, and here's why: The first class on doing the OUTLINE was 12 weeks long, and since I finished it pretty much by week 5, I was left idling for the remaining 7 weeks. I wanted to start writing, but I figured it wouldn't be a good idea since I knew I was going to take the second class (WRITING THE SPEC). I figured with a new teacher I would have different input, so why waste my time writing it only to have to do some possibly major rewriting. So I waited until the new class (which was like 3 weeks later because I went missed the first 2 classes while on vacation). So all told, I waited about two months between the time I wrote the outline and started writing the script. Now here I am in week 8 of 10 and I have no juice left for my spec. But I need to finish it otherwise I would have wasted the last 3 months.

Then I can move on to my spec of THE CLOSER, which I am itching to do.

ALSO... another reason why my Grey's script is not going smoothly... they KICKED ISIAH WASHINGTON (Burke) off the show, so I had to remove him from my script. I should have redone my outline and reworked the storyline he was in, but I was so friggin tired of the outlining process that I decided to rewrite it on the fly. DAMN Isiah Washington and his damned homophobia!

On the positive side, I've been going to the gym regularly for a month now. I hooked up with some old friends who work out at my gym, and joined in on their workout. It's pretty awesome, actually. We go Mon-Fri from 8am-10am and work out like a bunch of Lou Ferrignos (Gooey Louey to all you Pumping Iron fans). I've lost 10 pounds of flab, but as of yet I am no Incredible Hulk. But maybe next month, with a little hard work and a lot of anabolic steroids I could be...

Anybody know where I can get some inexpensive steroids? Or maybe if someone has Barry Bond's cell phone number, I can ask him direct. Maybe he's got an extra tube of THE CLEAR lying around.

Oh... let me post a picture of the NEW and slightly improved Booch!

Not too shabby, eh? And yes Steve... I bet I think this song is about me!

Okay then... I gotta get back to work on my stupid spec.

More later!
b

LAMEST POST EVER

2007-08-04T00:08:00.000-07:00

Hi all...

Its midnight and I didn't blog like I was supposed to. Man, I am one seriously uhreliable blogger... I wouldnt be surprised if I lost the 10 loyal blog readers that I had. And by ten I mean those family members polite enough to check out my blog from time to time.

I was gonna post some photos from my Mexico trip... but they are on my laptop and I'm blogging from my desktop. So the fine visuals will have to wait. It's just as well because I am tired and I don't really have much to say. Perhaps I will recap my day in a poem called....

POETIC RECAP

I woke up early and went to the gym
I did some coloring revisions for my editor
and emailed them to him

Paris returned from his aunt's place
I was happy to see him
so I punched him in the face (okay, I didn't... but I couldn't think of anything that rhymes with place)

I went to my pal Chaz's birthday bash
I had a couple drinks
but I did not crash (I wasn't drunk, people!)

Okay... that was horrible (and partially untrue)! SO I will just stop while I am incredibly behind.

I promise to write more interesting and thoughtful stuff tomorrow... when I'm not quite as tired.

good night!
b

I'm BACK... I'm TIRED...

2007-08-02T22:26:00.000-07:00

..and I've got a lot of emails to catch up on. But Xochil and I are safe and sound, and thankful that my brother picked us up at the airport.

I'll check back in tomorrow... along with more promises of blogging and pictures!

good night!
b

LAX

2007-07-29T06:34:00.001-07:00

Hi all...

I'm sitting here at LAX, waiting for my ON TIME Delta flight. So I thought I would hook you all up with a lovely real time picture of myself. It's in snazzy sepia tone because... well, because I'm feelin sepia this morning.

Feel free to download this photo and share it with your friends. Heck, make a T-shirt out of it!

Click the photo if you can't get enough of this pic and you really need to see it 2X larger.

:)
b

HE RETURNS SO HE CAN GO...

2007-07-29T04:32:00.000-07:00

Hello all my beautiful people...

As luck would have it, I am taking my 5th trip in the last 2 months... this time a place in Mexico called Tepic. Now for those Mexican geography enthusiasts this will be old news, but Tepic is as city in the state of Nayarit. And where is Nayarit? As far as I know its a couple hours from Puerto Vallarta... which I'm pretty sure is in the central part of the country.

You will all be happy to know that I am NOT taking American Airlines. This time it's Delta, baby, so I think I have a much better shot at getting some on time flights! Sorry dad, but American has not been kind to me lately. My flight is at 7:15 AM, so we have to mosey on out of here by 4:40 AM. I managed to sleep from 2:15 to 3:40, so I am well rested as you can imagine.

For those of you wondering, this is a scouting trip I am taking with Xochil. We are scouting for property in Mexico, which I know very little about... so don't ask for details. When I get back I should have a bunch more information, which I will gladly share.

The only downside of this trip is that we are going to miss Paris... AND I am going to be breaking my two week routine of going to the gym. Hopefully I won't lose the ridiculous amounts of muscle mass I have gained in the last 14 days. he he...

Anyway, it's time to go... WISH US LUCK!!!!

:)
bri

Chapter 7

2007-07-24T18:52:00.000-07:00

Hi all..

Just thought I'd offer up the next chapter of Sex Offenders... Enjoy!

Chapter 7

Mae gets home and heads straight for the bath. She takes a long, hot shower and tries not to think about how Danny is faring. For a while she occupies her mind with memories of relationships past, but uncharacteristically finds them old and stale. So, she goes over her finances instead. But, without the benefit of a waterproof checkbook, there is only so much book balancing that she can do. She then tries planning her next vacation, but without someone to go with, she sure as hell isn't going to Hawaii with Joan anymore, the idea of a vacation just makes her feel alone. She even compiles a Christmas card list, making sure to cross Joan off of it, even though it is four months away.

Yet after all this mind wandering, her thoughts returns to the subject of Danny. This time she gives in, replaying the evening in her head from beginning to end. She runs through it four times, editing Edwin and Joan out a little more each time. By the time her shower runs out of hot water, Mae has a complete revisionist version of the evening with no trace of Edwin or Joan. She goes to bed with Danny still on her mind, and in the half hour it takes to fall asleep, not once does she think about her long-standing rule against dating coworkers.

During the night, Danny has a dream about Mae. In the dream he is also sleeping on the couch, although the apartment is different for no particular reason. Mae enters from outside, using her own key to get in. Wearing only underpants, she slinks over and starts kissing him. She pulls up his blanket, revealing his naked body. She climbs on top of him, pulling the blanket over them, her flesh pressed against his. He wakes up and kisses her back, their passion escalating into fondling. He rips her underpants off with unnatural strength, allowing their naughty parts to touch. She reaches down and begins to fondle his genitals. The heat of their foreplay is so realistic that he begins to wonder if he is even dreaming at all.

The overwhelming sensation caused by her dream manipulation of his penis causes him to actually wake him up. But instead of snapping out of the wet dream and finding himself alone, he finds it is really happening, except that it is Joan, not Mae, on top of him. He feels the weight of her naked body against his. He feels the wetness of her tongue on his neck. His hands instinctively grope handfuls of her flesh. Slowly his dormant cognitive abilities return to him and he is able to step outside himself to see what is going on. He realizes that he is not fooling around with Mae, and that it is Joan who is orally engaging his privates.

Danny gently but firmly pushes her face away from his nether region.

“No. Stop.” He manages to say.

“Are you gonna cum? Already?”

“No.”

“It's okay, go ahead and cum.” She tries to continue her work, but he squirms free. He pulls himself out from under her and grabs the blanket to cover himself.

“What's wrong?” Joan is confused and hurt by his repulsion. “Didn't you like it?”

Danny, not sure how to respond, says nothing. He grabs his clothes and starts to get dressed. Joan is absolutely flabbergasted by his actions.

“I don't understand.” She says.

“It's not you, it's me.” Danny tries to explain. “I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea about things.”

Danny looks up and sees the hurt in her face. Joan, in the midst of the most embarrassing experience of her life, feels the overwhelming need to cry. Instead, she bites her lip, refusing to make matters worse.

“I should go.” Joan gets up and goes back into the bedroom to get dressed. Rather than feel violated, Danny starts to feel guilty for hurting her feelings. He feels awful, as though he is the one who has wronged her. He even tries to justify her actions in some way, considering the possibility that he may have inadvertently led her on. He concedes that it is possible that she misconstrued his intentions, when he allowed her passage into his apartment. He decides to apologize for whatever he may have done.

She returns to the living room, fully clothed, and Danny offers to drive her home. She declines at first, but Danny's persistence gets her to agree to at least let him take her back to Hardballs to get her car. His last words are a heartfelt apology for hurting her feelings.

Not a single word passes between them the rest of the night. He drops her off at her car and returns home. Exhausted and slightly disturbed, he wraps himself up in an old blanket and reflects on the bizarre evening. He doesn't sleep for the rest of the night, overcome with the guilt because somehow, however irrational, he feels like he has been unfaithful to Mae.
Edwin Rolle wakes up with a hangover. The splitting pain, a hundred proof hatchet lodged in his brain, is so strong that he doesn't notice the warm naked body sleeping beside him. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, checks the time on his bedside clock radio. Even though he is already a half hour late for work, he is slow to rise, because he doesn't burden himself with such trivial matters as getting to work on time. He stretches out his arms, then his legs, accidentally brushing against the callused feet that are attached to the mystery guest he was previously not aware of. His first thought is that whoever this person is, she is in dire need of a loufah. It then occurs to him that he has no recollection of what happened last night, and doesn't know the identity of the owner of those poorly maintained feet. Before he checks to see who it is, he confidently bets himself that it is Mae. After all, he is Edwin Rolle.

One glance at the sizable lump beneath the covers, and he knows that he is dead wrong. Edwin is by no means a physicist, but even he can tell that the mass underneath his blanket is too large to be Mae. He leans over and is surprised to see Henrietta Budge sleeping peacefully beside him.

While he is a little disappointed that his conquest of Mae failed, at least he saw some action, so there is nothing for him to be ashamed of. He is a big believer in the philosophy that there is no such thing as bad press, so it doesn't bother him that he slept with a less attractive woman who could generously be described as Ruebenesque. Sexual intercourse is one of the few instances where he shows absolutely no bias. Of course he prefers super models to super-sizers, but he is not one to turn away either when it comes right down to it. He considers it altruistic to bestow his lovemaking gifts on those less fortunate, who might otherwise never get to experience such ecstasy. So, even though he has not yet docked his ship in Mae's port, he declares the previous evening a success, even if he can't remember it.

MISSING IN ACTION

2007-07-23T19:02:00.000-07:00

Hi all

I'm sorry I haven't been blogging lately... I've been REALLY busy with a lot of things that aren't blogworthy.

I'm trying to catch up on my work and my writing and honestly... I haven't been doing a good job. So I apologize to those who have been patiently waiting for my inane ramblings. I still plan to post up some photos of my DR trip, but I'm not going to commit to a time since I blew the last few blog commitment I made (which makes me an unreliablogger).

I guess I can post a couple right now as an offer of good will...

Shamefully,
Bri

NO TOP TEN...

2007-07-08T15:09:00.000-07:00

Hi all...

For all those interested,my script "Lowlifes" failed to make the Top 10 in the Writers on the Storm screenwriting contest.

Those bastards! I think there was some obvious racism at play. :)

b

BABY I'M BACK... AGAIN!!!

2007-07-07T09:57:00.000-07:00

Hi all... I'm finally back home from the DR and in front of my computer where I can freely (actually it's 25 bucks a month) partake of the world wide web. I did a little remote blogging while I was there, so I will post that first. Then later on today I will finish off the final day of my trip... or what I like to call the LONG ROAD BACK!

Take a trip back in time with me as we rejoin our heroes at Miami International Airport where the Pasillas family is in danger of NOT making the flight to Punta Cana....

THURSDAY, JUNE 28TH
Okay, I'll save you the suspense (since this was over a week ago)... You’ll be happy to know that Luis and his family DID get on the flight, so we all made it safely to Punta Cana. Unfortunately, our luggage did not. Those bastards at MIA didn’t load any of our luggage onto the plane. That really sucked because there were NO more flights to Punta Cana until the next morning. So day one pretty much ended like this…

It took us 17.5 hours to get to Punta Cana from Los Angeles. That’s 17.5 hours of no sleep (for me) and the SAME CLOTHES. And when we got to the resort we checked out their clothing shop and they wanted 30 bucks for a T-shirt, 60 bucks for men’s swimming trunks, and 80 bucks for a bikini. So needless to say we wore the same clothes for the entire day and I was forced to spend 7 bucks for toothpaste and ONE toothbrush.

Do you wish you were here yet?

Our room turned out to be decent and we have the luxury of 3 beds (one for Paris, one for Pilar and one for Xochil and I). Luis on the other hand ended up with ONE BED for FOUR PEOPLE. And to think, he is a member of the club and is sporting the VIP wristband.

FRIDAY, JUNE 29TH
All things considered it was a nice restful day filled with food, sun, alcoholic beverages, and cigars… and I mean a lot of cigars.

The day started with a shower and back into the same clothes (yuck) for the third consecutive day (Wed evening, Thursday travel day, and Friday). There was of course the promise that our bags would be landing in Punta Cana at 11:45 AM and be delivered right to us.

Of course that promise was broken.

First of all, the 8:55 AM flight out of MIA did not leave Miami until 11AM… which got the plane into Punta Cana by 1:30PM. Of course our bags weren’t directly delivered to our hotel. Even after many phone calls and lousy customer service interventions (actually American Airlines customer service could use an intervention), our bags were still M.I.A. The pervading rumor/lie was that they were on some mysterious BUS that was “on its way”. That turned into more unfulfilled promises of our bags getting to the hotel no later than 3pm, 4pm, 5pm… and finally 6pm.

None of that happened.

But let me back up a little and explain the rest of the day. Xochil and I decided to go buy some friggin clothes, so we took the advice of a porter and took a hotel bus to the “shopping center”. I bought an overpriced but undersized T-Shirt and Xochil managed to find a tank top and a sarong type wrap around thing that she wore as a dress. On the way back we decided to get dropped off just outside the hotel grounds, where there was one of those blocks with a bunch of hole in the wall type boutiques/shops. We found clothes much cheaper there, but had spent most of the money I brought along on the bus trip. I had decided to take only 100 bucks and leave the rest of my money and my wallet in my room, so that if were led astray and got jacked, I wouldn’t be losing all my shit.

At this little mom and pop shopping area, we were greeted by an ambitious but friendly shop owner named “Mike”. He gave Xochil and I free good luck necklaces (which hasn’t delivered on that promise yet) and proceeded to sell us coffee beans and cigars.

Xochil and I walked back the 7 minutes to our hotel room and changed into these lovely new clothes…. After our umpteenth showers of course! Xochil felt better, but I was in the same underpants and shorts and starting to feel like a contestant on SURVIVOR… or maybe more like an extra on LOST. Anyway, after having to put on the same underpants for the umpteenth time (after the umpteenth shower) I vowed to retire these draws for good. No washing machine and back onto the front lines… these bad boys were going to get a military funeral and perhaps a memorial of some sort. They served their time well and never complained. God bless those drawers!

Anyway, we all drank a lot and I smoked at least 5 cigars on day two… then we went back to the business of trying to get our luggage. A very helpful employee of the resort was able to get into contact with someone who personally watched them load the luggage into a van… and finally at 6:30PM our luggage was on the way. So I waited outside the hotel until 7:30 PM when the bags finally arrived.

I have never been so happy to get my own stuff. And I’d also like to mention that my entire suitcase was full of new clothes, purchased especially for the trip.

SATURDAY, 30TH
This was the first of five LOVELY vacation days spent doing the same sorts of Caribbean vacation type things: eating, sunning, swimming, reading, writing, drinking, and smoking cigars. The only thing of note that happened to me was that one of the employees of the resort offered to sell me pot, cocaine or any other kind of narcotic that I might have wanted. Too bad for him that I gave up smack for lent.

SUNDAY, JULY 1ST
More eating, sunning, swimming, reading, writing, drinking, and smoking cigars…

MONDAY, JULY 2ND
Still more eating, sunning, swimming, reading, writing, drinking, and smoking cigars…

TUESDAY, JULY 3RD
Do you see a pattern yet? Lots more resorty Caribbean vacation stuff that is fun to do but not so much fun to blog about.

WEDNESDAY, JULY 4TH
The same as the other days but with red, white and blue balloons commemorating 231 years of states that are united (not in the Dominican Republic, in America) and free from the clutches of the evil Empire (British, not Star Wars).

Okay... that takes us to July 5th and our LONG TRIP HOME... I'll be back later with tales and photos to astonish...

:)
bri

DELAYS DELAYS DELAYS

2007-06-28T09:18:00.001-07:00

I'm in Miami International Airport, sitting on the floor waiting for my flight to Punta Cana, when I should already be there. Our 11:30 flight out of LAX didn't leave until 2:30 AM which got us into MIA (thats the airport code for Miami airport-- which is funny because I think we all feel M.I.A. right about now) at 10:15 AM. Unfortunately our connecting flight was at 8:55 AM so we missed that bad boy.

After getting off the plane we mosied on to our new gate to get our new boarding passes for the 1:05 flight. The flight attendant at our gate was a serious asshole, and should probably reconsider his career choice (customer service WAS NOT his forte). He was dealing with a flight to Panama CIty in which 12 passengers with boarding passes were M.I.A. (and I don't mean Miami International Airport). Still, there was no reason to be a prick to us... especially considering all this mess was not our fault. We got to LAX at 8:30 in PLENTY of time to make our flight. Now, almost 12 hours and no sleep later... we were forced to listen to the rudeness of a friggin' ticket agent.

Rather than wait for asshole to corrale the missing Panama City passengers, I elected to go one gate down and speak with a nicer ticket agent. Strangely, she knew which "rude ticket agent" I was referring to when I mentioned him. But she made up for it by getting our boarding passes-- although the first time around she gave me a ticket for someone named SAYDE BRUCELIA instead of Paris. So we got our tickets and that's the end of the story, right? Wrong! because Xochil's sister's family (Luis, Reyna, Mimi, and Sabina) were NOT confirmed on the flight and are currently on stand-by for a flight that has been oversold by 12.

So, if they don't get on the flight they will have to stay overnight in Miami at a hotel (on American Airlines' dime) and get on the flight the following morning. Needless to say Luis is not happy about that. I feel bad for my good fortune, but maybe this is one of those moments where I seem like the lucky one until my flight goes down over the Atlantic. Then Luis and company can thank their lucky stars that they didnt make the flight.

It's boarding time, so I gotta run... WISH ME LUCK and... pray we don't pull an Oceanic Flight 815.

later!
b

STILL NOT ON THE PLANE

2007-06-27T23:40:00.001-07:00

It's 11:40 and I'm still waiting...

While waiting I had a drink with Luis (Xochil's sister's husband) at the airport bar. We were bored stiff, so he offered to buy me a drink. At the bar he elected to get a shot of Johnny Walker, so I said "sure" and ordered the same (on the rocks). The bartender said... "Double shot for three dollars more?", so we agreed. At that point Luis must have regretted offering to buy me a drink because the tab for two double shots... TWENTY THREE DOLLARS. And no, they didn't give us the bottle.

So we stood around and TRIED to drink these double Johnnies on the rocks. Sadly we were not made of sterner stuff because THAT STUFF WAS NASTY. After several cringe filled sips, Luis suggested we get some coke put into our drinks. We did just that, and because of the lovely cola splash we were both able to finish our $11.50 drinks.

Now I'm slightly buzzed (I haven't eaten since 4pm) and STILL waiting for the esteemed peeps at American Airlines to start boarding our LATE ASS FLIGHT!

Again, pray that we dont crash.

:)
bri

3 POSTS IN ONE DAY!

2007-06-27T22:09:00.001-07:00

Hi all,

I'm sitting here at Los Angeles International Airport (LAX for those in the know) waiting for my flight. Sadly, It has been delayed an hour and a half and is not set to take off until 12:55 AM PST. Right now its only 10:09 so that means I have WAAAAAAAAAAY too much time on my hands. Luckily they have a T-mobile hotspot that I am taking full advantage of (shout out to David).

I don't really have much to say... other than DAMNED AMERICAN AIRLINES!!! This is my 8th flight in the last 45 days and ONLY the 3 American flights were delayed. SO here is the score... Alaska Airlines, Delta Airlines, Horizon Air = ON TIME.... AMERICAN AIRLINES = late, late and LATE! What kind of crap is that?! Alaska Air is my new favorite... they are on time AND they have more leg room than American. American Airlines is booty.

Okay, that's all I have to say right now... hopefully I will be able to get a couple more blogs in later.

Pray my plane doesn't crash to spite me.

:)
bri

CHAPTER 6.5

2007-06-27T19:11:00.000-07:00

Hi all... just thought I'd give you all the next chapter before I left. I dint get a chance to read it over, so I am sorry if it sucks.

CHAPTER 6.5

“What are you guys drinking over here?!” Edwin says, noticing the pair of cola beverages on the bar. “You guys are gonna have a drink with me, right?”

“No thank you.” Danny and Mae say in sync.

“C'mon, you're off the clock.”

“We can't. Were recovering alcoholics.” Dannys says.

“Agoraphobic alcoholics.” Mae corrects him.

The bad inside joke is lost on Edwin. “That's cool. I won't mess with your wagons or anything.” Edwin flags down the bartender and orders himself a light beer and a round of Jose Cuervo shots for his posse. They down the tequila and in the span of five minutes down several more, as Mae and Danny quietly observe. The group, their first two sheets already to the wind, break of into four smaller sub-groups for some obligatory company bashing.

And with three shots of liquid courage in his system, Edwin finally feels loose enough to begin his conquest of Mae. He pulls up a stool, wedging himself between Mae and Danny, and joins their non-conversation. Mae acknowledges him with a nod of the head and a half-smile, but says nothing. Edwin refuses to look directly at Danny, so there is no exchange between them. Instead, Edwin tries to engage Mae with embellished tales of his all time greatest drunken stupors. Yet he finds her a less than captivated audience. Her intolerance of him is compounded further by his wandering eyes, which seem to be holding their own separate conversation with Mae's breasts. She yawns and orders another round of cokes for Danny and herself, as Edwin concludes his monologue. She doesn't see Joan walk into the now well packed bar. Instead, she makes eye contact with Danny who is already trying to accomplish the same thing. An unspoken understanding is established between them. As if achieved via some psychic transmission, each expresses to the other, the desire to leave the bar together so they may be allowed a some privacy. The vibe is more than sexual, although there is definitely a lust factor involved. The desire for privacy is primarily to satisfy their individual needs to learn more about each other. They are both drawn to one another, feeling an inevitability about their relationship. Unfortunately, their sense of decorum, and fear of emotional ramifications, prohibits them from leaving. Instead they weather the storm that is Edwin, patiently enduring the hurricane winds blowing out of his mouth.

Joan is fashionably late to everything, including events that don't warrant such protocol. It is no surprise then, that she arrives thirty minutes into this little get together. Her arrival is first noticed by Henrietta Budge, who, in the throes of some serious intoxication, stumbles over to greet her. Joan tries to look for Danny, but is dragged into Henrietta's group before finding him. Henrietta forces her to do two rounds of shots before Joan breaks away to find Danny. Feigning a need to urinate, she escapes her new best friend's clutches and hunts down Danny. She is surprised and a little hurt to see Mae there, not because she senses Mae's attraction to him (she doesn't), but because Mae had flat out refused to go with her. For the first time since sixth grade, Joan feels slighted by someone she calls a friend. It is an alien feeling that she finds unacceptable, so she buries it down deep inside, placing it in an unmarked grave beside those middle school memories of betrayal that still haunt her. She forces her bubbly nature to come to the surface, giving out a round of hugs. She takes a seat next to Danny and unfurls her social butterfly wings.

Immediately, the dynamic of the group changes, as Joan forces her will upon the group like the oratory shaman that she is, and resurrects the floundering conversation. Even Mae is compelled to contribute to the conversation, in spite of the two-pronged discomfort caused by Edwin's unsavory intentions, and her desire to leave with Danny. Joan draws them in with a light hearted conversation that is innocuous and free of the hidden agenda beneath Edwin's prattling. She knows that stealth and guile are required when stalking prey, and is sober enough to act according.

“You guys may think I'm stupid.” Joan says. “But I used to drive by this place, and think it was a gay bar.”

“Why?” asks Edwin.

“The name. Hardballs. It sounds gay.” Danny chimes in. “I thought the same exact thing.”

“Me too.” Says Mae. All but Edwin, still slow on the uptake, are amused.

“If I had my own gay sports bar, I'd call it 'The Catcher's Mitt'.” Joan says.

“That's great. If I had one, I'd call it 'The End Zone'.” Says Danny.

“What about 'Switch Hitters'?” Mae adds.” Of course bisexuals would be welcome, too.”

Edwin, finally catching on, starts laughing along with the rest of the group. “Wait. I got one. How about 'Homo Runs'?” Edwin says.

“Homo runs?” says Mae.

It takes a few seconds for the joke to register with the others, but the effect is quite powerful. Unfortunately, it evokes a response that is exactly the opposite of its intended purpose; it kills the moment. One by one the grinning faces are changed into wrinkled brows and blank stares. Edwin stops laughing when he realizes that he is the only one still doing so. It occurs to him (correctly) that he may have stepped over the boundaries of good taste.

“Okay, I got a better one.” Beads of nervous sweat appear on Edwin's forehead. “How about 'Cock Fighters'?”

“I don't get it?” Joan says.

“Neither do I.” says Danny. “Where's the gay reference?”

“Is cockfighting even a sport?” adds Joan.

Edwin looks to Mae for support, but she just shakes her head. Seeking to exercise damage control, he blurts out a flimsy defense for his statement without thinking it through.

“You know, fags like cock, and fighting is a sport.” He is met with the same blank stares. Edwin's sweat glands kick into overdrive. “It is a sport. And they do like cock. I mean, I hear they like cock. I'm not gay, but I have a gay friend, and he says he loves it. He really loves it. I swear. That's what he says.”

No one responds to his rambling. Instead they stare at him incredulously, like rubberneckers at the scene of an accident, horrified by the carnage but unable to keep themselves from looking.

“You know. I'm just saying…” Edwin offers. “I'm just saying what he said.”

“Of course they like cock. Who doesn't?” Danny says, enlivening the mood.

Edwin seizes the opportunity to change the subject, ordering a round of tequilas for the group. The waitress brings back four double shots of Jose Cuervo 1800.

“C'mon guys, bottoms up.” He lifts the shot glass in the air, but only Joan responds in kind.

“On the wagon, remember?” Danny gestures to Mae and himself.

“I respect that.” Says Edwin. He toasts Joan, and with a clink of shot glasses they inhale them. They then take Mae and Danny's unclaimed shots and drink those too. Edwin, his blood-alcohol level well above the legal limit, starts to feel pretty fucking intoxicated.

The four shots give Joan a nice buzz, and produce an eagerness to face the challenge seated beside her. So she spends the next ten minutes feeling Danny out, like a heavyweight contender, flicking quick jabs of innuendo, trying to find a rhythm. Danny unknowingly plays the role of Rocky Balboa in this contest. Like Rocky he is an easy target for her to hit, but to her dismay, his Italian Stallion like constitution enables him to absorb blow after blow with virtually no effect. Danny does not pick up on her intentions even after a barrage of not so thinly veiled innuendoes. He recognizes her overuse of sexual metaphors and her touchy-feely hands, used in subtle but suggestive ways, but fails to make the connection that these signs are intended for him. He automatically attributes it to her outgoing personality rather than consider it an invitation meant for him. For an intelligent man, Danny has a blind-spot when it comes to the opposite sex. He misreads their feelings with a yeoman's regularity, and is all together illiterate when it comes to reading the signs of seduction. But, Joan has a champion's fortitude, and is willing to go the distance if she believes victory is within her grasp. Little does she know that it isn't. She has no chance, since Mae has already put him on the canvas for good.

Edwin, also clueless to his doom, takes a less tactful approach. He tries to be suave and irresistible, breaking into a British super spy routine that took him years to perfect and has yielded a high degree of success in similar situations. But it was never designed for use against women with even the suggestion of self worth, so it has no effect on Mae. In fact, the only indication she gives that she is even listening to his slurred, third rate cockney accent, are the drawn-out yawns that she makes no effort to conceal. Failure of his James Bond schtick gives way to basic gawking as Edwin's alternative tactic. Although, in the entire history of man's mating practices there is no known record of this device ever working, Edwin ogles at Mae as though she were a burlesque dancer flaunting her wares. He does so until she is so uncomfortable that she gets up to go to the bathroom. He trails behind, and waits for her by the restroom door. Danny watches from the corner of his eye, just in case he is forced to intervene on her behalf. Edwin tries to shake of the intoxication so he can muster up one last assault on Fort Mae. She comes out of the restroom and he lays siege.

“Can I tell you something?” Edwin doesn't wait for a reply. “I hope this doesn't sound like a line, but I gotta say, your farts smell amazing.”

Mae decides that there is no acceptable human response to such as statement, so she says nothing.

“I'm serious. I don't care if you had ten cans of pork and beans, I'd still go down on you.”

“I'm going home now.” Mae side steps him and walks off.

Mae returns to her stool to find Joan giving Danny a hand massage as she asks him about computer networking. Danny politely tries to answer in layman's terms, even though he has little interest in the subject. Joan incorrectly assumes that because he is “tech-guy” that he loves talking about computers. Danny finds himself in a position similar to the one Mae spoke of earlier. He wonders if, in the same situation, Mae would disdain Joan's disingenuous interest in what she assumes is a passion of his. This sparks a revelation that feels like an epiphany; Joan is trying to seduce him. Her hidden agenda now clear to him, he takes back his hand in hope of stopping the strange feelings of infidelity burgeoning within.

Mae sees this gesture as an attempt to cover up Danny and Joan's budding love connection. She considers this a slight against her perpetrated by Joan upon an unsuspecting Danny. Mae assumes that Joan's sexual prowess is so powerful that Danny can't help but be sucked into her web of sin. She doesn't notice the look in his eyes that tells her otherwise. Nor does she pick up on his body language, when he turns to face her, giving Joan his back.

“You're back.” Danny says.

“It's getting late.” Mae grabs her purse. “I'll catch you guys tomorrow.”

“I'll take you to your car.” Danny gets up to leave with her, but she doesn't wait. He waves goodbye to Joan, and leaves her to feel jilted by herself. Danny catches up to Mae before she reaches the exit.

“Mae?”

“Yeah?” She keeps on walking.

“Hold on a second. I'm you're ride, remember?”

“That's okay, I'll grab a cab. You can stay.”

“I don't want to.” Danny gets her to stop and turn around. “Let me drive you back to your car. Okay?”
She decides that there is no reason to be upset with Danny. All he has ever done is act like a considerate gentleman around her. If anything, her ire should be directed at that conniving tramp she once considered a good friend. With a nod, Mae leads him to the car. As he opens the door for Mae, Joan emerges from the bar.

“Wait up!” Joan calls out. “Can you guys give me a lift?” Joan jogs over to them, stumbling once.

“Where's your car?” Mae asks.

“Over there. But I probably shouldn't drive. Man, if I get another D.U.I, I'm so freaking screwed.” Joan looks to Danny for sympathy, appealing to his big heart with her best Oliver Twist impersonation. Danny, in turn, looks to Mae for guidance. Mae's first instinct is to say no, on the grounds that Joan is faking it so she can horn in on the action. But Mae allows herself a moment to consider how guilty she would feel if she allowed Joan to wreck or get arrested because of her own jealousy.
“Do you mind?” Mae asks Danny.

“Not at all. Better safe than sorry.”

“Great. I owe you one.” Joan winks at Danny in another of her endless stream of innuendoes.

They pile into his car and head out. Danny assumes that he should drop Joan off first since she is the interloper, but she has other ideas. In fact, her lobby to be dropped off last is so strong (and actually makes more sense since she lives closer to Danny's house), that he is forced to relent. Mae, tired and eager to be rid of Joan by any means, offers no objection. So, Danny drives Mae back to the office, in elevator like silence. Danny quietly wonders if Mae understands that he only has eyes for her. Mae secretly hopes that Danny will be able to withstand Joan's pornographic onslaught. Joan concocts a plan to deceive her way into Danny's apartment.

They arrive at the office, exchanging good nights before Mae gets out of the car. Danny watches her get into her own car, concluding their evening in a most anticlimactic fashion. They wave goodnight to one another behind the glass of their windows, a moment that feels like the end of a prison visit. Danny, in the role of inmate, puts his hand up to the glass and watches Mae drive out of sight. Joan, playing the part of prison guard, cajoles him out of the moment with a tap of his knee that turns into a suggestive squeezing of his thigh.

Danny tries to take Joan home, but she turns her drunken routine up a notch by pretending to get them lost. They drive around for thirty minutes until Joan comes to the telegraphed conclusion that she is so smashed that she can't remember where she lives. Not knowing what else to do, Danny reluctantly offers to let her crash at his place. She pseudo apologizes for the inconvenience, and accepts the invitation. The go back to his apartment, and he helps her into his bedroom. Danny takes out a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt for her to sleep in and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. He fishes out an old blanket, his lone memento from his childhood, and an extra pillow from his linen closet, and turns his couch into a makeshift bed. He lays down, turns off the light and allows his mind to drift back to Mae. Minutes later, Joan comes out of the bedroom wearing only the T-shirt he gave her. She turns the light on so he can get a good look at her legs in all their splendor.

“Are you going to sleep out here?” Asks Joan.

“Yeah. You take the room.”

“I don't mind sharing the bed. It would be a shame to make you sleep on the couch when there's more than enough room in here.”

“That's okay, I sleep out here all the time. It's very comfortable.”

“Okay then, goodnight.” Joan goes back into the bedroom and closes the door. Danny turns the light off again, and goes to sleep with visions of Mae dancing in is head.

BON VOYAGE

2007-06-27T17:40:00.000-07:00

I know I have been remiss in my blogging as of late, but I have been trying to get as much done as I can before I take off this evening. Where to? I'm glad you asked... Xochil, Paris and I are off to the Occidental Resort in Punta Cana for 9 days of fun and sun. And for those of you who don't know where in the heck Punta Cana is (I didn't), its in the mighty Dominican Republic.

I also need to apologize for not finishing my Spokane tales. But I refer to my previous excuse for those who need reasons. In order to make ammends, I'll try to summarize the rest of the trip for those I left hanging...

Day two pretty much consisted of drinking, eating, smoking cigars and MUCH KARAOKE. My mixed martial arts fighting cousin Mikey and his family showed up and took part in the festivities. Sadly my Spokane photos are not on this computer so I will be unable (actually unwilling to go through the trouble of transfering them) to give you photos. What I may do instead is put together a little album of the trip, complete with witty little captions. You know what... that's how I'm going to recap the rest of the trip... with a photo album. Unfortunately for those of you who are just clamoring for more Spokanie goodness, you are going to have to wait until I get back from the Caribbean. And then maybe it will have been so long that no one might give a flying F anymore. Either way I win.

You like how I got out of that? I do. But what can I say, its been two weeks and all the interesting and funny anecdotes are now wiped from my STM (short-term memory). Sorry, but its not easy being this damned interesting all the time. The burden of amusement weighs on me, and it a heavily load... of crap that I am talking. So I will stop before I sounder any stupider (which is amusing to me because "stupider" is not a word).

Okay, moving on...

Actually, I should rephrase that... I'm not moving on, I'm signing off. Why? Because this has been a horrible blog entry. Honestly, I just didn't "feel it" this time around. My blogatory mojo is not working today so I might as well just stop... right... now--

LOVELY

2007-06-23T22:37:00.000-07:00

Steve said I use the word "lovely" an awful lot on this blog, so I thought I would mention it and see if anyone has been keeping track of how many times I've used the word.

I'm too lazy to count, but I thought it would be an absolutely lovely idea to mention.

:)
b

THE PAST IS PRESENT

2007-06-23T16:32:00.000-07:00

Hi all.. I am off to take Paris to go see SURF'S UP, but before I go I wanted to post a few pictures...

Shout out to Steve for sending me this picture of Harrison Ford from Indy 4. Dun da da da- dun da da!

All I can say is... GO SPEED!

Hopefully Indy 4 and Speed Racer won't be too disappointing. I'm keeping my fingers crossed!

later,
b

CHECK OUT MY NEW PAGE!

2007-06-22T09:05:00.001-07:00

Well, actually it's just the same design with different colors. But it feels a different, right? You will also notice that I have added a few things on the sidebar. You can check out my coloring portfolio so you can see proof that I am actually doing the work I am always talking about.

I have also started posting my short film, BLAME, up on YOUTUBE! You can click on the links on the sidebar if you want to see my directorial debut (for those who haven't or those who can't get enough of all things Brian). Hopefully in the near future I will have all 5 parts of the short uploaded... so if you don't like your short films serialized, you can wait until all five links are up there and watch all at once. That is, if you can stomach wasting 24 entire minutes on something that took a lot of people a lot of time to produce.

So that's the 411 on my new and improved blog... I hope to add more clutter soon. Now I gotta get back to coloring. But let me give you the trivia answer first... The connection between Louis Armstrong and myself (and Steve) is that we both went to Intermediate School 227 in Queens... which was named after the late, great Louie Armstrong because at one time he lived near where the school was. See, I told you it was lame trivia.

Later!
b

SPOKANE DAY 1 (PART 2)

2007-06-19T07:49:00.000-07:00

I'm back and ready to take that trip down memory lane. I'm sorry it has taken so long, but perhaps the extra time will enable me to get that added level of perspective that will take the story from pedestrian to pulitzer. Pulitzer?! Uhm, I may be overstating the case a little. Whatever... moving right along...

Okay, so we last left our heroes enroute to Brenda's house and my collision course with the worst Chinese food ever. But before we get there I have to introduce the next round of participants...

After meeting up with the rest of the family we mosied on to the now legendary Chinese restuarant (whose name escapes me). Luckily it was lunch time so we were able to order from the lunch specials menu. Now when I say "lucky" I mean that we were lucky to not have paid full price for the most god awful Chinese food in history (not counting restaurants that use dog,cat and rat meat of course). I ordered the lunch special that was allegedly made up of sweet and sour pork and spicy chicken, along with fried rice and egg drop soup. When the food arrived it... well... I guess a picture is worth a thousand words, so... it looked like this...

If you look closely at my plate, you will notice a reddish sauce over both the chicken and pork, which was peculiar since one was supposed to be sweet and sour and one was supposed to be spicy sauce (of what kind I'm not sure). But being as hungry as I was (having been up since 4:30AM with only a scone and a tiny bag of airplane served banana chips in my belly) I started to chow down on the strange looking fried meats. It was only after I had consumed a good portion of the food that my taste buds registered a complaint. I stopped eating and then all at once it hit me... my food tasted like... CHERRY PIE.

I have absolutely nothing against cherry pie... I like cherry pie. The thing is, I like my cherry pie to be vegeterian. Yeah, meatless cherry pie is the way to go, minus the side of shitty fried rice. So I stopped eating immediately, and although I was completely grossed out, the meal did achieve the objective of taking away my hunger. Unfortunately it also took away my desire to ever eat anything again. But even more unfortunately, that feeling was fleeting because 8 hours later Steve, Mom and I ended up at a sub-mediocre BBQ place for a late night meal of grade C meats slathered with passable BBQ sauce.

Oh and just so you don't think my meal was the only one that sucked ass...

That meal belonged to Steve... and no he didn't order the chicken with apple cobbler on top, that piece of pure culinary perfection was strangely called "almond chicken".

Oh, and lest you think that my food went to waste... it did not. My cousin Jessie and her boyfriend (sorry I don't remember his name) were more than happy to finish my cherry chicken and pork pie. Pictured below...

So there you have it. Although I probably should state again for the record that they served us a platter of cocktail sauce with the food, and saltines with the phlegmy egg drop soup.

I hope you enjoyed that trip down memory lane. I'll be back later to continue with the longest account of a weekend ever. But before I go I will leave you with one of my many picture series from that weekend.

And for the interactive portion of this blog, you can feel free to leave a comment with your title for this picture series.

TODAY'S MUSIC TRIVIA

2007-06-18T14:12:00.000-07:00

Do you know who is the oldest person to have a number one hit?

That's right... the great Satchmo, Louis Armstrong recorded "What A Wonderful World" when he was 67. I guess he saved his most well known and often played song for last. And if that wasn't news to you I have the 50 point bonus question... What is the connection between Louis Armstrong and ME?

Stay tuned for the answer (even though its pretty lame)...

b

I'M LAME... BUT I'M ALSO TOP 50!!!

2007-06-17T00:26:00.000-07:00

Hi all,

I apologize for not getting back to the business of my Spokane trip, but it has been a hectic week and an even more hectic weekend filled with coloring, rewriting, new outline writing (I just started a new outline for a spec of THE CLOSER), Paris parenting, and snake searching.

Yes, I said snake searching. And by that I mean that while I was feeding Paris' corn snake he got out of his little feeding box and disappeared on me. This caused near massive heart failure and divorce. And by divorce I mean that if I had not found the snake before Xochil came home from her friend's graduation, she would have moved out and probably filed for divorce. As you can imagine she is not a snake person, so the possibility of inhabiting a place with a snake on the loose was... well not really a possibility at all. I am fairly certain that divorce would have been her only recourse.

Luckily I found the snake before she ever knew it was missing. And yes... I did tell her about it after I caught him (he peeked his little albino head out from a crevice under the sink while I was in the kitchen steeling myself for my sad new life as a divorced father). About the only funny thing was that Paris cleverly suggested that I not tell Xochil so that she wouldn't worry. Of course I reminded him that we don't keep secrets from Mommy. Besides, we all know that story ends with her waking up in bed with a corn snake up her nose, followed by... you guessed it... divorce papers.

Anyway, that's the story of my snake search. Oh and by the way, if anyone wants a 1 year old albino corn snake I just happen to have one that needs a new home. And no, Xochil did not ask me to get rid of little Rikki Tikki Tavi (yes I know that's not a proper snake name-- blame Paris). I've decided to get rid of the snake because... in all honesty I am an absent minded fool (blame the bat that smashed my head 17 years ago) and I can't guarantee myself that it won't happen again. So my choice is clear...

Okay since it almost 1AM and I have coloring to do, I'm gonna have to postpone part 2 of the Spokane trip. Sorry folks, but maybe this prolonged wait is building up suspense and anticipation. Too bad that there is no way in heck (can I say heck) that the trip will be able to meet these expectations. Oh well... I'll live.

WAIT!!! Before I go I have to explain the title of this post. You already know why I am lame (like I need to explain), but the reason I am also TOP 50 is that my script LOWLIFES made the SEMIFINALS of the screenwriting contest WRITERS ON THE STORM. For those old school blog readers, you will remember that I mentioned making it to the quarterfinals about a month ago. That was the top 10 percent of the 951 entries... in the semifinals they widdled the 95 quarterfinalists down to 50. Making the top 50 out of almost a thousand is not too shabby if I do say so myself. I'm pretty psyched to be in the top 50, but I will be absolutely ecstatic to make the finals (the top 10). Wish me luck!!!!

That's it for tonight... nighty night!

b

SPOKANE PART 1

2007-06-14T14:01:00.000-07:00

Hey there, hi there, ho there...

I finished my coloring deadline, which just means I can concentrate on the bazillion other obligations I have. I finished my Grey's anatomy outline and had it signed off on by my teacher, so that is out of the way. Next I have to do my Witchblade manga translation polish and continue to working on my Fantastic Four pilot rewrite. Oh, and tonight I am taking the family to go see a preview screening of Fantastic Four 2 (shout out to Tim!).

Now back to the Spokane trip...

DAY ONE
Steve, Mom and I got up at a little after 4 AM to get ready and be at the airport for our 6:15AM Alaska Airlines flight. We soldiered on through the early morning and successfully made it onto the plane. Nothing of note happened on the plane ride other than the fact that the flight attendent must have been an incredibly lonely lass because she spent half the time chewing our ears off with her intercom abuse. Overall it was an uneventful flight with the added benefit of more leg room than American Airlines planes.

We had a layover in Seattle and were all hungry and ready to eat. The only problem... it was like 9AM and most every place was serving seafood (being Seattle and all). I did find a place that was serving Omlettes, bacon and biscuits & gravy but for some reason I wasn't sold on the quality of their food. The restaurant's name? MIKO SUSHI OF JAPAN, which pretty much explains why we stayed hungry. I guess I'm not made of sterner stuff...

The commute from Seattle to Spokane was on this small prop plane...

I am happy to report that the plane didn't crash even once. So we successfully laned in Spokane and met up with my Aunt Brenda and cousins Dawnette and Eliza. From there we went to our hotel, the not so accurately named SOLAR WORLD ESTATES...

Okay, now you may not be able to tell from the picture, but I must mention that there was little SOLAR stuff going on, and ESTATES may not be the most accurate way to describe hotel grounds that were directly across the street from this...

Call me crazy but I'm not sure if you should legally be allowed to use that word if your property is surrounded on all sides by trailer parks. I dunno, maybe I'm the asshole. Anyway, after checking in to our beautiful two bedroom "suite" we went on to Brenda's house to meet up with the rest of the family.

But that is going to have to wait until next time. So before I insign off, let me introduce all of the players...

Alrighty then... now that I have thoughtfully supplied you with some faces to go with the names, you can all hold your breath until the next installment. Then I will go into (the much anticipated) excruciating detail about our sojourn to THE WORST CHINESE RESTAURANT in the Pacific Northwest.

More later!
b

COMPUTER MELTDOWN

2007-06-12T11:35:00.000-07:00

hey peeps,

Sadly you all will have to wait a little while longer for the Spokane trip blow by blow. My computer freaked out and I am now in the middle of a mad scramble to repair/replace my computer so that I can finish a deadline that is dangerously close to being blown. Thankfully my trusty editors are very understanding.

But before I go I will post a few spokane pics for your enjoyment. The first will be a serious one and the rest... a little less so.

Rest in peace, Paul.

Six words you seldom hear at a Chinese restaurant... "Can I have more COCKTAIL SAUCE?"

A view from the commuter plane.

Who the hell do I think I am?

What time is it?

Anyway, that's all for now... now back to my regularly scheduled computer crisis!

b

IN SPOKANE!

2007-06-09T18:58:00.000-07:00

Howdy,

I just wanted to stop by and let you all know that I am in Spokane for my grandfather's memorial service. I will be back on Monday and fill you in with all the wonderful details. But before I go I will give you a little preview of my Spokanian experience.

I am staying at a hotel called the SOLAR WORLD ESTATES. And let me tell you that the word "estates" is not an accurate representation of the quality of the rooms. I think in the state of Washington estates means "shithole".

I hope that keeps you on the edge of your seat!

See you when I get back. And don't worry... I gots pictures!

b

WHERE ARE THE WORDS

2007-06-06T23:58:00.000-07:00

I don't know...

I must be tired. SO I will give you another couple pictures...

They're old pictures, but if my math is correct they should still be worth 2,000 words... give or take

Good night!
b

BOOGIE SHOES

2007-06-05T09:33:00.000-07:00

These photos were taken a couple weeks ago by Xochil. It was a school function at Paris' school.

There was dancing.

NOTHING TO DO BUT TALK ABOUT THE LOST FINALE

2007-06-05T00:22:00.000-07:00

Hey! Another boring day has come and gone without much fanfare. The most exciting thing that happened today was that I watched the LOST season 3 finale. Now I realize that its hard to talk about Lost without giving away major spoilers, so just bear with me as I make another of my grandiose "best ever" statements.

The Lost season 3 two hour finale was the greatest cliffhanger season finale ever!

There, I said it and now I feel better. The Lost writers are friggin geniuses and my hats are off to them. They have successfully turned the show on its head and established an inevitable future that is not exactly the happy ending we had all hoped. In recent episodes I have really started to like Jack the way I did in the first season. The weight of the world is back on his shoulders and he is again reminding me of all of the reluctant heroes that Harrison Ford played when he was pure gold.

Man, I wish I knew some people who were caught up on Lost because I have a serious need to discuss the specifics of the episode. Darn you Steve for waiting for the release of the season 3 box set!!!!!

Okay, that's enough Lost chatter...

I sent off the first 7 pages of my Grey's spec to my classmates. It's just the teaser, but I wanted some feedback so I passed it on. Now those of you that have been keeping up with my blog will know to whom I am refering when I say that SHE is at it again with the opinions. I know she means well, but I gotta say that her opinions grate on me like nothing else! I must be a seriously arrogant prick to get worked up over feedback that I solicited. Yeah, I'm a huge prick Sorry ____________. Sorry that I think your opinions are worth as much as the Scientology mailers I recieve daily. I haven't bought L Ron's $3,000 Mark 7 E meter, and I'm not buying what you are selling either!

Now I'm done. Have a lovely evening...
b

THE FIX IS IN...

2007-06-04T08:00:00.001-07:00

Hey there,

I meant to blog earlier but...well I didn't so get off my back! It's not like I'm sitting home playing pocket pool all day. Although... that might be nice. I'm going to have to plan an all day pocket-pool-a-thon. Maybe if I ever catch up on my work...

Anyway, in regards to the fix being in...

On Friday I went to the gym and while in the lockerroom I overheard this man talking about how Super Bowl 3 was fixed! At first I thought it was just the ravings of one bored old man talking to another, but the more this guy talked about it the more it seemed possible. Of course I don't know if he was telling the truth, but consider the evidence that he offered:

1. The NFL-AFL merger agreement stipulated that if the AFL didn't win a Superbowl after 3 years then the contract would be null and void. Greenbay won the first two superbowls, so the AFL HAD to win the third.

2. The line for the superbowl went from the Jets being 21 point underdogs to 18 point underdogs the last day.

3. The Colts owner bet $3 million on the Jets (he called the owner Carroll which i looked up and it turns out thats the original Colts owner's first name- Carroll Robinson) . And afterwards during the post superbowl part at carroll's house, he was way too happy for having lost the superbowl.

4.He claimed to be on the team and he referred to himself in the third person (irrefutible evidence that he was a professional athlete)

5. Johnny Unitas didn't play in the game because he wasn't down with the fix. (this one has the least merit since Unitas got hurt in the beginning of the year and backup EARL MORALL started pretty much every game and the playoffs).

Okay, so that was his proof. Now after hearing this I had to know what this guy looked like. I was just praying he wasn't some four foot ten old guy. I turned the corner and was NOT disappointed. He was HUGE and looked familiar to me. Oh, and the name he referred to himself as... BUBBA. I immediately thought Bubba Smith, but then second guessed myself because I didn't think Bubba Smith played on the Colts. But I went home and did my internet validation. Sure enough Bubba Smith was on the Colts, and why did he look familiar? Because he played MOSES HIGHTOWER in the Police Academy film series (can I call them films?!).

So basically I listened to a former Superbowl player and movie policeman contend that Super Bowl 3 was fixed. And for those who don't remember, Superbowl 3 was the one where Joe Namath gauranteed victory. Also, the best part was that the old man he was talking to knew NOTHING about football and was having trouble following the story. When Bubba said that the owner bet 3 million against his team, the old guy asked if he won the bet. Makes me wonder why he chose to tell this story to that old chump. It also makes me think that this is not the first time he has declared this. Okay, so maybe I'm not breaking a new story here... it was still interesting to me!

Moving on.. the rest of my weekend was quiet and dominated by work and homework. I'm practically done with my Grey's Anatomy outline, and have started writing the actual script already. On Friday night I decided to have a Brian's night out, so I went alone to The Grove to do some writing at Barnes and Nobles before watching the 10:55 showing of KNOCKED UP. My thoughts on the movie... ABSOLUTELY friggin hilarious. Without giving any spoilers I will say that the situations and the jokes were dead on... embarassingly so. Judd Apatow (Undeclared and 40 Year Old Virgin) has an incredible knack for showing the messed up side of being a guy. All the dudes are weird, emotionally immature slackers who would rather be watching nude scenes in movies and farting on each other's pillows than making something out of themselves. He also contrasted them with a slightly older married father who was a miserable jerk who longed to be like the slackers (and was tired ofbeing under the thumb of his excitable wife). All of this stuff was REALLY funny. I recommend it to all!

That's all for now... back to work!

b

I AM THE STUPIDEST MAN ALIVE

2007-05-31T21:16:00.000-07:00

Greetings folks... I'll save the verbose preliminary crap and get right to the reason why I am the stupidest man alive...

I just called up my brother Steve to find out what time I should be at his house tomorrow so we could travel to the airport together for our incredibly early flight to Spokane. His answer was something like this...

"That's not until next week, stupid."

Now I don't remember his exact words and I am pretty sure he didn't call me stupid... but he should have. I was off by a whole freakin' week! So here I am waking up at 5 AM this morning and busting my ass to finish a deadline for Vertigo Comics, only to find out... well... you know. And now so do I. Boy do I feel like a dumbass. Normally I tend to be pretty reliable when it comes to remembering dates and phone numbers and that sort of stuff, but I guess when I mistep I REALLY mistep.

I'm not going to defend my mistake (much), BUT it seemed like this weekend would be the appropriate time to go and have a family service for my grandfather. I mean... he passed away over a week ago, so I just assumed it would be this weekend. Steve got the tickets online and sent me the itinerary, but I didn't bother to look at the dates. Shame on me.

On the bright side, I wasn't feeling all that enthusiastic about traveling this weekend (as evidenced by the fact that I hadn't packed yet). Its not that I don't want to spend some QT with my mom and her side of the family, I just feel like I have too many things to do it this week. Now at least I can get my work in order before Friday, June 8th... which is actually NOT this week, but next week.

Yeah, next week will work out better.

Much better.

:)

CHAPTER 6

2007-05-30T18:19:00.000-07:00

Hi all...

I'm still trying to wrap up a couple deadlines before I head out to Spokane on Friday. So I figured I might as well throw down with the next chapter of SEX OFFENDERS. Now on this chapter I need to offer the disclaimer that this is my LEAST FAVORITE chapter to date. If I had the time I would rewrite the crap out of it because for some reason it made me cringe to read it. Cringing and being mildy embarassed by the assy-ness of my old writing is a pretty familiar feeling, but this one is on another level of cringetivity. Suffice to say I am not a huge fan of this piece of wordsmithing.

I guess I shouldn't color everyone's opinion before they have a chance to judge for themselves. I'm probably too late at this point. Oh well. I hope you enjoy it more than I did.

:)
b

Chapter 6

After a short ride that is mostly quiet, but still comfortable for both parties, they arrive at the sports bar. Hardballs is a collection of wall mounted LCD televisions, pool tables and bar stools surrounding a rectangular bar in the center. The décor is modern sports memorabilia chic, with assorted signed game balls, jerseys and other professional sports related paraphernalia encased in Plexiglas along the walls. The staff consists of mostly attractive women sporting skimpy outfits that should have “Hooters” emblazoned on their tight white t-shirts instead of Hardballs. In fact, if one were sufficiently hammered, they could mistake the orange Hardballs logo for that of Hooters.

Although Edwin left the office much earlier, somehow Danny and Mae manage to be the first to arrive. Their get to know you chit-chat really begins in earnest at the main bar. Mae orders a bottle of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, but changes her order to a coke, after Danny orders a Cherry Coke.

“You don't have to get a coke on my account.” Danny says.

“I know. But it's no fun drinking alone.”

“Sorry. I don't really drink, much.”

“No?” Mae says. “Why not?”

“No big reason. I'm not recovering or a religious fanatic or anything like that. It's just not really my thing.”

“I respect that. I don't drink much either. Just socially.”

“That's a relief.” Danny feels comfortable enough to set up his first witty remark.

“Why?” Mae takes the bait.

“Nothing. I was just beginning to believe all of those rumors about you being an agoraphobic alcoholic. That's all.”

The too-clever-for-its-own-good remark elicits a small obligatory chuckle from Mae, which doesn't go unnoticed by Danny. Embarrassment begins to swell behind his cheeks, turning his face a nice shade of red. Mae, sensing his discomfort, does her best to let him off the hook and keep the conversation flowing.

“I'm not agoraphobic.” She says in her best dumb blonde voice. “I think those fuzzy sweaters are just darlin'.” Her silly quip is enough to make Danny laugh at its own stupidity and give himself a reprieve from embarrassment.

“Me too. I have several myself.” Danny redeems himself a bit. This time Mae's chuckles are authentic.

“You do? I bet you look absolutely fabulous in them.” Mae counters, placing her hand momentarily on his.

“Oh, I do. I just love wearing them... and nothing else.”

Mae’s subsequent ensuing laughter is so infectious that Danny can't help but respond in kind. This laughter takes on the added importance of being their first real intimate moment together, a fact not lost on either of them. To Danny, it is the beginning of something forbidden, which excites and frightens him at the same time. Mae, on the other hand, accepts it as a finite moment in time that cannot lead to anything. So she will file this away in her memory catalog, to inevitably be called upon as a future means of escape. Although their reasons differ, they both resign themselves to a fate that is untrue to their hearts.

The light-hearted conversation flows smoothly, and their comfort level rises accordingly. Danny and Mae volley witty banter back and forth, speaking only in broad generalizations and steering clear of anything related to love, sex or their personal lives. For Mae it is a subconscious choice done to divorce the present from her past, while at the same time not allow any consideration of the future. She wishes only to live in the moment she shares with Danny, because that is all she can grant herself. It is Danny's ever-present failsafe, however, that motivates him to steer clear of those subjects which may risk further intimacy. Yet, he feels the overwhelming need to at least express his gratitude for their time spent together. He feels indebted to her for allowing him a temporary reprieve from loneliness.

“Glad you came. It will make this whole thing a lot less painful." He says. I'm not used to the bar thing. Not really my element.”

“Same here. I used to go out a lot. When I was younger and stupider. But I can't really stand it anymore.”

“It’s all pretty lame.”

“Yeah. And getting propositioned all the time is so annoying.”

“Too many drunken dopes, huh?”

“But what should I expect. A girl can't even go to Trader Joe's without being hit on. And why do guys always act like they're not trying to get in your pants? As if they are really interested in my totally awesome wizard figurine collection. God, I hate it when people do that.”

“You have a wizard figurine collection?”

“Seventy-seven of them. Why? Do you like wizards, too?”

“No, I but if I act like I’m interested will you invite me over to check out your figure… I mean figurines?” Danny can't help but cross his own line, even if it is in jest. Mae is not sure how to take it at first. She laughs it off anyway, in hopes that he will do the same. He breaks into a crooked grin that is genuine but goofy looking.

“Did I sound convincing?”

“Almost. For a second I thought we shared something special. I was gonna jump into your lap and fuck the shit out of you right here.”

Her last eight words are incredibly shocking and unexpected. They enter through Danny's ears, but instead of going up to register in his brain, they travel south, landing in his penis and causing it to stir. But, before he can even consider the words lodged in his member, Edwin and his posse of Totally Toys people, arrive.

Edwin is the first through the double doors leading into the bar, laughing and carrying on with the others. Like a heat seeking missile, he immediately hones in on and finds Mae, and to his chagrin, Danny. He leads his congregation to them.

“You made it!” says Edwin.

And just like that, the intimacy shared by Mae, Danny, and Danny's penis is destroyed. What follows is an Edwin led group conversation that is impersonal, uninteresting to them, and deprives them of the opportunity to make liars out of themselves.

I'M REALLLLLLLY BUSY...

2007-05-29T12:02:00.000-07:00

but I feel the need to recommend the best show on television...

HBO'S THE WIRE

There, I said it. I just finished rewatching season 4 (which isn't out yet on DVD) and felt compelled to go public with my pronouncement that, not only is The Wire the best show on televison... but season 4 is the greatest single season of filmed television in history!!!

I know that's a pretty bold statement, but I believe its the truth. As much as I love The Shield and Sopranos I must concede that The Wire is better.

I am however willing to admit that season 2 of The Wire falls way short of the other seasons. But then again the Sopranos has some less than stellar seasons (take your pick between 4,5,6). The Shield? They've never had a bad season. All of their seasons are really good, but none reach the greatness of season 4 of the Wire.

Of course this is just one man's opinon. But if you don't agree with me... i hate you.

b

Oh... and one other thing... I'm very saddened by the cancellation of Veronica Mars. She rocked hard and I hope that Kristen Bell gets another show. She's smart, sassy and easy on the eyes.

IT'S MEMORIAL DAY!

2007-05-28T11:53:00.000-07:00

...and I'm working. What else is new. But to be honest, since when did Memorial cease to be about remembering those who have died serving our country and become the three day weekend that ushers in the Summer Party season? I'm not sure what drunken beach parties and barbecues have to do with honoring dead soldiers. Also, don't you think that there is a better way to honor our fallen military than by making it okay to start wearing white?!

Oh and here's some trivia for you... Memorial Day used top be called Decoration Day, and it began as a holiday to commemorate Civil War Union soldiers. I bet you didn't know that... I know I didn't until I looked it up on wikipedia. Just another reason that the internet is the greatest thing since the last thing that was really great.

Anyways, those are just a couple random thoughts in honor of the holiday.

On a completely different note, one of my scripts (called Lowlifes) that I entered into a Screenwriting Competition just passed the first stage... having made the almost impressive quarterfinals. If I make it to the next stage (the semifinals) then I will feel like I have accomplished something. Check out the link if you wanna make sure I'm not lying.

http://writerstorm.com/site/?p=home

That's it for now... BACK TO WORK!
b

MORE TRAVEL PLANS

2007-05-26T09:26:00.001-07:00

In what is starting to seem like a trend, my brother and I are off on another family bereavment trip... only this time my mom will be sitting between us on the plane.

We leave on Friday to the great city of Spokane, Washington, and return on Monday morning. This trip will be a little different because I know my mother's side of the family a lot better. So we are talking familiar faces that it will be really nice to see (if not for the circumstances). But to keep a little of the uncomfortable element, there will be one and possibly two cousins going that I don't know. Oh, and I think one of them doesn't speak English... at least he didn't when I met him in Puerto Rico 8-10 years ago. I'll be sure to blog about the trip and all of the festivities that ensue. Wait, I'm not sure its proper decorum to call them festivities. You can fill in a more appropriate word, I'm moving on...

I wanted to mention the part about all this grandparental death that is most unsettling. My mother said that people don't really learn about mortality and death until a parent dies, and I am inclined to agree. That is not to downplay the importance of other loved ones and family members passing away, but I think when your parents die it really hits home. WHY? I think its because while your parents are alive it feels like you are safe. Parents are supposed to go first, right? So if they are still around chances are you're still gonna be around. Now its the same thing with grandparents... if they are still alive then your parents are safe. And now that all four of my grandparents have passed on... that means that my mom and dad are not longer safe. They are the now senior members of the family, which puts them on the front lines.

And you know what? I don't like it.

ANOTHER PASSING...

2007-05-24T13:22:00.000-07:00

I was all set to write about something meaningless and follow it up with chapter six of Sex Offenders, but then I got a call from my mother that her father passed away from complications stemming from pnuemonia. Grandpa Paul was 94 years old.

So that's two grandparents in two weeks, crazy huh? I guess the only positive (and it's barely that) is that I don't have any more living grandparents to keep the streak going. I was closer to Paul than my dad's mother, but that isn't saying a whole lot. I'd see him at least once a year for pretty much my whole life... usually when he was visiting my mom. And unlike my grandmother, he did get to meet Paris and I think he even secretly had a crush on Xochil. He was an energetic, talkative Puerto Rican who stood barely 62 inches tall.

Rest in peace Grandpa.

TV CLASS AND THE ART OF BLOGGING

2007-05-23T08:52:00.000-07:00

Yo yo yo...

I haven't really decided on what I want to write about for today's blog, so I am just going to type some stream of consciousness random type crap and see where that take me. Hopefully it won't bore the bejeezus out of those courageous enough to actually read it.

Okay, so here goes...

I went to my TV SPEC WRITING class last night and as a group we discussed one of my 7 Grey's Anatomy storylines. I was surpised by the nature of some of the questions and criticisms, but overall the event was constructive. I could probably include a more venomous account of what transpired, but being that this is the world wide web, I figure it might not be advisable to rant and rave about people that I am going to have to see for the next few Tuesdays. Better safe than sorry, right? I will say that I got a few REALLLLLLY GOOOOOOOD suggestions about the story and I am thankful for that. You just have to wade through some of the ridiculousness inherent in having 20 people with differing opinions judge your shit simultaneously. Yeah there was some contradiction and misunderstanding, but I also got rightly raked over the coals for not really paying much attention to the medicine side of my story. Honestly in Grey's the medicine is secondary to the emotional story so I've pretty much just been winging it. Of course they are right and I do need to work out the logistics of the medicine eventually. Basically it was a productive experience and will make my story better.

Okay, now that's got me thinking about the nature of blogging and specifically the concept of revealing intimate thoughts in a forum that is accessible WORLD WIDE. Clearly people blog because they want other people to read it... otherwise what's the point of blogging, right? You might as well open a word file on you desktop and write in there, then save and close it so no one ever sees it.

So my question is this... why would you ever blog about something that you don't want anyone to find out about?

I know this seems like an stupid question with an obvious answer, but I know for a fact that people have been burned by blogging about things they shouldn't. People also get in trouble for talking shit about others in their blog. So why do it?! Is blogging merely a passive aggresive forum to talk shit about people in the hopes that it gets back to them? Just a thought to ponder...

Personally I am thankful that I am old enough and wise enough to know better. But I can't say honestly that I would have used good judgment if blogging was around when i was 18-23. I probably would have written LOTS OF stupid shit and felt like a complete ass when i was called on it. I also would have chronicled the very intimate (though not interesting) thoughts and feelings of my non-existant love life. I probably would have posted poetry and would have written countless volumes about what I thought my ideal woman would be-- as though putting it out in the universe could possibly make it happen. Maybe I watched WEIRD SCIENCE too many times as a teen. Yeah, I'm glad there was no blogging back then, because I'm not sure if by 2007 I would have lived down all of the embarassment I would have created for myself.

Anyway, those are my thoughts on blogging. Discuss.

Back to work!
b

QUIET WEEKEND

2007-05-21T12:19:00.001-07:00

Another weekend in the books and nothing interesting to report...

But since when does that stop me from reporting! So, let's get the show on the road...

I worked A LOT on Saturday and took Paris to see my mother on Sunday. The two of them watched Spiderman 3 while I did homework at Starbucks. How's that for uninteresting?!

Oh, and on Friday Paris had a school function with a silent auction. I bid on and won all 4 James Bond Ultimate box sets for 110 bucks. Not bad considering that each set has five Bond movies. So now I have all 20... including all of the lousier ones like The Living Daylights, Octopussy and A View To A Kill. But FOX knew that no one would buy a box set with Timothy Dalton and Roger Moore's later crap, so they mixed all the movies up. So if you want the sweet Connery shit you have to buy it with the crappy Bond stuff. It makes total sense from a financial standpoint, but its annoying as hell if you wanna watch the movies in order. I also won a Paul Frank black rain jacket for Xochil and a 13 movie Woody Allen Box set for my mom. She was happy to get it.

So right now I'm working and watching Dr. No... and damn if Sean Connery still isn't the smoothest mofo in celluloid history. he my friends is a prime example of "To Cool For School." Most people THINK they are too cool for school, but Connery was!

What else... I also managed to finish the first draft of my Grey's Anatomy outline. It still needs some work, but I think its a darn good first pass. I got some helpful notes from my teacher, and some annoyingly way off base notes from a student who shall remain nameless. Sadly, it is not the first batch of "destined to be ignored" suggestions I have recieved from said student. And something tells me it won't be the last. Unless of course this student just happens to be one of the 2 or 3 people who actually read this blog...

Speaking of which... should I be saddened by the fact that I hardly get any hits on this blog even though I haven't really pimped it and... let's face it I don't exactly have friends falling out of my a$$hole. I guess it doesn't matter much since at the end of the day I am writing this for me. Why? Because I love the sound of my fingers typing at not quite blazing speed. I also love the sound of me rapidly tapping on the DELETE key as I am forced to correct the numerous type-Os because I try to type faster than I probably should. Shame on me!

Okay... this is even too much babble for me... and I love my own babble.

See ya later!
b

CHAPTER 5.5

2007-05-18T10:33:00.000-07:00

Howdy, howdy,

I'm off to another busy day of coloring, which means now is a good time for the next installment of Sex Offenders. But before that, I wanted to follow up on my review of Todd Field's LITTLE CHILDREN. It was interesting and pretty good over all. I was surprised by the relatively small amount of pedophelia and perversion until I found out it was based on a book. Don't get me wrong, there was still some of that stuff, but not a lot by Todd Fieldsian standards. It's about relationships, infidelity, and ultimately states the case that no matter how bad we fuck up, we can always make ammends. Basically the theme seemed to me to be "Its never to late to repair your life (instead of running from or destroying it)". Good acting, some funny/bizarre little moments... and Kate Winslet's bare ass. What more can you ask for?

Oh, and I want to officially pat myself on the back for figuring out where the actor who played the pervert RONNIE came from. Without any prompting or internet research I figured out that he was Kelly from the original Bad News Bears! Not bad considering that he is like 30 years older now. You may not be impressed, but I was.

Enjoy the next installment!

b

CHAPTER 5.5

Edwin Rolle's spends his day obsessed with Mae's breasts. Even while he is out on the road visiting vendors, he obsesses about them. He speculates about their size and shape, and their taste and texture. He builds a 3-D model of them in his head, using educated guesses to fill the large gaps in raw data, due to the fact that he has never actually seen them. He more than gives her the benefit of the doubt, constructing a pair of breasts that are the Socratic definition of perfect-the standard by which all other breasts are measured.

While chewing the fat with the district manager of the Cantell Toy company, Edwin's overwhelming desire to gossip gets the best of him. He gives a mostly fictional account of the morning's conversation, bragging about how both Joan and Mae made sexual overtures towards him. When the District manager takes the bait and asks for more juicy details, he embellishes further with the a series of flat out lies, the most offensive being his claim that Mae gesticulated her intentions of giving him oral satisfaction, while the others had their heads turned. He and the manager share a male bonding moment, that culminates with the unanimous agreement that Edwin is the greatest thing since sliced bread. This meeting elevates Edwin's confidence to an all time high that lasts past quitting time and well into his gathering at Hardball's.

Mae spends the rest of the day in a foul mood. Not only is she overwhelmed playing catch-up with all the work she was unable to do the past two days, but something sticks in her craw. She doesn't even realize what it is until later in the afternoon, and by that time her day is already shot. While on break with the smoking regulars, she overhears Joan mention Danny to one of the other girls. They whisper quietly for a moment, then start giggling like school girls. At that moment, that thing sticking in her craw becomes obvious. Mae is annoyed by Joan's speculation about Danny's sexual endowment. Then, the dormant negative feelings about her friend return for an encore, and this time they aren't so fleeting. They persist in a annoyingly prickly fashion that is never excruitating, but ever present.

Mae avoids talking to Joan for the last few hours, although Joan, caught up in her own web of self absorption, fails to notice. On several occasions Joan attempts to converse with Mae, but is rebuked each time with work-related justifications. There are no hard feelings from Joan because is not in her nature to think that a friend would avoid her for any reason. Her second greatest shortcoming, besides a hindsight bordering on legally blind, is her inability to see the world outside of her perceptions of it. She can't divorce her personal feelings from the world long enough to have even the suggestion of objectivity. Because of that she is woefully inept at determining how others see her. There are times that she believes she is being objective, but even then she is only taking a slightly broader viewpoint in her subjectivity. She is a loyal person who never tires of her friendships, so she assumes the rest of the world feels like she does. It is the sort of shortcoming that enables her to travel unhindered down the self destructive path that others try to warn her of.

At precisely 5:30, Mae bolts out the door so that she won't have to deal with Joan's begging and pleading to join her at Hardballs. She walks briskly to the elevator, in hopes of beating the evening rush. She does catch the elevator, just as the doors are about shut. The door opens and she squeezes herself in-between the same group of women lamenting the dearth of quality footwear. The doors close and she spots Danny standing off in the corner. He sees her and they exchange smiles once more, only this time the secret desires behind the upside down frowns are less secretive.

“Have a good night.” says Mae.

“You too,” replies Danny.

The elevator doors open and everyone files out. Danny and Mae instinctively converge, walking in tandem out of the lobby. Mae thanks him for holding the door for her, and resumes her smile. Each sustain their smiles in a sort of endurance test that lasts the entire walk through the parking lot, and substitutes for conversation.

Like a sign from the heavens, Mae and Danny find their cars parked beside one another. Each of them briefly entertains the notion that the cars juxtaposition is part of some grand design. But doubt sets in just as both cars are unlocked and opened. Before getting into his piece of shit Toyota Corolla, Danny looks back at Mae, desperately looking for an excuse to not get in.
Mae becomes a statue too, smiling all the while.

“Well, have a good one.” Danny manages.

“Thanks. You too.” Mae doesn't budge. A minute that seems like sixty goes by before the first move is made.

“Are you going to Hardballs?” Danny asks.

“Are you?”

“Yes, maybe for a little bit.” Danny improvises.

“Me too.” Mae invoked the woman's prerogative privilege. Just for one drink.”

“Would you like ride with me? Seems silly to waste all that gas. Don't you think?” Danny grins, childishly is proud of his quick thinking.

“Sounds good.”

“Hop in.”

Danny hurries around to the passenger side and opens the door for her. This simple act of chivalry earns him his very first points in Mae's book.

MY NOVELA...

2007-05-16T19:02:00.000-07:00

Hey,

Just thought I would put up the links for the novela chapters that I have already posted before I continue on with the next chapter. For those needing to get caught up to speed, I'm talking about a novela I wrote 130 pages of in 2001-2002, but never finished. Its called SEX OFFENDERS and my hope is that if I can actually get to the point where I have posted everything I already wrote, then I will be forced to finish it for the blog. Far fetched? Yeah I know, but what the hell, its worth a go.

So here are the links...

CHAPTER 1
http://brianbuccellato.blogspot.com/2007/04/and-so-it-begins.html

CHAPTER 2
http://brianbuccellato.blogspot.com/2007/04/chapter-2.html

CHAPTER 3
http://brianbuccellato.blogspot.com/2007/04/chapter-3.html

CHAPTER 4
http://brianbuccellato.blogspot.com/2007/04/chapter-45.html

CHAPTER 4.5
http://brianbuccellato.blogspot.com/2007/04/chapter-45_23.html

CHAPTER 5
http://brianbuccellato.blogspot.com/2007/04/chapter-5.html

BACK TO THE GRIND

2007-05-16T17:04:00.000-07:00

I came home and found that all of the work that I left was still there waiting for me. For some strange reason my books didn't color themselves while I was gone. Lazy friggin' pages! So I jumped right in to the coloring mix and am now eyebrows deep in yet another coloring marathon. Aint that exciting, folks?!!!

Let's see, besides work I took Paris' corn snake to school so that he could show it for show and tell. He really got a kick out of showing off his little albino slithery creature.

Not much else is going on... just another boring work filled day. I did manage to finish a movie I was watching on the plane. It was called SAVE THE TIGER starring Jack Lemmon. Steve netflixed it and lent it to me so I could finish watching it. I liked it a lot, especially the ending which didn't have any real climax-- using today's standard for what third act climaxes are supposed to be. The ending was understated pretty much like the whole movie was. I recommend checking it out if you want to see Jack Lemmon act his ass off in an Oscar winning performance. I totally want to write my own version of this film because the theme of disillusionment is still omnipresent in today's world. BTW... is "omnipresent" even a word? F@ck if I know. I'll leave it and let someone correct me and call me stupid.

Anyway, that's pretty much it for now. I'm caught up with Lost, Grey's Anatomy, and The Shield... so while I'm working tonight I'll be watching LITTLE CHILDREN by the whacky, sexual deviance and pedophilia obsessed Todd Field.

I'll be sure to give my 2 cent review in the next blog...

b

THE WEEK THAT WAS...

2007-05-14T19:54:00.000-07:00

I'm back...

...to blogging that is. I actually am in New Jersey right now, getting ready to head back to Los Angeles after attending my grandmother's funeral this weekend. It's been a busy week for me, one in which I returned from NY to LA so that I could do some major coloring. Then on Saturday morning I flew BACK to NYC with my brother Steve, to be with our father during this funeral services. So how did it go?

It was sad and strange and surreal. The wake was open casket, which I found to be very unsettling. My grandmother looked a lot better than the last time I saw her in the hospital. But the improvements/restoration came with an odd down side -- she looked like a wax musuem figure. I didn't really care for that, and would have prefered a closed casket. Yet for those of us who saw her in her final moments, the wax like image was a better last image than what we saw at the hospital. She had many visitors and family members there to pay their final respects. Its just a shame this family renunion didnt take place with her alive to enjoy it. I'm pretty sure I was the only grandson who hadn't visited her in the last fifteen years. And for that I feel like the worst sort of heel. So I apologized to her for that and said my goodbyes.

On a slightly more positive note... It wasn't as awkward as I thought it would be, seeing 40+ family members who last saw me over 20 years ago. Everyone was nice and at least remembered me on some level, which is more than I can say for them. But believe me, I'm not bragging about that. I think its pretty sad that there are all of these people with the same last name and DNA as me, who are basically complete strangers. But at least my brother Jack remembered them well enough to share some memories of their antics as children. Jack was a lot closer in age to them, so he had actual memories of hanging out with and getting into trouble with some of the cousins.

Here are a few things I learned this weekend...

-I have a couple cousins who were born in the late 50's
-I have a cousin born in 1987
-I have 2 cousins who look more like Jack than I do
-One of my cousins has a 23 year old daughter in law school
-My Uncle Ronnie bears a resemblance to Joe Dimaggio
-My Uncle Gene looks like a younger, cleaner living version of my dad
-My Aunt Cathy reminds me a lot of my mother-- not physically, but in the thoughtful and kind way she talks.
-When my Grandma was angry she would take old photos and scratch off her OWN face in the pictures. No one seems to know why it was her face she scratched off instead of other people's.
-In Castel Del Mare, Italy (where my family is from), there is a museum dedicated to the Buccellatos.

During the Catholic funeral service on Monday I couldn't stop thinking about my father. I pretty much watched him the entire time and thought about how he must feel even at the age of 74, not to have his mother around. Not to be able to speak to her or listen to her, even though she was practically deaf and liked to repeat herself. He won't ever go back to the little one bedroom apartment in Islip that she lived in for the last 9 years of her life. He will never have any new memories of her. Watching my dad in the church made me think about him and my own mother and how completely unprepared I am to lose them. Dad handled things quietly and kept his composure throughout, something I'm not sure I will be able to do. Then again, all of the Buccellato men seemed to handle things in the same stoic manner. Only my aunts and female cousins cried openly.

Anyway, I'm done for the night... so I will just end it right here with the lasting image of the weekend. When Dad dropped Steve and I off at the LIRR train station, we said our goodbyes. Me, I didn't really know what to say to him the entire weekend so I didn't say much. I just patted him on the back a lot and tried to stay in close proximity to him. As Steve hugged Dad, he told him "I'm sorry you lost your mom." Now, it may not sound like much to anyone else, but to me it was the best thing anyone could have said. It's something I didn't say. It's something I wish I said. It summed up the entire weekend.

I can only remember ever saying "I'm sorry." But now I wish like hell I would have said what he did.

2007-05-07T10:02:00.000-07:00

So I am back on the train to Penn Station and much has happened since last I blogged. I saw my grandmother and my father, as well as a few aunts, uncles and cousins. I was a little surprised that things felt as familiar as they did. Seeing my grandmother was not easy. I expected that she would not be cognizant on any level, but I was disturbed to see how emaciated and withered she looked. Her breathing was very labored and it seemed like each breath would be her final gasp of air. Yet in spite of how she looked, I still saw my Grandma in there. And I didn’t feel like quite the stranger I thought I was going feel like.

We spent a few hours in the hospital, then we went back to my Uncle’s house for a little while. I broached the subject of “what next” and tried to figure out my plans for the next week. Should I just stay or go? Unfortunately with the situation being what it wa, there were not answers to be had. So I decided to go back to Jersey and get my things, while still considering my options. So my Aunt and my dad dropped me off at the train station so I could head back to the city and meet Shaun—who was waiting patiently in the city

But… as soon as the train started moving, I got a call from my dad. Grandma had passed away.

So I am going back to L.A. today to get my work done. Then I will return to NY for the funeral services.

Rest easy, Grandma. I’m so sorry I hardly knew ya.

b

DAY 4

2007-05-07T08:26:00.000-07:00

Today I slept in a little later than normal because I’m woefully behind in my sleep. I’ve averaged 3.5 hours a night since I’ve been here, which is not a lot even for me. So the first thing I did is call up my dad who is in Long Island to see his mother who has reached her finally moments.

My Grandmother is 94 and is in the hospital. She is ready to move on, after having outlived her husband and her 15 siblings (all of which ere younger than she). I have only seen her maybe three times in the last 15-20 years and feel like I barely know her, which makes me feel strange and a little sad. I never really made an effort to see her, and now that I am on the Long Island Railroad writing this in route to West Islip, I can’t help but feel a little saddened beyond the whole family member relative passing on part of it. I think of my mother and Paris, and it would bother me if Paris was in my situation and really didn’t have incredibly strong feelings about her passing away. And by that I mean that I am sad for my father and the pain he must be going through, but as for me… I just don’t really feel like it is affecting me like it should. It’s a shame, its horrible, and I’m not proud of it, but it is the truth. Perhaps its a function of the fact that when my parents split (when I was 6) we stopped visiting my dad’s side of the family. I mean I saw them a few times after that, but then when my dad moved to Texas in 1978, that was it for me. I can remember going to my grandfather’s funeral when I was 11 and that’s where the memories stop for me and the Buccellato side of the family. So I have like 25+ cousins I don’t know AT ALL. They are pretty much all older than my brothers and I, and I don’t even know their names. I could meet any one of them on the street and I’d never know we were related.

I know this is the most downerish of all my blogs, so sorry for that. But life isn’t all peaches and cream cheese, right? So here I am on the train to see my grandmother for the last time wondering if I even have a right to be there. Pretty sad, huh?

Wish me luck… I’ll tell you how it went later.

b

DAY 3

2007-05-06T21:23:00.000-07:00

The highlight of day three was going to Yankee stadium and watching Chien Ming Wang throw a perfect game into the 8th inning. He ended up giving up a homer to some scrub on the Mariners, which spoiled the no-hitter and the shut out. But at least the Yanks won. We sat in the Right field bleachers which has the rowdiest fans in the stadium. They’re called the bleacher creatures and the do a lot of chanting and calling out. It was pretty cool to see such passionate fans. In the first inning they chanted the names of every Yankee player in the field, chanting until each of the Yankees turned and waved. I thought that was pretty cool. I don’t know how long they’ve been doing this, but it seemed like a nice little first inning tradition. They also chanted things like “Box Seats Suck”, and chanted “A$$hole to a rowdy Red Sox fan who was in the bleachers being a loudmouth. I’m not sure what he was doing at a Yankees-Mariners game, but I am sure he showed up pretty friggin drunk. They don’t sell booze in the bleachers, so my guess is that all the season ticket holders get lit up at the taverns across the street before and after the games.

Between the top and the bottom of the 6th inning, they played YMCA, which the bleacher creatures made into their own song called “Why Are You Gay?”. Basically they sang their version while THE ENTIRE right field stands pointed at some guy in a Mariners cap. In the 7th inning there was a near fight in the stands as some angry season ticket holder threatened to beat the crap out of another guy AND his three buddies.

After the no-hitter was broken up and the game ended, we went into Manhattan and I did a little shopping for Paris at 34th Street. I had totally forgotten what it was like being on the busy streets of NY during the weekend. With all sorts of people selling bootlegs stuff on the street, the crusty bums begging, the Asian Tourists, and the take no shit locals generally being loud and to the point about whatever was important to them.

After shopping, we went BACK to the Bronx and watched the De La Hoya- Mayweather fight. It was a decent fight, but nothing to write home about.

Will dropped Shaun and I back off at Penn Station at 1:30AM, and after saying our goodbyes, we went to the NJ Transit track to catch the last train out to Jersey. Unfortunately we were LITERALLY 30 seconds too late. The train was there, but the doors were closed and the conductor refused to reopen them. So basically, being polite and saying goodbye to Will and Stef, cost us the last train. So let that be a lesson to you. Politeness does not pay.

Faced with no other choice, Shaun and I took the PATH to Journal Square (which coincidentally the stop we lived off of when he and I were room mates in Jersey City. There we were approached by an eager cabbie with a middle eastern accent. He offered to take us back to Plainfield for 65 bucks. So we accepted and took the taxi ride back to Shaun’s house. Unfortunately for THE ENTIRE RIDE the cabbie complained about how far away it was and how little we were paying. Personally I had NO SYMPATHY for him. He solicited us an gave us the price… not to mention that he is a friggin cabbie. So I’m not sure he has much cause to complain about how far he is driving. Because driving is pretty much the chief requirement in being a taxi driver. That’s why thy are called taxi DRIVERS.

We got home safely and that as pretty much the end of day three.

DAY 2

2007-05-05T02:29:00.001-07:00

Okay, so it is now 5:28 AM (Eastern time) and we just got back from Atlantic CIty. And no, I did not win. In fact I lost enough money to be angry with myself and want to punch my own self in the groin. Actually it is mostly the way I lost it. My friends Stefan, Shaun and Will like to play roullette, so we each threw in a hundred bucks and chose a number. Then one person played 5 bucks a spin on each of the numbers. On the very first spin Shaun hit his number 15 and made $175. Now if you do your math that leaves 19 more spins for each of us. By spin 7 Will hit his number 18 (which hurt more cause he only played 40 bucks). By spin 15 Stefan hit his #32. My number 12? Nope. So not only am I the only shmo that didnt make a profit the first time out, but the number 2 came out FIVE times out of twenty spins. Why is that relevant? Because I was born on the 2nd and when it first hit we started talking about how I should have played my birthday instead of Paris'. But the theory was to stick to one number instead of chasing numbers.

I played another hundred with the same system and 12 didn't come out. Shaun hit one more time and Stef hit two more times. The worst part about it is that I don't even play Roullette. My game is Texas Hold Em, which is the only casino game that you don't have a disadvantage in. In poker you are not playing against house odds or against the casino bank. You're putting your money against a bunch of other players. Yet there I was blowing money on roullette and having a brief bout with stupidity called Caribean Stud Poker (which is played against the house). All that losing occured in the first three hours. The next three hours was spent with me breaking even at a No Limit 1-2 Hold Em table. I should never ever ever ever ever ever play anything but Hold Em. So if anyone ever sees me in a casino, please remind me to stay away from all those other games. PLEASE.

So that was the latter part of my day 2. The first part was spent trying to recover from sleeping 5 hours in 2 days. Then in the afternoon I experienced something for the very first time in my life... I fired a gun at a gun range. Shaun has a GLOCH .40 handgun (he's a police officer) and so he introduced me to shooting. I was incredibly apprehensive and nervous because of my complete unfamiliarity with guns. I've pretty much spent my whole life avoiding guns because, honestly, I don't like the idea of a handheld piece of machinery that can end someone's life with a finger squeeze. I've never liked the thought of holding someone's life in my hand in that way, so I stayed away from guns. Now after firing 60 rounds, I don't feel nervous about guns, but I am still apprehensive toward being around them.

So how did I do? I shot 60 or so rounds at these body shaped targets with the letter Q in the center mass at 21 feet away (which is the closet of the three settings). Of the 60 rounds, I'd say 6-8 were off the page completely, and only 5-6 were within 3 inches of the Q. I can totally see now how its possible for people to miss each other completely, even when at close range. Its actually more difficult than it looks. I kept shooting 6-12 inches too low, so I adjusted by aiming at the head, so the shots would hit the center part of the target. When I get back to LA, I'm gonna post a jpeg the last target I shot. There was a definite improvement over the course of the session, so at least I didn't feel like a complete worthless jackass.

And shooting a gun FOR REAL made me really think about how movies skewed my perception of shooting. People shoot with such ease and accuracy in Hollywood. They shoot with one hand... they shoot on the run... they shoot whil falling out wndows The fact that Little kids, Grandmas and kittens shoot head shots with relative easy is a bunch of malarkey.

Anyway, all in all it was a very interesting experience. I don't know if I enjoyed it, but I am glad I did it.

Okay, now I'm pretty effin' tired. Goodnight (or good morning)... see you later!

b

NYC DAY 1

2007-05-04T01:02:00.000-07:00

DAY 1

Well, I meant to get some blogging in before embarking upon my trip to the city of my birth, but a bunch of menial stuff got in the way-- not that there was much going on that was blogworthy, I just thought I needed to give myself a send off.

So here I am one hour into my one and a half hour late American Airlines intercontinental flight…. Wait, is it intercontinental or transcontinental? Or is it both? No… the more I think of it, the more I think it should be INTRA-continental. Whatever, the point is that the flight is late.

I wanted to sleep away the hours, but haven’t been able to find a comfortable position within the confines of my narrow-ass, no leg-room having coach seat. But hey, at least its an aisle seat and I don’t have to ride bitch between a pair of chubby bookends—don’t laugh, its happened. Below are a couple highlights of my trip so far…

1. Turned down the opportunity to pay 2 dollars for a headset so I could watch some incredibly lame looking movie starring Hugh Grant and The World’s Most Beautiful Person (according to People—not me) Drew Barrymore. I think its called Music and Lyrics or some such crap.
2. Was forced to endure the smell of hard boiled eggs for a half hour as this lady sitting one row up from me devoured SIX hard-boiled eggs that she had stashed in her purse. Watching (and smelling) this woman peel and eat six eggs made me wonder if she ate all of her eggs, or if this strange lady with the bleached out Debbie Harry hair had a bag full of eggs. Like maybe all she had in her purse was boiled eggs… dozens of boiled eggs. Sadly I will never know for sure. The other thing about the egg incident is that I wondered for some time whether anyone sitting near me thought I was the source of the egg smell. I mean when I first smelled it (before locating the egg lady) I considered the possibility that it was me. You might think that makes me paranoid, but I think it’s a testament to the strength and fortitude of the smell..
4. I spent five dollars on the most generic looking and tasting bagel/turkey/cheese sandwich EVER. It actually looked like the toy food that comes in little kid’s play kitchens… and it tasted only slightly better.
5. FYI, the egg lady just got up to go to the bathroom. I’m gonna time her and see how long she is OCCUPIED.
6.I got my SODOKU on for a little while, compliments of the inflight magazine. Now I’m not one of those Sodoku freaks or anything, but I figure it’s as good a way as any to eat up some of this flight time.
7. I got a face full of unattractive flight attendant ass thanks to some turbulence.

Anyway, those are pretty much the highlights so far. More later…

Oh, and the egg lady only spent ten minutes in the bathroom. I don’t know about you, but I’m strangely disappointed….

b

CHAPTER 5

2007-04-30T21:32:00.000-07:00

Hi all,

I've been extremely busy trying to get ahead on my work before I leave Thursday for New York. So I don't really have time to wax moronic about my boring life. Instead I'll throw down with another chapter from Sex Offenders.

Spread the love and keep reading!
b

Chapter 5

The rest of the workday goes by slowly for Danny. There is little to do in the office, and he is no longer in a journal writing mood. He wastes the morning hours surfing the Internet for news, then goes to the park for a quiet brown bagged lunch of bagels, lox and a bottle of spring water. He takes a long walk through the park, returning to work a half hour late. Nobody notices his tardy return, since he isn't important enough to keep track of in the first place. He spends the rest of the afternoon in the computer room, eavesdropping on one intellectually masturbatory conversation after another.

The time seems to pass by a little faster, but even so, he finds himself thinking about the same thing again and again. No matter how hard he tries to occupy his mind with other things, he can't help but think about Mae's wonderful smile. Each time the recollection manifests, he romanticizes it a little more. At two o'clock their simple exchange of friendly smiles turns into something far more meaningful. By the end of the workday, her smile is transformed into an icon that represents everything that is right with the world. It symbolizes a sincerity and kindness that has been painfully lacking in his life. He subconsciously transforms her smile, and by proxy her into his Holy Grail. Somewhere beyond his ability to recognize it, where one might find love at first sight, is a cosmic feeling that Mae is everything he needs in his life. It is this hidden urge that makes him decide, at quitting time, to take the long way out of the office, through the main path, and right past Mae's cubicle. He does this in hopes of catching another glimpse of Mae. Perhaps she will be kind enough to grant him another intoxicating smile, that he can take home with him.

He saunters through the office, seeking out Mae all the while. To his dismay, he makes it all of the way to the elevators without seeing her. He even passes five perfectly good elevator trips, in hopes of running into her. Edwin emerges from the office in time to grab the 6th elevator. He nods hello to Danny as he gets on.

“You coming to Hardballs?” Edwin asks.

“No. I can't. Thanks for the invite, though.” Danny replies.

“That's too bad. Maybe next time.” Edwin cracks a sly smile as the elevator doors close shut, relieved that he will not have to wage battle, however lopsided it may be, with Danny for the affections of Mae. Danny is too busy with his own disappointment to notice. He gets on the sixth elevator along with several women from the marketing department, who are engrossed in a conversation about the lack of quality footwear in their lives.

Joan's day drags on like every single day she has ever worked. She spends her time planning lunch, or her next smoking break, because those are the little carrots that make working palatable. She is such a social animal that she is only truly alive when she is engaged in social activity. So she spends most of her time on the phone and making guest appearances in other people's cubicles. She is a skilled enough corporate employee to find work-related justifications for these habits, and by the end of the day she manages to actually get her work done. The work accomplished is only a means to her particular end, but since results are consistent with her job description, she encounters no trouble from others. As long as she gets to chit-chat or gossip with as many people as she can, she is happy.

She uses the afternoon's social calendar to conduct a background check on Danny Perrin. She makes several attempts to extract information from Henrietta Budge, the portly human resources assistant with the bubbly personality, with mixed results. Henrietta gladly offers up Danny's age-twenty-nine, his residence-Venice Beach, and most importantly his marital status-single. She also contributes a healthy dose of compliments, applauding his intelligence, his work ethic, and his perfect attendance. Joan fishes for any office scuttlebutt concerning Danny, but gets nowhere. Joan realizes that Henrietta is far too considerate of others to be a source of dirt, but subscribes to the “there's no harm in trying” theory. Joan invites Henrietta to the evening's impromptu sports bar gathering, and moves on to the next cubicle.

The rest of the day is spent in similar fashion, although the only information she is able get is that most of the company doesn't even know who Danny is, let alone what his likes and dislikes are. No one she interrogates claims even a casual friendship with him. This doesn't strike her as odd, but it disappoints her because she is going to have to wing things. She prefers to embark on her conquests only after much research, learning what her prey's interests are so she can feign interest in the same things and bond accordingly. Without such insight she will have to freelance, something she doesn't care for, but is more than willing to do in order to capture her prize.

FEELING NETFLIXY

2007-04-26T23:47:00.000-07:00

It's late and I'm tired, so this one is gonna be short.

I've colored a whole ass load of pages today. The upside is that I've been able to run through some of those netflix dvds that have been sitting on my desk mocking me. I watched DEJA VU (Denzel and Tony Scott back together again) and actually like it. I was expecting not to for some reason, but it was a cool time travel story. Mix in gunfire, explosions, heavy doses of Denzel and Tony's visuals and you have a genuine thrill thride. In my opinion it was better than Domino (which was decent) but not as good as Man on Fire. Bottom line, It's absolutely worth a nextflix rental! So queue it up my fellow netflixians.

The other thing I watched was the first disk of the 2001 Judd Apatow TV show UNDECLARED, And I must say it is funny as hell. I highly recommend it. And for those who don't know Judd Apatow, he is the director of the 40 year old virgin. And many of the peeps from Virgin are in the show. And there's a cameo in the first epsiode by a pre-SmallvilleTom Welling. So for those of you who need an Apatow fix to tide you over before KNOCKED UP comes out, give this show a renty. You won't be disappointed.

Okay, that's pretty much all for now... I promise to bore you all with more stuff tomorrow!

G'night!
b

BALLS IN THE AIR

2007-04-25T17:01:00.000-07:00

Catchy title for a blog post, huh? It could mean so many things. Unfortunately in this case its pretty much the obvious reference to juggling. As in geez, I have been juggling a lot of different things. I guess I could have titled it WEARING MANY HATS, but I like the possible testicle reference in the other one.

Testicle

Now that's a funny word to type. Everytime I do, I giggle like the sophomoric shmo that I am. It's the same with the word "penis". I type the word, look at it and start laughing. What the hell is wrong with me?!

Anyway, the point of this post was to mention that my mind is kinda scrambled as I am juggling a bunch of different projects. I'm full speed ahead with my TV class and the Greys Anatomy spec, coloring3 monthly books, trying to rewrite my FF spec, and lets not forget my family stuff. See? I've got so many balls in the air that I haven't had time to watch my netflix disks, and that really burns my ass. Why? Because I feel like every day a DVD sits in my house is a day I don't have something coming from Netflix. It's like I'm throwing away the opportunity to get the maximum amount of DVDs for my 25 bucks a month. I want to rent so many DVDs a month that Netflix is taking a loss in postage on my account. Is that greedy?

Okay, enough blogging for now. I have to get back to my balls...

b

CHAPTER 4.5

2007-04-23T21:24:00.000-07:00

Not much new to report in the wonderful world of Booch. I've been getting some work done with my Grey's Anatomy script, while mixing in some revisions on my FF pilot. I also managed to color 10 pages this weekend... not bad if I do say so myself.

Yesterday afternoon, after realizing that I had been in the house for 40 straight hours, I decided to hunt down Season three of The Wire. I say hunt down because I did not want to pay the $99.00 sticker price for the box set. After a good half hour I found a copy at this cool video store called Cinefile. They have a lot of out of print and rare movies... the kind of stuff only real film snobs can get into. In spite of that it's still a cool store... I like the fact that they have sections divided by director instead of movie title. Anyway, they had a new copy on sale for 40 bucks, so I bought it. They also had season 2 for 30 bucks, but I decided against dropping 80 bucks in one shot. I have seasone 1 and I'm not a huge fan of season 2. So even so the completist in me hates the idea of having a whole in my collection... I'm trying to deal.

As far as my Grey's spec... I've got my A,B,C and D stories thought up, and I am trying to unify them with my theme. For those that have seen GA, the main character has bookend voice overs where she summarizes the theme of the episode. I think my theme is that there is no point having regret because you can't change the past. You can only use the wisdom you've hopefully acquired to make better decisions in the future.

Here's the VO I have been messing around with...

MEREDITH OPENING VO: "What is it with this fixation with regret? You’ve heard all the catchy little phrases… If I knew then what I know now… hindsight is 20/20…. If I could do it all over again… We are constantly looking back. Wishing we could undo our mistakes as if somehow that would allow us to live happily ever after. Somehow I doubt it.. but still, I could use a couple do overs..."

If anyone wants to offer some suggests to this work in progress... by all means FIRE AWAY! Tomorrow I will give you guys my CLOSING Meredith voice over.

And now for the feature presentation...

CHAPTER 4.5

With Edwin safely out of earshot, the topic returns to Mae's computer. Danny sits down and turns the computer on, this time with it plugged in.

“I might as well check it out while I'm here.”

“By all means.” Mae replies.

“And don't worry I'll make something up for my report.”

“I really appreciate it.”

Mae finds this benevolence very alluring. So much so, that her eyes are glued to him while he performs several mundane computer-related functions. Joan too looks on as though he was engaged in something far more interesting. Danny does his duty, oblivious to the two women casting shadows of desire upon him.

During this quiet moment, Mae realizes, as though it is a revelation and not already obvious, that Joan is also interested in Danny. This sparks the suppressed competitive nature deep inside her, and for a moment she dislikes everything about her good friend Joan. The many hours they've spent together, the tears shared, the deep dark secrets revealed all evaporate in the heat of her jealousy. Those feelings are replaced by contempt for her morally vague, sexually active friend, who likely will seduce Danny and tarnish him forever. These feelings, while shallow and fleeting, reveal something much more meaningful. Mae Arden, the poster child of the don't mix business with pleasure rule, is undeniably attracted to Danny. And despite her own self imposed barriers, she is overcome with jealousy at the idea of Joan and Danny getting together.

In the three minutes it takes Danny to issue the computer a clean bill of health, Mae goes from intrigued, to lustful, to contemptuous, to jealous, to finally guilt -ridden. Mae is a bright girl, so it doesn't take long to recognize that the negative thoughts parading through her head are both ridiculous and selfish. There is no way on God's green earth that she would dare to date a fellow employee. Such things complicate the work environment and often lead to quitting, when the company fling inevitably goes sour. Besides, the odds of Danny even noticing her with Joan around are very slim. Not that it matters anyway, she reasons, since she doesn't date at the workplace. After a few more volleys back and forth, Mae gets a grip on herself and ends the one hundred and eighty second mental episode.

Joan spends the same three minutes plotting a strategy that will best ensnare Danny. Using positive visualization, she plays out every little nuance of the evening, from the first small talk, through their inevitable sexual encounter. Not the most imaginative gal on the planet, she calls upon on a three year old memory, substituting Danny for the guy whose name she can no longer remember. Of course, Danny responds in the same fashion as the nameless guy who fell for her seduction hook, line and sinker. Joan's romantic self amends the ending so that their simultaneous orgasms take place on her waterbed rather than in the cramped men's bathroom stall of McHale's Pub. She also omits the part when a woman claiming to be the nameless gentleman's girlfriend barged in and attacked them with a hairbrush.

Danny's departure is swift and without fanfare. After assuring Mae for the third time that her plug blunder will remain their secret, he goes on his merry way. Joan waits exactly sixty seconds (she times herself using the trusty Mississippi method) before asking Mae what she thinks of Danny. Mae manufactures some nonchalance, claiming she didn't really notice him, then changes the subject. Nonetheless, Joan continues verbalizing her thoughts on Danny.

“He seemed really nice.”

“I guess.”

“I thought he was kinda hot.”

“Really? I didn't notice.”

“I did. You wanna go with me to that thing tonight?”

“I can't. I've got to get that report to Allan before he goes ballistic.” Mae takes another stab at changing the subject, not wishing to ride that emotional roller coaster again.

“I wonder how big his cock is?”

“Damn. Printer's out of paper. Be right back.” Mae gets up and leaves Joan to her naughty thoughts. She doesn't want to hear them. Not that it matters, she tells herself, Danny is a dead issue as far as she is concerned. Mae doesn't mix business with pleasure.

QUIET WEEKEND

2007-04-22T14:40:00.000-07:00

Nothing much going on this weekend. Chaz and I took Paris to see Meet The Robinson's on Friday, and that was pretty much the highlight of the weekend. Lots of popcorn, candy and animated people hijinks.

Saturday I stayed at home and colored for most of the day and night. My internet was down for a large portion of the day and when I called customer service at ATT they REALLY annoyed the shit out of me. From the outset I informed them that the internet dropped off while I was using it... basically letting them know that it was on their end and not mine. But the oh so helpful customer support person decided not to believe me. So she had me go through a littany of tests which I knew would be fruitless... testing my modem... my router... my network set up... and in the end she seemed baffled. Even after I told her for the millionth time that it was on THEIR END... she refused to believe me. She claimed it was because my AIRPORT was active even though I use a wired network... I told her it has been active for the two years I have been using this computer and it has made NO DIFFERENCE in my ability to use the internet. She started to argue the point, then stopped mid-misguided sentence. She then asked me if I live in Los Angeles. After confirming this bit of seemingly mysterious (to her) information, she tells me that there is a message posted saying that THEIR SERVER went down three hours ago (which coincidentally was when my internet dropped-- a fact I told her at least three times). She then apologized and told me they planned to fix it by 8pm. I told her thanks for all of her wonderful help (is that sarcasm?) and I hung up. I got my internet back around 9pm and I can never ever get the twenty minutes back that I wasted on that idiotic tech support woman.

That's pretty much my weekend in a nutshell... with the exception of having to tell Paris that he was supposed to draw "PENCILS" and not "PICKLES" in his homework.

Maybe later on I will get around to posting the next chapter of Sex Offenders...

stay tuned.
b

MY FIRST CLASS and GRINDHOUSE...

2007-04-19T09:48:00.000-07:00

Howdy!

So my first class in Television writing was on Tuesday... it turned out to be pretty good. The teacher seems knowledgable and is interesting to listen to, even though he is prone to tangients. And best of all, he is currently a working writer in the industry. That counts the most to me because the last thing I need is advice from a career screenwriting teacher with no credits. I know they say "those that can't do, teach"... but in this case my reply is "But those that CAN do... teach better". Well maybe not better but at least they have earned the right to tell me what is what is what.

In this class, over the course of 10 weeks we are going to write a 10 page outline for a one hour drama spec. And for those lay peeps out there, that means write a stand alone episode of an existing show. This class is not for writing pilots, its for learning how to write spec scripts so that you can get an agent who will hopefully get you paying work writing for TV. The spec script is like a portfolio piece... basically a writing sample that proves not just that you can actually write, but that you can write in the voice of an established show.

So most of my classmates are doing HOUSE specs or GREYS ANATOMY specs... I'd say two thirds of the class. Some of the other possible specs by students are CRIMINAL MINDS, HEROES, BATTLESTAR GALACTICA, LAW AND ORDER SVU (shout out to David), THE CLOSER, FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS, and THE WIRE. Me... I'm having problems deciding. Most of the shows I love have been on the air for 5+ seasons and have maybe a year or two left in them. That's a problem because your specs should feel fresh and current. The rule of thumb is to spec a show that has been on air for two seasons or less and is critically loved. For some reason the teacher doesn't seem all that concerned about the two seasons rule since HOUSE, BATTLESTAR and GREYS are both in their third season.

Right now I am waffling on what to do... I have the basic story idea for a Grey's script I was gonna spec last year, but I'm not sure I want to do a show everyone else is doing. I feel like you need to set yourself apart and not be just one of a million wannabes doing the same show. But in the interest of making things easier for myself, what I might do is proceed with the Grey's spec... but also do a spec of The Closer. Season 2 comes out on DVD in June (already ordered it)... so I figure by the time I'm finished with the Grey's outline I can jump on The Closer. Then by the end of the year I will have TWO writing samples to send out... not only that but the shows are very different so it would show my astonishing versatility as a writer. :) One is a soft show (medical melodrama)... the other is a police procedural. If anyone wants to weigh in on whether they think my idea is stupid... feel free to comment.

So that's pretty much it on the TV class... Last night I went to see Grindhouse with some fellow from The Cow. My expectations were pretty low because the reviews from my amigos who have seen it have ranged from luke warm to outright hatred. After having seen it... I can say that it wasn't the best thing I ever saw, but I liked it. Of course I liked Quentin's movie WAY MORE that Robert Rodriguez's.. but I expected that to be the case. I like RR's direction a whole bunch and I think he is a very good filmmaker and someone to admire for his ability to wear multiple hats and basically make a whole movie from his house. BUT... I don't like his writing. All my criticism of RR's movies comes from the writing side. I honestly think he should let other people write his movies. As far as Quentin's movie, DEATH PROOF, I think it started a little slowly... but it really picked up steam and after 10 minutes I was totally into it. I think the dialogue for the second set of ladies was a lot better than the first. Also I must mention that ZOE BELL is my new hero! She rocks a lot and I hope to see her in more stuff. I think she looks and sounds very interesting... and she is a total ass kicking, daredeviling badass. That, my friends, is a sure fire recipe for being a hero. The more I think about Q's movie, the more I like it... From Kurt Russell's tantrum after getting shot... to Zoe Bell beating the shit out of him with a steel pipe... yeah... I liked it.

That's all for now...

b

CHAPTER 4

2007-04-17T08:04:00.000-07:00

So this morning for some reason I get Madonna's song "Into The Groove" into my head and can't seem to stop singing it. So after listening to myself butcher the song, sounding like a skipping record because I'm forgeting every fourth word, I am forced to turn to my iTunes to listen to the real thing.

Now I am like ten songs into my Madonna 80's marathon and strangely feeling a little meloncholy for the glory days of yester-year. For some reason Madonna takes me back to my mid-teens, which where not glorious years by any stretch. I was pretty much a loner and going through that ugly duckling stage before I turned into the beautiful swan that you all know me as today. The weird thing is that I never bought a Madonna album or really even listened to music that much back then. But there is something about her music that makes me think of when I lived in the Bronx. Weird, huh?

The later Madonna stuff is starting now, which makes me think of being 19 and working at the art store A.I. Friedman. Why? Because my closest friend at work (and his sister) was a HUGE Madonna fan. Shout out to Eddie Rivera! I hope he is doing well and not accidentally dropping any more beepers into public toilets. Actually if he is still using beepers, he probably should drop it into a public toilet and go buy himself a friggin cell phone.

Anyway, I'm sure that was a horrifically boring trip down memory lane for you all (I still like to write as though there is actually an audience reading this crap). But before I give you the first half of chapter 4...

"Tropical the island breeze... All of nature wild and free...

This is where I long to be... La isla bonita"

SEX OFFENDERS

CHAPTER 4

Danny arrives at Mae Arden's desk while she is away taking a smoking break with some of the other marketing girls. She doesn't normally smoke, but often finds herself outside in the back of the building, puffing away with her cohorts. She uses the nicotine fit excuse so she can dodge work three times a day in an accepted company fashion. Most in the office are devout smokaholics, so these breaks are practically a company tradition.

Danny eyes the empty cubicle and briefly considers beginning his break/ fix investigation. He decides against it after mentally whipping up a healthy list of possible consequences that he deems unacceptable. This is a failsafe defense mechanism that has served him well throughout his life. By considering the worst possible consequences he manages to steer clear of trouble. Of course, by doing so he deprives himself of many risky but potentially rewarding opportunities. On two occasions in his life he acted without regard to his failsafe, and both times there were harsh consequences. He now pledges never to disregard his failsafe again. Ever.

He sifts through a slew of possible consequences, weighing risk versus reward. One of the more severe scenarios involves his unjust persecution for theft that results in a violation of his parole and a two year stretch in the slammer. Most of the other consequences involve some other type of sitcom style misunderstanding that leads to unjust persecution, so Danny wisely opts to wait patiently outside the cubicle, in full view of the chunky guy seated in the cubicle across the way.
Mae and Joan take the long saunter back through the Totally Toys offices, stopping frequently to engage in neighborly exchanges with the employees whose cubicles line the main thoroughfare. Joan fishes for the latest company gossip, but doesn't get a single bite that might prolong the procrastinator's march back to work.

As they make their final turn through the maze of cubbies, Joan spots Danny standing by Mae's desk. She has never seen him before, so her interest is piqued immediately. Joan takes a mental snapshot of him and begins processing the information. She dissects his outward appearance, weighing all the criteria necessary to consider him for future sexual relations. Using her own five star rating system, she grades him in several categories: scoring his features (three stars), his clothing style (three stars), his grooming (five stars), his physique (three stars), and his posture (three stars). Before a single word is spoken, Joan determines that his score of seventeen surpasses her minimum requirements for a casual sex partner or even an inter-office fling. Perhaps she will find all that she secretly desires in Danny Perrin.

Mae walks up to Danny and smiles. They make eye contact as he announces the nature of his visit, although he is sure she already assumes it correctly. Mae recognizes his face as one of the many company men that pass through the cafeteria from time to time. They have never spoken and she doesn't even know his name, but she remembers that he once poured a cup of coffee for her.

“Thanks for coming so quickly…”

“Danny. Danny Peril.”

After a prolonged exchange of even friendlier smiles, she allows him safe passage into her cubicle. She runs down the list of problems she is having with her crappy CPU, including her inability to even turn it on. Danny nods sympathetically, offers a few encouraging words, and then embarks upon an investigation that lasts six seconds. Still half checking him out, Joan watches alongside Mae as Danny solves the mystery of the nonfunctioning computer. From his knees, Danny brandishes the offending computer power cord, holding it up in the air for the girls to see. The computer is not plugged in.

Mae's face turns beet red. Joan, on the other hand, erupts into a loud, masculine belly laugh that is unmistakably hers and echoes throughout the office. Several heads turn, not to divine the source, everyone knows it belongs to Joan, but to discover what is the cause of her explosion of Santa Clausian laughter.

Edwin Rolle hears the unmistakable sound from his customary spot beside the coffee machine, where he prepares the first of many daily light and sweet decaf coffees. Although he is tardy as usual, having not even made it to his desk yet, he seizes the opportunity to put his new plan into action. He snatches up his coffee and makes his way to Joan's desk to enact Operation Easy Lay.

“You must have accidentally kicked it out.” Danny offers to an obviously embarrassed Mae. His manner not sarcastic or cruel, and laced with genuine empathy. “It happens all the time with these models. ”

Joan looks at the plug in his hand, at her shamed friend and laughs again. Mae cuts Joan an icy glare, ending the robust laughter prematurely .

“Quit it. You're gonna get me busted.”

“Sorry. But it's just too funny. You haven't done any work in two days because…”

Joan stops suddenly, realizing that the fast approaching Edwin constitutes a potential breach in security that could lead to Allan Poole learning of Mae's careless mistake. Edwin, an unabashed gossiper, would think nothing of relaying the amusing little plug story to someone who may tell someone who may tell Mr. Poole. And Joan is savvy enough not to risk getting Mae in trouble because of the loose lips attached to Mr. Edwin Rolle.

Edwin finally arrives. He notices the abrupt stop in conversation and glances quizzically between the girls. It is apparent to all that his presence is the cause of the silence. Joan, not wanting to risk investigation, waves her hand back in forth through the air as if clearing away smoke.

“What's going on?” Edwin asks.

“Jesus Christ, Mae”, Joan blurts out. “What in the name of the holy mother did you have for breakfast?” She grabs her nose, forcing her nostrils closed.

“Sorry. It must have been that breakfast burrito.” Mae forces a guilty smile.

Edwin eyes the girls, unsure of what to make of the situation. He glances at Danny, awaiting his testimonial. Danny obliges him.

“It didn't smell that bad. All bark and no bite, really.”

“Harmless” adds Mae.

Edwin's eyes widen with the shock that a woman as attractive as Mae can not only pass gas in the workplace, but can also cop to it without a second thought. The idea of such a thing, almost beyond his comprehension, threatens the granite foundation that makes up his narrow-minded view of women. He takes in a covert whiff, looking for any evidence to substantiate the extraordinary claim. Somehow his mind registers the faint essence of roses in the air, although there is nothing even remotely floral scented within twenty yards of him. For some inexplicable reason, he attributes the imaginary rose smell to Mae's phantom flatulence, taking a perverse delight in her ability to pass gas that smells so nice. His mind takes the ridiculous concept and runs with it. A feint swelling in his pants takes place, as he finds Mae's rosy flatulence strangely erotic. This makes him reconsider Operation Bag Joan. With the possibility of greener pastures for him to frolic in, manifest so clearly through his slight but meaningful erection, Edwin sees no other alternative. He must commence with Operation Bag Mae.

He not-so-discreetly looks Mae up and down, contemplating this new mission. He previously discounted her as being too snobby and unapproachable for office sex, but in light of his new evidence, however unsubstantiated, he decides that pursuing Mae is his best option. Besides, he suspects that she even has a decent rack. His new mission is clear; he will be the first company man to climb (on top of) Mount Mae! It is that thought that sends his erection from partial to full mast. Of course no one notices this breach of company protocol because, in spite of his boasting, he does not pack a monster in his trousers. Little Edwin is on the smallish side; a fact lost on big Edwin ever since that fateful day a teenage Edwin mistakenly measured his penis with the centimeters side of the ruler.

“So, anyway. I just dropped by to invite you ladies to Hardballs tonight. Everyone is going.” Edwin quickly realizes that he has rudely excluded Danny, which might diminish him in Mae's eyes. He makes amends. “You should come too, Danny.”

“What time?” Joan casts a seductive gaze upon Danny, who doesn't notice because Mae suddenly commands his attention. His eyes are drawn to her eyes, which seems to reflect the fluorescent light like crystal.

“After work. It'll be fun.”

“Sounds good.” Joan nods in agreement, as she considers the possibility of seducing Danny at the gathering. Danny, mesmerized by Mae, briefly allows his mind to entertain the idea of engaging in a steamy lovemaking episode with Mae, who is incredibly sexy in his estimation. But the erotic moment is blown apart by his fail-safe, which quickly puts together another list of consequences, this time including some from actual events in his life.

“I don't think I can.” Danny says. “I've got a previous appointment.”

“Likewise,” adds Mae.

“So go after. We're going to be there a while.”

“We'll see.” Mae concedes.

“That's cool. Anyway, back to the grind.” Edwin struts away, looking back to steal one final glimpse of the newfound object of his desire. How sweet it will be to sample the fruits of Mae, a woman so sweet that she shits roses. Turning the corner, he spies what he believes to be Mae throwing a sexually charged glare at Danny. Edwin curses himself for the moment of weakness in which he invited another rooster into the hen house, a cardinal sin in the business of carousing. Thankfully, the thirty second walk to his desk is long enough to convince himself that the alleged sexual vibe was only a manifestation of paranoia. He tells himself that there is no possible way a woman could be throwing sexual vibes at another man while he is around. After all, he is the hottest commodity at Totally Toys. Just the same, Edwin hedges, assuring himself that if Mae doesn't go to the sports bar, or if the unthinkable happens and, by some flaw in her character she hooks up with Danny, Joan will be his safety. Either way, by the end of the night another chapter will be added to the legend of Edwin Rolle. He is sure of this.

PUTTING THE DEAD IN DEADLINE

2007-04-16T13:20:00.000-07:00

I AM FINISHED!!!!!!

I finally completed my last of the back to back to back to back deadlines I've been laboring through the past 2 weeks. Of course I am sure that new pages will start coming in any minute... but at least right now I have a moment to breathe. Tommorrow I am starting my class, Wednesday I hope to go see Grindhouse with the Top Cow gang (which reminds me I should probably organize that), and Thursday I plan to have lunch with the mighty mighty Robert Napton. Then on Friday I want to take Paris to the movies. Oh, and I also need to find time to meet with my writing partner, Doug, so we can knock out the FF pilot revisions. So as you can see, my dance card is filling up.

Oh... and as far as future plans, I am going to NYC to visit my most bestest of friend, Shaun. That's going down in May. I can't wait to return to the city of my birth. Like any true New Yorker, I just want to be in the city and walk around. I also want heavy doses of pizza, Jamaican beef patties, Chinese food, and bagels. But mostly I am gonna hang with Shaun... and go see as many movies as we can fit in the trip. And I wanna see the Yankees, so I might try to get that off too.

Anyway, a little later I'll be posting Chapter 4 of Sex Offenders... maybe after I nap. No wait... I have to pick Paris up at school. Must not forget to pick up the child... must not forget...

:)
b

CHAPTER 3

2007-04-15T10:05:00.000-07:00

Howdy....

I have 4 pages left to finish by today, so once again I will be filling this space with a chapter from Sex Offenders. But first I wanted to put it out there in the universe that I am strongly considering buying a 26 inch LCD TV made by Samsung. Okay, now back to our regularly scheduled programming...

SEX OFFENDERS

CHAPTER 3

Chapter 3
Edwin Rolle is a toy salesman by trade, but is certain that he is a lothario by nature. So every decision he makes, no matter how minor, must help perpetuate this image. His wardrobe, automobile, reading materials, lunch partners, and every gesture must all be consistent with the best traditions of Casanova. So he diligently researches the latest fashions to stay ahead of his less committed rivals: every other heterosexual male between the ages of fourteen and fifty. He reads every women's magazine from Elle to Glamour in order to understand what the publishing world thinks women want from a man. For daily inspiration he listens to an audio book version of the Kama Sutra on his morning drive in to work. He gets manicures and pedicures once a week. He owns a platinum membership at the local tanning salon.

When it comes to image maintenance, Edwin is without peer. Without a doubt, those that know him are certain that he is the most well kept male on the planet; a metrosexual for sure. And nothing better exemplifies this commitment to excellence, than his hair. He meticulously manages his slick hair, spending a substantial amount of time and income on the acquisition and application of the most expensive daily shampoos, conditioners, finishing rinsed, and hair management products. His upkeep is so thorough that no hair is ever out of place. Whether he is at the gym or in a wind tunnel, his thick black quaff is always perfectly arranged. He proudly displays his plumage like a medieval crest as he charges onto the battlefield in pursuit of his next conquest.

On this morning's drive from Redondo Beach to the Totally Toys offices in Century City, Edwin takes an impromptu break from his usual Kama Sutra ritual. His mind instead kicks around a new idea and needs complete peace and quiet to weigh his options. Even the convertible top of his 2006 red Ford Mustang 4.0 is up so his easily distracted brain won't have to compete with the noises of the outside world.

Edwin methodically, for him, weighs the pros and cons of sleeping with Joan Flavin, from the marketing department. He considers that as the self proclaimed stud of Totally Toys, he should have conquered the reigning company tramp by now. Since, by his count, she has slept with seven Totally Toys employees, in his mind there is no logical reason that he shouldn't be on that not-so-exclusive list. This fact, when considered along with the nagging problem that his sex-ploits have not been the object of office scuttlebutt in several months, offer no other sensible alternative. He must kill two birds with one stone by seducing Joan, a “gimmee” in his mind, so that he can once again be the object of inter-office gossip. At the same time Edwin will put to rest any doubts about his abilities because he has not yet hit a home run in the ballpark with the shortest outfield fence.

CHAPTER 2

2007-04-13T09:09:00.000-07:00

Howdy folks! (I realize that using the plural is a little presumptious, but "EF" it.)

Anyway, I'm back to post chapter 2 since nothing interesting has happened in the last 24 hours. If you haven't read chapter 1 yet, then scroll down to the previous post and read it first... it matters!

Oh, and for those waiting with trepidation... my Jetta's oil change was successful. No congratulations are necessary... they're appreciated, but not necessary.

SEX OFFENDERS

Chapter 2

Danny Peril sits on the far end of the community workbench, scribbling notes into his journal, while at the other end a group of computer nerds argue the finer points of data encryption. Danny is not invited into the conversation, nor does he have any desire to participate. He much prefers writing in his journal so he can explore his little used left brain. He doesn't care that he is considered weird by his peers, who regard his “diary” as a childish waste of time, especially when one can spend it displaying a vast knowledge of programming in front of a gaggle of chronic masturbators. Danny isn't like the other guys in the M.I.S. department. He doesn't view technology as a religion. He doesn't get off on talking about the latest advances in microchip technology, or bashing the latest operating system that is always piece of shit no matter how advanced it gets. He doesn't wait around impatiently, like a spoiled brat at Christmas, for the latest system upgrades and patches to be available on the net. He doesn't need computers and their binary truth to be the center of his universe.

Danny is a different animal altogether. He can have normal conversations with non-computer geeks, and not talk down to them or preach about the absolute nature of technology. He has the ability to take social etiquette into account when engaging in even the simplest human relationships. He understands that the world does not operate on the ones and zeroes principle of basic computing. Danny learned the hard way, long before he ever touched a mouse or soldered together a motherboard, that life is not black and white. He believes that it is gray, non-scientific and dependent solely upon subjective interpretation. That is why he chooses the computer field; to bring some order into his chaotic gray world. Computers bring balance to his life, but he isn't obsessed like the others. Computers are not a refuge for him because he is not a social misfit secretly yearning for mainstream acceptance.

He is the lone quiet and polite employee of the M.I.S department at Totally Toys. He is also the only fellow in the department who doesn't look freakish, oafish, bookish or just plain ugly. He is a decent looking, regular guy with an imperfect-but-interesting face, straight white teeth, and an almost athletic physique. These characteristics place him on another plane from his Warcraft obsessed co-workers. Every one of them are more intelligent and technically proficient than he, but Danny is better looking and better adjusted by a long shot. And it's not even close. Yet, Danny has not an ounce of conceit in him, nor does he judge them the way they judge him. He has had a hard life full of pain and sacrifice, and has learned the importance of being humble. He is so humble that it doesn't even occur to him to be bothered by the jealousy shown by his computer comrades.

The phone rings and the inner circle of arguing computer geeks don't budge. They all assume that Danny will get the phone since he isn't doing anything nearly as important as debating Bill Gates and Steve Wozniak's place in history.

“Man, you guys don't get it, do you?” One of the more rotund ones says. “Bill created an entire industry.”

“So, what? Steve Wozniak invented the personal computer.” Another replies.

“Dude, Bill wrote BASIC when he was a nineteen.”

“Dickweed, you'd be running Microsoft word off a floppy disk if it wasn't for Steve.”

“Bullshit. Bill Gates would have figured it out.' Shit, he reverse engineered the MAC operating system, didn't he?”

“He did.” A few of them mumble, before breaking off into separate mini-conversations about what has just been said.
Meanwhile, the phone rings a third and fourth time. Danny puts down his ballpoint pen, and grabs the phone on the fifth ring. He knows right away that it is Allan Poole. It isn't just Allan's dog-whistle of a voice that is the giveaway, it is the heavy sigh that precedes any talking. It is an affectation that is incredibly long, and sounds like a leaky tire.

“Who is this?!”

“Danny. Good morning, Mr. Poole.” Danny's voice is pleasant and accommodating, which throws Allan for a loop since he expects the patronizing monotone of an M.I.S. employee. He takes a moment to gather himself, then starts his pre-planned attack.

“One of my girls in the marketing department has a computer on the fritz! I don't care which one of you nerd monkeys does it, but it better get fixed before lunch. Don't make me take this to…”

Danny interjects, assuring him that the computer will be up and running before noon. Allan offers a half-assed, mumbly thank you and hangs up the phone.

Danny fishes the two day old repair request out of the in box and walks over to the others. He starts to explain things, but is shined off before he can discern whose turn it is make the field call. Danny, an underprivileged bench tech, decides to handle it himself, pockets the request and gathers some small tools. He heads out the door, unaware that this simple decision will change his life forever.

AND SO IT BEGINS...

2007-04-12T09:20:00.000-07:00

Okay...

So here it is... since I am still busy with the last stage of work I figured I might as well just get on with posting my novela. I think if I do it in chapters I can read through them and perhaps tweak as I go. However this first chapter is pretty much as written. I only changed a handful of words, partially because I don't have time, partially because I'm having trouble focusing while in the lounge of my trusty Volkswagen dealership awaiting news that my car has successfully had its oil changed. But mostly it is unchanged because it is pure GENIUS!!!!!!

Anyway, before I go on a self-promoting, arrogance laced tangient... here it is!

SEX OFFENDERS

Chapter 1

Mae Arden listens on the phone as that infernal schmuck, Allan Poole, rants and raves about the market research results that he so desperately needs. He continues this high pitched bitching and moaning, even after she explains to him for the third time that the reports are locked somewhere within the depths of the currently non-functioning personal computer sitting on her desk. Somehow this knowledge is not enough to keep him from questioning the whereabouts of the files and her ability to perform her job. So, Mae sits on the other end of the phone, stone-faced, tuning him out, waiting patiently for that infernal schmuck with the feminine voice to finally shut the hell up. She is well practiced in this art and has little trouble finding a happy place while Mr. Poole rants and raves. Tuning out Mr. Poole's, foul-mouthed falsetto diatribes is a useful tool that she picked up the very first day she started at Totally Toys. Because his voice is so distinctly high, it was easy enough to do and offered her the opportunity to think about her own personal stuff while still outwardly appearing as though she was engaged in something business related. It is this benefit that encourages her to create combustible work situations, that while ultimately benign, make Allan Poole explode.

Finally, he shuts the hell up, after a ten minute explicative-laden tirade that offers no solutions and succeeds only in supporting the long standing rumor that his abnormally high voice is caused by a lack of testicles. His ranting finished, Mae calmly explains to him a fourth time that the files are inaccessible until someone from Management Information Systems fixes her piece of shit computer. After a long sigh, Allan Poole asks her if she has sent in the proper requisition to have someone come and fix the damned computer. She reminds him that he signed the requisition two days earlier and is still waiting. After a few more exasperated curses, Allan squeals one last grand proclamation.

“This is such bullshit. I'll have one of those sunnovabitch tech nerds at your desk if I have to drag him myself! I can't have you sitting there doing your nails and yammering' with the other hens up there.” With one last sigh, Allan hangs up the phone. Mae delicately puts down the receiver, lifts her ugly Grand Ole Opry souvenir mug, and takes a long sip of green tea.

“Asshole.” She says to no one in particular, examining the oft-used souvenir mug her mother bought for her during last year's pilgrimage to Nashville, the Mecca of Country-western music. Mae stares at the words and design of the grand ole Opry logo for the millionth time, and it occurs to her that this is the one vacation gift she has received in her lifetime that is actually useful. Unlike the Epcot Center sun-visor, the Seattle Space needle snow globe and the Monterey, California combination bottle opener/key chain she keeps in the kitchen junk drawer --a shrine to useless knickknacks she can never bring herself to throw away-- she manages to get a good deal of use out of the mug. It keeps herbal tea nice and scalding the way she likes it and even has a spill proof lid that is exactly that.

Joan Flavin, her next-door neighbor and fellow marketing department employee, pokes her head into Mae's cubicle. She glances at Mae's phone and offers the familiar dopey grin that Mae has come to accept as Joan's way of saying, “I feel your pain”. Mae accepts the condolence, responding with her trademark, “Thanks for both sharing my pain and offering your unflappable support” combination smirk and head nod.

“Allan is such a dick”, Joan whispers as she scoots her chair in front of Mae's cubicle. “You ever notice that he sounds a lot like Andy Gibb on the Saturday Night Fever album? In that one song where he does all that whining?”

Mae nods in agreement, notices for the first time just how long Joan's legs are. She is a tall, thin drink of water with legs up to her chin-- an attribute which Mae believes to be far and away Joan's best characteristic. They are sleek and toned, and command attention wherever she goes. They also provide an important ancillary benefit; they draw attention away from her unremarkable face, which is plain, has never quite outgrown adolescent acne, and always looks flushed. Unlike Mae's smooth, unblemished countenance, Joan is a little hard on the eyes. Making matters worse, she always wears her hair back which exposes more of her bumpy red skin and makes her forehead look swollen. In spite of these flaws, Joan is still an attractive girl. It is just that her beauty is located primarily south of her neckline.

Mae on the other hand is all toothy smile. She has an endearing ear to ear grin to go with two enormous eyes that are the color of toasted almonds, set behind wire-framed glasses that make her look studious and slightly sexual. Yet, over the course of her twenty-eight years, when people describe Mae she is always placed squarely in the “cute” category. And with every year that goes by, her appreciation of that compliment lessens. Having made it almost to the age of thirty (in her mind she already considered herself so), she feels that the moniker “cute” is far too juvenile and sounds like an indictment of her sexiness. She would kill to be called a hottie or sexy bitch. But she isn't top-heavy enough, nor does she possess overly curvy hips or the requisite jungle “bootie.” At times this makes her feel inadequate. Somewhere in the repressed depths of her desires, located just above her secret wish to be fucked in public a public forum, is the desire to have the world view her as a sex pot, or a sex kitten, or any other sex noun.

Even though all six gentlemen fortunate enough to see her naked over the years, all concluded that her body is remarkable, she is still uncertain. As though not enough people know the truth about her to make the judgement stand up in the court of public opinion. It is ironic that she feels this way since she has never come close to doing anything that could be characterized as exhibitionist. She dresses conservatively and rarely exposes even the cleavage of her perky B-cups that five out of the six men she dated have declared as aesthetically perfect. After Dino Mandalino, her second sexual partner and a well traveled lover, noted that her breasts were the first he had ever known to be perfectly symmetrical, Mae made it a point to get affirmation from all ensuing sexual partners. Acknowledging the perfection of her breasts, including her precise bull's-eyes for nipples, became a necessary criteria for a continued sexual relationship. And she affords only one strike. If on the second viewing of her breasts, her partner does not come to the obvious and irrefutable conclusion that they are perfect, then the sexual partnership is dissolved immediately.

She is careful to count only completely bare breasts (excluding partially obscured breast scenarios) as a possible strike situation, but is a stickler when it comes to the exact wording of the announcement. Once she disqualified someone for failing to use the words “perfect” and “symmetry”. Her fourth sexual partner, Giovanni Delacruz, was so awestruck by her breasts, that he could only manage the words, “perfectly round”. She briefly considered giving him as pass, but stuck to her guns after he asked who performed her augmentation surgery.

Mae finds herself thinking back, going through the mental photo album of the last eight years of her life, as Joan relays the highlights of the previous evening. Mae nods her head respectfully as Joan rambles on about some guy she met at Bar One, whom she claims offered to go down on her on his lear jet. Mae tunes her out, preferring to recall her own life's highlights. There are few in recent memory, but even the old ones beat listening to Joan ramble on about all the guys who allegedly hit on her the night before. Joan is a braggart and loves to exaggerate about who wants to fuck her. It fills the void in her chest that makes her feel hollow and unloved. And when men do want to fill that hole, by way of the more obvious one, she is usually quite forthcoming with the goods. So, had the offer actually been legitimate, Joan would've gladly accepted the invitation to join the mile high club, regardless of whether she felt this supposed rich paramour was attractive. Because Joan is one of those hopelessly modern women whose desire to abandon every traditional view of femininity, leads her to an unfulfilled life of promiscuity in the name of equality. To those on the outside, it's as if she is determined to prove beyond any doubt that women are every bit the dogs that men are.

Mae has no problem with Joan's free wheeling sexual behavior, it is the 21st century after all, but has little interest in hearing every minute detail of her embellished love life. Hearing Joan's stories makes Mae feel awful for her. It is painfully obvious to those who know Joan, including the five men employed at Totally Toys whom she has slept with, that she is a lonely girl looking for love in all the wrong places. It bothers Mae to see her friend live such an unrewarding life. It bothers her to hear water cooler talk about how cheap Joan is. It bothers her because Mae genuinely thinks Joan deserves better. And on a deeper, more personal level, it bothers her because she too has gone down the path of misguided promiscuity and knows where that road ends. Lovers four, five and six were garnered in this way, in a misguided effort to replace the void filled by her last great heartbreak. But Mae has learned her lesson and chooses a combination of celibacy and the occasional manual stimulation rather than engage in any more loveless affair that would undoubtedly leave her feeling used and even more alone.

But Mae and Joan are more alike than Mae would ever dare admit. They are both unfulfilled and alone, and want more than anything to find prince charming out there waiting to sweep them off their feet. They both cling to the fantasy that there is a perfect mate sent down from the heavens who will fulfill them completely. Until then, Joan uses sex to fill the void created by her loneliness, while Mae lives in the past. She lives in the distant moments of former life when she thought she was in love with her Mr. Right. She lives in the pure feelings brought by the sensation that she was so in love once that she would do anything to be with her true love. She lives in the naïve, childlike world where her high school sweetheart and her college flings meant more to her than her own life or even her family. She lives in these dreamlike memories, now more fiction than fact, because she can't bear the thought that she is nearly thirty (she already considers herself so), and is still painfully alone.

She sits there and thinks about Steve Cartejenia, her high school sweetheart, while Joan gives a play by play of the handjob bestowed upon the supposedly rich guy, in the back of his Honda Civic. Mae thinks about her first sexual experience with Steve and all of their innocent exploration. She recalls every detail in her head, from the first passionate kiss, to their tearful lovemaking the night it all turned to dust. She lives in this corner of her mind so she won't have to come back to the reality that she is still alone.

3 Down... one to go

2007-04-11T19:38:00.000-07:00

I just finished my third book of this "4 books in two weeks" coloring trial of Boochakles (Greek spelling). Am I tired... yes. But I still have 9 pages of the 4th book before I can take a moment to breathe. Yet I fear not... because things should be wrapping up by Monday, and will hopefully give me some time to return to my writing. I haven't gotten anything accomplished in the screenwriting department in a couple weeks, and I'm looking forward to expending some create and mental energy on it.

I still have to finish the revisions to the spec pilot I am working on with Doug. I also start my TV writing class with David at UCLA extension next Tuesday. Then there is Grindhouse which I still want to see... inspite of the crappy reviews mis amigos have given it.

Oh... and I hope to start including chapters from a novela I started in 2001 and never finished. It's called SEX OFFENDERS, and I have about 120 pages written. I havent read it in years, so it will be interesting to try and get back into the creative mind space that created it.

But now it's late and I'm sleepy....

Out!
b

41 MINUTES LATE AND A DOLLAR SHORT

2007-04-04T00:42:00.000-07:00

Sorry folks... I missed Tuesday by 41 minutes, so my streak ends once again. But hey... I'm 1/3 of the way there to a new record. So rest easy and sleep well because tomorrow is another day!

My only news is that Chaz bought me Guitar Hero 2 for my xbox 360 and we broke our wrists playing it far longer than we should have. And in case anyone was wondering... Eddie Van Halen I am not.

That's all for tonight...

Goodnight!
b

EARLY TO BLOG...

2007-04-02T18:39:00.000-07:00

I have officially TIED my all time blogging record. Congratulations to me!

Another boring day slips into night and I have nothing new to report. More working, some corrections, and much uploading of files. The kind of stuff that makes for a real blogging page turner. I guess I will have to instead find some previously written fine booch literature to put in place of real life events.

Okay... I found something in my FOLDER OF A THOUSAND UNFINISHED WRITINGS. This one had no name and was supposed to be the first chapter of what I can only assume was to be a novel. I wrote it in June of 2001 (except for the derek jeter reference which I just added as I was reading it) and have no idea where I was going with it. So instead of trying to solve the mystery of why the hell I bothered to write this I will just put it out there as a short story called...

THE BIRTHDAY INCIDENT

Nick turned forty the other day and nobody noticed. He didn’t get any cards. No phone calls.

Nothing.

Not a single person on the planet uttered so much as a word to him about his birthday. No one in his family had called or even bothered to send a measly card his way. It didn’t matter to him that no one in his family knew where he was and probably thought he was dead by now. Hell, often times he thought he was dead so he could hardly blame his estranged family for making assumptions. And even if they hadn’t abandoned him five years earlier and knew how to contact him, they still wouldn’t have wished him a happy birthday. But that was okay, he thought. He gave them up a long time ago, scratching them from his memory. Getting snubbed came as no surprise, and was no big deal he said over and over to himself until it became truth.

The only truth that mattered was that he was the only one who knew it was his birthday. He had no family or friends, and barely a handful of acquaintances. There was no one to who even had his phone number, let alone knew it was his birthday. Nick was as solitary as they come. A tried and true loner, that was more than happy to be alone. Except on his birthday. He tried to tell himself that it didn’t matter that no one cared enough to wish him a “Happy Birthday”.

But it did.

It really bothered him. It bothered him so much that when he went to celebrate at his regular haunt, THE XXX STAR CLUB, he didn’t tell any of the strippers. He didn’t mention it to Janay, Honesty, Amber, Nikki, or even Felicia. Nick was a regular, and was on a first fake-name basis with most of the girls. He liked them, and they liked his money and found him a tolerable customer who didn’t smell THAT badly. So, armed with a fresh bottle of Derek Jeter’s cologne, DRIVEN, he knew that they would lavish him with birthday wishes. That had to since he always forked over good money for them to pay attention to him.
Yet, he was conflicted. The closer he got to his first lap dance of the night, the more he realized that he didn’t want that. He could handle women rubbing themselves on him for money, but he damn sure wasn’t going to pay for a goddamm birthday wish. That was just too pitiful to endure. Besides, Nick was a complete-ist and almost liked the idea that no one acknowledged his birthday. The martyr in him would have lost considerable steam if he were forced to modify his “no one” with an “almost”, “just about”, or “darn near”.

He didn’t tell a soul. That way he could happily embrace his misery one more time. But, who could blame him? He wore misery so well: like a comfortable old college sweater that is too tight and full of holes, but still your first choice. His misery felt just right. It was comfortable. Besides, he couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t miserable, and the thought of being anything else flat out scared him. At least he knew miserable. He understood it. It was familiar. It made him happy in a miserable sort of way.

He didn’t tell anyone about his birthday. Instead he denied it to himself, pretending it never happened. His trip to the Star Club was NOT for any special occasion. It was just something to do on a Tuesday night. There was nothing special about the day, or his motive for going. Yet, when he almost told Felicia, his favorite dancer, he justified it to himself that he was just trying to get a little extra action on his lap dance. It was strictly a business decision.

“Do you know what today is?” he asked as she stood over him in the little black cubicle. “Do you know it’s a special occasion?”

“Is it your birthday?” she countered, flaunting her absurdly round, surgically enhanced breasts in his face. “Is it?” He almost said yes, but stopped himself at the last moment. He couldn’t do it. He wasn’t that much of a loser that he had to get his birthday wishes from a fucking stripper with fake tits.

“No. “

He left it at that. Even when she tried to guess again, he ignored her. He acted like she wasn’t speaking to him, a defense mechanism he developed a long time ago. It worked, as usual. Eventually she wrote it off as the antics of a weirdo, and continued her lap dance. She dropped the subject all right, but he noticed she was different after that. She wasn’t the giving person she normally was. It was as though she was now just going through the motions, and didn’t actually enjoy rubbing herself on Nick’s crotch. In times past, she would place his hands on her ass and let him feel her up. Most of the girls did, he was a good, generous customer. But not this time. Even though he was a regular, on a first fake-name basis with her, she still didn’t. Even though it was his birthday of all days.

This hurt Nick. It hurt him so much that he had to make sure it wasn’t a fluke. He accepted two more nonchalant offers for lap dances, and was punished with the same passionless thirty-dollar performance each time.

This was too much to bear. It felt worse than a marriage on the rocks, having fallen prey to cold indifference. A hypothetical marriage, considering he had never even had a steady girlfriend, let alone a full-on wife. The closest he had ever come to a relationship was his “thing” with Felicia. But now the bond they shared was gone, replaced with “going through the motions”. Well, he wasn’t going to stick around for the Dear John letter, telling him she met someone else. It was over between them. Nick was as finished with Felicia, as she was with him.

As he left the club, feeling injured, he couldn’t help but consider the fact that her name probably wasn’t even Felicia. On the drive home, he cursed himself for ever trusting Felicia, or whatever her name was. A relationship built on lies and the exchange of money for groping privileges was hardly the stuff that made for a solid foundation.

He cursed himself for even going to the strip club. The incident ruined his birthday. It would be a long time, if ever, before he would return to the Star Strip. They would miss him, he thought. Good customers like he don’t come around very often.

THE END

LOTS OF WORK AND BLOGGING FAILURE

2007-04-02T01:26:00.000-07:00

So much for my string of daily blogs... I crapped out at two days, which hardly inspires any Lou Gehrig style comparisons. On the upside... I have a good shot at breaking my own record by Wednesday.

Not that I'm trying to get a pass for being so lame, BUT I do still have a bunch of coloring work. I finished one book, but still have 3 other half done books to finish as soon as possible. I think the total page count for the three books is around 40 pages. Needless to say that my ass is gonna grow roots into my chair. But such is the life of a freelancer... it's feast or famine, so don't think I'm complaining. Though I might be lobbying for a little sympathy...

I'm happy the baseball season starts tomorrow, so I can put another lost Knicks season behind me. I don't know if it's the curse of Patrick Ewing, The Ghost of Scott Layden, or Zeke being Zeke, but the Knickerbockers are balls deep in a horrifying Shakespearian tragedy. And sadly I think they're only in the third act (of five). At least the Yankees have the promise of a Championship. I know they haven't won since 2000 and they're pitching is suspect and they have the ridiculous payroll... blah blah blah... a the end of the day they are one of the top five teams in baseball and none of the five are that much better than any of the others. Let's see, my top five in no particular order are Yanks, Tigers, Mets, Redsox and either the Cards or the Phillies. But what the hell do I know...

Anyway, the dryer is probably done, so... until next time

Let's go Yank-eeeeeeeees.

b

MA'KAI and other stuff...

2007-03-28T23:16:00.000-07:00

I am back with my second consecutive daily post.. which is already a new record for me. I'm mostly doing this for the ONE PERSON who I am certain will read this-- shout out to Rob Levin! Anyways, my day was pretty uneventful. I worked on color stuff and rewrote a couple scenes of the spec pilot I am doing with Doug. I also managed to fit in a game of hide and seek with Paris.

In the evening I went to this bar/restaurant in Santa Monica with members of Top Cow (Chaz, Phil, Rob, Blond... and all of their associates). I chatted for a couple hours about things ranging from my screenwriting crap to whether or not it was a good idea to throw a drink on someone (who will remain nameless) who didn't deserve it. It was good seeing them folks, although I didn't talk very much to Rob or Chaz. I mostly talked to Church, Phil and Taysha's friend Monica.

Okay then... if you're not asleep yet, I will now reveal the mystery friend who is going to be taking the TV class with me...

DAVID WOHL!

I'm excited that he and I are gonna be hooking up for ten weeks, since we rarely see each other. I miss the days of wine and Wohlses. Hopefully this will help us get started on the much talked about (by us) writing collaboration we've been looking to do for the last couple years.

That's it for tonight... it's back to work for me, with season five of The Shield to keep me company. I've already seen it, but The Shield is like an old friend that I just don't get sick of.

b

I"M NOT MUCH OF A BLOGGER...

2007-03-27T20:48:00.000-07:00

...but I am going to try and be one. And by that I just mean I am going to TRY to blog more frequently than once a year. I might even start blogging daily.

Yeah right.

I'm a creature of habit and my main habit is to compulsively do stuff for like a week then drop it and move on to something else. But I probably shoudn't be giving away the ending to this blog, so forget I said anything. Anyway, I've been busy as fuck with coloring (beyond my normal busy). One anscillary benefit to coloring so much is that I get to catch up on my TV shows. And this being a really busy time, I've had the opportunity to catch up on Smallville, Lost and The Black Donnellys. Oh and for all you strange people who are reading this without actually knowing me... I put movies and TV shows on while I color-- it helps pass the time. TV shows are better because of the volume and the fact that I don't have to actually look at the show that much. Listening is the big thing in TV shows.

Back to getting caught up on my shows...

LOST- It's amazing to me how this show can continue to give me new information and reveal new stuff while simultaneously confusing the crap out of me. It's like the more information I get the more questions pop up! Yet I am still very much interested in what the hell is going on. I don't think the answers can ever live up to the hype, but I am enjoying the ride. Me still likes.

SMALLVILLE- Six years in and just when I was getting apathetic, they pulled me back into the story. For me the show has always been first and foremost about the moments between Clark and Lana. I'm not a fan of Lois, and I hate seeing Lana with Lex... even though I still feel bad for Lex, knowing he is going to be an arch criminal (if he isnt already). Anyway, after so much water under the Clark/Lana bridge you'd think that they had no more tricks up their sleeves. But alas, the Lex/Lana marriage episode really GOT ME. The writers managed to give me everything I wanted YET AGAIN and then STEAL IT AWAY from me AGAIN. Just like in the Jonathan Kent dies episode, when Clark tells Lana, only to have to undo it. Me still likes this too.

THE BLACK DONNELLYS- This is a new show that is only a handful of episodes in. But I already like it. Maybe it's the romantic sap/sucker in me, but I'm digging the main love story between Tommy and Jenny. Plus, you throw around all the mob/crime stuff and the NYC location and I'm in. It's the kind of show that I wish I could write for. I mean, hell... who wouldn't want to be in a writer's room run by Paul Haggis. I can dream...

Okay... that's a lot of stuff for one blog. Tommorrow I will be talking about the UCLA Extension class I am taking AND the mystery friend who is going to be taking the class with me!

sweet dreams bitches,
b

COME WATCH A MOVIE MADE BY REAL LIVE COMIC PEOPLE!

2006-07-08T10:15:00.001-07:00

Hi all (both of you)!

In my annual blog post, I wanted to let any and everyone know that my short film BLAME will be screening at The Dances With Films Festival in Los Angeles! It was co- written and produced by me and Scott Tucker (of Top Cow Editorial fame) and I directed it.

And if you need more of a comic book industry related reason to go see this short film...

...current Top Cow Editor in Chief Renae Geerlings stars in it with Scott Tucker! And we used the Top Cow offices for several of our locations.

Check out the flyer for all the details!

Also, here's a brief synopsis of the film, as well as a couple other tidbits of related info. I had to come up with this stuff for a press kit, so I figured I might as well post it here for the two people that might be interested. Be warned though... it is NOT a comic book based short. So there are no muscle bound people or capes.

SHORT SYNOPSIS

Megan is devastated by the sudden death of her daughter. She blames her ex-boyfriend Leo and seeks revenge in the hope of getting closure. But neither is prepared for the consequences of her actions. Graff is a veteran police officer on the payroll of a drug kingpin. Moss is his young partner who wants in. But when Moss is finally given the chance to prove himself to the grief stricken kingpin, he is confronted with the harsh realities of blurring the line between good and bad. Murder and revenge, are at the center of this dramatic thriller that explores the darker side of parental devotion and accountability.

HOW DID WE GET THE MONEY TO SHOOT BLAME? WE SOLD OUR FRIENDS ORIGNAL COMIC ART...

In the summer of 2005 Scott and I worked together for a comic book company called Top Cow Productions. Sharing a mutual love for movies and filmmaking we decided to collaborate on a short film, diving head long into the world of filmmaking. So we wrote the script and pooled our resources to come up with the financing. Being a couple of working stiffs, we were still woefully short on funds. So Scott decided to sell off as many of his comic books and science fiction collectibles that he could bear to part with. Yet we were still a couple thousand dollars short. So we solicited our family for help. And when that wasn’t enough we went to our comic book artist friends to donate their original comic art to our cause. They did, and we auctioned the artwork off on ebay to get the remainder of the financing.

OTHER NOTES

Blame was shot over two weekends in June of 2005 using a DVX 100 24P DV CAM.

It was edited on the same 20” G5 iMac that I use to color comics, using Final Cut Pro 4.5.

It was shot entirely in Los Angeles, using friend’s homes and the offices of Top Cow Productions as locations

The final cost including post was under $5,000.

SO THAT'S IT! I hope to see you ALL there!

brian

IF YOU NEED PROOF...

2005-08-16T15:46:00.000-07:00

...that my Darkness issue rocks hard,

http://www.paperbackreader.com/review.php?ReviewID=835

I'm still hoping to get some more reviews...

ALSO... if you want to read an interview with me about comics and the short film I am making (almost done)...

http://scrypticstudios.com/index.php/news/571

There... that should give all my adoring fan something to chew on. (Shout out to Mom!)

peace
b

SHAMELESS PLUG!

2005-08-16T15:28:00.000-07:00

Read DARKNESS #21!

I wrote and colored it and the talented Francis Manapul drew the shit out of it.

There I said it. Yes its been out a month... but so what. Get yer hands on it and give it a read, anyway. It's a stand alone issue that u can understand with a minimum of beforehand Darkness knowledge. And if you have any still questions I will personally answer them for you. (brianbooch70@yahoo.com)

I can also safely say that is has AT LEAST $2.95 worth of entertainment value. Hell I personally think has over FIVE DOLLARS U.S. worth of entertainment value packed in the 22 pages.

That's $5.99 Canadian!!!!!

That's $546.65 yen!!!!!

Now that's bang for your buck.

Anyway, that's my shameless plug. Sorry to have troubled you...

mucho amor

bri

HELLO TO MYSELF!

2005-08-10T14:31:00.000-07:00

Hi!

This is me trying on my new blogging shoes.

I suppose this is my forum to talk about things that interest me... just in case there is anyone out there just clamoring to know what I think about stuff. Well, I wouldn't want to disappoint my fan base... so here goes!

I think that...

-beverages taste best cold.

-the Usual Suspects is an overrated movie.

-movies made in the 70's rock my ass hard.

-we should replace income tax with consumption tax

-I need to start working out again

-George W Bush looks like Lee Majors

-going all in pre flop with pocket two's is a mistake

-I can no longer relate to new pop music

-Peter Jackson is the new Steven Spielberg

-Lenny Kravitz has one of the all time best musician names

-Beyonce IS booty-licious!

-cucumbers taste better pickled (shout out to Dave Chapelle!)

-Stevie Wonder IS a musical genius (shout out to Eddie Murphy)

-blogging is like masturbation... fun for other people to look at but ultimately you do it for yourself.

-there is no pretense to masturbation, making it true form of expression

-the more you says "balls" (pronounced bah-AWL-Z) the funnier the word gets

-penis is still the funniest word in the english language

-someone should start a movement to revitalize the word "fot" as a valid alternative to "fart"

-an all female posse should be refered to as a "pussy"

-there is no such thing as vulgar language

-ape shall not kill ape

-there is no place for shanking in the schools

OOOOKAY then... that's my very first blog. Hopefully down the road I will actually have something worth saying.

kissy kissy! And.... WE'RE OUT!