Happy Holidays from Venice!
Two weeks ago there was a street festival in Venice sponsored by GQ on one of our main drags that GQ magazine dubbed “the coolest block in America.”
I don’t consider myself more judgmental than the American norm, but I just needed to see all the coiffed hair, smell cologne to help my figure out what France smells like and gawk at shoes that cost way more than my Christmas shopping budget.
Well, we went, and everyone was nice and we had a ton of fun. So maybe I am a douchebro for being judgmental? If I judge myself for being a douchebro for being judgmental, does it cancel out?
Anyways, my December resolution is to be less judgmental. But being “observational” is totally OK. I also reserve the right to judge evil people because, not cool.
Still not sure what France smells like. Bread?
- My car did not get egged
- Impulsed bought onesie pajamas with monkeys for feet at Target
- Lots of leftover candy (successful in joy, but not diet)
- Decided which commercial agent to go with and I think she is way cool!
- My commercial acting class didn’t get cancelled, so I did not go to any parties on Halloween (successful in diet)
Anyone do anything interesting? What did you dress up as? What was the coolest costume you saw?
The coolest one I saw involved eight people! It was Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, except the Dwarves were all regular height and snow weight was a little person. How empowered!
Onto my favorite month, November (AKA my birthday month), and one of the few months where I can get away with wearing long sleeve shirts in Los Angeles.
There is one thing about comedy that makes my skin itch. Neutrality. Like khaki pants and dry turkey sandwiches, I just gotta ask why.
This could be my Berkeley brainwash, but I think the mass rewards of formula and structure lead to a lot of mass boring (i.e. almost every buddy cop comedy, except for the one with Jimmy Fallon and Queen Latifah because what). I would say that all the people who have had the largest impact on me as a writer and performer are very unapologetic about the lens in which they view the world. I find that so refreshing, inspiring and captivating. Hubert Selby Jr., Lucille Ball, a scientologist wanting to give me a stress test. All fascinating. May we never settle!
Age 10 is kind of a great one, because you’re only awkward, but without the sweaty palms and the world still has so many experiences you. I tried strawberry milk for the first time summer of age 10, I also had a pretty disappointing experience with magic. My brother and I saw Lance Burton on television doing an hour routine/performance and he had one trick that involved regular milk, strawberry milk and chocolate milk – not mixed together because neapolitan milk is probably no bueno — and an illusion. The TV special was great fun, and I tried Strawberry milk for the first time and thought it pleasant and the flavor strong.
A week later my family went on a trip to Las Vegas and stayed at the Monte Carlo because omgwavepool. Lance Burton just happened to be performing at the hotel, small Vegas?, I was amped. We sat down in the cold, dark and cheesily carpeted theatre, the curtain went up and I was confronted with three different types of milk. This gave me the startling conclusion that magic is not magical the second go-about. It’s also given me a general distaste for strawberry milk.
Because life is beautiful.