I went to a hardware store alone for the first time. It’s possible that 50% of my purchase was Diet Dr. Pepper.
I am getting over my lifelong fear of yogurt
I joined a comedic dance team, and it just gets me right in my humor sweet spot
I want to know the name of the thing in hotel rooms, where it’s like a special lock, but it also has a chain so the door doesn’t open all the way
I got a smartphone and I have to charge it every day. what.
One of my comedy idols told me I was naturally funny and I didn’t know what to say. I got to thanks!
I went to a rare book fair and drooled everywhere
I discovered how to turn on my television after two years
I am assuming my bad luck this month is to allow for athlete’s olympic dreams to come true. And I am OK with that.
One of my best friend’s got in a bad car accident. So I’ve been like, oh sh*t, life. (He is making a good recovery and his worse injury is a broken eye socket, but head wounds are terrifying)
I realized Zedd is a man
I’ve been taking flexibility classes, which are contortion classes for not-so-cool people
I am rereading my favorite book
Is to eat more vegetables because I feel like it will help me eat healthier and it will also help me celebrate my mental age.
Previous resolutions of mine have been to use less plastic (success) and not sharing any George Takei memes or photos on Facebook (super success)
What are your’s? Warning, if it inspires me, I may join you!
2K14, let’s do this!
There is something very jarring about receiving a phone call from an unknown number, extra terrifying if it just says “Out of Area” because you don’t even get a zip code to hypothesize about. It’s like a knock on your door from a burly dude wearing a mask , except that you’re armed with an “end call” button instead of a hair straightener heated up to 470 degrees.
I have been a lifetime phone phobic and also a phoneyphobic, but that’s not a tale for the now. I guess I like to have face-to-face conversations with people.
If you are a “typical” American, I imagine most calls from new-2-you phone numbers are from the dry cleaner, the credit card company or telemarketers. As an actor who is a believer in buying hand wash OK clothes, my calls are a bit different. It could be a call saying I booked something, that a CD called my agent to say that I suck (hope this never happens) or it could be my vet saying my cat’s check-up was great. Actors are people with cats, too.
An unknown number can be a game-changer, and that’s a little bit terrifying, but probably not as terrifying as my home defense system. Note to self: get a baseball bat.
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.
Self-identity nouns should be given great weight. Like more weight than those things our grandparents used to keep papers from flying away on a desk of whichever mid-century school of design was their preference.
One of my generation’s most gratuitous self-identity nouns is “foodie.” I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen the following Twitter bios:
Writer, Dog-Lover, Foodie
Packers Fan, Aspiring Cellist, Foodie
Stripper, Pop Star, Foodie
Died last Tuesday, Foodie
You know that really intense almost physical reaction you have to seeing a cute kitten or puppy? The opposite of that
I feel like one needs to reach a certain level of commitment and experience to something before using it as a self-identity word. I’m not saying you need to publish a best-selling novel or land an internship at an easy beach-read mag like The Economist, but if writing is what your soul breathes, you are a writer.
I read this article that introverts are more likely than extroverts to only identify as one thing. So this could be my personality dictating my opinion (OMG BRAIN, FREE WILL), but I think in order to be brilliant at anything you have to be pretty aggressive about it, leaving little time for being considerably above average at anything else. This means that maybe we can only truly have one self-identity noun that is skill-based at a time. That means that maybe we shouldn’t waste it on “foodie” unless your soul craves good food above all else.
As a side note, I appreciate good food. It’s just not my word.