Only Jerks like Supper Clubs

I always sit in Chuy’s section, granted he could spell it Chewy, but I’ve never asked. I ordered chili sides the first few times I went and got trapped in that being my usual order because there is something tangibly awkward when someone asks you “the usual?” and you say “no”

Then the bowling alley diner became the opposite of awkward and I would go at least once a week with a book or friend and drink way too much caffeine at 6pm because I was just out of college and invincible. I was also in a new neighborhood where I didn’t know many people and on my first bout with being relatively self-sufficient (i.e. poor). I could get a good cooked meal for $10 with tax and tip and sit next to a row of old men and a strange and talkative younger doctor at the counter, who were friendly faces and largely the same faces (night after night, not same faces as each other). Oh, also, and a lot of overweight friendly cops sitting with sides of ranch dressing.

I feel like this whole thing would be amiss without mentioning the one-armed long-haired chain-smoking league bowler I would pass on the way in.

As someone who largely prefers books to conversations with strangers, I kept to myself and my waiter friends and I loved it. Over time I got busier with comedy, hanging out with my cat and losing my college 20, so my visits had largely slowed down. Last week I drove by and there were 100 people protesting the eviction and as a Berkeley grad I was hoping for some important societal change. Turns out the local AMF is effectively evicting them at the end of the month and replacing it with a supper club that I hope no one in my neighborhood ever gives his or her patronage.

Melted Cheese Tastes Like Rubber

One of my favorite clown teachers (my favorite way to start a sentence), told us that you should be constantly questioning the “why” of what you’re doing- whether it’s being a business man, a magician or a girl who lives in Venice Beach who has a blog and a kitten named Elvis.

This is something I’ve always done, but didn’t super realize it until he said it out loud and I was like “Oh, sh*t, that’s me!” TBF, I had the same reaction when someone told me that melted cheese tastes like rubber. right?

The why prevents me from being stagnant and accepting my current every day situations and skills as a permanent reality instead of a level of progress on an ongoing journey. I’ve surpassed my expectations in my 2-year Hollywood grind. I think it also helps that I have kept myself open to things I never saw being part of my life, mostly clown.

Reasons Why I Haven’t Blogged

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

Phone Phoney

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.

Sometimes You’re the Douchebag

Sometimes You're the Douchebag

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?

Signs of a Successful Halloween

  • 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.

Hugs///

AJ

Comedy Devil

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!

The Magical People

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.