Simpletons

So the other day I saw an advertisement for the new season of The Simple Life with Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie. It is called The Simple Life Goes To Camp.


In light of Paris being sentenced to jail time recently I had to wonder whether the cameras would follow her there for The Simple Life Goes To Jail.

Which then made me realize they are just ripping off the Ernest movies.

Here are my ideas for future installments of The Simple Life:

Hope for the Ugly

Where does one go to meet women like this?

Damn You WebMD

So, thanks to information on the internet, I've diagnosed myself with cancer.

The other day I noticed a painful lump on the back of my head near the top, then yesterday my neck started getting sore, and today I discovered another lump on the back of my head on the left side, even with my ear, and one developing in my neck on the left side.

Upon looking up information on the internet, I've come to the conclusion that I have cancer and my head will explode within a fortnight.

Actually, I'm not too worried about it yet. If the lumps persist for a few weeks, I'll get it checked out by a doctor.

First Days

“Live each day as if it were your last”

That is one piece of advice that I don’t like.

I understand what is meant by the phrase, but in my reality, living each day as if it were my last would be the most counterproductive thing I could possibly do. I know this, because I have lived a few days as if they were my last, and they were god-awful.

If it were my last day, I wouldn’t get much done.

Knowing that tomorrow I will be dead would make me extremely choosy about what I would do on that last day. I would have trouble accepting invitations from friends to do anything, constantly thinking to myself, “Is that really what I want to do with my last day?”

Where would I want to eat my final meals? Who would I want to spend my final hours with? Do I really want to spend my last day going to work?

I think, if it were my last day, I would get really depressed about the things I haven’t done yet. Even if I got out of the house and did one of the things I wanted to do with my life, I couldn’t enjoy it really because I would constantly be thinking about the million other things that I am not able to do because I am spending my last day doing this.

And if I knew about the inevitable end in the coming hours, I would want to spend the day tending to my affairs and getting things ready for my being dead. Who has time to bungee jump from a helicopter over an active volcano, when I’ve got all this porn to delete from my computer? I really should clean the apartment too. And make sure my living will is up to date and my accounts are settled and I should send an email out to some people I haven’t talked to in a long time and there’s that Netflix movie I should mail back… There are pressing things that must be done before one dies!

So I would rather live each day as if it were my first.

I think it would be more beneficial to experience the world with the wonder of a newborn. There are so many things to do and learn and you’re pretty fascinated by it all.

Almost everything is more interesting when it’s new. A new love. A new job. A new car. Your first day of school.

Why wouldn’t you want to experience each day with that excitement of new possibilities rather than the dread of thinking you’ve wasted the last day of your life eating bad Chinese food from around the block and watching the season finale of “Heroes”?

Kick the Baby

Maybe this is why they invented the baby leash...


Oh, and don't forget to enjoy the remix of that video:

In Memory

I was looking around on MySpace at work tonight and discovered that an old high school friend had passed away. There were comments on his page saying how much he'd be missed. I went to the obituary section of The Daily Local News' website and discovered that my old friend Ken Miller had died this past weekend.

Ken had recently gotten in touch with me on MySpace and would occasionally send me messages about "the old days". Not that we were close friends, but we did run in the same circle.

He leaves behind three daughters, and if you remember Ken, or just feel like doing something good, you can make a memorial contribution to Hudson L. Voltz, PC Trust Account, FBO/Kenneth S. Miller III Children Educational Fund, 525 Highland Blvd., Suite 107, Coatesville, PA 19320

Nag Nag

"These cell phones are the new ball and chain," the man said to me.

We were standing by the back exit on the 63 bus to Bay Ridge. There were no seats available and, as it was 3:30 in the afternoon, the bus was filling up with school kids. He was an older man than me, somewhere in his late fifties or sixties. We were both jostled about as the kids poured on.

"My wife," he said. "I can't get away from her. Always calling to find out where I'm at."

"Just don't answer your phone," I offered.

"Nah. I tried telling her the battery's dead, but she don't buy it no more. Jeez. These things..."

He pressed the sensor strip to signal the driver he wanted to get off. The bus careened past two stops.

A man behind us got up and yelled, "How do you get off this thing??!!"

The bus pulled over at the next bus stop.

"What're ya, off to the races?" the man next me said for the bus driver to hear. He stepped off the bus, and nodded back to me as he did.

His cell phone began to ring, and he shook his head, laughing.

Another Weekend

Saturday afternoon I went down to Park Slope with the intention of getting a book or two at 7th Ave. Books, my favorite used bookstore.

On the way there I discovered that there were people having stoop sales on nearly every block. And, since Park Slope residents tend to be well-read, every stoop sale was selling old books. I hit about five different stoop sales, and picked up about 12 books before I even got to the used bookstore. And none of them were more than a dollar apiece!

Misha and I went out for drinks Saturday. At the bar, I overheard a girl behind me say she was going to a Cinco De Mayo party and remembered that a guy I work with was having a party, so we hopped a train up to Hamilton Heights and drank with a bunch of young twenty-somethings whom we found completely uninteresting.

There were bowls of NYC Condoms around and I inexplicably grabbed a handful and stuffed them in my pocket, as if I will have a need for them ever. Last time I actually bought some they sat around for a couple years until the time came to use one and it exploded into a cloud of dust as I tried to put it on.
If anybody does have a use for them, let me know, I'll send 'em to ya.

Afterwards we went to a bar in the East Village that Misha had stumbled into Friday night and was excited about because they let you smoke inside and girls danced on the bar. They were showing the De La Hoya/Mayweather fight there and it was packed and we had to wait until the fight was over and the place cleared out before folks started lighting up. Then a not-so-attractive girl got up and danced on the bar. It was not the diamond in the rough dive bar Misha had raved about and I left shortly afterwards.

Saw Spiderman 3 this afternoon and was completely bowled over by how incredibly lame it was. I usually accept the inevitable cheesiness factor when I see a Sam Raimi flick, but watching this made me feel like the fat, Gluttony victim in Seven, being force-fed Kraft Mac And Cheese dinners. The last half-hour, I think, was actually directed by Oprah Winfrey, and each character got to have a five minute crying scene where they got in touch with their feelings and sought forgiveness. I was waiting for Dr. Phil to step up to Spidey and The Sandman and help guide them through their emotions. Aunt May had so many "old wise man" speeches, I fully expect her to be sporting a Fu Manchu 'stache and living at the top of a mountain in Spiderman 4. When it intends to be funny, the movie is pretty good. The Bruce Campbell scene is classic! But Sam Raimi's never been very good at subtlety and when he tries to tackle intimate human emotions, the movie blows up in his face. Please Sam, do a non-Spiderman movie soon! You've clearly OD'ed on the guy.

In Brief...

Steve's friend Marsha used to be a personal assistant to Robert DeNiro and, as such, she gets free passes to the Tribeca Film Festival each year. Which she apparently never uses. So Steve convinced her to let he and I use the passes. We picked them up yesterday and saw Julie Delpy's film 2 Days in Paris, which I thought was very fast and funny. I enjoyed it a lot.

This morning I checked out Ed Burn's most recent effort Purple Violets, a less-than-stellar film. Ironically, I thought Delpy's film felt very "New York", with it's fast-paced editing and breezy chatter, whereas Burns, a born New Yorker, delivered a slow, plodding film that got caught up in too many cliches. Note to self and other filmmakers: I hate seeing "artists" in films talking about their roles as "artists" and how they have to sell out to survive. It's an old idea now. I have a lot of friends who are painters and writers and "artists" and we don't sit around and talk about the nature of art and how we must get back to the true essence of the creative force within. Well...not all the time anyway.

I was set to see two more films tonight, but this afternoon Marsha called my brother and said her sister was in town and she wanted to use the passes this weekend after all.

So I only got to see two films! And they were both romantic comedies about people in their early-mid 30s, having life/relationship issues. There were a few horror movies I wanted to check out and a couple of comedies, but alas, no such luck.

I have a big fascination with making lists. I like to make lists of things I've done or plan to do, books I've read or plan to read, music I've bought or plan to buy, movies I've seen or plan to see, etc. Last night I stumbled upon a site, that is all about that. It's called All Consuming and it allows me to keep track of all the crap I consume! I've added a little "Currently Consuming" section to the right of this blog, and I've just begun to catalog the many book, movies, cds I've consumed. It's a great time-waster for a big dork like myself.

I thought this story about the Iraqi Parliament's plans to take the summer off was just hysterical. I don't know, for all the talk of democracy failing over there, it appears that they grasped a fundamental aspect of American politics: the strong aversion to work.

I am for some reason really bothered by these little signs on the doors at Burger King that read: Buh-Bye!, then ask, You out? Thanks for stopping by! I hate when corporations try to be all hip and NOW and try to talk to people in street vernacular. I know that is so very 90's of me, but c'mon...if Burger King does want me to have it my way, can you please NOT remind me of David Spade's remotely humorous stewardess character on Saturday Night Live. I just ate.

While checking out some reviews on imdb, I discovered the next William S. Burroughs. His use of the English language is very unique and creative. Reminded me of the cut-up technique. At first I was put off by lines like "some people may have avoided watching this movie due to it's short footage but this movie changes the chronicles of many people's unchangeable thoughts over the footage of a movie", but after trying for a few minutes to figure out what exactly this guy was talking about, I decided that he was a Dadaist toying with the nature of language, quite possibly a genius, and none of us layfolk will ever understand the enigma of Evren Buyruk.

A Year in Comics

I started collecting comics again about a year ago. One of the first that I picked up was 52, a weekly, year-long comic that DC Comics put out, with multiple, intersecting storylines involving just about every character in their fold. Today, issue 52 of that endeavor was released. The story has come to a "close".

While I bought comics now and then when I was a kid, I can't say that I was ever a "collector" until now. As my friend John has pointed out, "Kids don't collect comics. What kid has the disposable income to spend on comics every week? You need a job." And at $3 for a single issue, he's absolutely right.

It's nice to have a hobby again, but in the last year it's cost me a couple thousand dollars.

Master Thespian

I went to an audition today for a short film a guy I work with is producing. It was actually the first time I ever really auditioned for something, so that was interesting. I didn't have a headshot, because I've never really fancied myself a "real" actor, so I quickly threw together a resume and photoshopped an old picture onto it. It took me all of twenty minutes. Fifteen of those were spent trying to figure out what film and theater productions I've been in and what I should include.

There's a funny dichotomy between my "film roles" and my "theater roles".

Casting Agent: Ah, I see you played Guildenstern in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. Oh! And I see you've played both "Street Thug #1" and "Mugger" in several films.

Often, when I'd be working on friends' films, I'd be asked at the last minute if I would care to play some punk bad guy. Nobody ever casts these roles, it seems, and just try to find the scariest-looking crew member to fill in when that shot finally comes around. And often, that crew member was me.

This particular role called for someone who could be either 25 or 45, the character being an alcoholic pizza maker who may or may not have spent time in prison. Again, my natural features came in handy!

It was fun to actually read for a part I probably will not get. I've been spoiled. I've acted now and then because I was asked to, not because I wanted to pursue an acting career and went after the roles on my own. I enjoyed experiencing that part of an actor's life.

The Die Hard Music Video

I found this video on someone's blog and had to share.