Cold Cereal

A punctuation mark on the state of my exhaustion lately: I opened my fridge to get a mid-morning snack to discover that the Raisin Bran box was in there. And, of course, the milk was in the cupboard. Right where I left it an hour ago.

Now where did I put that baby...

Sun-sorship

A friend who works in mooovies was just contacted by the MPAA regarding a web clip, created for a movie, in which an animated cartoon commando sun shoots bullets of radiation into the Earth and then enjoys a smoke. Here's their concern:

"Someone here in our office feels very strongly that the cartoon image of the sun with some sort of cigarette in its mouth, while it is wearing at headband and staring at the Earth after it turns into an orange, is a realistic depiction of marijuana use. Is that a "joint", or is it just a hand rolled tobaccos cigarette? Also, is the sun old enough to smoke?"

My friend, after clearing her eyes of tears, initially wrote:

"The image in the animation of the sun includes a hand-drawn hand-rolled tobacco cigarette. The sun, while personified in the clip, still represents the 4.5 billion year old celestial body, which is old enough to smoke."

Naturally, my friend came to me for advice on how to speak to a government employee. Here's how I urged her to reply:

"One, as a commando, the Sun would be forced to condense his supplies and waterproof them. Therefore, it would be more efficient for the Sun to carry flat rolling papers in one cargo pocket, and an air-tight bag of tobaccos in another pocket. Carrying a whole carton of Virginia Slims would be inefficient and amateurish. Also, it wouldn't make combat sense for the Sun to be smoking marijuana because it would obviously impair the senses, unlike tobaccos, which would make him feel more masculine and therefore more deadly.

"Lastly, if the Sun is old enough to shoot radiation bullets into planets, he's old enough to smoke.

"This is all very ironic, you realize, because with the amount of flammable gasses the Sun exhales, even smoking the smallest cigarette would engulf him in flames."

She went with her original reply.

Yo, SWA!

Another spec commercial written and directed by myself and shot by Josh Silfen. This one stars Sokrates Frantzis and Ashley Cozine.

Midnight Odor

I had a terrible night's sleep. It started at two, when the smell of our kitchen garbage woke me up from a dream I was having about being face-down on a roll of carpet padding. I went to investigate the stink, and sure enough, it was the kitchen trash--probably 80 feet from where I sleep. It smelled like chemicals. I considered throwing it out, but K doesn't like it when I walk outside in my underwear.

I put some Vick's on to cover up the smell. Didn't work, though. I went back to sleep and had the following dreams:

- Working in a microfiber-couch warehouse
- Wearing a poncho in the rain at a Boy Scout camp in Alaska
- Eating airplane peanuts
- Taking out the trash in my underwear

I woke up with a sore throat. I took the trash out first thing, but the smell's still lingering. I'm beginning to think that my throat's the one who smells like carpet padding.

New video!

Here's something I wrote and directed, with Josh Silfen as DP and Heather Lynn Morris as the superstar.

Where it hurts

The first two (professional?) massages I've ever had were from women who were clearly nervous about doing it. The first told me that I had to keep this massage a secret because her boyfriend doesn't like it when she works on men (this was at a spa in Niagara Falls). On my second try, I spouted off a bunch of muscle aches I was having, to which she replied something in a Northern European language. But I decided to give it one more go today, since for the past week I've been OD'ing on muscle rub due to an overworked rhomboid (not the parallelogram.)

It was great. Strong hands. Lotsa conversing in English. Good job, Tamar.

Something was unleashed, though. On my drive home, struggling to find a radio station now that Indie 103.1 is gone, I turned to some goofy lunchtime show on a rock channel. And I could not stop LAUGHING at their inane banter. I mean "a-heul, a-heul-heul," Goofy-type laughing. Driver-next-to-me-watching laughter. It was a half-hour drive.

Also, I think the massage broke my kidney. Which is funny because it is ironic.

Posse on Broadway

No one outside of Seattle knows this song, right? Are there any other songs that represented a town, but never made it OUT of that town?

Am I wrong, Seattle natives? You know every word, right?

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