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Good choice? Bad choice?
“Thank you.”
That’s how you know you’re being rejected at an acting audition. Whether you’re performing a monologue or cold-reading a side or reading commercial copy, that quick ‘thank you, please move on with you life because I’m moving on with mine’ is the kiss of death. Sometimes, it’s better to hear flat out silence after an audition because it means you made them stop and think. Or in any case, stop.
Are your stuffed animals stressed out and in need of a vacation? Well, there’s a new travel agency in the Czech Republic that has the solution to your problem. Inspired by the globe-trotting garden gnome from the film Amelie, the Toy Traveling agency is offering a luxury vacation package for…your stuffed animal.
That’s right—your stuffed animal will be escorted around Prague and photos will be taken of him/her at all the lovely tourist sites. You can even pay extra for your favorite toy to receive a massage complete with candles and incense.
Damn, do people actually pay for this shit?!
I was 15 years old and broke. And as we all know, it sucks to be 15 and broke (I know, it sucks at all ages but at 15 you’re simply stuck with very few options). Unlike my friends who got allowances, I was not so fortunate. I did, however work at my parents’ mom ‘n pop fish and chips restaurant. But knowing how much of a struggle it was to get by, no way was I going to ask for money. So one day I went to school and applied for a work permit. I decided it was time for me to grow up and make it on my own. And the corporate ladder I chose to climb was our local Jack in the Box.
This is not the glorious Jack in the Box we all know now with the Lakers halftime show, this was the old Jack in the Box known for allegedly serving its patrons kangeroo meat (still not sure if this is a fact but in the 80′s that was the word on the street).
Ah, your first time…you never forget it. My first “Hollywood” rejection was for a spec episode I wrote for the TV series Star Trek: The Next Generation.
This was back in college and I was 19 or 20 years-old…as green as a spring pasture in Ireland. Now I was by no means a Trekker or hard-core Trek fan, but I grew up on reruns of the original Star Trek series and started watching the Next Generation (TNG) in school because my housemate and our buddies would get stoned and watch it. I was very anti-TV during that time and tried to resist as long as possible but, in the end, resistance was…uh…futile. I did enjoy the show but if I wasn’t a big fan, why did I pick that series to write for? Honestly, for one simple reason…it was the only show on the air that accepted unsolicited scripts. So even a nobody like me had a shot in theory.
Those wacky folks at PETA are at it again. They announced this past week that they were going to unveil the following billboard in Florida to encourage pet owners to spay or neuter their pets:
But after “talking” with Tiger Woods’ lawyers, PETA announced yesterday that they will place the billboard “on hold” for now and go with another campaign. That must have been quite a talk.
Been enjoying running alone lately, maybe it’s a part of getting older, or maybe I’m turning into a hermit. Funny thing, before I discovered running I couldn’t stand to be by myself, I always had to have someone around me. Running has changed me, mostly it’s calmed me down. It’s made me less anxious, less angry, less bitter. Solitude seems, well, just easier. It’s quieter. The sounds of my footsteps and natures musical score beats any ipod running mix or people chit chat. Running alone comes with less baggage. No one to judge or be judged by. No one to follow or be followed by. The only one that’s going to beat me is me. I’m accountable to myself from start to finish. Conversations with myself are quick and efficient. No concerns about feelings being hurt or taking things the wrong way. Even the most difficult questions answer themselves after two hours of running. If not, then the question isn’t really worth asking.
I’ll never forget this great story my late professor at Berkeley, Dr. Larry Stark, told me. By then he was tenured, established and about to retire, but back in the day, when he was still getting his doctoral degree, he needed to get his technical papers published to establish his resume.
He had done all the research, run the experiments and written out his results. To better his odds, he had written up three different papers, hoping to get at least one published. He sent “Paper A” to “Journal A,” “Paper B” to “Journal B” and “Paper C” to “Journal C”. He waited anxiously to find out whether they’d been accepted for publication. Unfortunately, all three papers were rejected. Needless to say, Larry was pretty dejected.
Along with each rejection came suggestions from the editor on how he could change the paper to be publishable. So Larry set the papers aside, thinking eventually that he would get to them and make the necessary changes–maybe he would rerun some of the experiments. But then he had an idea. He decided to switch up the papers. So he sent “Paper A” to “Journal B,” “Paper B” to “Journal C” and “Paper C” to “Journal A”. And guess what? All three papers were accepted!
First there was Karen Silkwood. Then Jeffrey Wigand. Linda Tripp. And now, there’s Shirnell Smith, 44, meter maid for the city of Oakland. 
She’s been issuing parking tickets for 22 years, a loyal company woman. But she has her integrity. And she has her breaking point.
Smith and three other parking officers are blowing the whistle on a secret July 24th memo issued by the parking department directing meter maids not to ticket cars in affluent neighborhoods. The two specific offenses parking officers were to ignore: parking in the wrong direction and parking on lawns. I know, I know, rich people parking on lawns? WTF?! Life never ceases to surprise. The article claimed it had something to do with narrow streets and emergency vehicles. That’s obviously code for my Hummer couldn’t squeeze past those two Beemers.
4 Comments on One Man's Meter Maid Is Another Man's Freedom Fighter
QUENTIN
Quentin Lee would like to think he’s a part-time drag queen and and full-time hustler moonlighting as a filmmaker. He went to UCLA Film School with fellow Offender Justin whom he co-directed his first feature SHOPPING FOR FANGS with. Subsequently, he made DRIFT, ETHAN MAO and the upcoming THE PEOPLE I’VE SLEPT WITH. He also blogs as Film Hustler.
We made Shopping for Fangs in the summer of ‘96. And like everyone else, we had the dream of getting into the Sundance Film Festival. I was lucky enough to get a grant of 35K from the Canada Council for the Arts, and I scraped together another 50K from friends and relatives to complete the film. Justin and I canned Fangs under 40K on 35mm, which I thought was a pretty amazing feat.
Regular readers of my blogs (yes, all four of you) know that I’m fascinated by all the bizarre stuff that the Japanese seem to be into. But when I stumbled upon the following You Tube clip of Smasan Boyle, a Japanese cross-dressing Susan Boyle imitator, well…I have to admit I’m not sure what to make of this actually. It’s obviously a parody of Boyle and her appearances on Britain’s Got Talent, but can someone tell me what the hell is going on? The clip’s in Japanese with no subtitles so I can’t really follow it and it raises all sorts of questions like what’s up with the mysterious man waiting offstage who seems to be making Boyle and anyone who notices him mighty nervous? If you think you can make sense out of this, check it out and enlighten me:
4 Comments on File Under WTF: Japan’s Cross-Dressing Susan Boyle Imitator
I’ve always thought that the token asian characters on television had the bad wrap. Well they do but so do other minorities. And Andre from this first video shows how Lost and Heroes hate black people. That’s right, hate! But I bet if we were in China, the first guy to die on my tv series would be the white guy ie. minority. Sorry Andre, Tyler Perry can’t write and direct every tv show and movie. All I can say is that at least you have an awesome commercial by Old Spice starring a black guy. Be proud of that.
I loved you Michelle Kwan, I loved you hard. Did not my sexy love poem scribed with the blood of my loins inspire you to become a Fan? Twas my offerings of eternal love, worship, and a lower, middle-class life not enough? Apparently not. 48 hours of silence can truly deafen a wanton heart. My soul is cracked and my audacity to hope, guillotined. All I have left now is my Ni Hao Kai Lan doll with aluminium foil skates (I made them myself) and an ego the size of an ant testicle. I loved you. I love you. I will forever love you. But I’m a big boy and I can take a hint…
17 Comments on I Love You YU-NA KIM (b/c Michelle Kwan rejected me...)
Growing up in SoCal during the 80′s, one guy dominated the airwaves when it came to local TV– Cal Worthington. Whether it’s channel 9′s Saturday Kung Fu theater, KTLA’s Family Film Festival or reruns of iconic 60′s shows on channel 13, it seemed like Cal sponsored them all. What made him unique was that he was truly an old school pitchman. Usually dressed in a cowboy outfit, he’d hawk used cars while playing with some exotic animal that seemed to have fallen off a circus truck as his catchy jingle played in the background.
“Scott” is a childhood friend. Although we’ve kept in touch over the years, we’re not particularly close. He’s more the type of friend you hang out with over a few beers, but not someone I’d pour my heart out to (and vice versa). So when he emailed me this past weekend and said he had something important to discuss, I assumed it was the worst—maybe a terrible accident, a life-threatening disease, that sort of thing. I immediately called him.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. Long pause. “Scott, do you need money? Did someone die? You know I’m here to help.”
“Dude,” he finally said meekly. “I just…I just found out the most disturbing thing.”
Shit, I thought. This sounds worse than I thought. “What is it, man? You can tell me.”
Another long pause. Then, he finally blurted it out, “I found out my mom was a…big-time slut!”
7 Comments on A Conversation With A Friend Concerning His Mom’s Slutiness
I’ve often communed with outsiders – whether they’re white, black, Asian, gay, Jewish, etc., they are the black sheep, the double agent, the freak, the geek, the offender, the one who betrays the code of their tribe, doesn’t fit into a box but, can fall into multiple boxes if you dig deeper. The common bond that I’ve enjoyed with these motley types is a familiarity with life on the outs aka rejection. It becomes a badge of honor and if things come too easily, we get paranoid. And if it’s not rejection, it’s resistance. Resistance stokes the flames in our belly, whets our appetite for a fight, and reassures us that we’re scrappy, spirited underdogs – not entitled, privileged fat cats. Yes, the by-product of all this rejection includes various neuroses, a self-deprecating sense of humor, and an unabashed fascination with things that otherwise allegedly normal human beings would find obscene, esoteric, incomprehensible, etc. But while life is unstable for outsiders, it is rarely banal, always interesting and often entertaining.
My family was not particularly religious growing up, but what my mother lacked in religion, she made up for in superstitious beliefs. Not only did we have to incorporate Japanese superstitions, but American ones as well. So besides the whole 7-years-bad-luck broken mirror thing, I also couldn’t wear a new pair of shoes in the house or bunch things in four (the pronunciation for four “shi” is the same as the word for death, but I have no idea where the shoes bit came from.)
Some of the superstitions are common across different Asian cultures. For instance, sticking chopsticks upright in a rice bowl is a no-no, since that is the way rice is offered to the dead. I remember being at a function once where the dinner was supposed to be an “Asian” theme, but clearly was not decorated by an Asian because the center display at all the tables was a bowl of rice with chopsticks sticking straight out of it. There was a collective gasp as those of us who were Asian approached our tables. I quietly removed the chopsticks from my table display and I saw others do the same.
Some of my mother’s superstitions were outright nutty
During my run the other day, I passed a couple of kids being all lovey dovey at a bus stop. Kinda young , kinda inappropriate too, especially at 7:00am in the morning. But hey, love is a powerful thing. Made me think about my first love, well…maybe not ‘love’, but the first girl that actually acknowledged my existence. I was in 6th grade, Joy Pierson was a freckle faced red head that actually talked to me on occasion. The only time a girl talked to me was to ask for help with math homework. Once they realized I didn’t fit the stereotype I went back to leprosy status. Going ‘steady’ was all the rage at the time. For some reason I thought it was going ‘study’ together. Made sense, kids should ‘study’ together. I so wanted to ‘study’, with a girl. Anyway, it took all the courage I had, which was very little when it came to girls. I just got over the stage of girls being ‘gross’, my hormones were kicking in and I could barely keep my hands out of my pants. My best friend James, finally asked Joy for me. She was something else, she walked straight up to me and said, ”let’s share french fries tomorrow”. ”Huh?!” Share french fries together? Wow! I made it! I’m sharing french fries with a real life, living, breathing girl. YES JESUS! HALLELUJAH!
Students at my kids’ school got all of last week off, not just Monday. On the school calendar, this is called “Administrative Retreat.” On the playground, it’s called “Ski Week.” If that’s not also the name of an 80’s teen T&A comedy, it should’ve been.
This year, for once, the family and I decided to make good on playground rules. We decided to go skiing. We stayed at the Northstar resort at Lake Tahoe. It had been a while since I’d been in the snow. Let’s put it this way: the last time I attempted skiing Vuarnet sunglasses were in vogue, good skiing was described as “bitchin’” and people really did try to cram pennies into their Bass weejun penny loafers.
6 Comments on Snow Skiing: a Sport for Every Man, from the Merely Well Off to the Obscenely Rich
With this past weekend’s stunning, 5-3 host nation defeat of the Canadian Olympic Hockey Team by the underdog Team USA, instant comparisons were drawn to the 1980 Olympics in Lake Placid. It was there three decades ago this week that an undermanned, undergunned and underexperienced USA Mens hockey team comprised of amateur college athletes shocked the country world — and themselves — with an odds-defying defeat of the mighty Soviet Union hockey team — a team that at the time, was arguably history’s greatest and at worst, above and beyond the current world’s best. It was famously dubbed “Miracle on Ice” and inspired the team to the eventual gold medal. Testament to the unique power of sport to unify, rally and focus anew a nation, it inspired an America out of its new decade doldrums. It was perhaps the gold medal-winning event of a gold medal-winning events.
4 Comments on This Is Your Time! Now Win One For The Kinder.
When it comes to sex culture, Berlin is the place to be. With the very comprehensive Erotic Museum, with its collection of 5,000 sexual artifacts from around the globe, there’s pretty much something for every everyone. You’ll see sex toys, lubes and other paraphenalia sold in restroom dispensers at movie theaters, restaurants, shopping malls, etc.
Sometimes you go to a party (and there are many during the Berlin Film Festival) and you just don’t expect to see glass bowls of lube peppered throughout the club like centerpieces at a banquet table. Or my personal fave, a French distributor’s after party with completely naked dancers wearing space helmets. Now that’s a nifty image.
Even walking down the street, racing to screenings, you come to signs like this:
