In my everyday life, I often see the world through Woody Allen or Larry David tinted glasses (as opposed to Oprah Winfrey or Tony Robbins.) Especially in a city where people exist largely in their hermetically sealed SUVs and enclaves, I’m not always feeling the communal “we’re all in this together” vibe and it’s easy for me to get annoyed and put upon by the frustrations, the injustices, and irritations of the world. But there are these moments, when I step back and realize that I’ve been blessed with luck and other “bonus offers, “freebies”, and “gold stars” from life, and that I am not Job…God is not jabbing his finger at me and that I should in fact, show some gratitude for those things I enjoy – big and small that are good. As coined by Martha Stewart – the high priestess of perfection, here’s a shortlist of “good things”.
- Home
- » Around The Horn
I’m So Rucky…
Esperanza
Ever have that question in your head? ”What’s my contribution to this world?” Been thinking about it a lot this year. Feel like I’m running in circles sometimes. Feel like I should be doing more to make the world a better place. Feel like everything is about poor old me…I know I can do something to make a difference!..I want to make a difference! But what is that? And how do I do that? Times like these I feel like I should of studied to be a doctor. At least that skill can help someone. Anywhere. Maybe all the Asian parents are right encouraging their kids to be doctors. Maybe, maybe not.
Senior Year Mix Tape
The other night I had the most vivid dream about my high school senior year. It was both scary and hilarious because my dream was about this one crush I had with a cheerleader that was in my English class. I would always let her cut in line at lunch, help her with her homework, and give her wake up calls thru pager language every morning. Yea, I basically would do anything to talk to this girl. But I knew the only way to win her over was through song. So this dream I had consist of me making the ultimate 80’s and 90’s mix tape. There is def an art form into creating this perfect blend of seduction and sexual innuendo. And I had all of my older brother’s music at my disposal. The first song would have to start off with a bang. Then the second song had to top the first. The third song would be tricky cuz you’d have to bring it down a notch but still keep the mood right. I wouldn’t say this is my perfect mix but def a great find on youtube.
What would you add to the mix…from that era of course?
Michelle Kwan Island – a Greek Tragedy of Opportunity…
Greece is screwed. The home country of Mt. Olympus is bankrupt and no spell conjured up by any naked God from atop the Acropolis will be able to save it. Normally, when a country cannot pay off it’s debts, the government can quietly print up a whole bunch of new money via a printing press (ie. out of thin air) to get the creditor pimps off their backs (that’s what the United States does). How cool would it be if we all had our own little, secret printing presses hidden in our closets? Credit card bills too high? Just print until you’re in the black. Want that $1.5 million dream house but you got no coin? Just run off 15,000 one hundred dollar bills. Got a Korean girlfriend? No problem at all! Just give her a mini printing press hidden inside a LV or Prada bag and 98% of all your future fights will instantly disappear. Unfortunately for Greece, the nation cannot print it’s way out of their financial mess like the United States because Greece’s currency, the Euro, is tied to 22 other European nations. Basically Greece doesn’t have the keys to the printing press and today, finds itself in a financial checkmate to it’s world creditors. Zeus is dying. No, actually, Zeus is dead but is being kept alive via an IV, life support, and Wheel Of Fortune reruns. Greece is pretty much laying in the coffin, just one nail short of stepping into it’s own mythology. What is this great Hellenic nation to do? Athena has an idea…
you mean I can OWN this?
Double Happiness: Cleaning Chinese Style
My mother and grandmother both live by the mantra “cleanliness is next to godliness” and in response, I had no choice but to become an OCD pack rat. In anticipation of the rituals of Spring cleaning (I need to start early), here’s a list of some of their anal retentive ways:
1. They save all those plastic shopping bags and fold them into origami triangles so that they can be compacted. No jack in the box surprises of plastic baggies flying out of overstuffed drawers.
2. They swab down the mouthpieces of phones with alcohol to kill off any germs. A necessary procedure for households where yelling on the phone is akin to using your normal speaking voice.
Criticism
This morning I struggled up a long and lonely hill, just as I was getting my second wind I came upon a couple DWP workers fixing something. As I huffed and puffed passed them they started to laugh and mumble some sarcastic gibberish to each other. Took me a minute to realize they were making fun of me. Didn’t feel good, wanted to go back and crack a bottle over their heads. But would’ve probably gotten my ass beat, that stuff only plays out in the movies. I don’t like that feeling, being made fun of. Never liked it, it’s never been easy to deal with. Probably never will. It got me to thinking about ’criticism’. Now, there is a difference between being made fun of and being criticized. One must listen and learn from positive criticism. Only a fool thinks he’s right all the time. But then you have criticism that comes from a bad and self serving place. More to tear down, to make one feel better than another, because of whatever bullshit reasons. Take for example when someone just unloads on a movie. They hate it, hate her, hate him, hate hate hate. I say, “then you make a movie”. They say…”uh” This kind of crap needs to be ignored and flushed away in the toilet accompanied with a heavy load of kimchee jige diarrhea.
Call of Duty
The other day my Navy buddy drove through Los Angeles on his way to his new duty station in Washington state. We served together in San Diego a while back and did three tours in the Persian Gulf and one in Central America. We also enlisted in the military almost at the same time and to hear he only has seven more years to retirement was pretty shocking. RETIREMENT! Damn, I wouldn’t even be forty yet had I stuck it out and did my twenty. He was pretty emotional because he was leaving his wife and two kids behind in San Diego. I remembered and experienced that kind of feeling before and I never wish that upon anyone. But we both knew that’s the kind of thing you have to do when you sign your life away.
The Female of the Species
In honor of Women’s History month, here’s my tribute to a few of the heroines that inspired me through film. Who are your favorite film femmes?
1. Golden Swallow of ‘Come Drink With Me’: Played by Chen Pei Pei, Golden Swallow inspired the heroines of ‘Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon’ and ‘Kill Bill’ who also give the male baddies a run for their money. But none can match her deft swordplay, footwork, and charisma.
2. Jane Craig of ‘Broadcast News’: Holly Hunter’s most iconic role and so perfectly designed for her tough, plucky energy. She was the girl who ended up with neither guy and on top of that, dumped the alpha male because she didn’t respect him. The heroine for women who cannot stomach most romantic comedies.
Race Day
Ran my first race Sunday.
an unexpected financial butt slap
My AC/Heater unit just croaked. You know, that big, square, metal block that hides on the side of your house, thanklessly working to make sure you’re not too hot, not too cold, but just right? Well, my aluminum friend just upped and died on me. Fucker. OK, it wasn’t his fault. He’s been diligently working since 1989 (I bought my place in 2003). 21 years of flawless performance from a HVAC unit is impressive. It’s the equivalent of a human being living to 210 years old and forced to run an olympic marathon naked every single day from birth. He was a good machine that far outlived his time. His performance was gold medal worthy. BUT the bill for replacement felt far worse than Mao Asada’s loss to Yu-Na Kim. Far worse than my most recent rejection by Michelle Kwan (btw, I’m still available for casual or formal love making session, Michelle). It was an unexpected, financial butt slap of epic proportions…
$2,250? FML...
Total cost to replace? $2,250. And I had to pay cash. Why? Cause that’s how my HVAC dude rolls. Not a check, not a cash card, but with cold, hard, green paper. Paying my guy felt more like a Miami Vice drug deal than a home renovation project. I felt domestically dangerous in a way that only Sonny Crockett could understand. Now if I didn’t have a history with my HVAC dude, I’d think he was aiming to jack me of my bling, knock me out with ether, throw me in the back of his van, and sell me off to a rich cougar in the Hollywood Hills who would keep me locked up in her basement demanding a vigorous, geriatric pump at least twice a day (hmmm… kinda sounds like the life of my HVAC).
Bande à part
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.
Fireworks in my pants
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!
pure joy
Last Wednesday I went to Santa Monica to have lunch with a friend. We ended up eating at an Italian restaurant right on 3rd Street Promenade. For those of you who have not been to “3rd Street”, it’s Santa Monica’s version of a European thoroughfare – an avenue running several blocks where no cars are allowed, with shops/restaurants lining the entire length of the boulevard. It’s very cool indeed even though there are no strip clubs for women.
So here we were, eating lunch outside like hip Euros not in Europe when I began to take notice of some really, really out of tune singing. Just a few feet from us was an African American street musician in a wheel chair, singing classic hits from the 70’s, 80’s, & 90’s. He was not a gifted singer by any means. In fact, he was tone deaf and would make William Hung sound like Celine Dion. Dressed in his finest winter garb and sporting medical-grade glasses for the blind, he would butcher every single song he pulled up on his iPod. Now you would think that someone who sounds like an out-of-tune, nasal whistle would repel all those within earshot. But that was not the case at all. There was a large crowd gathered around him and I found myself eerily drawn to his music. I wanted to hear more. But why? The guy was terrible! My theory is that he was singing from his heart so deeply and from such a raw, personal place that his passion and charisma entranced the surrounding listeners and trumped his supreme vocal suckiness. Crazy, huh? There he sat, singing with tremendous emotion into a 1930’s replica mic as if he was performing in Lincoln Center. He sang stuff like Michael Jackson’s “Beat It”, Stevie Wonder’s “I Just Called To Say I Love You” and an endless string of other famous hits. It sounded like shit but people loved it. I loved it. Sometimes pure joy can go a long, long way.
Have you ever encountered/experienced anything like this?
Ice Ice Baby
Though it’s no where near summer yet, thanks to wacky Los Angeles weather you can enjoy your frosty desserts pretty much any of day of the week. In my list of favorites, I have not added any frozen yogurt and that is deliberate. Fellow offender, Roger Fan became an early adopter and hardcore pusher of that drug called ‘Pink Berry’ and I joined him in those early days of mile long lines at the West Hollywood crack den – I mean, branch. I OD’ed but joined yogurt rehab and now have little interest in going back to anything that has that tart, ambiguously artificial taste of mass market frozen yogurt. Here’s my 12-step recovery program, but it’s in only 7 -
Vancouver Olympics
If you’re as excited as I am, tonight kicks off the 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympics. Snowboarding, downhill skiing, and the short track are just some of the many dangerous and entertaining events we all have to look forward to. Of course, no country will ever top the opening ceremonies of Beijing having two thousand and eight kids doing everything in unison (except maybe themselves) but the winter Olympics definitely has more edge to it. Which event could send someone to the hospital? The luge or the ski jumping? Even the 15km cross country skiing looks crazy. Maybe one of the tights could rip and you’re stuck out there bare ass in twenty below weather. Every athlete from all walks will be put to the test to call themselves the best in the world. I only wish they had something for the common man like cooking the perfect ramen bowl as an Olympic event. Ever try toasting your ramen hmmmm? I could really showcase my own talent.
What event are you looking forward to? If you could make up your own event, what would it be?
what’s the most romantic (cheesiest) thing you’ve done for love?
What’s the most romantic cheesiest thing you’ve ever done in the name of love? Don’t know? Well, if it’s something that’ll make your scrotal sack cinch up into the size of a baby raisin, it probably qualifies.
I will share with you mine. Just promise me you will never bring it up in my presence or I will charley horse your kidney or flick your nipples until first blood. Trust is a delicate thing…
mine was even longer and sexier than this one...
I Want Candy
Despair, Inc. the company that brought you those corporate parody posters with such winning captions as “Possibilities: With Focus, Dedication, and Steroids, men can achieve impossible dreams. Like breaking a world record. Or growing their own breasts.”, also sell some wonderfully, cranky, cheeky, and depressing Valentine’s day candy collection called “Bittersweets”. Those famously chalky, lavender-scented, pastel-colored confections are no longer stamped with banal classics as “Be Mine” or “Kiss Me” but instead, showcase deadpan zingers as “Table For 1″ and “Sub Prime”. To usher in Valentine’s day – the day that is not only synonymous with love but…rejection, heartbreak, despair, apathy, etc., pass some ‘Bittersweets’ around or even better, have fun making custom jpeg valentines with their online Candy Generator. Here are some of my bitterness-inspired moments of procrastination for the day.
day by day mile by mile
Sometimes I feel totally numb and exhausted after an audition. It’s like running a hundred yard dash with all you got and then it’s over. Just like that. No one to cheer for you or give you hugs. I sometimes have to drive around for an hour to feel normal again. A million thoughts race through my mind. Did I do a good job? Do I even know what a good job is? What am I doing? Damn, I should’ve done it this way..no that way. I hope I don’t let the people that believe in me down. Maybe I’m too ugly,maybe I have no talent. I let the negative thoughts filter out and then go for a run. After an hour or two of running most of the stuff goes away and seems a bit neurotic. I have to say this is my least favorite part of being an actor. Makes you think if it’s worth it.
Helping out the Big Boys
As much as I hate contributing to blatant promotions of multi-billion dollar corporations (I guess then I’m cool with subtle ones), I can’t help it when it comes to Super Bowl ads. I’ve been fascinated ever since I saw Apple’s one time only ‘Lemmings’ commercial as a kid.
And since I’m always up for anything Betty White, we’ll begin with her latest masterpiece:
Judging by the feedbacks, this year’s standout commercials were pretty much unanimous. Joining the Snickers spot are ones for Letterman…
How It Should Have Ended
Ever watched a movie and thought to yourself “This ending is ridiculous!” or “Why didn’t they just do this?”. Well the funny and creative guys from How It Should Have Ended created a season full of animated parody movie endings that had me cracking up. And when I saw their take on Terminator, I knew there was pure genius behind these ideas.
What’s a movie ending you thought needed a little changing?
