best 100 hours in vegas ever!

I'm in Las Vegas right now, with my friends Sandra and Camille. Initially, we were going to hole up in Vegas and crank out their business plan. I've always had good luck in switching locales, a change in scenery has always made a positive impact on the quality and the volume of my writing. But I have no idea what I'm doing here now. The cast has increased, there will be seven of us partying together and crashing here tonight. Maybe I just had a few bad nights, last night was a rough one and the night previous was even worse. But being around so many people for such long stretches of time... I guess I need to be socialized again and not be such a hermit.

Tuesday, the first day, was good. In addition to the time spent on the business plan, I spent a lot of time working on one of many screenplays I'm juggling. The rain was coming down in buckets, so there weren't a lot of distractions. We couldn't even get a pizza delivered because the roads were washed out. Yesterday, I went shopping. So I didn't get much writing done because I was out shopping the entire day. Out of freakin' control. Three pairs of boots, a pink suede jacket, a briefcase and laptop case later, I was done. At least that's what I thought. The next day, more shopping. I did have a great time with my friends. I hope that 2005 brings happier occasions where I can wear these items. I'm usually not superstitious but I don't want to wear any of these items in 2004 - I don't want to take the chance that any bad 2004 ju-ju will be left, like an oily residue.

We've been considering our options for New Year's Eve. Despite the threat of inclement weather, the strip beckons me and downtown Vegas was mentioned as a possibility. I've never done New Year's Eve in Vegas, I'm not sure what to expect, but this town is ready to rock and roll and I think I am too. It's no secret that intoxication has its downside, especially for those who are a little long in the tooth. It impairs judgement, the ability to do most things, and it can bring on a depressed mood. I'm already susceptible, but I think I will tempt fate and party like its 1999. No guts, no glory and I almost never say never. Why? As Vice Magazine wrote, "Don't ever say no to a reasonable invitation to do something that might be fun. This is a WASP rule, and one of the reasons why rich white people rule the planet." Works for me.

I'm sure there will be all sorts of sloppy drunks wherever we go. I haven't been out on New Year's Eve without a specific party or date in many years. I admit I'm a little apprehensive. If I don't enjoy myself, I hate to go along just to get along. But I'm with a group so I hope I'll be in the mood to enjoy the company, the festivities, the drunks, the drugs and the booze. I just don't want to get all boozy and bummed out, or run out of drugs or cry like a little girl, or do something desperate like get married or sign up for eHarmony. But now that I think about it, I think I would rather get married in Vegas to someone I've known for a few hours than hook up with someone through eHarmony. That makes no sense, I am cognizant of that, but it just sounds like the a lot more fun. And wouldn't you rather read about my New Year's Eve wedding instead of hooking up with some accountant from Los Feliz who thinks that his ability to create romance in a relationship is one of the top three things I should know about him? That's what I thought.

mastering new proficiencies, understanding shit

I don't like the idea of New Year's Resolutions. Mainly because I don't feel the need to put yet even more pressure on myself, I think I apply enough throughout the year. I do like to attempt mastering a new proficiency every year. If the new proficiency isn't a huge undertaking, then I feel good about tacking on a few more. One year I learned how to shoot pool very well. Another year it was to be conversant in French. I can't remember what other skills or knowledge I possess that I acquired in this fashion, but I'm sure the number of times I've done this is more than two.

I want to learn how to ride a motorcycle. But I don't want to get my fat ass on a motorcycle and shake all over the Sunset Strip. So I need to lose weight, firm and tone up, then learn how to ride a motorcycle. No wonder I can never get anything done. I plan on taking California’s official motorcycle safety and training program administered by the California Highway Patrol. This proficiency is from my 2004 list. I was scheduled to take the class this past September. I hoped to get a motorcycle with a sidecar so that my dog Flagg could ride with me. But Flagg passed away in September and I wasn't sure if I wanted to continue with my plans, but I think I will in 2005. So that is one proficiency I will attempt to master in 2005.

I also want to either brush up on my French or become conversant in Spanish. I've tried to learn Spanish, but I guess I was always half-assed about it. One of my dear friends Liz has offered to help me as she speaks Spanish fluently. Haven't taken her up on that offer. My brother also speaks Spanish and I could practice with him. Haven't taken advantage of that, either. But maybe this year will be different. The guy who mans the front desk during the day tried to teach me how to speak Spanish a few years ago. Every time I picked up my mail, he'd ignore everything I said in English and only respond to Spanish and in Spanish. Like I said, half-assed. I used to subscribe to this "Word of the Day" service, where a word was emailed to you daily with a definition, the word used in context, and a link to a pronunciation guide. But I subscribed to English so I could increase my word power , this time I'll do it in Spanish. And hopefully the end of 2005 I'll be able to do more than ask for my mail, another beer, or the whereabouts of the restrooms in Spanish.

I've been a pack rat for many years. I have at times and, in turn, collected CDs, shoes, people, and experiences as well as mastering new proficiences. There is a point to all this and if I sit still long enough I'm sure it will come to me. I'm just trying to make sense of all this crap.

how mike is living

This is my new roommate Mike's bedroom. He hasn't done much with it, as you can tell. But it took me seven years to put window treatments up and he's only been here a couple months, so he's ahead of the game. I'm currently changing damn near everything in my room. Once I get things squared away, I'll take some pictures and upload them. I probably should have taken some "before" shots, but it was pretty embarrassing.

A few years ago when I worked out of my home, this place was a wreck. It was also a wreck a month ago, but that's another story. Anyway, back then, I didn't make any distinction between my professional and personal lives. I worked long hours, often falling asleep on my keyboard. I used to joke that I threw myself into my work to escape the mess that I made of my personal life, but it wasn't far from the truth. My sister took a picture of my desk in my bedroom and entered me into a "Messiest Office Contest". That picture didn't win the contest for me (cash, that's all I wanted), but I think I got 3rd place or something and won a gift certificate. I'll have to ask her if she still has that picture somewhere, then I will be able to post a "before" and "after" shot.

I've been changing things in my room, trying to make it more conducive to lounging, to writing or daydreaming, and to have guests stay over more comfortably. A friend (thanks Camille!) bought a new bed frame and gave me her old one, a platform bed. My current bed is a four-post iron bed that doesn't look like the kind of bed the girl next door or your sweet girlfriend sleeps in. Lots of places to handcuff someone to. But a little embarrassing in mixed company, and definitely when my mom is over. I don't think I need to have such a sexually charged object command such a presence in my room. So I'm changing that. I can't even remember the last time anyone was handcuffed in my bed, never mind where the cuffs/keys are. I guess it's just not me anymore. I don't know if a low platform bed is me, but I'll try it. Also, if anyone knows where I can get an inexpensive opium bed (I'd like to use one as a sofa), please email me! It's not the kind of thing you find very often on craigslist.

I'm hoping that if I can organize the things in my room, the things I want close to me, then I can maybe do the same with my life, decide what or who I want close to me. Well it hasn't worked using other methods. And if this doesn't work, then there's always feng shui.

mistaken identity

I just found out that Ethan Coen is not the writer and executive producer for the upcoming Nick Lachey sitcom, as previously reported. It is actually Etan Cohen, writer for King of the Hill and formerly of Beavis and Butt-head. That makes more sense.

they're giving out goats on oprah

Well not anymore, but they were. About two years ago, Susan Sarandon and Goldie Hawn were on Oprah plugging their new movie, "The Banger Sisters". I don't remember what I was doing at the time, but I think I was just backgrounding the television, engrossed in something I was writing. I stopped what I was doing because all of a sudden there was a goat and a fifteen-year-old tribal-looking chick standing there with Oprah. How did we get from "The Banger Sisters" to Billy and the tribal girl who tended to him and all the other goats? Just for ease, let's call the tribal girl Moya. One of my sorority sisters was tribal and her name was Moyofune Deas Balewa. Never saw her on campus without her goat. I wonder what ever happened to her?

I grab the remote and zip back to when Oprah first brought them out. So far no surprises, Susan and Goldie applaud their personal lives, their relationships (well that does deserve applause), their charity works, their children, their workouts and how well-preserved they both look. Susan looks great, Goldie looks like she's been pumped full of formaldehyde.

So they're multi-tasking, simultaneously plugging "The Banger Sisters" and The Heifer Project, a charity that gives livestock to poor families all over the world. One family in Uganda, specifically. Then they trot Moya out to read a prepared thank you letter to Susan. It reminded me of that Jack Nicholson movie, "About Schmidt". I love that scene where Jack Nicholson corresponds with the poor African boy, Mbutu. In halting English, Moya tells of her life before the goat. Moya and her 20 brothers and sisters helped out around the house, but her family was having a hard time making ends meet. So someone gave Moya a goat or someone won it in an African shell game, it doesn't matter. What mattered was that Moya had a goat. They milked the goat and what the family of 22 couldn't drink, they sold to the local Starbucks. The gift of a goat was good.

Then Oprah, to thank Moya for taking a break from helping feed her poor village to come to America to be on her show, tells everyone that the Oprah show is donating 40 goats to her village! They're giving away goats on Oprah! The studio audience went wild - until they realized they weren't getting a goat, but Moya's friends and neighbors would.

The reason I bring up this insane Oprah episode from two years ago - yesterday, Susan Sarandon was on the Jane Pauley show with what I think was a different goat. People move on.

hi nick, i'm the devil...

Yeah, we all know that the devil is signing up souls at a rapid clip in Hollywood. That's part of its charm. But if you had any doubts before, and by doubts I mean you just fell off the turnip truck, this should bring you up to speed:

Brad Grey Television has received a script commitment with penalty from Fox for a comedy project starring Nick Lachey portraying a retired pro baseball player coming home to his dysfunctional family, per Variety. Ethan Coen will write and executive produce.

Firstly, Ethan Coen? Ethan "Fargo" Coen? Let me get this straight. Ethan "The Big Lebowski" Coen is writing and exec producing a sitcom starring Nick Lachey. Ethan "O Brother Where Art Thou?" Coen.

Back in the Dark Days of ABC, before Desperate Housewives and Lost, ABC ordered Jessica Simpson's sitcom. I hadn't seen her and Nick's variety show yet, but I watched the occasional episode of The Newlyweds or whatever they called their reality show. It made sense, they were both hot. If I could watch their reality show with the sound off and my stereo blasting, I could do the same with a sitcom. Then I saw the variety show and I really don't know how I managed to keep my dinner down or to not soil my pants. I don't think I'll be watching, but then again, Ethan-fucking-Coen.

A friend of mine worked on Jessica's pilot and however many episodes they managed to get in the can before someone at ABC put down the pipe and came to their senses. He can't talk about the shows he works on because they'd can his ass if it ever was traced back to him. But with interpretive dance and shadow puppets, he managed to communicate that it was a steaming pile of turd and that the American public does not realize how narrowly we escaped that assault on our intelligence. I wonder if Nick was in her sitcom?

Thank Buddha for cable:

Showtime has ordered 10 episode of a series called Weeds (Lions Gate Television). The show stars Mary Louise Parker as a newly widowed wife/mother (think "soccer mom" type), who without an alternative source of income, decides to grow marijuana to support her family. The project also stars Kevin Nealon and Elizabeth Perkins. The show is scheduled to debut in 2nd or 3rd qtr 2005.

On a serious note, finally, a chance for informed discourse on the pros and cons of marijuana as a cash crop. Then because I've been up all night despite downing three jello shots in rapid succession and smoking the last of my weed - woohoo! Pot-growing mommas on tv! I love America!

jesus rocks and i suck

Just when I thought that I had seen it all online. Then a friend emailed me a link to this insane website for Dan "Shut the fuck up" Daniels, thefunny.org priest. Thanks Vik. See for yourself:

Jesus rocks

The site is illustrated. I thought my former roommate's art work was bad. Well it was, but there are new lows here. My ex-roommate, let's call him Walter, is in his late 20's but looks like you imagine Woody Allen would at twelve. He took self-portraits, nude ones. The one he hung on his bedroom door, the one that I had to walk past as I came home, the one on the way to the kitchen, the one halfway down the hall - it was his bare blue bony ass walking away from the camera. He was blue. It was not attractive. And by attractive I don't mean in an Herb Ritts or Bruce Weber kind of attractive. I mean bony, as in no muscle definition. Or pale, as in I don't see any evidence of the effects of sunlight, although he was blue. Think about your lowest rung on the attractive ladder, it didn't even hit that. It was so not attractive. I'm glad he moved out and took his bad art work with him.

But back to the insane web site. One of my favorite lines in the Jesus rocks web site is where Dan says that Jesus "GOT THESE SUPER POWERS LIKE LASER EYES AND IF YOU SIN HE WILL COME DOWN TO YOUR HOUSE AND BEAT YOUR ASS WITH A LEAD PIPE!"

I like that he's so specific.

Laissez les bon temps rouler

Someone emailed this information to me about the Jeopardy casting call:

If being part of America’s Favorite Quiz Show® sounds like a dream job, then you should try out for the JEOPARDY! Clue Crew!

The Clue Crew travels to landmarks, historical sites, special events and other fascinating locations across the globe to tape video clues, which are incorporated into the show. It’s the job of a lifetime and it could be yours...

JEOPARDY! is looking for people with a great on-air presence, an inquisitive nature, creativity and intelligence and lots of enthusiasm. If you love JEOPARDY! and think you have what it takes to be considered, go to www.jeopardy.com and click on "The Clue Crew".

Years ago I applied for a job on Jeopardy as a researcher. The researcher position is the next step to becoming a writer on Jeopardy. Writing positions on Jeopardy have a very low turnover rate. They only come up once every five years or so and is an incredible badge of honor for geeks everywhere. The turnout was impressive. We had to take the test that contestants have to take to qualify them for appearing on the show. To be considered for the interview phase, we had to place in the top 2%. I made it to the interview phase, but my writing credits at the time were unimpressive. And by unimpressive I mean nonexistent. Now the Jeopardy Clue Crew, that is truly underwhelming. But hey, if you're going to reach for the stars, reach for the lowest ones.

Since I won't use my knowledge of arcane facts to win cash and prizes, then what do I do to assuage my bloodlust for attention? How about a reality show for gamblers? See for yourself:

Casting Call: Lion Television is looking for 12amazing people with little or no gambling experienceto go on a once in a lifetime trip to Las Vegas, allexpenses paid. Once there in your luxury digs, you'llbe taught how to gamble professionally by the finestplayers in the world and then be taken to the bestCasinos to compete with a chance for The Jackpot.Interested? Email http://us.f139.mail.yahoo.com/ym/Compose?To=vegas@liontv.us&YY=25063&order=down&sort=date&pos=0&view=a&head=b with contactdetails and phone, and one sentence why they shouldchoose you. You must be 21 or over, have noexperience playing cards for money or gambling formoney, and available during the first two weeks ofFebruary. No actors. Apply before Friday December 17. Good luck!

Ever since Celebrity Poker Showdown, I have come to reversee my position on my gambling. I still suck at it, but with the proper guidance and training, I'm sure I could become mediocre. And that's a lot better than fucking embarrassing, which is what I usually am. So it really is again about managing expectations. Besides, what I really want to do is audition for the new roller derby. I hear they're bringing back the California Thunderbirds. I could get in a great workout, have an outlet for my aggressions, and get paid for it. Okay, I'd have to wear satin boy shorts and a mouth guard, but I've worn similar outfits for damn good reasons at the time. Time to get my joggers out of the closet and practice throwing elbows.

My Kingdom For A Pen

I attended an advance screening of The Aviator this past week at the Writer's Guild Theatre in Beverly Hills. I enjoyed the movie, and I'll get into it a little bit more later, but I had to stand in a very long line to get into the screening. Primarily because we had to be patted down and searched for any recording equipment or cameras. They sent people with camera phones back to their cars to put it away. The woman who ransacked my handbag asked me if I had a camera phone so I pulled my big ol' brick-sized circa 2000 Nokia cellular phone out of its case to show her. She laughed derisively and said, "That's definitely not a camera phone." Yeah, but I look so good talking on that phone while tooling around town in my convertible Yugo. No one seems to get the statement I'm making by not trading up every year. I'm not that committed though. The screening was Monday night, I bought a new phone on Wednesday. I'm so ashamed.

Normally I wouldn't mind waiting in a long line to watch a Martin Scorsese film penned by John Logan. But these two women standing behind me in line would not shut up. They did not come up for air. If there were an exchange of ideas or information, fantastic. I love overhearing great conversations in public. Not the case here. They recounted every minute of their week, every plodding, uninteresting minute. Every mundane, minute detail of every spiritless minute of their routine week in their pedestrian lives. Picked up dry cleaning, went grocery shopping, paid bills, argued with husband/boyfriend over remote control, watched Survivor, listened to KROQ in a desperate attempt to stay current, pushed papers all day, battled traffic on the 405, couldn't find parking space at the mall, dressed kids for school, blah, blah blah. No wonder men tune out the women in their lives. So although I still relate to The Who's sentiments in My Generation (I hope I die before I get old...), I was thinking more along the lines of, "I hope I die before I turn into a chirping little insect with nothing interesting to say but lack the self-awareness to realize it." Not as catchy, I'll admit. But that just about sums up that particular fear.

I waited in line for about 45 minutes before I made my way to the theatre entrance. In that time, I imagined a heavy metal object dropping from the sky, missing me by inches, but crushing the two chattering nincompoops behind me. I also imagined that scene in Woody Allen's Annie Hall where Allen trotted out Marshall MacLuhan. But mostly I imagined plunging a pen into my ear so I wouldn't have to hear their insipid yammerings. I even went so far as to look for a pen in my handbag. Yeah, my ears would be bleeding from a punctured eardrum, but I couldn't even hear myself think. I know I wouldn't ever really consider plunging a pen into my ear, but I just wanted it to stop. And my reaction to these women is just from standing in a line for 45 minutes. I can't even begin to imagine what their poor husbands or boyfriends have to endure. Not that I would condone the behavior of Scott Peterson, but the prosecutor would be smart to disallow me from serving on that jury.

Once in the theatre, I was able to find a great seat near the front. They were able to squeeze in about 50 more people before they packed the joint and started the flick. I really enjoyed the movie. The script was wonderful, the cast was stellar, the cinematography stimulating, direction was inspired, and the pacing was just right - what a relief. Especially after Gangs of New York. But from now on, I may have to invest in ear plugs for those long lines.