cross-stitching, fraudulence, and shirley temple

i am consistently amazed by the disturbingly high levels of adult black males who order Shirley Temples. what i find most amusing is the fact that they order it completely straight-faced, as if it were a shot of whiskey in a biker bar. these are not 'fruity' men either; they have girlfriends, wives, small children.

"I'll take a shirley temple and a bud light for my baby girl."

and if the syrupy concoction is brought to their table sans maraschino cherry garnish - oh boy. you can expect an angry fork to be promptly shoved into your belly until said garnish is retrieved.

i have also recently begun to have serious issues with the concept of cross-stitching. up till now i've been duped into thinking this was a legitimate art form. prepare to have the (woven) wool removed from your eyes my friends - it's a sham. while once being among some of the oldest embroidery methods; a traditional and revered form of folk art, is has been painfully defiled by housewives wearing silk-screened sweatshirts depicting playful kittens on the front.

the fraudulence lies in the fact that these women are merely copying pre-fabricated designs set up on graph paper; as if it were a project given to kindergartners on a rainy day. they crank out these forged creations and inevitably pass them out to unwitting family members around the holidays; playfully blushing when everyone compliments her creativity and skill level.

imagine the betrayal you would feel if scholars revealed that Michelangelo's magnificent Sistine Chapel was a merely a paint-by-number. we must unite and reveal these women as the flim-flam artists that they are.

the bamboozling ends today.

the roof, the roof, the roof is on fire

for those of you curious whether or not my front lawn is engulfed in flames, i thought i'd provide the following link:

http://www.fire.lacounty.gov/

(i live just north of long beach on the map)

even though i'm 30 miles away from the nearest fire, there has been this haze that has blanketed the sky since sunday; casting a really eerie orange glow throughout the day.

which reminds me...it's time for a pumpkin latte at starbucks.

writers groups, humble pie, and Dude Where's My Car

this week i had a generous portion of humble pie forcibly crammed into my mouth and i was made to swallow. the reason behind being violated by this particular pastry? i recently joined a screenwriters group.

upon the completion of my last script (over a month ago), i realized that watching online episodes of The Office along with the occasional netflix rental hasn't been the most productive (or sociable) use of my free time. i needed to get out of the house and meet actual people who i don't have to feign happiness with in the hopes of getting a decent tip.

which brings us to tuesday's writers group. this was the third time we had met. every week we would read someone's script, critique it, and discuss it at the following meeting. this week it was my script that was to be placed in the petri-dish and slid under the microscope.

i was excited! my family loved it! my friends said it was amazing! i would soon be on the fast track to Hollywood and schmoozing with (God forbid) George Lucas! in terms of its brilliance, i was soon convinced that it fell somewhere between Citizen Kane and The Godfather.

i entered our regular coffee shop in Marina Del Ray with a slight swagger; just enough to let them know the big dog had arrived. i saw them huddled in the corner and i envisioned them whispering amongst themselves about their favorite lines of dialogue i had written and wondering where i come up with such hilarious concepts.

i approached and the entire group immediately fell silent. i would have taken the silence as an act of awe, if it weren't for the distinct odor of death lingering over the group. i pulled up a chair.

everyone just kind of awkwardly avoided eye contact until someone finally muttered, "so...who wants to begin?". as if a starter pistol had been fired, everyone became instantly animated and began speaking at once; anxious to blurt out their very strong opinions regarding my supposed masterpiece.

it takes a particularly thick epidermal layer to withstand the barrage of comments i had to endure for over an hour. to put it lightly - they tore it to shreds and spit on the remains. rather than placing it on a pedestal with The Godfather it was crumpled up next to Snakes on a Plane and Dude, Where's My Car?

i was devastated. couldn't they see the comedic genius printed on the pages before them?! didn't they realize the box office potential of my work?! who were they to judge me?!

it wasn't until i got home at the end of the night and read over their notes that i realized they were 100% correct. character arcs? missing. questionable scenes? lots of them. unnecessary dialogue? plenty.

i saw it all through their eyes for the first time...and i was thoroughly embarrassed. they knew what they were talking about and i was promptly put in my place. now that my massively inflated ego had been punctured, i grudgingly sat down in front of my computer and began re-working the next great american comedy; coming soon, to a theater near you.

welcome to my world

working as a server you encounter some difficult customers; it comes with the territory.

however, i'm soon realizing that at red lobster i've entered a whole new relm.

to put this into context i'd like you to watch this video clip. this woman represents 99.2% of EVERY customer i come in contact with. i cannot emphasize this enough...that figure is NOT an exaggeration.

after watching this video, it should come as no surprise that i carry a shiv in my apron at work.

say a little prayer for me tonight before you go to bed. i need it.

coca-cola, cell phones, and 'the big one'

yesterday at work i approached a table and asked them what they wanted to drink. the girl told me she wanted a coke. fine. then she tells me she wants it in a different glass. alright, princess - which glass would you like it in? she tells me, 'the big one'. not being one for vague descriptions, i asked her through clenched teeth which 'big one' she was referring to.

she performed a series of pantomime motions with her hands and then began flipping through our cocktail menu - hoping to find a picture of the glass in question. i asked if she wanted an alcoholic beverage? rum and coke maybe? she emphatically said no; she simply wanted her coke in a big glass. i pointed to the picture of our large margarita glasses. no. not that one.

i lied and told her i'd be more than happy to escort her to the bar so she can pick out what frickin' glass she wants her coca-cola in. she didn't like that idea and reverted back to motioning with her hands in an attempt to describe the elusive stemware.

she just kept repeating the word 'big', as if that were the only adjective at her disposal. i offered her my writing pad to draw me a picture. no. no pictionary. after several excrutiating minutes of this, she finally threw in another descriptor. handle. it had a handle. a lightbulb went off in my head.

she wanted a PITCHER of coke. not even attempting to hide it, i blatently rolled by eyes. after my eureka moment, she literally began to excitedly clap her hands; nearly wet her pants with glee. luckily, i had brought extra napkins for just such an occasion. her and her boyfriend acted as though i had just kicked the winning fieldgoal at the superbowl; high fives all around followed by a good-natured pat on the ass.

i glanced at my watch. five more hours to go. bleh.

alright friends. it's now time for a lesson in cell phone etiquette. well, not really etiquette as much as 'how not to act like a moron when using your cellular telephone'. since everyone in the united states over the age of four has one (iPhones are especially popular with the 3rd grade demographic this year), i thought i'd impart a few useful nuggets.

1. time and date.
don't tell me what time you called and don't tell me the current day of the week. when executing this particular faux pas, the caller never knows the actual time and inevitably has to take several seconds to search the room for a clock.


"um...hey. this is john. let's see...it's about...um...well... about 3:45 on Thursday and I was just calling to say hi."



i could understand needing this information if i was sporting one of these boys >>

but thanks to modern technology i am able to check a fancy tool called a 'call log' which allows me to retrieve such crucial information as when you actually placed your call to me. as if it mattered.

2. stop leaving eight minute messages on voicemail. rely heavily on bullet points and less on minutia.

"this is john. so i guess we're going to meet at the theater around 10 o'clock. sarah said she can't make it because she has to wake up early tomorrow. she said she can go out next tuesday if we're all free. but next tuesday i'm having dinner with my parents; so we can talk that tonight when i see you. i know you're at work, but we were thinking about grabbing a bite to eat before the show; we're probably going to find some chinese place close-by. so anyway...we'll all just meet you at the theater by 10. bye."

for me, there is only one scenario where this type of message would be acceptable. that would be if you're being held hostage in a dungy basement and managed to find a cellphone while your captures were momentarily out of the room.

"this is john. i think there are three of them and the leader has a southern accent. i can hear a lot of cars in the distance so we're probably next to a freeway. there's a dog barking nearby, it's possibly in the backyard. they were talking about going to a movie at 10 o'clock, probably the new bruce willis one. i've heard it wasn't that good. alright, they're coming back downstairs, i gotta go. talk to you later."

even a death in the family does not need to be long and drawn out. keep it brief while imparting the main purpose of your call.

"hey. this is john. you're aunt just died. call me."

3. caller ID:
when i see your name on the caller ID and begin with the phrase, "hi john, how's it going?" don't respond with the following:

-"hey, this is john."
-"is this matt?"

by using your name, i've just established i know who you are; and considering you've just placed a call to my cell phone, it's hardly necessary to confirm my identity at this point.

this concludes the phone etiquette portion of the blog. practice at home in front of the mirror and do your part to blend in with the rest of the 21st century. be well.