Neat. Pictures. And some words.

I said I was gonna give ya pitchers, didn’t I?  Well, then shut your piehole and look at these gosh darn pitchers for cryin’ out loud.  I mean I took the time to carry not one, but two disposable cameras with me, in addition to my awesome cellphone camera, so the least you can do is look at them for gosh sakes. Geesh.

Ah, just another trip to Bally Total Fitness where I came across my favorite recumbent bike ridin’ black man wearing the thickest and fanciest cardio necklace. Ever.

I opted to not ask him for a photo during his most recent visit.

I opted to not ask him for a photo during his most recent visit.

CLICK ON ME BELOW

What goes better with a cardio workout than huge headphones, a thick necklace and a 2 liter bottle of orange Shasta? I say nothing.

What goes better with a cardio workout than huge headphones, a thick necklace and a 2 liter bottle of orange Shasta? I say nothing.

When it comes to eatin’ sammiches and deli type food in LA, I’ve had a bit of success at being able to belly up to some area tables and devour some tasty eats. In no particular order, I can say I’ve enjoyed my time spent at Canter’s Deli (a little pricey, but always good – potato pancake is top-notch), Bay Cities Deli (the Mother is my personal fave, but I think that’s what most folks go with – bumped into Cheech Marin here once when I was on a lunch run as a PA – pretty sure he was NOT stoned), Junior’s (close to my house – once sat in a booth across from Ernie Hudson and listened to him deliver sage advice to a young fella who’d just recently landed in LA via the same hometown as Ern – Benton Harbor, MI.  Any guy who’s got the range to go from playing the Heckler in “The Jazz Singer” to being cast in “Bosom Buddies” to busting ghosts with Bill Murray and Harold Ramis to running the Oswald Maximum Security Correctional Facility: Level Four – Emerald City, is gonna get my undivided attention, for sure), or Costello’s (burger joint owned by Asians I believe – who woulda thought the Ancient Chinese Secret applied to dry cleaning AND ground beef? It’s the double broiler they say – also got the best effin’ potato salad.  A nice Wall of Fame with a couple of sweet black and white photos of Angie Dickinson and Clint Eastwood too).

Well, one place I had not been to yet was a spot in Beverly Hills called Nate ‘n Al’s. So on Sunday, February 8th, I headed over there and got my eat on.  I was not to be disappointed because upon opening their huge menu, I came across one of my favorite things to consume.  Yoo-Hoo.  Yep, that kinda like milk, but it’s not really milk cause you don’t have to keep it refrigerated which is kinda weird, but I love it nonetheless, drink.  It’s gotta be the whey.

The last stop on the last day of my Week Off From Dieting So Eat Stuff You've Not Had In 3 Months Tour.

The last stop on the last day of my Week Off From Dieting So Eat Stuff You've Not Had In 3 Months Tour.

Heaven, I'm in heaven.

Heaven, I'm in heaven.

You've always gotta start the meal with some nice Kosher dills.

You've always gotta start the meal with some nice kosher dills.

If you ask me, the turkey reuben could have been a bit more stacked. But, hey, what do I know? I'm just a fat kid from a small town in OH trying to make a name for himself here in LA in this crazy, mixed up world of entertainment.  You know show biz.

If you ask me, the turkey reuben could have been a bit more stacked. But, hey, what do I know? I'm just a fat kid from a small town in OH trying to make a name for himself in this crazy, mixed up world of entertainment. You know, show biz.

It may be hard to believe, but I've always been a member of the Clean Platers Club.

It may be hard to believe, but I've always been a member of the Clean Platers Club.

On Friday, a couple days before this deli run, I discovered the best pizza joint in all of LA.  Seriously.  Not only does it beat Domino’s and Father Juan’s, but not even Pizza Hut and their Queen Latifah promoted P’Zones can top this place. My good friend Brian, of the bad tattoo post Brian and the Bridge Club Beatdown 2009 , knew of my desire to have some awesome pizza before beginning round two of my dieting so he told me of this place and accompanied me on this little voyage.  I was too focused on devouring my pie to even bother with photos, but suffice to say if you like a thinner NY style crust and enjoy your toppings a plenty, then this is the place for you.  Oh, 4 slices.  Destroyed.  And two Diet Cokes. Hey, gotta cut calories somewhere, right?

Best Pizza Pie in LA

During the day leading up to this glorious pizza parlor trip, I worked one last time on the Talkshow with Spike Feresten as the Lady Head character.  The wardrobe stylist was kind enough to snap a few shitty photos with my camera phone so I thought I’d share those with you right now.  Start lookin’ at ’em.  NOW!

Creepy?  Whaddya mean?  I thought I looked GORGEOUS.

Creepy? Whaddya mean? I thought I looked GORGEOUS.

Who woulda thought a medium heather grey shirt from Banana Republic would go so lovely with a flashy pair of mustard pants??

Who woulda thought a medium heather grey t-shirt from Banana Republic would go so well with some stylish mustard pants?

The final edited sketch aired this past Saturday night.  Here’s a link, in case you were busy with your Valentine that eve, and missed it.  

Okay, a couple things: 1) Yes, the Mom jeans are mine. Levi’s – Easy Fit – size 46. and 2) My man mammaries were enhanced. Silicone inserts – lots of really sticky tape – and a little Movie Magic.  Looking good.  Feeling good.  Welcome to Hollywood.

Two Saturday nights ago, following my friend Brian’s Krav Maga fight at the Santa Monica’s Women’s Club where he fought his heart out, but unfortunately lost to a heavier and more seasoned opponent, we headed over to Main Street in Santa Monica and did a little drinkin’.  

s if she wasn't already smitten with me upon hearing me talk about my Smog Inspection failing Toyota Corolla, the hot bartender was putty in my hands after I handed her my TV Guide Emmy Party disposable camera and asked her to capture this group photo.

As if she wasn't already smitten with me upon hearing me talk about my Smog Inspection failing Toyota Corolla, the hot bartender was putty in my hands after I handed her my TV Guide Emmy Party disposable camera and asked her to capture this group photo.

Doesn't look too bad and in pretty good spirits for a guy who received seven stitches above his left eye a few minutes earlier, huh?

Doesn't look too bad and is in pretty good spirits for a guy who, mere minutes earlier, received seven stitches above his left eye.

We came across this gem at stop #2.  Please keep in mind it's about 1 AM at this point and it's completely dark outside.

We came across this gem at stop #2. Please keep in mind it's about 1 AM at this point and it's completely dark outside.

It's not everyday that I'm out with a cat who drives a Chevy Corvette, so I kindly asked Brian to make fun of, I mean pose, in front of this guy's car.

It's not everyday that I'm out with a cat who seriously drives a Chevy Corvette, so I kindly asked Brian to make fun of, I mean pose, in front of Masshole's car.

I got a haircut on Sunday (the one a couple days ago) and it’s always good times at Reeder’s Barbershop. This day was no exception, as we conducted a little photo shoot around the shop.

Parting it down the middle does cover up the receding hairline, but it's a little high maintenance for me and may necessitate the purchasing of a hair dryer to get the butt cutt just right.

Parting it down the middle does cover up the receding hairline, but it's a little too high maintenance for me and may necessitate the purchasing of a hair dryer to get the butt cut just right.

007_7_1

Uh, yeah I like the Stones. You gotta a problem with that?

008_8_1

You have to start ME up. You have to start ME up cause I never stop.

009_9_1

Who the hell's this guy think he is? All retirin' again and shit.

010_10_1

Seriously? You would want this guy on da Bears? Not me pal.

I tell ya.  Some days I wish I could just go back to those years in the late 80s, when I entrusted my hair to a barber named Jerry Mesbarger at The Hair Shoppe, and get the ole flat top again. Man, was that a solid look or what?  I had the ladies beggin’, flat out beggin’.

At Freshman Orientation..... From Lancaster, OH..... Weighing in at a svelte 168 lbs, with 4 oz. of that being Crew Comb hair product..... JOHN DAVID MAHOLMMMMMMMM

At Freshman Orientation..... From Lancaster, OH..... Weighing in at a svelte 168 lbs, with 4 oz. of that being Crew Comb hair product..... JOHN DAVID MAHOLMMMMMMMM

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Making memories. One simple post at a time.

It’s been a mere 15 days since my last post.  Now, that is some serious dedication if I do say so myself.  Amazing commitment on my part, no?  What the fuck!  It’s not like have a full-time job or a kid or a wife or even a girlfriend or someone to spend… Wait.  Now I’m getting depressed.  

Okay, but seriously am I that lazy that I can’t even manage to press a few letter keys every now and again?  If you’re still reading the blog I appreciate your loyalty.  Lord knows you’re not coming here for guidance and/or instruction, so I don’t feel all that bad for leaving yous guys hanging for the last two weeks, but I do owe it to you to at least provide the drivel that one can expect when you log on to We’ll Always Have Terrace.  Actually, let me paint you a visual which might just illustrate how lazy I truly am and maybe better detail why it is that I sometimes go so long without an entry.  I don’t know if this illustrates that I’m lazy or stupid or both, but I have yet to figure out how to get my Powerbook to be truly wireless in my apartment.  It’s not like I just moved in either.  I’ve been here three years now. Oh, sure I’ve got a router and Time Warner’s shittiest DSL hook up – which is barely faster than dial-up, but it’s in my budget – and my computer has an Airport.   But daggum it if I can’t seem to get the wireless router (kindly given to me by good friend Orren – you’ll see pics from his house later) to enable me to type whilst I’m in the Great Room (I like calling it that, but in my 1BR it’s really not all that great, just the main room really – the Good Room I guess).  So, I’m resigned to doing me internetting from the bedroom – where I can choose to type while lying in bed or seated upright with the computer on a chair or my clothes dresser.  Fuckin’ efficient as hell, I know.  That’s me.  Mr. Functionality.  So, if you’re now envisioning me typing while I lie stomach down on a 15 year old, bed linen free mattress with my chin resting on two stacked pillows as my beautiful baby greens peer just over the top of a slobber-stained pillow – all the while in deep concentration as I prepare my next thought, you’re way off.  I have blue eyes.

Nonetheless, let’s post some shit and gets ya caught up.  If you only wanted to read 5,000 words – tops, then this brief recap is just for you.  Since we last chatted, I’ve had 24 beers or so, the majority being Miller Lite’s – maybe a handful were of the Coor’s Light variety and four to five were Budweiser Light – remind me to tell you my thoughts on that stupid campaign – Drinkability.  Your telling me you’ve got a beverage that can be consumed?  Fuckin’ brilliant. That’s like saying.  Subway.  It’s eatable.  When your selling point consists of touting the characteristic of your product which doesn’t really distinguish it from other products, I think you don’t really have much of a marketing strategy.  Sure, it’s neat to see the guy who’s been in a shitload of national spots draw his quirky little white pictures on my telly as he explains “drinkability” to a few racially and socioeconomically diverse friends, but all in all, I call lame.  My other beer advertising pet peeve – “Keystone. Bottled beer taste in a can”  I’m pretty sure once the tin of the can hits your lips it doesn’t matter how special the lining of your can is, cause it’s still gonna taste as though it’s coming from a can.  You want bottled beer taste?  Gee, I don’t know.  Maybe buy a beer in a bottle.  Just a thought.

Okay, where was I?  That’s right – brief recap.  I gave up on the brief part, sorry. The brewskie drinkin’ was first kicked off at my friend Orren’s house where we done a little Super Bowling.  Feel free to click on the photo below to take in additional pics from this glorious, sun-drenched afternoon on Feb. 1.  Which, in addition to being a day we all watch some pigskin and take in a few commercials and a load of calories, just happened to be the 5 year anniversary of my 2,100+ mile trek from Chicago to LA.  That’s a whole other entry will get to at a later date.  Briefly, it involves a deceased roommate, a Chevy Blazer, the St. Louis Arch, sleep apnea, the Great Wall of China, a speeding ticket in Oklahoma, an Arizona snowstorm and lots of beef jerky – just to name a few tidbits.  

I know I'm wearing a Dallas Cowboys Tony Dorsett jersey.  You would too, if you bought it 4 years ago and it just now fits.

I know I'm wearing a Dallas Cowboys Tony Dorsett jersey. You would too, if you bought it 4 years ago and it just now fits.

The Monday after Super Bowling I had to allow myself a little sleepy time in the AM, so I chose to attend the evening boot camp session.  It was the start of Week four and that’s all I gotsta say about that.  I can’t lie to ya.  My final boot camp posts are gonna be weak.  Marginal at best.  As I type this on Sunday night, I know full well that tomorrow morning won’t involve an 8:30 Dustin and Cazzy led boot camp workout, but only a Southwest Airlines commercial audition at 10:15.  You see, during my 15 day hiatus, boot camp came and went and I’ve been struggling with telling you it’s over.  Sure, it’ll start up again in a week, but I don’t think John David David’s gonna be there.  It’s just too much do-re-for-mi.  The free lunch is over and now it’d cost me $225. American.  I gotta do what I gotta do, but it was a good ride while it lasted.  We weighed in this past Wednesday on Dustin’s scales at 227.5 lbs – down 11.5 from my starting weight of 239.  Now, I probably weighed less after our final workout this past Friday as I tipped the scales at Lindora on the day before at 224.9, so I’d say it’s a safe bet that if your number was 12 and you had the over – you win. If you’re keeping track of my fitness assessment tests, as you all should be, I managed to trim a whopping 20 seconds from my mile time with a final 9:21.  I upped my push me ups to 49 in a minutes time from the previous 41.  And, even though this isn’t as great as it sounds, I doubled my sit ups in two minutes score from a ridiculous 13 to a still ridiculous 26.  There’s gotta be some abdominal muscles under there somewhere, I just can’t seem to get to them. Oh, we also had a day last week, Monday I believe, when we did the thing where we run a half-mile, do 100 standing squats, 200 crunches and 100 push ups and then run another half-mile.  I learned a lot from this camp, and lost a little, but I evidently learned nothing from doing it the first time some three weeks or so prior.  Cause I did not pace myself correctly and break up the exercises accordingly.  Instead, I decided to bust out the 200 crunches first, thinking it was these sunnuva bitches that kept me from completing it in a timely fashion before.  I wouldn’t let them take me down this go round, no sir.  Then I thought, Hey, let’s do me some 100 squats.  Nice, I thought as I finished them and heard Dustin announce it had been 15 minutes since we started.  Dude, I’ll definitely beat my 30 minute or so time from before cause all I had left was the push me ups.  Shit, I just told you I can do 49 in a minute, so it should take me, what? Two minutes or so to do 100.  Maybe 2:30 tops?  Boy, could I not have been any more wrong.  I managed to do 40 or so, but then muscle fatigue set in and I labored for the next 10 minutes or so to do the remaining ones until Dustin, realizing I was the only one who had yet to take off for their finishing half-mile, asked me how many I had left.  To which I begrudgingly replied, “Fuckin twenty-three”.  He then told me to do the run and then come back and finish up the rest of them.  Yeah, that was much easier.  Cause when I returned, I banged out 23 with ease.  Why didn’t I just break them up into sets in the first place – alternating squats and push ups?  Me not so smart sometimes. Oh, my time? Ten seconds slower than the first time.  31:41

During that last week, they also shot a little testimonial footage of each of the campers. I’ll be sure to let you know when it finds its way to their website so you can give it the once over twice and the twice over thrice.  On Valentine’s Day, Dustin invited all three of his classes to participate in a hike up Temescal Canyon, which I was all excited to attend, but ended up having to shoot a scene for this student film I had a small part in.  I played Jimbo.  He’s a 34 years old BB Gun shootin’, drums playin’, meat packin’ plant worker/drug dealer with ADHD.  You know, not much of a stretch from my real life.  

Another  good thing I think that’s come out of this boot camp experience is the making friends with Quicks aspect.  She got me out to do a little Speed Datin’ on the first Wednesday of this month, and I have to say it was quite entertaining. It took place at a little divey type bar in Hollywood, and involved me and eight other duds, I mean dudes, 10 lovely ladies and 5 minutes with each.  I’m gonna cut to the chase and say that there were 5 that I circled Yes.  Oh, yeah.  I forgot.  we each received a number, I was 46, and then a little pamphlet upon which you write your “dates” number and then circle “Yes” or “No” by their name, based on whether or not you’d like to go out with them again.  It was like grade school all over again when you’d pass a note to a girl asking them to “go with you” and to circle either “Yes” or “No”.  You’re then supposed to take this form home and enter your results into the website and then any mutual matches would show up if you said “yes” to someone who also said “yes” to you.  I chose five broads I’d like to “see” again.  I kinda define “see” rather loosely and used it represent either have sex with or do some neckin’ with or spoonin’ on a couch or buying a puppy with or maybe just, you know a little light petting.  Seriously, I haven’t gotten to first base in almost 5 years so I should probably go at this a little leisurely like – not take things all that fast.  Well, all my whores rejected me so it didn’t even matter.  Not even my “safety” gave me the nod.  What gives? So I asked everyone the same though out 26 questions back-to-back.  I don’t see the problem.  I’m not giving up though.  I’ll not let my .000 batting average keep me from stepping to the plate.  Even if I do get beaned in the head a few more times or go down on strikes – called or swinging.  Man, I do love me some baseball analogies.  Don’t you?  What the hell would I do without them sports? Don’t know I tell ya.  Don’t know.

Since I’m running short on time and need an additional hour or two of beauty sleep, I’m gonna close this post with a flurry of pictures.  Some photos may or may not have a link attached to them so feel free to click on them and see what happens.  Here we go:

I took a week off of my diet and chose to fulfill a cupcake craving.  Three times.

I took a week off from my diet and chose to fulfill a cupcake craving. Three times.

This here's what they call a black and white and it's REALLY.  I kicked off the sugary festivities with this guy.

This here's what they call a black and white and it's REALLY good. I kicked off the sugary festivities with this guy.

Right here is where I consumed number two.  The peanut butter chocolate.  I had a nice photo of it as well, but I must have eaten it cause I can’t find it.  Part of the reason I chose to go to Sprinkles on a Wednesday is because they only offer this tasty morsel on Wednesday and Saturday.  Moist and delicious.  No, it’s how I like my cupcakes silly.

RED FUCKIN' VELVET.  I saved the best for last.  These things are like black tar heroin to us fatties.  If I had to choose between any drug and this, I'm leaving with cream cheese all over my face every time.

RED FUCKIN' VELVET. I saved the best for last. These things are like black tar heroin to us fatties. If I had to choose between any drug and this, I'm leaving with cream cheese all over my face every time.

Those cakes never stood a chance.

Those cakes never stood a chance.

If you’re ever in the Beverly Hills area.  Not the one in Lancaster, OH, but the one out here, I highly recommend popping in (there’s usually a line and unlike the dumb asses who wait in line at Pink’s hot dogs, it’s actually worth the wait) for a cake or two.  They ain’t cheap though.  I think they’re now $3.25 a piece, but worth every penny.

I’m not sure this is proper blog protocol, but what the fuck do I care.  I’m going to bed and calling “TO BE CONTINUED”

Good night dudes.  Yeah, I guess my flurry ended up being more of a trickle, what with my 3 photos of cupcakes, but I’ll be sure to give ya what you’re jonesin’ for tomorrow.  Which, is actually now today.  Damn, I gotta get better organized when it comes to bloggin’.

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Filed under Boot Camp 2009

Saturday night at El Pollo Loco is like a mini Cinco de Mayo.

As I was driving home from my final trip to Ralph’s, in preparation for tomorrow’s Super Bowl party at my good friend Orren Herold’s house, (big Cardinals fan – from Phoenix – got the mustache to prove it) it hit me – I have been blatantly negligent when it comes to this here blogging thing for the entire week. Sure, it’s basically just a slew of run-on sentences in which I ramble about a bunch of malarky anyway, but dammit, if I’m gonna spend the time to take my award-winning photos and scribble down barely legible notes, I need to take some initiative and post that shit.  Who’s with me?!  I typically don’t subscribe to the exclamatory punctuation, especially when it’s involves an interrogative statement, but that just felt right so I went with it.

Okay, here we go.  One long blog entry which summarizes my entire last week of January.

Monday – Boot camp  = kinda boring.  You know, we’re into week 3 now and the suit makes me sweat.  A lot.  In addition to running our half-mile laps, we did mix it up I guess with some partner training.  I matched up with Amy, or as you may better know her from earlier posts, the girl who coined the expression, “weight weighs more than muscle”.  We did three sets of each of the following exercises for as many reps as we could in one minute: Squat Press with the rubber band thingies – Sit ups – Jumping Lunges – Burpees. Curious as to how I fared?  Well, here ya go.

Squat Presses – 20, 27, 23

Sit ups – 16, 12, 8 (Yep, still not real strong in this category)

Jumping Lunges – 16, 12, 11 (These hurt me buttocks)

Burpees – 11, 10, 9 (For those who’ve never experienced these, you start standing up, get down and do a push up, then jump up with your arms straight up in the air twice and then repeat the process)

It’s my understanding that we’ll be doing this again before the end of the boot camp and noting our improvement, or lack thereof.  I just pray squat thrusts don’t make a surprise appearance over the course of the last 2 weeks.  

Tuesday – This day was a lot more exciting cause I had to do some more shootin’ with the fun folks at Fox for the skit involving me and my boy boobs. We did our little movie makin’ in Studio City, and although it was for the same skit, on today’s call sheet my part received a different name.

Even with a three day layoff I was able to get right back into character.

Even with a three day layoff and the part name change, I was able to get right back into character. It's what all the great ones do.

This was a real nice 2 1/2 hours of “work” I tell ya.  Not sure when it’s going to air, but it will either be on tonight’s (Saturday, January 31st) show – 11/10 C on FOX or next week’s show – Saturday, February 7th.  

Here’s what the weather looked like that day.  Not too shabby for January 27th I must say.

You can't tell in this shot, but it was pretty windy in Studio City that day.

You can't tell in this shot, but it was pretty windy in Studio City that day.

Since I was able to scoot from set much earlier than I had anticipated, my afternoon was freed up to do some serious lounging and tubing at the ole domicile.  Now, I don’t know about any of you, but I do love me some judge shows.  There must be at least 8-10 different ones on throughout the day and they appeal to every demographic it seems.  On this particular day, I focused my efforts on Judge David Young and his compelling case involving a woman suing her former hairstylist for a botched weave that caused her hair to fall out and gave her a scalp infection.  In case you weren’t lucky enough to catch this episode, please allow me to share these screen grabs which help explain the case of plaintiff Shimere Johnson versus defendant Waleed (yep, he’s a one name only kinda stylist).

I can't offer empathy, but only sympathy.

I can't offer empathy, only sympathy.

Even though this is probably the 37th time he's tried a case regarding a botched weave, Judge David Young still listens intently to Shimere's opening statements.

Even though this is probably the 37th time he's tried a case regarding a botched weave, Judge David Young still listens intently to Shimere's opening statements.

 

 

 

 

 

 

As you can tell, Waleed the hairstylist did not agree with what Shimere had to say.

As you can tell, Waleed the hairstylist did not agree with what Shimere had to say.

 

Um, yeah - that's Shimere's scalp.  I'd say he fucked it up all right.

Um, yeah - that's Shimere's scalp. I'd say he fucked it up all right.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Following some awesome facial expressions from a frustrated Waleed and many a shed tear from visibly shaken Shimere, the honorable Judge Young found in favor of the plaintiff and awarded Shimere something like $4,000. This covered not only her required scalp surgery that resulted from the bad weave, but also lost wages and pain and suffering.  Who knew a weave could do so much damage?

Wednesday – Oh, we’re half way there.  Whoa, livin’ on a boot camp prayer. At the midway point I’m weighing in at a still fat, yet handsome as all get out, 230 lbs.  So, it’s minus 9 from my starting weight and hopefully it continues to work its way even lower as these next weeks unfold.  Today involved the bleachers in the park and the following exercises: dips, push me ups, more Burpees, 1/2 mile laps and more resistance exercises with the bands.  Nothing too much different than other days.  Also similar to other days, was the question that was posed as I was stretching at the end of class.  Lemme back up.  I started wearing these neoprene sleeves on my calves during the last boot camp because I began to develop shin splints as a result of continual running on hard surfaces.  Well, they kinda look like spats more than anything, but I must have been asked at least 5 times now if they’re socks.  Yeah, I wear bright red socks every day. In fact, this same pair every class.

Mine are red, but you get the idea.

Mine are red, but you get the idea.

There is visible space between the ankle and the support sleeve so I’m just confused as to why everyone thinks there socks.  Okay, I’m done being sensitive about my shin supports.

Let’s talk about the girl who mentioned to Dustin that after wearing the suit in class, she goes home and feels very cold and “almost sick” when she takes it off.  She wondered aloud if she maybe had the flu. Hmmmm…. I never so much as even opened an Organic Chemistry book in college and don’t even have too many doctor friends, but I’m pretty sure my curbside diagnosis tells me that she is – um, how should I say this?  It’s, well… are you sitting down?  I’m sorry to be the one to have to tell you this, but…. you’re dehydrated.  I know, it’s always hard to hear it at first, but you’ll get used to hearing it and maybe even saying it eventually.  It doesn’t take a great deal of deductive reasoning to figure out you just need to replenish your fluids dipshit.  Remember all that sweating you did just a mere 20 minutes earlier?  Yeah, might want to replace some of that with a glass or twelve of water.

I could not have imagined that this late afternoon’s TV watchin’ would provide me with something as great as the previous day, but alas I was mistaken.  Cause what I witnessed this day was the best high speed chase I’d ever seen in my five years as a resident of CA.  It involved a chick, a U-Haul, multiple freeways and sheriff and police cruisers and little under two and a half hours.  Now, I came on to the scene about 45 minutes into the chase, but what began at 2:56 PM local time, I watched up until it’s end at 5:20 PM and it did not disappoint. Here’s a looksie at the route she took that covered almost 14o miles, during which she exceeded 85 mph on multiple occasions and wowed the local newcasters with her precision driving skills (only clipping the mirror off of one BMW)- and including an amazing swerve to avoid spike strips and a brief trip to the other side of the road around Point Mugu (pronounced like the blind cartoon guy).

U-Haul Route

The news reported that a man and a woman had been detained by police and that the woman jumped into the U-Haul and sped off.  They began to chase her because she wasn’t on the contract, thus she was stealing the truck.  Awesome.

I'll give her credit.  If you're gonna be engaged in a police chase, there are less scenic things to take in than the Pacific Ocean out your driver side window.

I'll give her credit. If you're gonna be engaged in a police chase, there are lot less scenic things to take in than the Pacific Ocean out your driver side window.

I thought for sure she was headed for the outlet malls, but the lack of gas forced her to pit somewhere near Somis, CA.

I thought for sure she was headed for the outlet malls, but the lack of gas forced her to pit in Somis, CA.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Once the U-Haul ran outta gas, she tried "running" over to this car and jacking it, but it was to no avail cause them doors was locked.

Once the U-Haul ran outta gas, she tried "running" over to this car and jacking it, but it was to no avail cause them doors was locked.

 

Breakdown. Takedown. You're busted.

Breakdown. Takedown. You're busted.

 

 

 

 

 

Oddly enough, it was later reported that she was under the influence.

Ma’am, I hate to kick a girl when she’s down, but did you really think you were gonna outrun us in a U-Haul with every news copter hovering overhead?

Ma'am, I hate to kick a girl when she's down, but did you really think you were gonna outrun us in a U-Haul with every news copter hovering overhead?

Oddly enough, it was later reported that she was under the influence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No wonder that thing cornered like it was on rails.

No wonder that thing cornered like it was on rails.

This made up for my shitty trip to the DMV earlier in the day when I discovered I could no longer receive an extension for my smog certification and that beginning February 1 I would have to pass the smog test after investing in some fancy auto mechanic work or risk driving with an expired registration.  Oof.

I knew when the nice woman at the front desk handed me this piece of paper and told me I was the next number, it was all too good to be true.

I knew when the nice woman at the front desk handed me this piece of paper and told me I was the next number, it was all too good to be true.

Sweet ride I seens at the DMV in Santa Monica.

Sweet ride I seens at the DMV in Santa Monica.

Think the odds are pretty good that the person who parked in this spot was by no means physically disabled at all, yet merely chose to park here cause they had the placard?

Think the odds are pretty good that the person who parked in this spot was by no means physically disabled, yet merely chose to park here cause they had the placard?

Thursday –  I have no recollection of anything I did this day.

Friday – I awoke at 7:15 AM to Brian McKnight’s Sunrise Serenade on 94.7 FM and his rendition of Kenny Loggin’s “Sweet Reunion” to some lady caller. It’s the only station that comes in on my shitty clock radio, but I don’t mind it when I get little gifts like that.  That guy can flat out sing and he’s real smoove wiff da ladies.

Boot camp was circuit training with Cazzie serving as our sub. Dustin was enroute to AZ for the Super Bowl.  Lots of sweating, the little spindly guy, Goober Guy, wore a hip stocking cap the entire class and kept lamenting about how hot it was.  Here’s an idea – take off your fuckin’ winter hat, douchebag. Oh, and next time, maybe try working out without the Ipod and headphones so you can actually hear the instructor when she tells you to switch exercises.  It’s just an idea, I’m sure you do this all the time in your yoga classes, right?

Saturday – I began at 8 AM and visited 3 different mechanics in an effort to fix my Corolla so she’ll pass the smog test.  One adjusted timing and a new EGR Tranducer valve later, we’ve yet to get it tested.  Tune in Monday to see what happens.

I also managed to put on my new vanity plates.

I also managed to put on my new vanity plates.

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Filed under Boot Camp 2009

Something smells like feet. Oh, it’s the broccoli.

What a fun time I had this past Friday working on Talk Show with Spike Ferensten. Those folks, from the people in the office to the rest of the crew, are like real tomato ketchup – nothin’ but the best.  Based on the confidentiality agreement I signed, I’m not really at liberty to discuss a lot of the details regarding what I shot, or at least I think I’m not.  To be honest, I just kinda glanced over those couple pieces of paper. “Sure, I’ll sign it”   But just to be safe, suffice it to say that there were multiple wardrobe changes involving me and some sweet outfits, a wig, and breast enhancers.  The kind that, with a little super sticky tape and some wardrobe stylist ingenuity, could be adhered to my hairy mams for quite a long while.  My boobies were beaten up by day’s end, but that’s just show biz my friends.  I hear all the great ones have similar tragic taping stories.  Mel Gibson in “What Women Want”, Steve Carell in “The 40 Year-Old Virgin”, Dustin Diamond in “Saved by the Bell” Season 2, Episode 8: Miss Bayside.  

This was where I was gonna post a couple visuals, but after looking at them myself and noting the fact that, if you’ve read previous entries you are well aware of my bologna sized areolas, for me to show you those again, in a bruised state – well, it would just be irresponsible on my part and in good conscience I just can’t do it.

The fact that I was being paid to show my boobs for once, wasn’t the only thing that made this an atypical LA day.  Nope.  It was the rain that cometh down for the majority of it that also deviated from the normal everyday experience.  This little precipitation caused us to not be able to shoot some of the exterior shots, so fortunately for me and a couple other folks, we will likely be back next week for another day of shooting. This pleases both me and the guy from Time Warner who keeps calling about my past due internet bill.  Hey buddy, when it works only half the time and when it does it’s a step up from dial-up, I’m gonna give you half the bill.  Capeesh?  Or maybe the fine folks at DirecTV will find a little something in their post Christmas satellite stocking?  Who knows which bills will now read: PAID IN FULL.

I’ll tell ya more about when my little bit will air after I find out for certain, but I’m pretty sure it’s going to be on either this coming Saturday, January 31 or the following Saturday, February 7.  The show airs on FOX at 11/10 C. So if late-night programs are not your bag, feel free to toss in a half inch tape in the ole Magnovox or set your DVR for a later viewing.

If my parent's weren't proud of me yet, they soon will be. If my parents weren’t proud of me and my acting pursuits yet, how can they not be, now?  Cut to my Dad at his monthly poker game.  “So, Jim.  Was that little John David I saw on that Spike Berenstain show on FOX dancing around, in a two-piece showing off his “muscular pecs”?  My Dad’s response, “Hey, what’s wild?  One-eyed Jacks and threes, or is it twos?  Boy, these Sloppy Joes really are good tonight.  I’m gonna grab another Rolling Rock, can I get ya anything?”

As I sat in my valet parking spot, wrapped for the day and wondering why I never spend the $1.98 to fill up my windshield washer fluid, I contemplated whether the incessant rain would cause the cancellation of the 6:30 PM boot camp.  So I blew a call into Dustin to see if I should make my way up to Sherman Oaks or continue westerly toward my home.  You know what he said?  He came at me with the Postman’s Creed:  Rain or Shine.  Damn, even though it was 4:30 at this point, I wasn’t exactly giddy about the prospect of driving in the intermittent rain to then run on wet grass and sweat up my scuba suit.  Oh, I forgot to mention.  This was the first day we used the suit during class.  I’d given her a couple trial runs at Bally’s and determined that the sweat that pours off me while wearing the suit will not only cause my shoes to feel as though I had just gone swimming in them, but it will also require me to pay very good attention to balance on the treadmill toward the end of the work out.  It tends to get a little slippery when wet.

These are the sweat tracks that form when I wear the suit.

These are the sweat tracks that form when I wear the suit.

In the two weeks I’ve been campin’, I have had the misfortune of attending this class once before.  It’s not that it’s harder or longer which bugs me, but for some reason each time this class either ends or begins with a conversation about diet and for some reason there’s been 2-3 girls who seem intent on championing the vegan cause.  I’m not buying it, and I don’t feel Dustin is either, because he always just concludes with, “Hey, it doesn’t matter what your diet is if you don’t include exercise.  If you eat too much of anything and don’t burn more calories than you ingest, you’re not only NOT going to lose weight but you’ll probably gain weight.” It’s not really calculus.

You know who else joined me and the other dedicated campers that night?  Quicks. I know, can you believe it?  She missed the 8:30 AM because, she too, was doing some acting in a commercial advertisement.  Some kinda women’s health drink I believe.  Well, I told her I was bummed I couldn’t attend the speed dating earlier in the week and she then proceeded to tell me how “disastrous” that night was.  She said she ended up having 5 guys and 4 girls and the result was ZERO matches.  In here 10 years of doing this, she said she’d never had nobody match up.  I guess the recession hits speed dating just as hard as some of the other Main Street businesses.  She said it looks good for me to get in on this coming week’s event in Santa Monica, so keep your fingers crossed.

I guess Dustin thinks of everything and that’s why we’re able to go “rain or shine”, cause we didn’t even enter the rain-soaked grass.  Instead, we busted out an exercise called Parking Lot Pick-Up, which is basically the same as suicides that you might run in a gym on a basketball court.  Except out here, you use the designated lines of each parking spot to run to and drop your little rubber band thingie and then sprint back to the starting point.  Repeat that about 12 times or so up and down the parking lot.  It sucked.

Then we used the curb to do some step-ups, scissor (butterfly) kicks, side kicks….Shit, we just basically kept jumping up and down, on and off the curb until my calves, thighs and hammies were burning.

Throw in some laps around the parking lot and some partner stretching and we called it a night.  I got paired up with a chick who looked as though she could have worked background on TJ Hooker some twenty five years ago..  She was sportin’ a navy blue LAPD sweatsuit – the crew neck top and the baggy bottoms.  I asked her if she was just a fan or if that’s who her employer indeed was.  Bad idea.  She blathered on for the next 5 minutes about how she’d been a dispatcher for two years and was hoping to move up and then she wasn’t sure if that’s what she wanted to do and then she thought well maybe she couldn’t do it because of the physicality involved……  FUCK!  I was simply trying to make fun of her outfit and instead got a inside look at the operations of the LAPD.  She wasn’t a very good stretcher either.  I may be fat, but I’m a limber sunnuva bitch.  You gotta use a little pressure.  Just ask Steve Bickham the next time you see him. He’ll tell ya the stories from high school baseball off-season circuit training and my ability to touch my toes to the wall behind me while standing up.  It’s true, I tell ya. Those previous 2-3 sentences may have sounded a bit gay, but in the correct context they were perfectly hetero statements.

Saturday started off with me attending a couple casting director workshops in Universal City.  I got involved with this actor’s co-op group last October at the recommendation of my manager.  There are some fees involved, but it gives me a chance to read for some influential casting directors in both TV and Film that I otherwise might not be able to get in front of unless they called me in for an audition.  I’ve taken about 10 or so since joining and haven’t had anything come from it as of yet, but I’m hopeful that these will result in some auditions in the coming months.  It’s because of this potential benefit that I keep coming back for more and allow myself to overlook the annoying  folks that sometimes attend.  It’s not that I dislike all actors, it’s just that I really don’t fancy listening to those who insist on spinning the tales of their great acting lore, all the while bad-mouthing other, steadily working actors who they deem as no good.  Sure, who’s the guy taking the class right now?  Right.  I don’t think Vince Vaughn is gonna be coming to one of these anytime soon, but you keep referring to him as a hack and we’ll see how far that gets ya. 

There’s this one girl, and I use that word very loosely because I look more feminine than she does with her Sarah Jessica Parkeresque nose and big hoodie sweatshirt with the hip-hugging jeans and stilletto heels.  I caught a glimpse of the headshot she passing around.  Can somebody say airbrushed?  Well, anyhoo she’s been in attendance at a few of the classes I’ve taken and she asks the same question every time.  I paraphrase, but it’s something like, “Does your office/show do a lot of stunt casting?”  What she means by this, is for example, the show Eli Stone on ABC cast Katie Holmes in a few episodes this past year in an effort to attract more buzz/viewers.  How I Met Your Mother did it with Britney Spears.  The response doesn’t even matter because as one casting director told her, “How does the answer to that question help you as an actor  Do you want to hear that ‘Yes, fewer roles are now going to be offered to you’?”  Shows are going to continue to cast named actors all the time.  So, until you become a named actor, you’re not gonna be considered for that role anyway.  So who cares?  

After the first class at 10:00 AM, I had a little break so I headed over to El Pollo Loco for what I anticipated would be my usual relaxing lunch consisting of a citrus-marinated, flame-grilled chicken breast, steamed broccoli/cauliflower/carrot medley and this stupid little side salad they have.  This salad is nothing more than iceberg with some shredded cheese on it, but I swear when I add a plastic dish or two of their Pico De Gallo, it’s as if the Salad Gods themselves are smiling down upon me – each and every bite.  It’s effen’ GOOD.  Lemme back up a bit.  I say this is my usual lunch because since November 12, 2008 I have been an active participant on the Lindora diet – I’ll let you google them for more specific info.  But, it’s a moderate protein, minimal carbs type of thing and El Pollo Loco has some stuff that meets their approval. So, I’ve been hitting one near my apartment at least 2-3 times a week since learning that it was an option.  

This family evidently enjoys their Crazy Chicken just as much as I do, but in a sloppier, more disgusting manner.  The lady in the dark pink feigned embarrassment when I asked to take the photo, but I’m pretty confident the scene would be similar back at the duplex.

And I thought I needed some moist towelettes.

And I thought I needed some moist towelettes.

Unfortunately, my typically positive lunch experience was going to be thrown for a loop right from the start.  “I’m sorry sir, we don’t have any breasts”  I’m sorry, what? “We don’t have any breasts right now”.  It took me hearing it again to sink in, but now I realized the girl behind the register was telling me there were no breasts to be had.  Who’s manning the grill back there?  Didn’t he or she just happen to glance over at some point and realize they were running low and should maybe take a little initiative and throw some more bird boobs on the grill?  Seems to me like that’s the first thing you might learn when you’re training to work at a place that specializes in selling grilled chicken.  Okay, so there are none available right now, but how long can it take to cook ’em right?  “It’ll be 30 minutes before they’re ready”  You gotta be shittin’ me.  What the hell’s their heat source, 4 Mexicans, each armed with a Zippo lighter?  Fuck, that’s not gonna work cause I gotsta be back in class by one.  It’s a good thing I came prepared and was able to bust out a pouch of tuna from my stash in the Corolla.  Nothing more appetizing than seeing some fat guy hunched over a bag of tuna, picking it out with a plastic fork like a cat or something, right?  

I’m very happy that no other El Pollo Loco I have visited plays the shitty music that this one did.  It’s as if I was at a Mexican circus and the guy behind the calliope new lots of songs, but they all sounded the same and so it played like one continuous song that lasted for the entire show.

If you happened to catch my Facebook status #134 a few weeks ago, then you’re aware of my continuing disappointment with Bally Total Fitness.  Sure, I pay $11 a month so I guess I shouldn’t bitch too much.  But, like I mentioned before we’ve got the old naked guy who uses the hand dryer to dry off his gonads, there’s the Belching Asian who seems to always find the treadmill right next to me, the Mantis Man who uses the equipment, but merely to balance upon while he stretches and lastly there’s the Bally TV programming, that up until today played primarily music videos from the 80s, with a tendency to play Phil Collins “Sussudio”  a lot.  Well, today they took a big step and jumped two decades when they added the Foo Fighter’s”Times Like These” to the play list.

After today though, I’m gonna take back all of the bad things I ever thought and/or uttered about Bally’s.  Because had I not been a member in good standing I would not have been able to see and capture this wonderful photo of a guy just doing his thing – pedaling away on a recumbent bike.

You can't see it, but in small print at the bottom it reads, "Unless you can justify the taking of a picture for comedic purposes"

You can't see it, but in small print at the bottom it reads, "Unless you can justify the taking of a picture for comedic purposes"

What in the world does this fat white guy want?

What in the world does this fat white guy want?

        

I told the guy next me to me on the treadmill, that if I didn't make it out alive, to tell my family I love them.

I told the guy next me to me on the treadmill, that if I didn't make it back alive, to tell my family I love them.

This was taken as I was seated nearby "stretching, watching TV and texting" and was some 20 minutes before I was able to muster the courage to ask him if I could take his picture.

This was taken as I was seated nearby “stretching, watching TV and texting” and was some 20 minutes before I was able to muster the courage to ask him if I could take his picture.

I can’t help but wonder what this guy’s inner dialogue is when he’s getting ready to leave for the gym:

“Okay, I gots my towel.  My water bottle.  My headphones.  What else?  I feel like I’m missing somethin’…..Oh, right I’m doing cardio today so I gotta put on my ridiculously thick, amazingly gaudy, entirely useless, stainless steel rope necklace”

Here’s how I used to roll back in the late 80s.  Gold herringbone all the way. Probably had to mow at least four of the neighbor’s lawns to save up enough money to purchase this fine piece of jewelry.

Just your typical night before the SATs high jinks.

Just your typical night before the SATs high jinks.

I capped off this glorious Sunday with a quick jaunt over to my inconveniently located 2.3 miles away Chipotle restaurant.  Depending on whether I was meeting Senner or flying solo, there were two within walking distance for me when I lived in Chicago.  Ah, just another thing I miss about the greatest city in the world.  I digress.  Well, I’m a little low on dough right now so it only made sense to use the remaining $2.36 on the gift card I received in my Christmas stocking and buy myself a little chicken salad.  I employed this savings tactic some 8-10 months ago when I cashed in my Carl’s Jr cheeseburger gift cards – all 40 of them that remained from my first place finish in the locally sponsored CBS/How I Met Your Mother karaoke contest.  I don’t recommend eating Carl’s Jr. 3-4 times a week for a month. You’ll more than likely gain a few pounds.  At least I think I did.  

I’d forgotten how much better it is than El Pollo Loco. I’ll be taking some liberties with my increased carb consumption this next week and I think multiple trips to Chipotle will be involved.  The only reason I really bring up this uneventful trip is because I just so happened to run into fellow camper and speed dating diva, Quicks. It appears she’s a fan of the Chipotle as well and chooses to conduct high-powered meetings in their courtyard seating.  I’m more of a “let’s eat inside cause I don’t like bugs” kinda of a guy so I opted not to join her and her guests, but wished her well and said I’d see her in the AM.

Speaking of the AM, I should probably get moving toward sleepy time.  My pajamas don’t put on themselves.  Am I right. or am I right?

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Stay away from craft service. Stay away from craft service.

I’m pretty stoked as I just got a call from the production offices of Talk Show with Spike Feresten.  I’d like to say that along with having a reasonable 9:00 AM call time for tomorrow’s shoot day, it looks as though the salvaged 1987 Toyota Corolla complete with smog emissions extension sticker in the back driver side window will be getting the royal treatment the moment I enter the lot.  Yep, I got Valet rights. My first thought was, “Wow.  My manager must really know how to negotiate”  Then I was told it comes standard when you’re booked as a principal.  Yeah, I knew that.  I knew that.  I do wonder though, if they’ve every driven, let alone, seen a ride as sweet as mine.  I mean, this baby’s all original parts.  You just don’t find ’em like that anymore.  Take a look…..

1987 Shit Brown Toyota Corolla

1987 Shit Brown Toyota Corolla purchased from my Los Feliz neighbor Hervey Medellin for $900. Cash.

 

Uh, just a little door panel damage thanks to a guy in a Volvo T-Boning me at a stop sign on Hillhurst/Finley.  His insurance paid me $864 American.  Would you have gotten it fixed?

Uh, just a little door panel damage thanks to the guy in a blue Volvo who T-Boned me at a stop sign on Hillhurst/Finley. His insurance paid me $864 American. Would you have gotten it fixed?

 

As if this thing's ever gonna pass another smog test.  Yes, mam.  I would like the extension sticker please.

As if this thing's ever gonna pass another smog test. Yes, ma'am. Could I please have another extension sticker.

I know what all you female readers are thinking right now.  “Wait a minute.  He’s unemployed the majority of each month, has man boobs AND drives an 87 Corolla. How is he STILL single?  Next you’ll probably tell me that he likes to let the dishes pile up in the sink, too.  Boy, I sure do wish I lived in California, cause I would snag him up in a heartbeat”

I know, it’s still hard for me to believe it?  Just think, you could also be telling your friends and family that you’re dating a print model.  A very BIG print model, in fact, who’s graced the inside pages of almost every major magazine written for women over 45.

Do you have any idea how good a yellow sheer silk modified unitard feels against your bare skin?  I do.

Do you have any idea how good a yellow sheer silk modified unitard feels against your bare skin? I do.

The thing that’ll really get you excited about the prospect of taking my difficult to both pronounce and spell last name, is the fact that, in addition to all of the aforementioned qualities, I am also the star of my own music video.  The song is benignly titled, “Bitches Get All the Riches” and aside from the 14 words I penned, it is entirely written, composed, mixed, edited and directed by the incomparable musical genius,  Greg Gibbs.

Okay, just got an email from from my production contact which includes a revised script, so I’m gonna have to leave you now in order to give that a perusal.  But, seriously ladies, you give that some thought about – you, me and the whole “gettin’ hitched – makin’ babies thing”.  Cause as you can see below, I was kind of a presentable kid back in the day.

Hey good lookin'.  I'll be back to pick ya up later.

Hey good lookin'. I'll be back to pick ya up later.

 

Gee, my boobs were considerably smaller when I was two.

Gee, my boobs were considerably smaller when I was two.

Good things.  Good things.

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And the role of MAN BOOBS goes to……

It might have been my subtle facial expressions or my warm, inviting smile, but whatever it was sealed the deal and my boobs will be working this Friday on Talk Show with Spike Feresten.

It was either this startled boobs shot that won them over or the close-up of my trip nip.  Either way, me and my girls are real excited.

I wonder if it was this startled boobs shot that won them over or the close-up of my trip nip? Ah, who cares. Me and the girls are just really excited.

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Filed under Boot Camp 2009

Super Scoop, Larry’s Dawg House and Sister’s Chicken. I miss them all equally.

Before we get into the boot camp business, I want to share with you a couple conversations I had with my manager this afternoon.  The first took place while I was dining at El Pollo Loco and enjoying a delicious Lindora approved Skinless Breast Meal. The second took place a little over 30 minutes later as I drove in my salvaged 1987 Toyota Corolla back to my apartment.  

At precisely 12:43 PM PST my phone began to play “Eastbound and Down”, thus alerting me to an incoming call.  Here’s the exchange that followed:

John:  Brett, what’s up?

Brett:  Not much, how you doing?

John:  Good, good.  Just sitting here at El Pollo Loco enjoying some lunch.

Brett:  Ah, the crazy kitchen.  Good stuff.

Brett:  Well, hey. I got a couple questions for you.

John:  Okay.

Brett:  First off, are you available Friday?

John:  Yep.

Brett:  Okay great.  This next question… woul…bah…

John:  Hold on.  I can’t here you.  Lemme go outside.

John:  Okay, go ahead.

Brett:  Would you consider yourself to have “man boobs”?

John:  Oh, sure.

Brett:  Okay, I know that’s kind of a weird question, but Spike Feresten’s Talk Show is looking for someone.  It says they would have to feel comfortable talking about their “man boobs”.

John:  Yeah, that’s no problem.  If the show was “Hey, I understand you have a really small penis”  I’d probably choose to pass, but I have no problem talking about my mammaries.

Brett:  Great, I’m gonna submit you now.

We then jump ahead to 1:15 PM PST when my conversation with AG is interrupted, and I see that there’s another call coming in from my manager.

John:  Hey, what’s up?

Brett:  They’re moving fast.  You got an audition tonight.

John:  Sweet.

Brett then proceeds to give me all the pertinent info, like the time, the address, where to park, which building I’m going to, that it’s an AFTRA principal rate, etc.

John:  So what’s the wardobe for this?

Brett:  Doesn’t say.  I guess you just go in and show your boobs.

After reading this, nobody in their right mind can tell me I’m not going out for all of the plum roles that Hollywood has to offer.  Not sure what kinda boobies they’re looking for – the Phil Mickelson kind or my variety that involve a bigger cup size, but I’ll be sure to let you know what happens.

Now that I got that off my chest, whaddya say we chat it up about boot camp.  Before I do that though, I’d like to apologize to my readers.  I’m trying my best to figure out how to format shit on here, but for some reason the words don’t always appear in the darkness that I’ve chosen for them.  That’s why you sometimes get a grayish looking entry, only to be followed up with some darker, black words.  Same goes for the photo captions.  I bold it and it don’t wanna stay boldededed.  Just wanted to let you know I’m trying to make it visually appealing and legible all at the same time and I’m sure over the course of the next few years I’ll have it figured out.  

I determined I could sleep fifteen minutes later and still get to camp in plenty of time, so the morning got off to a nice, refreshing start.  I feel for the jokers on the other side of the 405 who are headed South towards Santa Monica, cause theys all jacked up – nothin’ but tail lights as they say in movies or TV shows or wherever they say stuff like that.  My commute was long enough to enjoy myself a little Stevie Wonder though.  If you’ve never listened to him, he’s pretty good.  I bet if he plays his cards right and milks the “I’m blind” thing for all it’s worth, he’ll probably be as big as some of those kids from American Idol.  Shit, if he’s literate, he’s already doing better than Fantasia.

Had a couple new additions worth noting in this morning’s class.  One I’ll call Baby Blues and the other Goober Guy.  I was able to covertly snap a pic of them, along with Quicks, but it doesn’t showcase their best features.

 

Quicks explains to Baby Blues and Goober Guy the art of the seduction required for successful speed dating.

Quicks explains to Baby Blues and Goober Guy the art of the seduction that is necessary for successful speed dating.

Baby Blues, as you can see, sported some nice short shorts and a tank top which displayed her womanhood rather nicely.  God, I love jumping jacks.  She also possesses an ankle tattoo of a butterfly.  I’ve never had a desire to get a tattoo – not even the fraternity letters when I was in college.  Always afraid I might get something that eventually I’d regret.  For example:

 

They were high school sweethearts, cut him some slack.

They were high school sweethearts, cut him some slack.

Sorry Brian.  It just segued so perfectly.  Goober Guy went with a pair of sweatpants instead of the more breathable shorts.  I hate the little spindly guys who can wear shit like that and not even break a sweat.  His best, or worst feature, however you choose to look at it, was his “crazy” 103.1 Morning Zoo t-shirt.  Oh, man.  Those guys ARE crazy!  Did you hear em yesterday when they prank called that Chinese restaurant and ordered Long Duck Dong?  Fuckin’ hilarious wasn’t it?  I can tell I’m not gonna be hanging out with this guy come the end of camp.

Dustin keeps mixing up the exercises, which is cool, but they seem to be getting harder, which is not all that cool.  In fact, it kinda sucks cause I’m not picking up what he’s throwing down sometimes.  We did things called flutter kicks, which really sucked.  Another, was some yogaesque type stuff in between our 1/2 mile runs, which was not easy for me to master.    They were called front planks and side planks – where you rest on your elbows and support your weight while your body is straight out.  All this “plank” talk and all I could think of was tearing into some Long John Silver’s – maybe a 2 Fish and 3 Chicken Plank Variety Platter, complete with some Hush Puppies and slaw.  If it was one of those co-branded stores, I’d maybe chase that down with an ice cold A&W Root Beer Float.  Mmmmm…..

It hadn’t crossed my mind during our previous four classes, but I guess Dustin decided we needed a little musical inspiration, so he brought himself a boom box, or as I like to call them, a ghetto blaster.  What did he play for us you ask?  Well, only one of my favorite artists of ALL-TIME – Britney Spears.  Yeah, he turns it on and kicks it off with that shitty “Womanizer” song.  Only to be followed up next with some crappy R&B ballad.  I’m gonna see if he wants me to bring in some Sade for next class.  I love ya buddy, but we’ve really gotta work on the musical selections. Dustin told us he’s going to the Super Bowl cause he’s got a buddy who works for the Stillers and so that Monday we’ll have a substitute trainer.  Can you believe this guy?  Gives us this free boot camp and then decides to go off and attend one of the biggest sporting events in the World.  What a dick.

Hey, since we were talking, or at least, I was talking about ghetto blasters, I wanted to share with you a picture from when I Was a Baltimore Maryland Ghetto Blaster.

 

The best usage of iron-on letters. Ever.

The best usage of iron-on letters. Ever.


I was involved with a Presbyterian church youth group in high school and went on a couple trips where we were supposed to go into a run down section of a city and help out, doing whatever they asked.  In actuality, all we did was sleep on a couple church floors, ride around in fart-filled conversion van bonding with the guy who would eventually become our town’s next mayor and put on a racy talent show one evening.  Oh, I forgot.  I also fell in love.  Both times.

At the end of class there was the usual banter back and forth among classmates – When do we need to wear the suit? Are we going to run another timed mile? Which diet should I be doing?  This last question resulted in a pretty funny comment: “Don’t call it a diet.  It’s a lifestyle change.”  Okay, sure I get it that when you label something as a diet it’s inevitable that it’s something you’ll eventually go off of, but coming from the same girl who said, “muscle weighs more than weight”, I think I’ll choose to stay on my “diet”.  I don’t take anti-flossing advice from people whose teeth look like the Cavity Creeps home away from home, either.

The best part of class might have been at the absolute last minute, when we were packing up and Quicks announced that she had comps for a speed dating event tonight.  WHAA?!  I’m in.  Where do we go?  What do I do?  How long does it last? What time is it?  What do I wear? Do I bring a date?  I had so many questions and she was happy to oblige.  It’s called www.hurrydate.com and it involves 10-15 five minute dates.  Tonight’s would be in Beverly Hills and would get under way at 8:00 PM. You go on the “dates” and then go online and rate each person you met.  It usually costs $37, which I would never pay, but if she’s getting me in for free – I’m there.  Unfortunately, for tonight she was in need of three more damsels.  So, unless she gets three more broads plus one, I’ll have to wait until the next time.  It might not have worked anyway, what with my man boobs audition and all. 

Speaking of which, it’s gonna be a bit of a trek to get into Hollywood at this time of day so I’m gonna close up shop.

So long slugger.


 

 

 

 

 

 

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Filed under Boot Camp 2009, My off days