SMART PHONES, STUPID F*#@&* OWNER

Back when I was in high school I didn’t want a phone. I would think to myself, "I really don’t need to be in contact with everyone at all times, do I?" Not a surprising stance at 17, I longed for that chance to disappear from my parents. There was only so many times I could give them fake friends names before they’d catch on. It helps that I was from a town with more cows than people, so the cell phone could wait until I went off to college.

The cell phone was originally a great invention; the cell phone was the catalyst for the drunk dial. And let me tell you, when I went to college we were still discovering how devastating a drunk dial can be. I’d say the cell phone was the single best conduit to my sexual mobility in college. And we didn’t have the all the facts we have today. They call it a crackberry for a reason; technology is addictive. If I was enamored with bejeweled on my old RAZR, I damn near ruined my Joe Boxers when I discovered the smart phone generation. Throw in e-mail, games, Internet, If it came with an ivag attachment I’d be set.

Now I said the cell was originally a great invention because originally it was. But a funny thing happened when our phones got smart, our people got stupid, and our manners went way out the window. There are just some situations where talking on your cell phone is not appropriate. 1) During a movie at any time, Even if it’s to say “Yo dude, I’m in a movie, I’ll call you after.” Doesn’t voicemail basically communicate the same message? 2) In an elevator, because when I’m stuck in there with you, I could care less about what you and your girl friends are up to tonight.

So I, like half of Los Angeles, have an iphone. It is true, whatever you want they have an app for that. I found it too difficult to have my hand form a gun when I mimic shooting myself in the head, well luckily there’s an app for that. When I’m hungry, it tells me where to eat. When I’m tired, it helps me get to sleep with the soothing sounds of the ocean, and when I need to wake up it has an alarm for that. The iphone does AMAZING things, except for one - make phone calls. I live in the heart of Hollywood and I’m hanging one arm out the window trying to get enough bars.

The iphone does have some other drawbacks. Here’s one you might not think about: I like most, carry my phone with me at all times in my pocket; I like a lot of people tend to fall asleep spontaneously. Often to be awoken by a buzz in my pants around, say 1 AM. Now there are two types of people in this world: pessimists and optimists, I happen to consider myself the latter. So I always assume it’s a booty call text. And my heart races for those few moments before I pull it out only to realize Amazon is offering 25% off digital cameras. What’s sadder still is I can look at the cameras way longer than I last with a hookup. It’s certainly easier explaining to the computer why you can’t buy it as opposed to a hookup.

With all this social network bullshit, facebook, twitter, you’d think it’d be drawing us closer, but now it’s easier just to casually ease-drop into someone else’s life via twitter or facebook. They never have to know you were watching. Yes, I know when I put it like that it sounds creepy, but essentially Facebook is for people who are way too concerned with the details of other people’s lives and don’t have time to actually converse in order to get to know one another. Yes, I know what that my High School girlfriend just got her second divorce. But what if natural selection would have want me to lose touch? And in a sense, I have lost touch. I will never message or poke that ex-girlfriend, instead I watch her lead an average American lifestyle from 3,000 miles away.

Point is, we have these super smart phones with thousands of functions and yet we rarely utilize the most important feature: the call. We tweet, we facebook, we e-mail, text, anything to avoid actual phone contact. Which might I add is a full step away from face-to-face meeting anyways. On Blackberry they have the BBM feature, which is a nice touch. Here’s one feature of the blackberry I don’t get and that is the PING feature. For those that don’t know it does exactly what it sounds like, it buzzes your friend annoyingly. It’s like a giant sign that reads: “FUCK YOU, YOU’RE NOT PAYING ME ENOUGH ATTENTION.”

Another way to get their attention: TRY CALLING THEM.

New Years Resolutions

Now let me begin by saying I'm not big on New Years resolutions, they are often cliched at best, and downright futile at their worst. It's an excuse for people to erase the problems of the past year, and to spring into the new year with a clean slate. It's a cute idea, and one that probably provides health clubs, and the slim fasts of the world alike with millions of first quarter revenue they could only hope to achieve in some other gimmick sales pitch. But to think: they are handed the slovenly masses on a silver platter with a side of Big Mac. New Years resolutions offer a sprig of inspiration to energize you out of your New Years day drinking induced coma.

Last year's NYR provided me with a loss of 20 lbs, and an addiction that rivals meth. I work out on an average week 4 or 5 times, and 6 or 7 now that I'm unemployed. (An unemployed film student who spends his days working out and blogging...oh the dramatic cliches ringing in your ears) Well needless to say I've noticed that my daily routine has become far more interesting since Father Time kicked 2006 to the curb and ushered in a new year and a promise of leaving your lovehandles behind along with the regretable hookup as you scrambled to find the warm blooded creature closest to you as time and the year slipped by.

Now if you frequent a gym it will come as no great surprise to see these newbies enter in a state of confusion. You can tell them by their unusal apparel: i.e. jeans, boots, etc. Here are some things I noticed:

(Keep in mind my gym tends to be a hang out for Meatheads and Bikers, a veritable melting pot of Connecticut's finest, mixed in with a smattering of females who look like their skin has been put through meat tenderizers, anything else is an aberation, or someone who wandered in by accident)

1) a girl was dressed in ugg boots while working out, and she spent the entire time on her sidekick IMing or texting or whatever the sidekick does while she worked out at a less than vigorous pace, at one point I noticed she was texting while doing the leg press

2) there was a woman next to me who was using the eliptical machine but had not actually started up the machine, so all the machine was showing was a heart, and she proceeded to touch the heart a couple of times for no reason, and she refused to follow the directions that are incredibly complex: "press start, then enter…"

3) there was a larger than average amount of attractive, under 50 year old women working out at the gym today, and while they looked really hot from afar, they were far from hot when I saw them face to face. final verdict B+

but thats just my opinion I could be wrong

willyoubemyfriendsteratmyspace.com

Does anyone remember what people used to do with their time when they were bored? Hell, back in the day (which according to Dane Cook was a Wednesday) when we were bored, we'd go outside, go on biking trails, beat the shit out of each other, or just masturbate. But no, things have changed and the universe is not the same as it once was. Kids today (damn I sound like I'm the oldest 22 year old in the world) now have the Internet to connect to one another in artificial ways we could only dream about in the nineties. Where once poking actually involved a physical activity now it is just a mouse click away.

Networking used to entail awkward school dances with shitty music, corny gimmicks, and being picked up by 9:30 by your mom in her mini van. Now there's a social networking for just about everyone be it the desperate: hot or not.com, or the academic: facebook.com. And while these sites are designed to bring us together, are they really serving their purposes? Of course not. More and more we are seeing these networking tools simply reinforcing our preconceived notions of who our friends are and allowing ourselves to perpetuate the pattern to the Nth degree. And yes, I am currently a member of such prestigious networks as facebook (the college years), my space (the post-college years), and friendster (the dark place I don't wish to discuss anymore). But what has my membership in these groups taught me? Absolutely nothing. On myspace I can rank my friends (or at least the top 8 or so) but beyond that friendship is a pretty loose term. Yes I have some of my closest friends on these pages, but among my friends I am happy to count Tom, Borat, Jon Favreau, and Dane Cook among my "friends." It's remarkable when I can place those people who I hang with on a consistent basis next to fictional characters and comics who probably wouldn't give me the time of day on the street.

At the end of the day, these sites were established and run on the basis that allowing people to connect would strengthen our cultural fabric, expanding our otherwise slim view of the world and allow us to keep track of people we other wise might lose touch with due to geographical distances. But I'm beginning to think that’s maybe not such a bad thing. Because if I get poked one more time by Karen, the girl who I got stuck kissing in a spin-the-bottle game gone horribly wrong, I might need to break off her online finger and shove it where they don't write code. Times change, friendships lapse and ultimately I'd like to forget certain people.

And what I hate even more is those who constantly use the site who lob complaints against me for not keeping my page updated to the fullest extent. I may be unemployed, living with my parents, but that doesn't mean I want to spend every waking hour of my life ensuring that both myspace and facebook are as up to date as possible. I'll save that to the people who use these sites as procrastination tools.

Alright, well I hate to cut this blog short but I have some work to do on my myspace profile.

And remember you can't spell friendster without F-I-E-N-D, or was it friend?

Dead From NY

LIVE FROM NY IT’S SATURDAY NIGHT!!

Remember when these words used to mark the opening of a great show? As a child growing up in the late eighties/-nineties I fell in love with Dennis Miller, Adam Sandler, Phil Hartman, Chris Farley, David Spade, Mike Myers, and Dana Carvey. I consider these years, some of the greatest years in SNL history. I understand I am at a bit of a disadvantage considering I was only born in 1984, and to judge SNL based on these years is akin to judging Marlon Brando’s career based on The Island of Doctor Moreau, but I have been privileged to view their reruns on their cable stations such as Comedy Central and E! reruns.

I remember fondly my summers at camp staying up late on Saturday nights while I huddled around the small black and white TV we had in our bunk and watching hilariously funny skits featuring the aforementioned players. There was something magical in those skits as I was one of twelve pre-pubescent Jewish boys huddled around a black and white screen watching comedy at its finest late into those summer Saturday nights. Even when my friends were jumping ship to the rival Mad TV, I held faithful to SNL.

As hard as this is for me to say about a show that I’ve loved so dearly, the past four years have been a struggle. (I’m not sure which is worse, admitting I’ve been home on Saturday nights, or admitting I watch SNL) I have watched SNL’s prominent faces be replaced with new personalities that have seemingly never found their stride. I have an immense amount of respect for the creation process, especially when faced with SNL’s tight weekly schedule, but it seems as though the biggest challenge facing SNL right now is the lack of a consistent product. Creatively, Saturday Night Live is no longer the cutting-edge show that it once was twenty to thirty years ago. Wildly funny sketches featuring audience favorite characters have been replaced with broad skits that seem to play without end and lag after their initial push.

SNL used to be edgy; it forced us to rethink the way we perceive the world. The portrayals of Bill Clinton, Al Gore, and George W. Bush had a profound impact on how the public viewed our politicians. But honestly, six years into the Bush presidency we understand pretty clearly Ole’ W is dumb, ‘nuff said. Let's move on and tackle something a little more creatively

SNL’s relevance as a whole has taken a significant hit over these past several years. As a result, SNL has been replaced in the comedic world with shows like South Park, The Daily Show, The Colbert Report, Da Ali G Show, and Chappelle’s Show.

From my vantage point, I believe the road to take is the one which leads SNL back to its original roots in order to reclaim its thrown as the edgiest/funniest show on television. The emphasis must be placed on the creation and implementation of characters. Characters have always been the backbone of SNL’s humor from Belushi’s Samurai Chef and Phil Hartman’s Caveman Lawyer to Will Farrell and Cheri Oteri’s Cheerleaders. Characters will always be the foundation of any sketch comedy show, and SNL is no different. In recent seasons, it seems as though the focus has been shifted away from highlighting several players and their characters into a more democratic approach. SNL has never been about amazing acting, but it was about incredibly smart and crafty writing. While Will Farrell and Tim Meadows were not the best actors, they certainly were able to carry their skits with certain panache. Gone are the loveable characters and their catch lines (“I’m Brian Fellows”= comic genius) replaced with sketches that seem to last ten minutes at a time without any reason. Simply put, the show has begun to labor in its comedy. Even when SNL was hosted by the very funny, edgy comedian Dane Cook it lacked that punch it once had.

I find myself continuing to watch SNL despite common sense telling me to give up. I feel like an abused woman making excuses for her husband who continually disappoints. It’s reached the point now where I see the potential in these skits but instead of laughing I want to cry at the forgettable set ups and wasted punch lines.

The things we think but do not say

It was the summer of 2000 and I was pressed into service working as a cook at the summer camp I’d spent my summers at since I was 8, it was scolding hot for that summer, the sort of unbearably humid heat Connecticut likes to throw down on those who spend the full 12 months here. For roughly sixty days a year, for eight years I proudly considered Camp Laurelwood and Madison, Connecticut my home.

I didn’t know it at the time, but this would be my final summer at Camp, working a tremendous amount of hours for what amounted to a slave’s salary in a hot kitchen. On the chance times when we did receive several hours break during the day, I found myself running to my room in a little bungalow affectionately called “the Na.” It was considered an honor and a privilege to live there as it was where all the cook’s lived, their time spent in hell’s kitchen marked on the walls in permanent ink along with other crude commentary that teenagers under tremendous workloads might scribble. Perhaps the best feature of “the na” was its air conditioning in every room, allowing each chamber to reach arctic levels of cool despite any weather conditions outside. In my room that summer I had the bare minimum, a TV/VCR combo and a handful of VHS tapes I’d bought or taped off television. Needless to say, by week two I had all but run out of new choices and my programming like my network counterparts, turned to reruns as filler.

My collection of tapes from the early to mid nineties included: Little Man Tate, Forrest Gump, Jerry Maguire, and several (what was then) WWF Pay Per View Events. While each selection certainly held its own in terms of entertainment value and intrigue, I continually found myself popping in Jerry Maguire. It was as if something new would emerge from these multiple viewings, and before I knew it, something did. I began to see the film not based on its story content, which offered us countless pop culture references including “Show Me the Money,” and “You Had Me at Hello.” I was able to see beyond Jay Mohr’s viscous portrayal of Bob Sugar (although I yet to forgive him for his dishonor to his mentor) or Tom Cruise’s now all too real performance as Jerry, and see the movie at its atomic stage. I began to deconstruct scenes, look at shot construction, editing timing and patterns, the way we held on a glass of water as the ice melted as a way to establish more tension, I stopped watching the film, and began to watch the film. It was at that moment when I decided I wanted to make movies.

I have read that Cameron Crowe fell in love with Rock n’ Roll based on Zeppelin’s Stairway; Jerry Maguire was my stairway. Until that point, I was a sixteen year old completely unsure of where I wanted to take my life. It seems almost laughable now to say it given Cruise’s recent transgressions, but Jerry Maguire changed my life.

In high school I took several classes on television and video production, teaching me a great deal about production along with a smattering of film theory. I went on to attend Syracuse University, majoring in Film with an emphasis on drama. I can’t say that I’ve watched Jerry Maguire in several years, aside from occasionally catching a scene or two on TBS some random Saturday night. Its as if my watching Jerry Maguire mirrors my innocence and affection with films and filmmaking. I say that with a heavy heart as I now take my tens of thousands of dollars worth of education and apply it to ordering lunch, Starbucks, and office supplies for a postproduction house. I have traded in my filmmaking for a paycheck, sacrificing all creative aspirations for the time being. I am left lost, humbled, and searching for the direction I should turn towards next, knowing full well that even my eventual goal of editing commercials for products I don’t wish to own is an empty pursuit.

At the end of the day, like my inspirational counterpart, Mr. Maguire, all I want is to be inspired. We are in a business of paychecks and box office results. Lost among all these result-oriented figures is the heart that we have seen slowly sacrificed for the paycheck. It is no wonder audiences have retreated from the theater’s dark cavernous screening and the hollow projected images on the wall. There is no proper answer to the question that has infested Hollywood over the past several years.

I find myself on page two of what I had hoped to be a single page entry, as Jerry once said “and I’m not even a writer.” I find myself going back to what really mattered to me since I first picked up a camera, long before I was taught how to “properly” do anything. Back then all I cared about was the entertainment value of whatever I was working at, and more specifically, could I make my audience laugh? I think I was naturally drawn to comedy because it was the easiest to gauge success. If the audience liked the piece they would laugh, silence was deadly. This simply equation guided my student film career resulting in my senior thesis film entitled Below the Rim, a comedy about a young Jewish boy with high aspirations of being drafted out of high school to play in the National Basketball Association. Why I ultimately wrote the story and filmed it, was not only to entertain, but because the story spoke to my fears about “making it” in the entertainment industry.

It is my greatest fear that I will wake up the next morning, be fifty years old with a hangover and find that the ten-beer model is actually my worst nightmare. I don’t want to wake up when I’m fifty regretting never haven taken a chance.

Cat-tastic

Long time, no blog (not that anyone was missing this) but I've been working, and it's not like I've had a lot to blog about...UNTIL TODAY

I'm not sure which makes me a bigger dork, the fact that I found myself in the middle of the Madison Square Garden Expo center at the CFA-IAMS Cat Championship show or how I'm blogging about it on a Saturday night. Well, needless to say I found myself smack dab in the center of what might have been the most absurd scene this side of "Best in Show." Officially now I am a New Yorker, and I was lucky enough to grace MSG for the first time which should have been done long before Cat Fest 06 rolled into town, but I digress: Upon strolling into the Expo center one recieved a hearty whiff of cat piss and and excitement for watching old men fondle cats while literally tens of people watched on in excitement. Seriously, these swave motherfuckers held these cats with such grace how could they not be picking up all the Cat Fancy ladies after the show? I can say with some degree of certainty that it was quite the intimidating force to be in the prescence of such great athletes.

Walking through the aisles of cats locked up in fabric cages I was left stunned not so much at the variety of cats themselves, or the way the breeders were completely wrapped up in the lives of these cats with stupid names like Mr. Bojangles as well as one breeder who named all of her cats after all the members of *Nsync, but at the number of fuckin' crazy people who would spend hours haggling over the price of a cat nip pillow. I wanted to slap the shit out of this woman who was sniffing one, and when I gave her a befuddled look, her only half brain retort was, "If I like it, my cat will." Hey lady, I think it's time for you to step away from the cat nip.

God help these people, and may they find the companionship in their cats that they were unable to find on the internet.