CLICK PIC TO WATCH THE REVIEW!
Dan and I were hungry. We stumbled upon Burger Central in Glendale. We love Daym Drops' review of 5 Guys Burgers, and the song that Shmoyoho songified about it, so here's our response video. Click the pic of
I used to not be a dog person. It wasn’t that I didn’t like dogs, they were fine. I wasn’t that asshole that wouldn’t pet someone’s dog if it was in the same room, and definitely not the type to avoid the dog in disgust or fear from some traumatic childhood memory. I would greet the dog in a friendly manner then be done with it.
Then something changed. It all started with my friend Emily’s dog, Hank. First of all, a dog with an old man name was pretty ok in my book. Second of all, this dog was cute as a button.
There are moments in my life when I become incredibly and terribly aware of the fact that we are all just crabs. We're animals. When I sweep the smoggy black soot that seems to coat Los Angeles off of my deck, I am no different than the tiny hermit crab under the sea sweeping the sand out of his shell-house. We're biologically driven creatures programmed by instinctual impulses that run so deep you can't escape them if you tried. Even if you lived completely off the grid all alone under a rock in the woods somewhere. You could leave everything behind; all the people you ever knew, the houses and the cars and the fax machines (if you still lived in the 90's) and you could hide out from humanity. But eventually, the cells in your stomach would communicate to your mind that you needed food, and you would forage or hunt for some. Little transmitters in your mouth would feel parched and you would be compelled to find and drink water. And at some point, the cells in your reproductive organs would tell your brain that you should make an offspring so that when you die all alone in those woods, you will leave a part of yourself behind.
Well folks, this conversation between my reproductive organs and my brain has officially taken place against my will. ..
Commercials are a tricky thing. You go out on auditions...and go out and go out and go out and almost get one, then get “let go”, then go out and go out and go out...And it’s hard not to take it personally. That it really is like winning the lottery. Unless you’re ethnically ambiguous or have a pot belly and a mustache. For the rest of us, you just gotta hope that you happen to fit the look of what the ad agency is going for.
Why are people so high strung? And is it just me, or are all these high strung people getting themselves extremely and unnecessarily worked up over the most pointless things? This morning for example, Dan and I were walking our dog Bella to 7-11 as we do every morning to get coffee. Our adorable dog took a dainty little pooh in the grass next to the street and as soon as she was done, we immediately picked it up using one of the convenient doggy pooh bags that we purchase and carry with us at all times....
A happy 5 year old boy.
I am 5 years old. It’s true. I realized this the other day when I laughed at a fart joke. You’d think that after all these years (which will remain numberless) that I would have outgrown certain childish colloquialisms and actions but the truth is some things will never change. I wouldn’t even say it’s a “youthful sensibility” which implies the young charm and grace of an exuberant woman eager to explore the world. It is, without a doubt, basic kindergarten playground behavior. Here are 13 ways in which I am still 5 years old. Why 13? Because as soon as I found out that this number was bad luck when I was a kid, I decided to make it my lucky number....
My mom came to visit for Thanksgiving and we had an absolute blast. Dinner with friends turned into a drunken mess and I apparently thought it would be funny to give my mom a lap dance. She wasn't complaining....apparently she is really into them. Last night we took her to Tokyo Delve's, a hilarious sushi restaurant where the waiters, bartender and sushi chefs sing and dance for you. It was her 65th birthday, and here's what the bartender gave her as a present....
Well, my friend Patrick died today. He was riding his motorcycle and he slammed into a bus and he died. I think I'm in a bit of shock and denial, because it's definitely too soon to be writing about it, and honestly all I can think is "Great, another ghost is gonna ruin my sex life."
Perhaps I should explain.
I was raised to believe some pretty strange stuff about death and dying. For most of my childhood my mom was very into being "An Immortalist." No, not a vampire; simply someone who lives forever. Someone who transcends the need to die. She had health tinctures and youth tonics and drank stinky herbs from a Chinese medicine man. She meditated and got acupuncture before it was cool, and thought a lot about reincarnation.