the naked truth

Yet another chapter in the book of Things I Feel Only Happen To Me....

Last night I'm on the couch, having a lukewarm cocktail, watching reality TV...a fairly common weeknight all around....and I see a "news" story that Levi Johnston (grandbaby-daddy a la Sarah Palin fame) is set to expose his totem pole for an adult publication next month. To which I say, round of applause for that life choice. If there's anything I love more than a barely legal corn-fed lad, it's a naked barely legal corn-fed lad.

So I promptly cruise on over to said adult website, getting the lay of the land before I ultimately hand over twenty some odd dollars next month to see first-hand if everything is in fact bigger in the Great White North. And as I'm clicking through preview galleries, I think, wow, there's a nice looking guy.

In fact, I've maybe seen him somewhere before.
In fact, that tattoo looks strangely familiar.

In fact, he's one of my talent.

Now, a few truths that I hold to be self-evident about the people I represent: they are (a) ripped, (b) poor, and (c) vain. Whenever you take young, attractive people who love attention and dangle wads of cash in front of their bright eyes, their chonies will hit the floor before you can say "arch your back and look this way."

So I'm not surprised, per se. He wasn't the first, nor will he be the last. But now I have a conundrum. I obviously want to click the link that leads to the money shot, because he's hot and I'm voyeuristic and I'm not really sure how you couldn't connect those dots. But I also have to be sure I could have a professional discussion about his marketing tools without breaking down into a giggle fit and squealing "I'VE SEEN YOUR PEE-PEE."

These are the sort of things they don't prepare you for in college. What to do when you find your independent contractors in compromising positions on the internet 101. I need that way more than I ever needed Business Writing. Just another hazard of being an agent, losing the comfortable anonymity that should be internet porn.

....and in case you're wondering, I looked. Totally worth it.


things my friends say, vol. 4

Today's nugget is compliments of:

"We're not made of sugar.
We'll live."

I guess in context it makes even more sense, but I kind of like it by itself. However if back stories jiggle your bits, feel free to cruise on over here.


Random, but is it too early to get excited for Thanksgiving? Because right now I am CRAVIN' a leftover turkey sandwich. With some sharp cheddar. And pickles. Maybe a little pepper. Oh god. Why do I do this to myself?

That's all. Go about your business. But don't pretend you're not thinking about the turkey.



vienna waits for you

I don't think I'm going to change the world today.

I mean, it's only mid-afternoon. A productive blitz could occur, but to what end I'm not entirely sure. Curing cancer looks daunting. Hunger and the global economy seem to be in it for the long haul. And I'm bound to start thinking about dinner before equality comes around.

It is Tuesday October 27th, 2009, and I am the Maytag Repairman of humanity.

If you don't get that reference, ask your parents

I don't not care. But I'm alone, in the office and elsewhere for that matter, and it's just overcast enough to consider finding both a couch on which to rest and a star on which to wish. The radio is on a station that plays hits from the 90's, so it's basically DJ Daydream spinning nostalgia on the 1's and 2's.

Strange but true? It's insanely windy outside, but I've shut all the windows so I'm in a little bubble of calm while leaves and trash and atmosphere swirl around, all frantically going somewhere whether they like it or not.

See: turbulence.
See: middle school metaphor.

Never leave for tomorrow what the early bird can carpe diem, so on and so forth. These mantras of positivity, generally found in motivational speeches and fortune cookies, they're not wrong. But just as not every swing will be a grand slam, not every day will be a pinnacle of productivity.

I will not go down in history because of my contributions on today, October 27th, 2009, and I'm fine with that. True, I could walk outside and take a wayward palm frond to the temple, game set match for Mother Nature. That could happen, before I see Fiji, before I get published, before I work up a real solid obituary. I guess that's the chance you take, ya know, being alive. Big picture? Which is worse, the occasional treading of water or your main motivation being a constant fear of the end? I don't think I'm a bad person because I spent more time today on Wikipedia than in a soup kitchen. I like to think it all evens out.

Seems to be a constant thing lately; don't get too high on the highs, and don't get too low on the lows. I've been blessed with a few helpings of good fortune lately. But just because a day wasn't worth writing home about doesn't mean it wasn't worth living.

So if you have a day like I did today, Tuesday October 27th 2009, don't beat yourself up. There will most likely be a tomorrow, excluding kamikaze palm fronds, and regardless of how it goes...Vienna will still wait for you.



who makes $300 million in a month?

...this guy does.

“Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking, and don’t settle. As with all matters of the heart, you’ll know when you find it.”

- Steve Jobs (quote via Ham and Heroin)

And yet notice how he doesn't mention anything about the money...hmmmmm.....

Going to tuck this one away, good motivation for those tedious days worked just to pay the bills. I'll keep searching if you will. Deal?

the soup du jour tastes like defeat

Last night I got home to the gastronomically thrilling choices of one turkey burger, soup, or spaghetti. Spaghetti was the blue plate special not even 24 hours prior, and we didn't have any buns for the burger. So it was a battle of wills between me and Campbell's Chunky Chicken Tortilla.

The more I stared at the soup, the more it pissed me off. Do you ever get that wholly irrational feeling, where your hatred toward the soup grows and grows until you would somewhat-sincerely consider throwing yourself out the window before just admitting defeat and eating the fucking soup? Blame in on the planetary positions or my monthly flow, or both, but I swear that soup brought me closer to a man-sized tantrum than I have been in at least seven days.

But you know the feeling, yes? I guess it doesn't have to be soup. Insert your own less-than-desirable option. The pure unbridled rage remains the same.

The soup. That soup. Fucking soup. It sat there all high and mighty, flanked by the black beans, knowing it had the upper hand on my very emotional well being.

So when the going got tough...I said fuck it and walked to sushi.

Yup. No one to go with, and not really any money to pay for it, but I took myself on a date. I didn't go crazy or anything, sticking to the happy hour menu, but it was a personal victory nonetheless. Spicy Tuna win, and I went home a noticeably happier camper.

And then today, I suddenly had a craving for Del Taco like I can only imagine sharks get for blood. Visions of crinkle fries danced in my head, and I began smelling phantom scents of spicy chicken burrito. However, not only is it comparable to eating an actual vat of greasy death when I'm working hard to be less-chub, but the checking account can only tolerate my impulsiveness to a certain degree. So I got a $5 footlong from Subway, no cheese, no condiments...but I did get a cookie. One cookie won't kill me, or the budget, but oh the difference it makes in my patience level for the afternoon. Mind-blowing.

Happy Wednesday amigos. Whereas we can't always make our wildest desires come true, we can improvise for the time being. Be sure to take the small victories where you can get them.



the best laid plans

My senior year of college, we would occasionally have big parties. The roommates and I, we'd plan them weeks or even months in advance. It's always fun to think big picture. We'd envision the beer pong and the playlists and the hookah and the jello shots, and the chatter amongst friends was that this time, this time we knew it was going to be one for the record books. The equivalent of a pre-school paper chain, each expectation linked to the next until we were all pretty sure some sort of monument would be erected shortly thereafter in honor of our awesomeness.

And these parties, they were fun. Fun if not predictable. Someone would be so excited he'd start pre-partying when the local news came on, and be well on the way to black-out by Jeopardy. A shot glass would inevitably go down the garbage disposal, usually at the hands of a brand new sorority sister with an affinity for cheap vodka and not eating dinner. We hosts would rock-paper-scissors to see who had to sign the noise complaint, while the others went to talk someone out of the locked bathroom. Randoms would show up, and thus cue the infamous Semisonic lyric; you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here.

To be honest, I don't really remember specifics from any of our "epic" parties, other than all the above generalities were all true at some point. And not that anyone ever went to bed, or to floor as the case may have been, disappointed, but deep down the grand expectations lead to an experience not unlike unprotected sex: awesome in theory, but usually over far too quickly.

What do I remember? I remember coming home from chapter meeting to make dinner and write a paper, and instead splitting four bottles of wine with Zach and Canseco. I remember the Sunday we all came home from a hike and one roommate and his girlfriend fell out of the shower, stand-up sex not being easy after four margaritas. We laughed until we fell down as well. I remember smoking a joint with Kelson in the bathroom at a weird party, and then climbing on the roof of the auditorium to talk about what the future would hold. I remember road trips and late night talks, what made people cry and more importantly what made us laugh.

I'm writing this more for myself than anyone else, but the moral is the same for everyone's story; looking ahead is great, but the best things in life you'll never see coming.

Enjoy your week, whatever surprises it brings -



oral fixation, the executive branch, and you!

Well, it's Monday....so we've got that going for us....

Gov. Schwarchsldkfjghgehrgernator signed Harvey Milk Day into California law. A couple reasons this made me happy. One, it pisses off those that passed Prop. 8, and I'll take that opportunity whenever it's offered. Two, did you SEE the movie? Yeesh. Cry-fest. Three, and arguably my favorite aspect, GovSchwarz reversed his own position from a year ago when he vetoed a similar bill. So few in the political game have the stones to reverse themselves, especially when it pisses off their ideological base. So kudos to you, Arnold. A firm, open-handed swat on that tight tush for doing the right thing.

he does love a good cigar...

I hate to say this, I really do, but someone who will NOT be receiving a rainbow flag in his stocking is the one and only President Obama. Now to be fair, The Big BO has a lot on his plate; health care and jobs and proving to the nut-job extremists that he's not a Kenyan militant. But we (the editorial "we" as in "me, the voice of Gay America") have been patiently waiting for our campaign favors to be paid back; but days turn to weeks turn to months, and we're no strangers when it comes to smooth-talking men who don't follow up on promises. Defense of Marriage Act? Don't Ask, Don't Tell? Ring any bells? Fool us once, Obama, but be warned that hell hath no fury like a homo scorned.

nom nom nom

Lastly....do you ever do the thing where you flip on the radio and your heart bursts with happiness when you hear a long-lost favorite song? But just as you take a deep breath to belt out some powerful car karaoke, you realize it's the last few beats of the song, and what was going to be two minutes of personal awesomeness slips away too soon, lost to bad timing and an Autozone commercial. Then you're almost bummed you even heard that little bit, because now the following songs just aren't as exciting, even if you like them. Why couldn't you have thought to act just a minute earlier? And yeah it was just a song on the radio, but if you can't look forward to the little victories, what else is there? Of course that applies to more than the FM dial...but the feeling remains the same.

And that's all there is to say about that. Time to call the models.

Happy Columbus Day (be honest, did you even know?)



this is not out of the ordinary

I met up with AK, my beloved roommate and all around partner in crime, for lunch near his work today. And as we're quietly beasting down our Chipotle, this mini-conversation happened...not sure if any exchange could better illustrate our dynamic.

(sitting at a table, not talking but watching people walk by)

"Got a would-you-rather."

"Hit me."

"Would you rather be fat, bald, or Asian?"

(slight pause)

"Well.....what kind of Asian?"

(another slight pause)

"Let's say Korean."

(much longer pause)


These are the moments you have when you're practically common-law married.

Happy weekend to all, be you fat, bald, Asian or otherwise.



life mirrors art

Lots of work-related things lately...not entirely sure why. But today is accurately summed up by this quote:

"Right now this is just a job. If I advance any higher in this company, then this would be my career. And well, if this were my career I'd have to throw myself in front of a train."

John Krasinski as Jim Halpert in "The Office"

Yup. That's all I have to say about that.
Friday, get here soon.



welcome to my world

I always maintain that there's no point in me writing fiction when the actual events that transpire around me are far more entertaining than anything I could create.

May I direct the court's attention to Exhibit A, an actual email reply from an actual talent :

......I'm sorry, was that somehow too complex? I sent a nine-word message and 50% of it got ignored, ranking this person's intelligence slightly lower than dust. Am I in the wrong for wanting to head-butt this individual? I even gave you a fucking smiley face! You obviously read English, and were capable of making the fingers hit the proper buttons....where exactly did you black out in this process?

Speaking of blacking out, this never fails to make me laugh:

....but that's neither here nor there.

All I can say is thank god they're pretty; I simply couldn't handle ugly along with this much dumb.*

* They're not all dumb, but stereotypes exist for a reason. Just sayin'.


Not on Rex Manning Day!

It's very tempting on Sunday nights to use this medium as my therapy couch. As far back as I can remember, it's the one evening that consistently throws me for a loop. Once the sun sets on the weekend fun, thoughts both deep and shallow appear like mental bruises, suddenly visible even if the original force is long gone.

Ew. It's happening already. See, I get
settled in and all of a sudden I'm Mopey McEmoFace.

no one likes a whiny bitch

But taking a cue from everyone's favorite sad-sack, I shall not dwell. Well, I at least won't dwell out in the open. Gotta keep that messiness off the inter-web! Instead, quick notes from another solid weekend of being alive.

(1) Hockey is oddly enjoyable, and it is mostly because of the fighting. There. I admitted it.

(2) Being excited for other people is way more fun than being a jealous, bitter critter. Raining on someone's parade doesn't make yours any sunnier.

(3) I will forever be baffled by how horrific traffic can be when returning to LA on a Sunday....at 9:30pm....when there's no accident. Either evil forces surround the entire county, or there are too many fucking people that use I-5. The longer I live here, the more I think both are true.

Lastly, I'm recycling a quote posted on victoria is a mess (one of my favorite blogs) from Chuck Palahniuk (one of my favorite authors). It's simple and plain and I like to keep it tucked away like a tranny's junk for when things need a little perspective.

"We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are. We just are, and what happens just happens."

Be well, friends...only five days until the weekend.



things my friends say, vol. 3

Today's nugget, courtesy of:

"Unfortunately, not-sober-at-work is something you can't fix. Sometimes I hope for an earthquake...people tend to let you leave then."

I could use an earthquake about now. Or Gatorade and some french fries. Let's be honest, I'm in no position to be picky.

Send sober thoughts and have a good weekend, my lovelies -

- J


neither slumber nor sleep

I'm in a weird rut of completely defying my usual bedtime.

nope. not gonna sleep. don't wanna.

Why? No clue. I'm exhausted, so plain ol' insomnia is not the issue. There are no monsters under the bed, mostly because my mattress sits directly on the ground; very Skid Row chic, fall collection. Neighbors are quiet. Temperature is tolerable. All signs point to slumber.

And yet here I am, a perfect candidate for a montage sequence that shows time creeping from 11:00 to 12:00 to 1:00 as I play poker against the computer and listen to a decidedly melancholy playlist made just for such occasions. Set against a moderately cheesy cover of an eighties power ballad, you'd see rough cuts of me going from window to bed to kitchen back to bed. Very lost soul. Very brooding.

Everything was accurate until the getting out of bed part. Clearly I'm too lazy for that. And I'm not really all up in my thoughts either. But you get the idea.

I'm up. And I don't actually want to be up, not one bit, but here I am looking on Facebook at people so far removed from my actual friends they may as well be the random faces that come in picture frames. Normally I'd just deal with it the American way, you know, take half a prescription pill from someone else's knee surgery and call it a night, but alas the chemical river runneth dry.

Honesty moment? I am the poster child of apathy this week. Don't care, don't care about getting out of bed, don't care about getting in bed, and not feeling real motivated about anything in between. And in my opinion, the only thing worse than caring too much is not caring at all, so I'm disappointed in myself but of course don't really care enough to make a change.

See: vicious cycle.

Hopefully it'll all blow over soon, because life being this constant shade of don't-give-a-shit is far from enjoyable. That and I'm so horrifically bad at poker I only have a 17% win rate over the computer. Some weeks you just can't get ahead....poker, sleep, motivation, take your pick, the best you can do is stay in the game long enough for things to turn in your favor.

Also, take note of the title...quite possibly the only time you will encounter me knowing anything from the Bible. Psalm reference, for the win.