Something new (kinda, sorta)

I need to post something, just so that the overly introspective piece of crap post below isn't the first thing that greets people who come to this site (which, judging by a bizarre recent post, consists mainly of spammers on acid).

Life's good. I have a decent apartment, a full time job, a part-time hooker, and good family, good friends, and one of the best scenes in film, the long tracking shot from Goodfellas where they walk through the back of the restaurant and into the club, is on TV. I seem to be surrounded by babies recently, and they're not mine, so that's good.

It's Emmy time tomorrow, and I'm kind of more excited about going than I'd like to admit. Because when it comes right down to it, I watch, and like, a lot of shitty TV. So while the other awards shows are fun, I feel more of a connection to the TV people than the film people. I promise nothing, because my promises on this blog are rather empty, but if I get some good pictures, I'll try to post them.

Looking Back

Hey old friend...it's been a while. I know I've been distant, but we have the kind of relationship where we can not talk for a while, and just pick up where we left off like nothing happened. I'd like to say I'll never neglect you for this long again, but I can't make that kind of promise. It's not you, it's me...and no, there isn't someone else. You're the only blog in my life, I swear.

So, at this time last year I was (checks the archives) leaving New York city. I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss the open road. Like smells and sounds, seasons bring on a flood of memories for me (yes, we have seasons in L.A. - Hot and Smoggy, Fire, Mudslide, and Earthquake), and as soon as Summer hit I got the travel-jones big time. I've gone through days where I realize I'll probably never again have the freedom that I had last Summer, and that's so thoroughly depressing. The trip gave birth to this new part of my brain, or soul, or whatever you want to call it, and that piece of me needs to be nourished with travel or it's going to die. I know that I'm so lucky to have had the chance to do what I did, and I appreciate that deeply, but like a heroin addict, one taste and I was hooked, and I can't shake the desire. I've planned mini-trips in my mind several times; I'll have four days off and think "I can make it to Denver and back, no prob." But then life comes up, and I'm lucky to make it to Denny's for a Denver omelet. The furthest I've gone since I got back has been San Diego, once, in my Prius, and it just wasn't the same. Poor me, I know, but I miss it. I really, really do.

I miss the lightning bugs in Pennsylvania. I miss the crazy Summer thunder and lightning storm I got caught in everywhere east of the Mississippi. I miss sitting in a Wal-Mart parking lot at sundown talking with wayward Winnebago retirees. I miss exploring and making myself do new things. I miss the satisfaction that comes from reading a map. I miss waking up every morning and deciding where I'm going to go next. I miss calling my friends and family every day with an exciting new story. I miss meeting people that have lived all their lives in the same country as I (or is it "me?) who couldn't be more different, yet are remarkably similar. I miss the excitement that comes with knowing there's no way today will be the same as yesterday. I miss listening to local radio and hearing the different issues that tick off different communities. I miss playing poker and the stories you hear after your eighth hour at the table in Deadwood, South Dakota. I miss the simplicity that comes with living out of a car. I miss not having to worry about rent and bills and whether or not this is the third day I'm wearing the same shirt. I miss it all.

And I've become that guy I predicted I'd become way back when I started this blog. The guy who'll work his great adventure into just about every conversation, whether it fits or not. I hear myself doing and I cringe, but I press on, regaling unsuspecting victims for hours with stories that start "I took this road trip last summer around the country..." The other day at work, and I swear this was unsolicited, I was talking to someone and somehow the sentence came out of her mouth that she'd LOVE to rent an RV and just travel around the country. Well, that was just the greatest setup line I could possibly be given - you DREAM that someone says in a conversation that their biggest fantasies is to do the one thing you're practically a certified expert in.

The trip still has the power to enthral people, but with time that power is waning. At this point it was a year ago, and if I bring it up, it lacks the same luster as when I was able to say "I just got back from..." And so now it's time for a new adventure, a new passion, a new endeavor on which to focus my energy.

I turn 30 in November. I'm scared and excited at the same time. I've been rather productive in my 20s, and I've taken the time to build a respectable resume in the profession of my choice. There were some shaky years, but on paper my radio background is solid; the very picture of a young up an comer (what a great porn title). But I have surprisingly little to show for it. While my friends are getting married and starting families and buying houses, I'm still living paycheck to paycheck. I feel like I'm about to enter the next stage of my life, where I grow up and become a responsible member of society. And I'm ready to do that. I want to do that. But going off in a VW van doesn't fit in to that life, and that has me a little scared and a little sad. There's always going to be a part of me that wants to chuck everything and live by a river in Montana. Will I regret not doing that? Perhaps. But who's to say I won't somewhere down the line?

I know it's not a struggle unique to me, but these are the thoughts that have running through my head over the last few months. Will I ever again eat fresh lobster on newspaper as the sun sets over Bar Harbor, Maine? God I hope so.

You work at Whole Foods, douchebag. You didn't cure cancer.

I'm kind of over L.A. right now. The drivers are fucking nuts, the weather is freakishly hot for March, and the water seems to be spiked with a little too much "I-think-I'm-better-than-you." I was in Whole Foods today, whose motto is "It's a Privilege That We Even Let You Shop Here Because Our Farts Smell Like Cherry Blossoms." The parking lot at the one nearest me is smaller than President Bush's approval rating, and of course every spot is filled with a car big enough to send to Iraq. I shopped quick, getting to the check out line in about 7 minutes. I just needed a few things to complete a nice Sunday jew meal - whitefish, lox, and capers. I already had the bagels and cream cheese. While scanning my items, the clerk picks up one of the plastic containers and says in this REAL bitchy, condescending tone, the kind of tone I usually get when asking women out, "You know, right, that these aren't the ORGANIC capers?"

First of all, I don't even really know what the fuck a caper is, much less that they come in the organic and non-organic variety. And second of all, if it's so offensive to you that I would actually buy non-organic capers, why the fuck do you work in a store that would SELL non-organic capers? So no, I guess I didn't know that those were the non-organic capers. Does that make me a bad person? I usually try to buy organic produce, eggs from cage-free chickens, and milk from cows that have their udders massaged with Egyptian baby oil flecked with tiny pieces of pure gold. I drive a Prius, don't buy leather, and compost my own feces and the feces of everyone in my neighborhood. I've never raped a baby, smuggled a human being in a tiny compartment, or (knowingly) owned a slave. I don't need the attitude from some faux L.A. hippie who works in an over-priced grocery store and hasn't showered since the day she heard Phish broke up. Just put my shit in a non-biodegradable plastic bag and try to not to drip too much jizz from your dreadlocks on my smoked fish.

And yes, I'm a liberal-pierced-nose-hybrid-driving-vegetarian (except I eat fish now, but that's for another post) jew, and I should embrace the Whole Foods crowd who are seemingly cut from the same or similar cloth. Except they're not. I have enough experience with fippies (fake hippies) from living in Santa Cruz and San Francisco for almost ten years that I can smell the insincere ones from a mile away. I finally saw "An Inconvenient Truth" last week, and I believe Al Gore is a sincere environmentalist. I think he is convinced of an impending doom and he's trying to do what he can to get the word out to stop it. But this insufferable bitch who works at Whole Foods, she's one of those militant types who might ultimately have the right message but will only turn people off to her cause by her methods. Kind of like those religious fanatics who bomb abortion clinics and shoot doctors. The normal Christians look at them and wave their hands frantically saying "No no no, they're not with us. We've never even seen them before." But the whackos get all mixed up with the normal ones into one big religious pie.

So Whole Foods, I think you're no longer for me. I'll miss your fresh fish and hot MILFs that stroll your aisles, but I won't miss your high prices, cramped parking, and annoying fucking attitude. If I want to pay to have some abuse me mentally, I can find that on Craig's List for a lot less money.

One Other Thing...

COPYCAT!

Plates of Shrimp and 100 Posts

By the end of yesterday, more than my tie was crooked. My brain was slightly on tilt. It was one of the longest days of my professional career. I arrived in Hollywood at 9:30am...I was home at 3am. And in between was a mix of chaos, boredom, memories, and shrimp.

I was placed in the interview room backstage at last night's broadcast. I was the producer for my station, and was joined in the room by two reporters. We had one more on the red carpet, and another at the "Night of 100 Stars" Oscar viewing party at the Beverly Hills Hotel. Most of my broadcast equipment was setup by Saturday, so when I showed up on Sunday there was very little setup I needed to do. The Academy, in their infinite wisdom, closed the interview room from 11-2pm on Sunday. For stations broadcasting from the room, like us, that's not nearly enough time to get ready if you want to go on the air by 3. The room was open between 9 and 11, so that meant I had to get there by 10, setup for an hour, and then sit around for the next three hours. I had a nice breakfast with the station engineer at the Renaissance Hotel (Bagel, Salmon, Cream Cheese, Capers, Onions, Tomato for a staggering $18...and the only bagel choice was water. I mean, if you're gonna serve a bagel and fish breakfast, you AT LEAST have to have an onion or sesame available), and then tried to find a chair to sit in for the next three hours.

I walked around the Hollywood and Highland complex, marveling at all the setup that goes into this awards show and trying to plot the best route for sneaking into the Governor's Ball. Security was fairly tight to get into the complex, but once there if you had a badge you could wander around pretty much at will. My red carpet talent showed up around 12:30, and I snuck down to hang out with him. I wasn't credentialed to be on the red carpet, but the arrivals didn't start until 3:30 or so, so since it was early no one bothered me. As soon as I stepped foot on it, I was hit pretty hard with the sense of how cool it was. I mean, this was THE red carpet at THE awards show. A show with so much history and power and prestige. A show I had watched and gotten excited about since I was a kid. It was a nice moment.

Through sheer luck of the draw, we got the best red carpet spot possible of any media outlet, radio or television. We were right next to the ABC camera platform, where the stars HAD to stop to wait to be interviewed for the network broadcasting the event. And we got everybody. Al Gore, Jodi Foster, J-Lo, L.A. Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa, Will Smith, Beyonce, Eddie Murphy, Nicole Kidman, Steve Carell, Sascha Baron Cohen, Helen Mirren, Ryan Gosling, John Travolta, Wolfgang Puck...It was great. I wish I could have been down there, but I had to leave at 2pm to go set up and I couldn't get back in. We got the biggest interviews of any radio outlet, local or national, and as the producer I couldn't ask for anything better than that.

By this time I was hungry. I was told the spread the Academy put out for the media room was impressive, but I had no idea. The Golden Globes was decent, the SAG awards served moldy sandwiches, and the Grammy's served moldy sandwiches left over from the SAG awards. But this was a buffet of a different color. Huge plates of shrimp, meats and cheeses, skewers and roasted vegetables, egg rolls, raw veggies, sandwiches, and all sorts of drinks (but unfortunately no alcohol). It was all finger food, and I couldn't eat most of it because it was meat based, but still. When the media gets a spread like that, it's appreciated. And did I mention the desserts? Plates and plates of petite fours, cheesecake, cookies, and other assorted pastries. And everything was refilled during the whole show. We were fat and happy.

Everything from there on out was like every other awards show. We watched the broadcast on televisions....The winners were brought back so the hundreds of media could shout questions...the big stars didn't come through until the end of the night causing everyone to have to stay late. The biggest deal was Martin Scorsese, because this was his first press room appearance of the awards season. Sure, Helen Mirren and Forrest Whitaker were fun to talk to, but we'd seen them over and over at the SAG awards and Golden Globes. When Scorsese won for Best Director, the media room erupted in an ear splitting cheer. The other person I was excited to see come back was Al Gore. Here I was, 50 feet from the former Vice President of the United States, 50 feet from the man who should have been president 7 years ago. That was cool.

I didn't get to sneak into any parties, because by the time we were down breaking down our equipment it was 11:15pm. I still had a couple of hours of work to do cutting up audio back at the station. I was asleep on my feet. The Governor's Ball was RIGHT THERE next to me, but I just didn't have the time or energy to go. I did see Jack Black and Abigail Breslin come off the escalator from the party (not together), and that was my only close proximity celebrity sighting.

I'm dead tired. Awards season is over. It was my first one, and I have to say it was a pretty exciting couple of months. I had no idea when I quit my job last year that in the beginning of 2007 I'd be going to the Golden Globes, the SAG Awards, the Grammys, and the Academy Awards. Oh, and I almost forgot, the Razzies! The awards show for WORST movies of the year was Saturday night, and not only was I there, I was the one broadcasting! It was my first reporting gig with the new station, and things went well enough that I think it may be the first of many.

It's been a great couple of months. Professionally, everything is falling into place and I'm doing exactly what I wanted to do. Life has taken some strange turns over the past year since I started this blog. This is officially post 100. I hope my life over the next 100 posts are exciting as the last 100.

Couple a things

The Grammy's were fun. I guess I'm three for three...while I didn't sneak into an after party, I DID sneak back stage. For all the juicy details, you're gonna have to listen to either Schnauzer Logic or KSCO. I might get around to writing about it, but I don't want to promise things I can't deliver.

In other news...the long awaited podcast is here! Sam Betesh, Krystal Fernandez (both of FOX Sports Radio) and I got behind the mic last Friday to see if the chemistry we seem to have off the air would translate over. I think it did. It was a lot of fun, and hopefully we can make it a regular thing...maybe twice a month. Check it out at http://www.theidiotsradio.com/

Coming up, the Oscars, the Razzies, and maybe even some big news...stay tuned.

Put Your Hands in the Air

Apparently I was enthusiastic enough at the "1 vs. 100" taping...I got some decent screen time from the producers. Most of it involved me wildly clapping with my hands over my head, or like this picture to the left, showing my solidarity with the Black Power movement. If you didn't see it, I got knocked out of the mob on the third question. And of all the questions to get knocked out on..."How many states start with the word "New?" The choices were 3, 4, or 5. Now, as a mob member, you only have 15 seconds to answer, and for whatever reason I could only think of New Hampshire and New Mexico. I figured I was missing at least one, so I said three. How could I forget about New York and New Jersey? Probably the two easiest ones? Good question. I'm going to blame it on early onset Alzheimer's. Because of the 100 people I was playing against, I guarantee you that I was the only person in the room that had actually BEEN to all four states in the past six months. So the fact that I'd miss THAT question is rather ironic and embarrassing. Thanks to Robin Goldstein of Schnauzer Logic for the screen caps:

Set your TiVo's!

The episode I taped of the hit NBC game show "1 vs. 100" will air TONIGHT. I may or may not have won $250,000. You'll have to tune in to find out!

The suspense is unbearable.

Look for me in square number 12, to the left of the nun and right below Mama the gender illusionist.