No More Movies

I hadn't planned on writing about the strike.

To somehow discuss the impact it's having on my plans to break into the industry, when professional writers are out there making real sacrifices to their livelihood would have been self-absorbed, in my opinion.

And while I usually have no qualms with putting myself above others, I genuinely respect a lot of these guys.

I did do some thinking, however - about how I could make a difference.

That's when I decided to write this blog.

While I can't refuse to write another word until the strike is over, I can refuse to buy another DVD. I can refuse to go to a movie theater.

I can withhold the one bit of leverage I have in this situation - my wallet.

So from this day forward, until the strike ends - no more movies.

No more box sets of television shows, no Christmas DVD purchases, and no date nights that include movies.

As our friends out there walk the picket line, and refuse pay for God knows how long this strike might last, I think this is the least we could do for them.

I did struggle with this decision, as a lot of people I respect have movies coming out in short order.

Derek Haas' wonderful 3:10 to Yuma was recently released, and his next smash Wanted is set to premier in March of 2008.

Jeff Lowell's directorial debut Over Her Dead Body premiers in February of 2008.

Tim Talbott's The Stanford Prison Experiment comes out next year as well.

Along with many others.

So I struggled with whether I was making the right decision here, because I would love nothing more than to support these men and women and their movies.

But at the end of the day, I decided that they do have my support.

And while I'll buy their DVDs once this strike is over - for now, until the moguls start listening - my pledge is simple:

No More Movies.

Hollywood Bound Opening

Just a quick note to let you guys know we have an opening in our online screenwriting group.

I already have a couple people in mind that would be a good fit with the group, but wanted to mention it in case some of you wanted to apply to be in the running.

Just drop me an email over the next couple days with a writing sample if you do.

Tomorrow: The Ex Files, Episode 2

The Ex Files - Volume 1

I've already told you a little about this certain ex-girlfriend in the past, but as with any story worth telling, there was a lot I just couldn't squeeze in the first time around.

Now if you know me at all, you know I hate night clubs. Hate them. They're like the Whole Foods of pussy - crowded and overpriced.

I'm more of a Costco kind of guy. I buy in bulk.


Anyway, my ex is out here visiting, when she gets the bright idea that I should take her to one of those posh Hollywood night clubs. Places with names like Libido and Panther Club.

Normally, I would have said no - but at the time, I was under the spell of New Tail Phenomenon - a perplexing loss of rational thought that takes place in men during the first three months of a relationship.

So we get to the club and I can already tell I'm going to hate it. There's a line a mile long outside, even though they're nowhere near capacity. And I ain't waiting in no line.

I grab her by the hand and drag her to the front of the line and slip the bouncer a twenty spot. He looks at it, looks at his clipboard - and still makes us stand there for about five minutes before finally letting us in.

At least we didn't have to wait in line.

Now in case you didn't know - the secret to any outdoor drinking is to tip the bartender really well for your first few drinks. Don't start a tab, just pay for the first few drinks with cash or charge them and pull out immediately. Tip at least 50%.

The rest of the night we drank for free.

In fact, our new best friend bartender gave us so much free alcohol, that by the time we left - neither one of us could see straight.

But eager to get to our hotel room and will my dick into functioning, I decided to throw caution to the wind and drive. Unfortunately, this is what happens when you combine New Tail Phenomenon with Drunk Man Syndrome. Kids, don't try this at home.

So I wave to the cop guiding traffic just outside the club, and off we go down Santa Monica Blvd.

Now a funny thing would happen to my ex when she drank - she'd either get really horny, or she'd get really crazy. Sometimes both at the same time - and that, my friends, was the golden ticket to the chocolate factory.

Much to my disappointment, she picked crazy over horny on the drive home.

While stopped at a red light, she decided she hated me and jumped out of the car and barged off. If not for the likelihood of some great sex that night, I would have let her keep going.

After some A-Team-like maneuvers through traffic, I caught up to her on a side street a block away. Where we fought. Loud.

If it weren't for a concerned citizen who redirected our rage by opening her window to yell at us, we would have never forgotten how much we hated each other and made it to the hotel room.

It was finally time for the sexing to begin.

We did things that even R. Kelly wouldn't do. Filthy things.

No foreplay, no beating around the bush. Just dirty, nasty sex.

We should have gone to night clubs more often.

Alive and Well

Just a quick note to let you all know I'm home from surgery and all is well.

We'll be returning to your regularly update schedule shortly.

Hope you enjoyed the hiatus, because it's back to fucking and punching now.

Edited to Include:

Post-Op Boredom... I think I was put on this earth to find bad YouTube videos and put them to better music. See below. I rule.