bedtime

ok, if you're reading this blog that means you've most likely stalked me on the f-book. this also means you probably now i'm leaving for americorps for a while. so...i don't know the frequency in which i'll be able to post. hopefully i'll have some chances, but who knows.

so before i leave, here's a poorly crafted entry to tide you over.



i'm horrible to sleep with. and not that way, perv, just in general. i'm not someone you want to be partnered with in a bed. i'm huge, i'm squirmy and there's a lot of noises coming from my body. said noises entail a horrible teeth grinding habit and a lot of incoherent dream dialogue.

the dentist just told me i have 'severe incisal wear.' that means my vampire teeth aren't looking that good. good news for transylvanians, bad news for me. now i have to sleep with a mouthguard. and by 'sleep' i mean put it in for five minutes and then immediately spit it out because i can't breathe. at least it's a step in the right direction.

but the main reason you probably don't want to sleep next to me is that i say some pretty wild shit. from what i've been told, it's not often long lines of dialogue or full sentences. oftentimes it's just quick, one word yelps that wake you from sleep and also put a healthy 4am fear into you. from what david has told me, whom i lived in a tent with for a summer, most of the nighttime vocal workout was things like "knife!" or "don't!" being yelled out into the crisp silence of a california night.

if this were a play rehearsal for streetcar named desire, then things may have seemed normal. but when it's you and another person alone in a wood-planked canvas tent, the last thing you want to wake up to is someone shouting out names of potential weapons - especially ones you know are merely feet away.

"shank!" "six feet of shorn extension cord!" "dave! dave! dave!" - all things you don't want to have pierce nighttime silence.

but even worse than me yelling weird stuff is that i've been told i sleepwalk. i'm not sure if it happens anymore, but i used to. quite a lot. my freshmen year roommates would tell me tales of me getting up at night just to slam open and shut my dresser drawers. i then tried the door to the hallway but by the hand of zeus it was deadbolted shut. the last thing i want to surprisingly wake up in is a dorm bathroom. scratch that, just a dorm period. that shit's worse than a nightmare.

so when i was little, my mom would oftentimes catch me sleepwalking. as a rule of thumb, i heard, you're not meant to wake people up if you catch them. just simply guide them back to bed, because they won't ever stop if you wake them up. it's like the saying 'teach a man to fish...' but instead its the uneasiness of knowing any jar of mayonnaise in the house could be demolished in a sleepy time feeding frenzy.

one time, i walked into my parents room. a dim glow from the hallway outlined my figure as i just stood in their doorway. feeling the presence, my mom asked me what was the matter. after saying nothing, she figured i was sleepwalking.

then i stepped shit up a notch.

carrying on with what i felt was sleepwalking business as usual i proceeded to treat their room as the room i thought i was in - the bathroom. the good old water closet.

i let rip a sleepwalking pee stream the likes of which are yet to be topped. a rich river of frothy urine cascaded onto their shag carpet as i stood with full sleepwalking confidence that this was just another pee.

but this was no ordinary pee. it was far from going into an ordinary toilet bowl. no, friends, this pee reached out and shook hands with the carpet, a pair of my father's shoes and a wool sweater soon to be donated to goodwill. it was the night sleepwalking turned into a tangible problem.

being smart, my parents didn't tell me what happened for quite some time. i would have felt very guilty and embarrassed and the whole ordeal would have just gotten worse. so they waited, and when they did tell me enough time had passed that it all seemed pretty funny.

upon hearing i voiced my apologies and found it it had never happened again. this was relieving. nearly as relieving as the sleepwalk pee that led me there in the first place.



well, i'm on nyquil and getting a little loopy. hopefully you enjoy it.
xoxo.

oscar buzz

So I’ve been thinking of routine pieces I can write for this blog. I’ve had a couple ideas but one that seems really good is a returning feature called “Forgotten Acceptance Speeches,” where acceptance speeches that never were given have been miraculously found. Now most acceptance speeches are reserved for winners, achievers and leaders in their respective fields. In “Forgotten Acceptance Speeches,” you will see none of these things. Enjoy.

“Forgotten Acceptance Speeches – Kevin Costner Wins Academy Award for Waterworld”

1995. Found crumpled and thrown into a back alley Los Angeles restaurant dumpster. Possible tears/blood found on lower corner of paper. Also, apparently stage directions have been written into the speech. They remain in the text to keep historical accuracy.

Oh, wow. I…I really don’t know what to say. This is truly such an honor for this to happen to me. I haven’t even prepared anything! (Rub hand through hair in astonishment. Fish out crumpled piece of paper with names. DO NOT READ. Proceed with memorized speech.) Well, that’s not true, I have only a few names on a piece of paper.

First, my thanks to Kevin Reynolds, the director of this masterpiece. When I think of him, I seriously consider him to be in a league with the best. Scorcese, Welles. Soon you all will be saying “Kevin Reynolds is the best American filmmaker that has ever lived.” And you’ll know where you heard it first. The fucking C-Man.

Also, I would like to thank David Rubin for casting me. Although I was not the first choice, I always had a saying around my house: “If at first you don’t succeed, perhaps the fourth time you try and succeed will be the time that you actually succeed.” And I feel we did that. Although I was the fifth choice.

At any rate, I would like to thank everyone that worked with me on this film. It truly was a ‘whale’ of a time! (Wait for water-themed laughter to subside.)

Now even though it seems like it was easy, making this film was rather turbulent. We went through our ups and downs, ebbs and flows, but we managed to make what I feel is the most important film made in this century. I truly do.

I mean sure Citizen Kane can be touted as one of the best, or even something like Casablanca. But you know what both of those movies didn’t have? That’s right, a renegade mutant mariner drinking his own urine and following a girl’s back tattoo to dry land. (Pause. Stare at anyone smiling. Like, really stare. This shit is serious.)

That is what tugs on the heartstrings. That is what people connect to. Because a world where the ice caps have melted and bands of tobacco renegades roam the high seas in search of dirt and saltwater foreplay is not far off, colleagues. It really isn’t. Have you watched MTV recently? (Wink at that RuPaul thing.)

I hope Waterworld could serve as not only my shining moment in thespian history, but a wake up call to those afraid of trusting mutants with the lives of our children.

The year 2000 is rapidly approaching, friends, and I for one am not taking it lightly. At home I framed a newspaper story where a child was born with three arms. Three arms. Do you know what that means? That’s two arms for holding you down, and one for fucking killing you. Now I am sorry for the strong language, but I am passionate about this. (Breathe from inhaler. Flex abs.) If we don’t take the film legend Waterworld into serious consideration as the future of mankind, then I truly did not deserve this award.

But if there are enough you out there, and I think there are, that feel the same way as I do, then together we can make the future a great place.
A place where more films like this great nautical epic can be made.
Which brings me to telling you the juiciest bit of Hollywood gossip your sweet ears have ever heard. (Pause for shocked murmurings to settle.)

Yes, friends, that’s right. A sequel. I won’t spoil it by telling you what happens, but I am at liberty to tell you the name….
Waterworld 2: Field of Wet Dreams.

strong enough for a grown ass man

so for the third day in a row, i'm wearing womens deodorant. not by choice, mind you, but because i ran out of my own supply.
unlike other things like underwear or shoes, opposite sex deodorant is actually something you can get away with wearing. it by no means feels right, but you can manage. if i attempted a "girdle tuesday" after i went through my clean boxers then there would be issues. but as it were, i've been doing relatively ok with the secret. the upside is that i don't have to buy new deodorant, and with my current financial situation that is a tremendous thing. but there's one big downside - and that is smelling like my mom.

if it were the anti-perspirant of a significant other, then maybe it'd be better. it'd be a cute thing i do in the morning as we both get ready for the day. she dressing up to tackle the working world and myself making a nest of blankets and knick knacks before price is right starts. i'd softly blow bubbles in my chocolate milk as she makes her lunch, gathers her things and, while walking out the door, makes sure i see both middle fingers pointed directly at me .

but thinking back, i actually don't really recall any of my past girlfriends' deodorant smelling, let alone smelling like my mom. is this some kind of cruel 50+ trick the deodorant company plays on women everywhere? once you have officially become old you have to smell the part, too?
i'm thinking yes, because if i snuggled up to a girl that smells as i do now we would absolutely have no future together. my armpits smell like smurf shit.

but perhaps there's some kind of unscented deodorant that i don't even know about. or my mom doesn't know about.

or maybe it's the whole "ph balance" thing secret always seems to harp on. you know, the whole "strong enough for a man, but ph balanced for a woman." maybe i have the wrong ph balance. maybe whatever balance is going on in my pits causes normal deodorant to smell like the open grave of liberace.

it's secret's male deterrent. "secret, strong enough for a man, but ph balanced for a woman. and if you're a man and you wear this, you have a 100% guarantee of not getting to second base. ever. because you'll smell like your mom. i mean, she's a great lady and all, but you're 24 years old. you should smell like the wilderness, bowling alley sex and an old catcher's mitt."