So for New Years this year, I resolved to learn how to juggle. I want to keep life uncomplicated and I’ve always wanted to juggle, so why not!? Follow along with my progress at imlearninghowtojuggle.com
Here’s the first one…
My father was a glazier. I guess he still is. You don’t simply lose those kinds of skills when you retire. Growing up in a house of mirrors made me a special blend of vain and insecure. There was glass everywhere. Mirrored walls. Tables made of mirrors. Mirrors next to mirrors. Infinity. I couldn’t leave the house as a kid without checking my hairdo at least 10 times. I had to inspect every available angle, which in a house like this, was 360 degrees.
I recently had to travel for work and unfortunately had to take a Sunday night red-eye home to New York. My company took pity on me and sprung for a car service from Newark Airport to my apartment in Williamsburg. This enabled me to avoid navigating Monday morning public transportation in a red-eye daze. I had been up for about 23 hours at that point and was not in the proper state of mind to deal with such a scene. The rain only complicated the matter.
So all was good. I could fall asleep (or at least zone out) in the car for the ride home and not have to worry about a thing. What I was not prepared for was the driver. An old school cat as miserable as they come. I believe he said his name was Bud, but I’m not entirely sure. Bud was sporting bright white hair, a giant bulbous nose and thick New York accent. He used local idioms like, “I’m just breaking shoes.”
Things got off to a bad start when my cell phone rang as I was cruising through the terminal. It was Bud, who asked me to meet him outside in the rain, instead of coming in and writing my name on a little sign. Once I found the car, he immediately began to complain that he was not used to driving all the way from Newark to Brooklyn and that we were absolutely going to hit rush hour traffic. Fair enough. For some reason I was compelled to apologize to the guy we were paying nearly $150 for. Even offered alternate routes that might make the ride a little smoother.
He decided to try a route that we were both unfamiliar with, relying on the GPS to illuminate the way. Within a minute we were in the seedy industrial complex of the Newark Airport area. Taking hard lefts and rights, trying to keep up with a GPS that must have been smoking at this point. Only one or two other cars in sight, we were dodging delivery trucks like they were Pacman ghosts. Bud coloring the car with a rush of language that would make Fiorello La Guardia blush.
Not wanting to enflame the situation any more, I treaded lightly. Opting for a joke…
“Well that got sketchy real fast.”
“Fucking Jesus Christ, these GPSs will take you everywhere but where you want to go.”
Down one more side street, in another moment we were back on the highway. Stuck in traffic.
He let out a giant gasp and said, “I’m gonna try to get over to the Verrazano.”
“No this is fine. Stick with the Holland please.” That stopped him in his tracks.
Along the way we passed not one, but three accidents. Cars were readily bumping into each other on this cold and rainy Monday morning. Each time, Bud would make a comment that people don’t know how to drive in rain. At one point there was a break in the monotony and we had some room to accelerate. To a fault I chose to mumble something under my breath, which caused Bud to turn around and ask what I had said. Of course at this very moment, I could see that more traffic was fast approaching and Bud was not slowing down.
“Look out!” I literally screamed “Look out!” Bud slammed on the brakes and we avoided being number four. My knuckles were blood red.
Traffic near the tunnel was abominable and Bud decided to get into an open lane that was heading off into Hoboken. Once he realized he was in the wrong lane, he attempted to merge back into a crowd of cars stymied by the bottleneck of the tunnel. They had just watched him pass them by and were not very forthcoming in letting us back in. Down aways was a traffic cop that was glaring up at us. Bud started preaching that this mother fucker better not give him a ticket.
We got in and passed the cop without incident. Bud looked at him through a closed window and said thank you, then muttered under his breath “Fuck you, hahaha” and after a brief condemnation of the merging habits of motorists, we were in the Holland Tunnel.
Getting across Manhattan was fairly easy as I was directing him the entire way. Though we did seem to hit every red light, which Bud surprisingly pointed out. When we got to the Williamsburg bridge, the left lane was closed and Bud made my favorite comment of the morning…
“They’ve been working on this road since the beginning of time.” I’d never noticed it, but maybe they have. It perfectly summed up my morning.
We drove right passed my apartment after I had told Bud it was right there at the light. Upon making a couple of lefts to get back, we found ourselves on a side street stuck behind a garbage truck. With no where to turn, I watched the truck completely annihilate a sofa that was left on the side of the road.
“Well Bud, this works for me. I hope the rest of your day goes a little smoother.” I grabbed my things and walked the block home. Bedtime.
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Howdy folks. Wanted to clue you in to something I’ve been working on lately. Recently, I executive produced a new web series for WeddingCentral.com. Wedding Central is the sister network of WE tv and has positioned itself as all wedding programming, all the time. We had a few bucks lying around at the end of 2009 and decided to do an original online series as a companion to the network.
Bridal Breakdown is what came out of it. And what better way to be a dude at a women’s network then by creating a bridal prank show? Essentially, Punk’d for brides. We told these women they were being filmed for a documentary on weddings in NY, but as the cameras rolled, we rolled in our pranksters to wreak havoc on these unsuspecting brides. The wedding industry is big business and many women these days take themselves a little too seriously when it comes to the big day. I think BB works as a light-hearted approach to taking a step back and realizing this is a time to celebrate, not be a bridezilla. Yeah right! Messing with people is just too much fun. Pranking a bride isn’t THAT mean is it?
The show went live on Monday, February 8th. It’s gotten a little press here and there. But today we were picked up by Entertainment Tonight for a special segment to air tonight at 7:30pm on CBS, with possibly maybe others in the coming weeks. That’s pretty cool for a web only show! Mary Hart might be talkin’ ’bout our show. Mary Friggin’ Hart. She’s been doin’ this since ’82.
You can watch the first episode below. We’ll release one each Monday on WeddingCentral.com for the next six weeks. Try not to cringe too much. Enjoy!
I’ve hated New Year’s Eve for as long as I can remember. The entertainment bar is set so high, it’s nearly impossible to reach. I figure if I hate it, I’ll lower expectations and may have a good time. Regardless, I always participate in the spectacle kicking and screaming. Every year it’s a let down.
Well last year started with such promise. With a pizza and a kiss. I was happy. Hopeful. Several years of downers behind me. In the end though, 2009 was more of the same. I’ve spent most of this past year beat down and sullen. I wake up every morning with the exact same images in my head. As if my mind has stopped making new memories. And is haunted by the old ones.
This holiday season was ruined by revelations of far away lands on a commuter train in November. Never mind all of the music and movies throughout the year that either served as reminders of the past or that I avoided as not to be reminded. Long nights, staring at the ceiling. Unable to get a decent night’s sleep. All leading up to this day- January 1, 2010.
Scientists have been able to erase memories in rats. Apparently, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, is not that far off. In that movie, Jim Carrey faced hesitation and regret to the procedure. I don’t know if I’d be that flip-floppy. 3 million girls in this city and I see your face on every other one of them.
This is not just for those lucky rats anymore. Researchers have developed a therapy that, without drugs, can erase certain memories. Will this be covered by my $20 copay or is it going to count as a “specialist”? Either way, hello to a promising 2010.
For the past several weekends I’ve been working on a feature length indie film called Anatomy Of The Lonely. Written and Directed by this cool cat I’ve met named David Winkfield. Lespants is doing double duty both producing it and shooting the thing and he is the one that asked me to help out. This is guerrilla film making at it’s grimiest. Earlier in September we spent a day with the freaks and the hotdogs in Coney Island. Dodging the cops and braving the rain. The stuff came out great. I’ve even donated my apartment for a day to shoot some scenes this weekend. The crew is a bunch of great guys and gals and we’ve been having a blast watching this thing come to life. They just better not scuff up my walls or drag mud through the place. I’ll post more information when I get it.
Check out the extended teaser trailer on vimeo.