Forsooth, Motherfu*kers!

     Abridged List of Shit I've Done In My Professional Life:

     Grocery Sacker; Skating Rink DJ; AM Radio DJ; Martial Arts Instructor; Infantryman; Bouncer; Insurance Salesman; Bodyguard; Standup Comic; Professional Actor; Musician; Writer...

And Now, Add:

Badass Medieval Chancellor On Horseback!

     My whole life, I've loved make-believe and horses. The first time I ever sat in the saddle was thanks to my friend Paul V. and his family, who owned some land and a few horses out in Montgomery. Her name was Snow, and she was a beautifully dappled Appaloosa. Two things stand out most from that first ride: 1) I experienced a kind of natural joy I'd never known before, the kind that exists only between horse and rider; and 2) my balls had never known such agony. (At least not until I had my first real make-out session, which is a very different kind of ball-agony.) 

     I always wanted to eventually have some land and horses of my own, but make-believe won the day, and I chased my whimsy of being an honest-to-goodness actor. I got in the saddle whenever I could, which wasn't nearly enough. But every so often, your worlds collide in a good way (and I am no-shit overdue for a good kind of collision). About a month ago a friend of mine asked if I would think about auditioning for a little place called...

     And today I was given my official title: Lord Chancellor of the Tournament. Now, before you start thinking that I'm about to go jousting, and fighting with swords, and maces, and other crazy-ass Game of Thrones kind of shit, calm down. The Lord Chancellor is the Master of Ceremonies. Basically, I'm the medieval version of Johnny Carson. But on a horse. I now get to feed my twin monkeys of entertaining crowds AND riding horses. And I get a paycheck for it. Are you fucking kidding me?

     Oh, I'm still going to work in front of a camera. And behind a microphone. And I'm definitely going to keep writing. In fact, you'll likely be reading here about my adventures in the castle. And hopefully not too many of those stories will be about how badly my balls hurt.

   

The Greatest App In The History Of Awesomeness.

   

No. Absolutely fuck no.

I'm talking about this shit, right here:

Life just got awesomer.

     Anybody who's known me for, like, more than three minutes, knows that a huge part of my lexicon is movie/TV quotes, and song lyrics. And now I can take the original quote and/or song lyric, and make it my own through the voodoo that is my smart phone! 

     I owe the discovery of this priceless technology to Boo, who threw down the gauntlet earlier this week in what I am now calling the First Dubsmash War. The idea is simply to out-dub your opponent with theatricality and awesomeness. Here was Boo's opening volley, with a special cameo from her friend, H:

     I think we can all agree on one thing: my kid is the shit. But her old man has a few moves up his sleeve, and literally decades of experience in making an ass of himself. Here was my return shot:

     I declare this round a draw. My point is, I'm busy as shit with writing, and acting, and generally trying to avoid criminality. But now I'll have less time, because Dubsmash is my new crack. (I mean, not that I ever did the other kind. Because I didn't. I'm not judging you if you use crack. But smoke weed. It's way easier on your teeth. What the fuck was I talking about?)

     Oh yeah. DUBSMASH!

The Force, Nostalgia, And Boners.

     So, Thursday, the Internets exploded in a great big ball of awesomeness:

Because this shit, right here.

     I was actually on set shooting a series of videos when the teaser dropped. And the entire production came to a screeching halt, while we all gathered around a laptop to watch. Everybody turned into a kid for two minutes. And, just like my younger self, when it was over I immediately began to wonder if anybody was going to notice my boner.

     In the spring/summer of 1977, I was ten. My folks were still married, my dad was still alive, and my cousin Steve and I hatched a brilliant scheme. We told our folks that we wanted to go to Greenspoint Mall, and catch the matinee of For The Love of Benji at the General Cinema. Since it was a kiddie film, and since it was Saturday, and since it was not at all unusual to set loose two ten year-old boys in a mall unsupervised in 1977, we were each given a little cash, my mom drove us, dropped us, and off we went.

     But here's the thing: Steve and I had no fucking intention - whatsoever - of seeing For The Love of Benji. That was just a ruse to get us to the theater, where we were actually planning to sneak into a movie called The Deep. It was rated R, and a friend of ours had snuck into it the weekend before. We had been told, from his firsthand account, that not only did they swear in this movie, but that Jaqueline Bisset wore a bikini for pretty much the entire film, AND that in one scene her white t-shirt got all wet, and you could see her boobies. 

     I never made it to that screen. Because, as Steve and I were sneaking down the hall, I heard something... loud. And... futuristic. I looked into a different theater, and saw on its screen a vast expanse of open space, that was quickly filled by a spaceship, that was being pursued by another, way-fucking-bigger spaceship. Without quite realizing it, I walked into that theater, took one of the only available seats near the front, and quickly forgot about my cousin, and rated R, and boobies.

     I sat through two more showings of Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, and when I walked out of the theater, my cousin, his mom, and MY mom were none too pleased to see me. When I got ungrounded from that adventure, I went back and saw it again. Three more times. I went back the next weekend, too. Ditto for The Empire Strikes Back, and The Return of the Jedi.

     As for the prequel movies, if you really want to know how I feel about them, check out this bit from Patton Oswalt. 'Nuff said.

     So now it's 30 years later, the new Star Wars trailer just dropped, I got a huge boner, and just like the beginning of baseball season, hope springs eternal. I will be on the line for the premiere. No, not dressed as my favorite character. I'll be taking Boo, as she has developed her father's love for superheroes and space opera. And I will hope that the last three films do for my middle aged self what the first three did for the young dreamer. Because I still haven't completely given up on my dream of Jedi Knight as a career choice.

     Don't judge me.

     

Reunions and Musicals and Books. Oh My.

Bad idea. Bad, bad idea.

     You know how 80s parties are the shit right now? You know who hates 80s parties? People who lived through the 80s. 

     This is on my mind because I just today remembered that I was invited to attend my thirty-year (holy shit, did I just write that out?) high school reunion. And I said yes. So now I have three months to dwell on that.

     Oh, and I was asked to be in a full-on staged production of this musical:

Not as one of the girls, though. I play a guy. With a penis.

     I get to play the love interest, which is kind of cool, and ironic, since my character is coming back to his hometown thirty years after he left his true love. I don't think there's any actual kissing in the show, but I do get to sing and play my guitar. And be funny. And hopefully sexy. A little.

     And I submitted another query to yet another literary agent, in the hopes that I can find some representation for the book I wrote. So, in your face, Monday. Today was a day to get shit done.

     By the way, if you're coming to the reunion, and you regularly read the blog, I'm probably going to hug you. Don't fight it. 

New Look and Sh*t.

No. Not the glasses. I mean the blog. Though I do think the glasses make me look worldly. Or something. Whatever. My daughter is cute.

     So, it's Friday, and I already submitted my latest article to The Mid (spoiler alert: it's not a feel-good piece), and I had nothing better to do than fuck around with the blog. I've changed the look and layout a little, in an effort to make it more... I don't know, me. So leave me some feedback here, or on Facebook, and let me know what you think. 

     And thanks, you guys. Thanks for stopping by when you do. I appreciate you.