Grandma was an awesome audience.

Someone asked me the other day if I had grown another foot since the last time I saw them. At 6'4", I get asked that a lot.

When I was younger, my grandma asked me that question every time I saw her and hugged her. And every time, I would look down and say, "Nope... I still just have 2." She would laugh hysterically. She lived just up the road from us, so I saw her on a very regular basis. This wasn't once a year or something like that. This was a few times a month.

But every time, she laughed like it was the first time I ever said it.

Years later, after she moved to Tallahassee, she was basically a bedridden, vegetable because of Alzheimer's.

I just realized that's probably why it was so easy to reuse jokes on her.

Forgotten.

I guess I'll start this thing back up again.

I've been bored off my ass for the last few months, mainly because I haven't been working. But I got the call yesterday that we start shooting this monster in a little over a month, so I need to get off my ass and do some fun stuff.

And by "fun stuff", I mean leaving the house.

Party starter.

I was just reading an article about Dan Deacon in the NY Times. The article began with, "Dan Deacon, a renowned party starter..." I dream that one day, a great journalistic essay will begin with, "Schlitz Drinker, a renowned party starter..."

Hopefully, it won't be my epitaph.

And hopefully, they won't feature a picture of the cereal and milk I just spilled down the front of my shirt.

Fuck.

Fork.

I keep forgetting about this blog thing. It's hard as fuck to write when I'm working. It's much like relationships. When I'm working, I'm around about 0% of the time, usually around 2 months at a time. When I'm not working, Im around about 100% of the time, for all the time.

Apparently, that's not what the ladies are into.

Blah this, blah that.

Tomorrow is the end of week three of shooting. For the most part, it'll be the half-way point. The shoot gets better and better as we go. And by better, I mean easier. Things just get simplified.

In other news, a certain actress gave me a sweet, little shoulder scratch today after we both gazed in despair at the insaneness of a certain director.

It was nice and I probably looked more into the touch than I should have.

Work and such and suck

Tonight ends week 2 of shooting the ol' movie. Only 5 more weeks to go. It's been kinda chill, for the most part at least. The director is a little insane. And not in a good way. Claire got stepped on by a cow last week. My farmer's tan is back in full effect. Wrap beers on the trucks have been banned by the producers, but no one cares or listens. Nothing really crazy or exciting.

Tonight is the Wedding Present show. I have a ticket. I've had it for a month now. Apparently, we're shooting fairly late tonight. Late enough for me to not go to the show.

Must. Keep. Hulk. Inside.

In other shitty news, last night was Catherine Ohara's last night of shooting. She was gone only 2 hours, and everyone already missed her. I think I'm in love.

I can't wait to get super, duper, crazy, extra-retarded drunk this weekend.

In other news, I returned 3 movies to Netflix on, literally, the 1 year anniversary of me receiving the movies. Sometimes I love wasting money.

Spaghetti and popcorn.

Paul Newman died this morning.

Sometimes, life sucks.

Doug cares.

Saving Bristol

Eighch Bee Owe

I just got a call this morning. We start shooting this monster in a month.

Time to drink up.

Sunburns.

Update schmupdate.

I'm too busy eatin' and swimmin' and playin' golf.

Pics.

Seth is an awesome photographer. I think he elegantly caught the essence of Corndogorama. Minus the corndogs, of course.

And yes, I'm well aware that I still need a haircut.

Bleeping bleep.

I kind of just read over some of my past entries and realized how much I cuss. I think I'm going to try and ease up on the language. I said try.

My 4th was pretty chill. David and Jenny and I picked up some beer and headed out to Rick's compound for some eatin' and drinkin' and playin' old school video games and pinball and hangin' with friends. The fireworks show was pretty fantastic, too. Thanks, Rick!

I'm finally getting to relax. And it feels good. Corndogorama was pretty awesome. I'll get some pictures up on Flickr as soon as the laziness meter gets down to about 3. About 10 minutes before we left, I got into an argument with the guy that runs the corndog selling stand. I should have talked to him normally before I had about 35 Busch tallboys. I don't want to get into it, but I think I'm going to show him who's boss next year with my own brand of battered hot dogs on a stick.

In other news, as hard as I tried, my "battered hot dog shelter" joke never really caught on.

No more alarm clocks.

We finished shooting the ol' movie tonight. Finally. The six week schedule turned into a nine week schedule. But I think I'm off until September now, so things are cool.

I bought a last minute plane ticket to Atlanta for Corndog-O-Rama this weekend. I enjoy most things that end in 'o-rama'. I'll only be there for like 2 days, but I just wanted to get the fuck out of town and drink my ass off. Kind of clean the slate, then get back here and put together the life that I've neglected for the last 6 months because of work.

This entry is going south fast. I can feel the bitterness biting through. I guess I'm just tired and should probably sleep. I have an assload of crap to do tomorrow before my 7am flight on Saturday morning.

Happiness to come. Soon.

A few more from the series...

Green machine.

On Monday night, The Incredible Hulk is going to be on American Gladiators.

Its about time television got it right.

Oooh, I need some beer. Been drinking dirty ass martinis for the last 2 hours and the gin is gone. It's movie marathon night on my couch tonight. Saturday night and I'm watching movies by myself and drinking martinis. How lame is that?

Tomorrow's madness? Clean the house and do laundry. Punk rock will never die!

In other news...

Rollerkoaster

I guess this is 13 or 14 years old now. Holy shit, I'm old. But gottdam, I forgot how much I loved Railroad Jerk.



In other news, I had a sinus infection for the last week and a half. Totally awesome. The only thing better than standing on your feet and working for 12 hours a day, is doing it while sick. And with the hours that we work, I can't even get to the doctor's office. I spent most of Friday apologizing to fellow crew folks that I had pissed off during the week (I get super pissy when I'm either tired or sick or both). I also got an earful from Mel the entire week for not going to the doctor. Today, I found a walk-in clinic that was open on Sunday. The doctor lady prescribed me some antibiotics and some sort of steroid nasal spray. The antibiotics (and the doctor) say that I shouldn't take them with alcohol, but we'll just see what happens with that.

Halfsies waysies. Kind of.

We hit the middle point of shooting for Shorts. I'm so fucking tired. Four weeks in and we're already adding extra weeks to the end of the schedule.

Everything's fairly cool. The kids are chill. W.H. Macy is awesome. Spader is an oddball.

We're shooting nights this week. Basically 7pm to 7am. Our location is about 45 minutes out of town, so I've been riding to work with Ethan every day to save on some sweet gas money. Yesterday morning, he dropped me off after filming. I got out of the van and he took off. I took about 5 steps toward my front door and realized I had left my wallet and keys in the sound trailer at work. So about 10 minutes later, I'm busting out my back bathroom window to climb through. Head first. Nothing was going to stop me from making sweet love to my pillows and mattress.

I can't wait for the weekend. Someone is gonna get drunk, and considering it'll only be me on the couch by myself with the newly stocked liquor cabinet, that "someone" will probably be me.

At least my fingers are crossed that it'll be me.

Elliott vs Kermit

Brilliant.

Melty.

"If Heaven and Hell decide that they both are satisfied."

I'm not a Dresden Dolls fan, and I am in no way, shape, or form a Death Cab fan, but Amanda Palmer's cover of "I Will Follow You Into the Dark" is absolutely, fucking beautiful.

Amanda's Myspace thingy. (Right now it's the last song)

Phil.

Holy fuckshit, I can't wait to see this son of a bitch.

In other news, for a dude that's off, I sure have been busy as crapola for the last few weeks.

We start shooting this monster in 10 days.

Pray for me, diary thingy.

Cash money.

I bet the most lucrative job back in pirate days was eyepatch salesman.

And I bet the most lucrative job in Sturge days this morning was vodka salesman.

P.S. - And the most lucrative job right now is backspace salesman. Stupid alcohol.

Omega Man.

Charlton Heston died tonight. Fucking finally.

I've been thinking about death way too much lately. I found out that an old, good friend of mine killed himself the other day. I, in no way, shape, or form, deserve to be the judge, but some people just deserve to be dead. And some people deserve to live forever.

Unfortunately, the outcomes are usually reversed.

P.S. - I'll probably proof-read this tomorrow morning when I'm sober and will delete this bastard of an entry. I might even delete this whole bastard of a blog. Cuz some things deserve to die.

Getting the fuck out of the US.

Jesus vs Rock

My mom called today and asked if I was doing anything special for Easter.

I said, "No".

I guess I don't consider getting mega-hobo drunk and falling down a whole bunch "special" any more.

Doing nothing.

Yesterday was the first of five days off for us.

I got extra retarded drunk all day. Ordered way too much chinese take out. Blasted the stereo. And passed the fuck out.

Today, I was going to start running all the errands and doing all the chores that I've had to neglect for the last 6 weeks, but with 5 days off, I can afford to repeat yesterday's antics.

Maybe even do it again tomorrow.

Dare to dream.

Hump.

Yesterday was the official hump day in the shoot. Day 19 of 38. It's been nothing but smooth and it's been flying by. Awesome.

Lisa is just about the nicest, sweetest person on the planet. And so is Vanessa. I don't know why I expected the worst with V, but she's pretty damn awesome. I get a little excited whenever I see that they'll be in scenes that we're shooting that day, because I know it will be a cool, chill day.

The crew parking area for this whole week is about 100 feet from the Dog & Duck. So, last night, a bunch of us wrapped as fast as we could and ran across the street and rowdied up that place like it was nobody's business. A "pint or two" each turned into a "pitcher or two" each. Nothing like a bunch of tired, bitter, drunken fools to make your dining and drinking experience go south. Sorry about the foul language, patrons. Also, we'll be there again tonight.

This song has been growing on me like a fungus.



And here's the Letterman version.

Fist pump.

DAY OFF!

We finished shooting week 2 yesterday. We were supposed to have yesterday off, but we ended up shooting a scene for 6 or 7 hours that we had skipped last week because Scott was sick. Wrap couldn't come soon enough. We packed the trucks in record time, and a couple of us hauled ass over to Opal's for some sweet early afternoon drink-your-face-off action.

Full strength.

In super sucky news, we were offered the 2nd unit gig on Malick's new movie. Unfortunately, the movie I'm on now will overlap the start of Tree, so we most likely can't take it. Super fuck! But then, in a weird chain of events, we were offered the new Narnia movie, which would be like a 3 month shoot in Mexico starting in June.

Shit's getting nuts. Luckily, there's whiskey. Which I will start drinking right now.

Worky worky.

So, tonight we finished week one of shooting for Will. Just six more weeks to go. Fortunately, it's a fucking laugh factory. Not what's happening in front of the lens, of course, but the behind the camera antics. If I could hand pick people from Austin for some sort of dream crew, there's about 90% of them working on this.

It makes working actually fun.

It's almost 4am and I'm drinking some beers and watching "Nocturnal State" on VH-1. I wish I had a Tivo/DVR thingy, cuz I'd record the fuck out of this thing every night it's on.

We have a three day "weekend" (Thu, Fri, Sat) this week, so I should probably put a breathalyzer on this blog/diary thingy to keep my soon-to-be drunkenness off the webernet.

P.S. - During typing, I had to tell spellcheck to learn "thingy" and "webernet".

Old jokes are the best jokes.

What has two thumbs and loves blow jobs?

This guy right here!



Fuck. I had to do it.

Fashion.

I'm heading down to Florida tomorrow morning to get drunk and be in Mark's wedding.

In totally unrelated (aka - completely related) news, I headed over to Bird's this afternoon and, for the first time since 1991, paid for a haircut.

I apparently didn't know what I was missing and will be paying for more haircuts in the near future.

Here's a picture from Sundance that Wiley took. I've got sexy Caroline dancing up on me, yet I'm staring off into oblivion and giving props to the black power movement. God bless alcohol. The girl in the background likes what she sees, though.




And once again, I'm staring off into nowhere. Am I even at these parties?

Partay.

Facebook is throwing a premiere party for Goliath at Sundance this year. Don't ask how it happened. Mainly because I don't know.

Goliath @ Facebook (with some video clips).

I like turtles.

My new best friend...




And here's the main reason I don't think I should have kids. I would make them do shit like this until they were well into their adulthood...

Goliath.

Sundance in 10 days. The trailer is up.

Goliath.

I'd like to take a mulligan on last year.

It's amazing how much respect cement loses when you're drunk. It ain't no bouncy castle.

In other news, I started dreaming again. Well, I started remembering my dreams at least. I've had really bad sleeping problems the last few years. Except for a few anomalies, I sleep for 3 or 4 hours at most a night. And even then, it's usually broken up into 2 or 3 hour-and-a-half segments. There are a few reasons why I've had the sleeping problems, none of which I've been able to conquer, and each of which is detrimental to the others. I think the scientific term is "big fucking downward spiral". But the comfort of the new house and surroundings and a few other small changes in my life have let me keep my eyes closed for up to 3 hours at a time, giving my mind the ability to start dreaming again. Hopefully, the dirty, sexy ones will start soon.

Florida was fun. I haven't said that in years. And I was even sick the whole time. My pops and I played in a 3-day father/son golf tournament. We didn't come close to finishing at the top, but considering there were 2 current PGA tour players and a former Master's champion also in the tourney, we did well. On second thought, we didn't do well, but we did well at having fun. I'm going to start trying to do well at grammar. Or not.

Mark and Fran had their wedding shower while I was down there, too. It was also known as a kegger with a margarita machine, disguised as a wedding shower. Sandy's parents graciously hosted the event in their new house, which was very brave of them. I think Mark summed it up best when we were leaving the next morning...

"You know it's a good party when you have to borrow a pair of pants from the host."

I upgraded to a new 160gb iPod for Christmas. My mom was going to buy one for herself. But considering she only owns like 6 cd's, she didn't need a new one. So, she got me the 160gb and I gave her my Nano. I think the amount of music I steal balances out with the amount of money I have to spend to get a new iPod every year. File that last sentence under "Worst Justifications Ever".

In other kinda free news, I have to work on some SXSW commercials tonight and Sunday night for a few hours, in exchange for a free $600 music badge. Which I probably won't even end up using.

I have too much shit to do today to be sitting around this morning trying to think of interesting things to say. And obviously failing.

P.S. - Brendon Walsh is the funniest motherfucker in Austin. Here he is as his alter egos, Dan Richardson and Woody. "Have a couple of frogeritas and sing 'Don't Stop Believing' the way it should be sung."

Flappy Holidays.

When was the last time I wrote anything here?

Not long enough.

Holy fuck, I need a haircut. My mom's gonna have a shit-fit when I see her tomorrow. Here's a preview...

Mom: "You're not going to Christmas dinner like that!"
Me: "Perfect."
Mom: "You're not getting out of it that easy. You're going."

Annnnnnnnnnnnnd................. scene.

Happy holidays, diary-blog-thingy.

Mega ouch.

There was a little bit of a blip yesterday in the whole "not drinking for a month" thingy.

Nice drinking, no drink.

I'm not drinking for a month. I never thought those words would come out of my mouth. Especially without the words "court ordered" attached. But my liver (and scale) need a break. They're like the Red October. They've given me 110% day in and day out, but you can only push them so far without a nuclear reaction destroying the world.

Steve sent me this and I'm pretty sure I contributed my fair share. Go, Austin, go!

America's Drunkest Cities.

Park City.

Oh, and yeah, we got into Sundance. More falling down on ice!



More can be found here in the near future... Goliath Is Missing.

Work it!

I'd like to thank my friend, Paul, for filling my email with stuff like this. I laughed my ass off at first, but after 30 or 40 viewings, it's starting to creep me out.

Thanks, jerk.

P.S. - Also, Rolando won the caption contest with "Freddie McMercury".

Penis.

Go, YouTube, go!

Best death ever.

Evel

I'm pretty sure that Kanye West poisoned Evel Knievel.

Spread it around.

Almost.

The Rockefeller Center Christmas tree was lit tonight. It's "eco-friendly", equipped with energy conserving bulbs and a bunch of solar panels on top of the Center to help power those lights.

It's completely eco-friendly except for the fact that they cut down an 84-foot-tall, 60-year-old tree.

In other news, I pretty much moved in tonight. My bed is here. My clothes are here. My books are here. My kitchen stuff (aka - bottle opener) is here.

But no tv yet. Then I'll call it home.

Tears.

I laid the Expos hat to rest this morning.

It was a good run, my friend. We saw it all, you and me. Thank you.

All the B's

I've said it before and I'll say it again.

I fucking love the nudie bar.

But the nudie bar on Thanksgiving Eve takes the cake. Those girls definitely have "daddy issues".

But who doesn't?

Corn Waffles.

I would love to explain how the site came to light and how Paul didn't know that I knew that he made it and how he even created a fake email and was posing as me and I was going to somehow extract some sort of revenge, but fuck it.

Please enjoy the Corn Waffle recipes and then scroll to the bottom.

Corn Waffles!

Truck.

The Zellners did a new video for The Octopus Project's song Truck.

Also, you can read about the whole thingy on Spin.

Life.

It's 1:15am on a Monday night and I'm sitting on the living room couch drinking whiskey and typing "sports bloopers" into the search field on YouTube.

It's pretty safe to say that it's about time that I got a girlfriend.

In other "not having a girlfriend" news, Matt sent me a link and I almost shit my pants.

BEHOLD!

Nerd Bay.

Right before I bailed for Florida, my latest 2 eBay purchases arrived. This and this.

I'm such a fucking nerd. Without being as cool as a nerd. I think they call it lame. I'm just lame.

B. McC.

I'm seriously thinking about changing my name to Boobs McCherdeler.

I was laughing an hour ago when I first thought about it, but I'm fairly serious now.

This is yet another reason why I should not drink beer as soon as I wake up. But luckily, the reasons why I should still largely outnumber the reasons I should not.

Bishop Allen

I can't wait to see Bishop Allen tonight. It'll be the fifth time I've seen them. And the fifth time I've gotten extra retarded drunk seeing them.

I'm like a little kid on Christmas morning. Who just got a stocking full of tranny porn.

Tagged.

My buddy, Mark, tagged me with 5 questions, so now I'll forward 'em on. Mark lives right around the corner from me, but I never get to actually see him, so the closest I get to contact is commenting on his baseball and film blog entries. Half my comments involve me calling him a jerk, so I think I understand why we never actually hang out.

But here we go. Also, I'm not going to specifically tag anyone. If you read this turd of a blog and have a blog yourself, go ahead and tag yourself. And email me a link.


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
List 5 things that certain people (who are not deserving of being your friend anyway) may consider to be “totally lame,” but you are, despite the possible stigma, totally proud of. Own it:
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1. I love Chili's. I'll say it again. I fucking love Chili's. I love everything on the menu. I love that the restaurant is mostly booths. And they consistently have a decent beer selection.

2. Poop and fart jokes. I've been laughing for 34 years and I can't ever see stopping. Go, doo-doo, go!

3. Golf. I love to play and I love to watch. I've been playing since I was probably 8 or 9. When I'm not working, I play at least once a week. Even on the shittiest of days, when I can't keep a ball anywhere near the fairway, I'm still smiling my ass off.

4. Futurama. Most people called it a lame cartoon riding the Simpsons coattails. Most people said it wan't funny at all. To all those people, I say, I wish I had more fists. (Ed. Note - I couldn't make up my mind whether to put Mystery Science Theater 3000 in this entry or Futurama.)

5. Illegal Downloading of Music and/or Movies - Once in a blue moon, I'll feel a little guilty for downloading something that I would have bought otherwise, but for the most part, I steal shit that... A) I wouldn't have paid for anyway (I'm looking at you, Led Zeppelin) and B) Things that I can't find anywhere and are most likely out of print.

Knock Knock, part 2.

I completely forgot. While we were shooting the other day, Willie asked Owen to tell a joke...

Owen: Knock knock.

Willie: Who's there?

Owen: Willie.

Willie: Willie who?

Owen: Show business is harsh, my friend.


Editor's note: I don't know what I laughed at harder, the joke or the fact that Woody didn't get it.

King Willie.

Today, I headed out to Willie's ranch out west of town to shoot a piece for his new music video. And race tractors. And drink beer. And eat bbq.

Pretty funny. It was semi-star studded. Luke and Owen Wilson. Woody Harrelson. Jessica Simpson. Jay Chandrasekhar. And some old school country stars, who I won't name because I like them too much.

All I have to say is that I hope I don't have to take a drug test soon.

Thank you, Willie.

Ethical timeline.

8:25am - First beer opened.

8:42am - Second beer opened.

9:07am - Third (and last beer in the fridge) opened.

9:08am - Pointless blog entry created.

Today is my first day off in like 2 weeks. We spent all this week on reshoots for some craptastic movie. I won't put an IMDB link to it out of sheer embarassment. Even more embarassing is the commercial that I start on Monday. I've only turned down one job in my entire career over personal beliefs. That was an Army commercial about 2 years ago. I would have made around $2500 for a 5 day commercial. I said no.

This time around was a little different. I haven't done shit this year. I took most of the year off. But the whiskey funds started running dry a little sooner than I thought. So, as a result, all personal ethics are null and void. Unfortunately, it's only a 2 day commercial.

But I needs to get paid. The roof over my head and the damages to my liver aren't free.

Chuck E. Cheese

Thanks, Paul.

The "Chuck E. Walkaround" should be a new dirty sex move.

Hulk.

Sometimes I get angry for the stupidest reasons.

I got hold of one the Grindhouse: Death Proof DVDs a week or two before it came out. I hated working on the fucking movie. I hated the fucking movie when I saw it in the theater. I hated the fucking movie when I saw the DVD. But what I'm most angry at is the fact that my name wasn't in the credits.

Bullshit. Capitol B.

Those kids today.

Knock knock.

Who's there?

9/11.

9/11 who?

YOU SAID YOU"D NEVER FORGET!

Study.

This headline is on CNN.com right now...

Men want hot women, study confirms.

Nice work, science.

P.S. - Next study will probably be "Why do people love oxygen?"

Donkey Kong love.

We went and saw The King Of Kong last night at the theater. Because of my obsession with Donkey Kong, I might be a little biased, but holy shit, it was awesome.

If you have no idea what I'm talking about...

Pouring a glass of piss into my eyes.

I never go out on weekends. I'm not sure why. Actually, I do know why. I like to leave the weekends to amateur drinkers out there. I'm pretty much a Sunday through Thursday goer-outer.

I don't have cable. Let me get that out of the way. So, I'm pretty much at the mercy of the rabbit-ear antennae.

On Fox, right now, is America's Most Wanted starring, John Walsh, who is quite possibly the hugest douche bag on the face of the Earth. I worked on a 2 week shoot with him a year or two ago. He's a douche bag. And I reserve the term douche bag for only the biggest.

On ABC is the Mel GIbson/Goldie Hawn vehicle, Bird on a Wire. Don't confuse it with the Leonard Cohen song of the same name. The movie is like Andre the Giant kicking you in the balls. Repeatedly. While laughing at you. And punching your mom in the face.

On NBC is the smash (s)hit, America's Got Talent. I watched about 9 seconds and got diarrhea.

On CBS is the Dallas/Houston football game. I'm a huge football fan and this is about the most boring game (not to mention pre-season) you could possibly put on tv...

...until I put it to the WB channel, or whatever the fuck it is now. They have the Mariners/Rangers baseball game on, so my "most boring game" comment became instantly null and void.

I think I'm going to put it back to America's Got Talent, just so the diarrhea will give me something to kill some time before I get pissed at Saturday Night Live.

Transparent.

If you're bored and have some spare time, try this trick out.

Transparent screens.

Love. Um, no.

So, Courtney Love lost a lot of weight or something. In an interview, she said it was more of a detox than a diet.

"For many years, I took pills. I felt like I had this dirty secret," she says.

I'm not really sure that I would call it a secret there, Courtney.

My awful (drunken) philosophy.

My favorite part is when Steve says, "Nope!"...

Drinking buddy.

Last night was a little weird. I went to the Draught House for a healthy night of drinking. I guess I hadn't been in a while, because everyone there, that I hadn't seen in forever, came up and said, "Did you hear about Troy?"

Troy was a drinking buddy. Kind of. Because he rarely drank. He always came to the bar and orderd a coke. 6 months at a time. Then he would drink beers for 6 months. Then not drink for 6 months.

He was a bit of an asshole, but he liked me. He always asked what I was working on. He hated movies and celebrities and Hollywood, but he was always curious about what I did and would ask the second I sat down.

He was a racist and a jerk and an asshole. But he was always nice to me.

Actually, he was the reason that I was banned from the Draught House for about 6 months.

When he would leave, he would rev up his Harley in front of the bar. It was deafening loud, even inside. It was a jerk manuever and I got angry every time he did it.

I'll miss him.

P.S. - Oh, here's his obituary.

Nothing.

Bonds hit his ball tonight. I watched it. I felt nothing.

I didn't feel the wave of anger and hate that I thought I would. I didn't even cry like I thought I would. I didn't really think much of it at all.

The only ounce of excitement I had was trying to see which fan came up with the prize ball. And see if they would throw it back. They didn't.

I would have.

Marfa, TX

I put some pictures up from the Marfa trip.

Most of them are from the Chinati Foundation adventure.

Fireballs.

If you're going to eat an entire bag of wasabi rice crackers at 1am, remember not to rub your eyes with your fingers until you've washed your hands.

Fucking ouch.

Pistol whipped.

Fuck Barry Bonds and the horse that rode in on his mother.

If I was Hank Aaron, I would attend the games that Bonds plays to see the record breaking home run. Then I would act like I was giving him a hug. But right before the hug, I would punch him in the face as hard as I could. Then again. And again and again and again.

Hank Aaron is my hero for reasons that go way beyond baseball.

Also, once in a while, I try and get this thing started.

Lohan.

My favorite part of the Lindsay Lohan legal sagas is that I keep missing updates. Every time I see a new Lohan arrest headline, I think that it's a few days old, when in reality it's only a few hours old.

What's the record for most arrests in one week?

She already smashed my record.

Diabeetis.

My new favorite word in the world is "diabetes". Pronounced correctly, it's not so great.

Pronounced by Wilford Brimley? Holy awesomeness.

P.S. - I guess someone else feels way stronger about this than I do...

2014.

I wasn't quite sure how secret our production was, but I just found this on MTV's site.

We start shooting Year 5 of the ol' 12 Year Movie next Monday. We shoot through Friday night. Then, early-ass that Saturday morning, I'm jumping on a plane and heading over to Asslanta for the sweet, sweet drunkenness of Corndog-O-Rama. Then wobble back home, where a bunch of us are off to Marfa, TX for Megan's birthday party...

3 Days + West Texas + Middle of nowhere = Drunky drunky

Lovey dovey.

God damn, I love booze.

It's 12:30pm on Sunday (afternoon?), and I'm pretty much drunk. I completely forgot that my dvd player plays MP3 cd's, so I made a sort of super mega mixed cd with about 200 songs on it. I'm laying on the living room floor right now rocking the fuck out.

In other news, I forgot how hard it is to drink when you're laying on your back.

West Coast bitches.

California was pretty kick ass. San Diego was nothing like I expected. I really dug it. We even got up to L.A. for a night. My old roommate, Jeff, and his girlfriend, Liz, live in a pretty sweet house in Hollywood. We did a wee bit of sightseeing, some dinner action at Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles (fucking delicious) and some late night drankin' in the hot tub. Even funnier, they live about 4 houses down from Johnny Knoxville. Three years ago, I did a movie with Knoxville and he pissed on my leg in a bar one night. I was hoping to get revenge, but I don't think he was around.

Garret took some pictures. I took some too, and if I get off my lazy ass, I'll put 'em up.

In other news, no one has broken into my house again. Yet. I pulled my t-ball bat out of deep closet storage for the cause.

And in other news, one of my favorite Homer quotes ever popped up the other night...

"Public transportation is for jerks and lesbians."

California.

So, I'm heading out to San Diego tomorrow morning. I wonder what'll have been stolen from my house when I get back.

I hope they take the leftover beans and rice that's been in the fridge for 2 weeks. I really don't feel like washing that bowl.

Violated.

I left the house for just a few hours last night. I came home and someone had broken in and stolen my television and 2 guitars.

I'm pretty sure they were inside when I pulled up because I could smell them when I walked in. They had broken in through the side door in the laundry room. And probably ran out that way when I pulled up.

I can only guess that because there was so much other shit they could have just easily grabbed. My brand new Mac Book, some other guitars. Another flat screen monitor that was just sitting out (cables coiled).

I feel sick to my stomach.

Dictionary.

I saw on CNN that some dude just tried to jump on the pope as he was driving around waving to suckers. My favorite part of the whole story is that "popemobile" is now the internationally recognized name of his car.

Spiderman.

I haven't seen Spiderman 3. I haven't seen Spiderman 2. I didn't care too much for Spiderman (1).

I just got back from the grocery store. While I waited in the checkout line for some super old fuck to pull out his checkbook, fill out a check, then argue that he's never had to give his driver's license number before (the checkout girl then told him that this was about the 30th time he's come in and said that), I saw a Mad Magazine on the rack. I haven't bought Mad since I was in probably 5th or 6th grade. But the ass humor on the cover screamed "SOLD!". I might even have to frame it.

Boner.

I just pulled a good ol' bonehead move. As usual.

My timing belt busted on the ol' Schlitzdrinker wagon and I waved goodbye as the towtruck driver hauled her off to the foreign lands of fixdom. As soon as that motherfucker was out of sight, I realized that along with the car key, I had given him all my keys. House, bike lock, etc...

In other news, Chicago was a blast. At least I think it was a blast. Apparently, alcohol kills memory cells.

I got to hang out with Jessi and Patrick for a couple days. Then I headed downtown to my hotel. It was pretty fancy pants. I got to hang out with Jay and Patti for a night and try out some of my new joke material. Then I got super mega extra retarded drunk with some folks I hadn't seen in ten years. Everyone came back to my room to drink until about 5am.

The only reason I knew it was 5am was because this lady that was staying next door came banging on my door to tell me that it was 5am and we needed to shut the fuck up.

Duly noted, ma'am.

The wedding was fantastic. The reception, from what I remember, was smashing. Instead of going to the after-party, I headed downtown with some folks. I got lost and wandered around downtown, drunk off my ass, looking for my hotel. Or at least the street that my hotel was on.

I don't know if I was too drunk to physically hail a cab. Or too drunk to realize that I could have hailed a cab.

Either way, three hours, one attempted mugging, four or five falling downs, and millions of slurred cuss words later, I stumbled into my hotel. And slept like a champ.

Early the next morning, Trevor came pounding on my door. First to tell me that the cab driver that took us to the wedding had my cell phone. Secondly to tell me that Marcus had fallen off a barstool, knocked himself out, and was laughing as they put him the ambulance.

I called my cell phone and the driver answered. He said I had gotten five or six calls that morning. He sounded pissed, like he was angry that he had to be my personal secretary. He said he would bring my phone to the hotel, but that he would have to run the meter for a fare. I told him I didn't give a fuck.

A few hours and $50 later, I had my phone. I gave out some hugs and kisses to some friends, jumped on the train, and headed for the sweet drunken plane ride home.

The end. At least until other people tell me stories of things I don't remember.

I put a few pictures up on Flickr. Nothing too juicy, though. Except for Jay's crotch.

Planez.

I'm heading to Chicago tomorrow for a few days.

No real plans besides the wedding and getting drunk.

I wish I was a better planner.

I am one mean idiot.

I just saw this headline on CNN...

Comic strip puts artist's cancer battle up front

... and I crossed my fingers and hoped that it was Jim Davis.

It wasn't.

In other news, as usual, I'll be moping on the couch all day today, thinking about my aunt's cancer, and hiding under the comforting, umbrella-like shade of a whiskey bottle.

Persons of dubious integrity.

(Editor's Note: A special thanks to Blake for hanging out in Texas for 3 days and watching me laugh for the first time in weeks.)

In other news, after a lame night at a shitty restaurant/bar tonight, I read this on Doug Stanhope's Myspace page, and I realized that I couldn't put it any better..

Who I'd like to meet:

Human Oddities. Persons of dubious integrity. All those people you once knew who disappeared into the cracks. Drinkers who don't care when you forget their names. Everyone who has becomed bored with society as we know it.

Quiet geniuses. People whose politics aren't limited to two points of view. Libertarians and Libertines. Fuck-ups who don't apologize for their behavior. Angry bi-trendy girls who say not to add them to your friends list unless you're a chick.

The people who put Jesus and Santa in the same rubbish pail.

Girls I slept with back when I had a fantastic mullet and not a care in the world.

People who don't look that good in real life. Fat men in jumpsuits. Sidewalk queers and the terminally ill.

The handful that get it.

Champions.

Bubbles and Ricky and Julien.

Does anyone that reads this thing live in Canada? Or know someone that lives in Canada? Can you get me a cheap(er) copy of the Trailer Park Boys DVD box set (Seasons 1-5 with the movie and Christmas special) ? It's on Amazon for $170. I will pay cold, hard cash. And used is cool, if the discs are in good condition.

Just curious. And sometimes bi-curious.

File this entry under http://sturge.craigslist.com.

And if you're bored, here's about half of my favorite episode ever, "Conky". I doubt it'll be up for very long.

Buttery delicious.

I've been air popping a shitload of popcorn recently. Mainly because I'm too lazy to go grocery shopping.

It's been an odd time. I haven't been to the grocery store in 2 weeks, but I've been to the liquor store 6 times in the last 5 days.

Popcorn's ready.

Pickies.

I threw a couple of pictures up on my Flickr account, but Willie's are better...

Vegas.

We all brought cameras, but no one actually took any pictures until the last 2 hours of the trip.

Liam.

Liam Lynch is the genius behind the old Sifl & Olly show. He's also made a living at writing fake songs. Most people know him from his awesomtastic United States of Whatever. Well, he's at it again...



And here's the original USoW.



And if you're bored here's an old awesome, complete episode...

Shit.

I couldn't wait to write about Vegas and shenanigans and thank people for the birthday wishes and put some pictures up, but I just found out that someone very, very close to me has inoperable cancer.

So, it'll be a day of Jameson's, crying, and buying a plane ticket.

If I had a nickel...

Legal prostitution.

I'm headed to Vegas in about 7 hours with Paul and Steve and Willie. I'll be drinking and throwing away money at the poker and blackjack tables for 72 hours straight.

We fly back on Monday, which is my birthday. Fucking weird enough, this will be the third birthday in a row that I'll be on a plane flying back to Austin.

I wish they allowed candles on planes.

Oh, and cake.

Nuts!

Oh, sweet nut humor, I love you. Jeopardy should follow these rules.

Larry Bud and Knife Car: Two dead friends.

Larry "Bud" Melman died. That guy was pure comedy gold. Plus, the only thing funnier than the name Larry "Bud" Melman was his real name, Calvert DeForest. I'll miss you, Bud(dy).

In a tribute to Larry, I finally (its only been over a year) posted the video of Knife Car. I wrote about Knife Car in my old journal/diary thing. It was one of my favorite entries. Now here's a shitty video I took with my still camera.

Also, by "tribute", I mean this has absolutely nothing to do with Larry "Bud" Melman.

Whole lots of nothing.

How fast can I update this turd of a blog? We'll see.

Got back from Utah and started shooting the pilot for this monster. Jack is funny as fuck. I'm gonna have to go rent the Pirates of the Caribbean movies to see him. I do that a lot. Have absolutely no inclination to see a movie until I meet someone that's in the movie and then want to see everything they've done. Seann was the same way. I couldn't give two fucks about the American Pie series until I worked with Seann and fell in love. Well, I haven't actually gone out and rented the movies, but uh, I want to. Fuck you, Eugene Levy.

I weaseled out of shooting for today and tomorrow so I could rock the fuck out at SXSW day shows. Saw Bishop Allen twice today. And the Melvins. And Andrew Bird. God damn, I love free shit. The first Bishop Allen show was at 1pm. Free beer and free Dewars. I never really sobered up after that. SXSW is kinda funny in the fact that there are so many fucking people from out of town. Once in a while, you see someone that you recognize. You don't even have to know them personally, just recognize that they live in Austin. And you give that little head nod. That "Hey, you live in Austin" head nod. Even better is when you see a bartender at a show that recognizes you. Prepare for huge free drinks.

On a side note, Bishop Allen ended both of the shows with "Butterfly Nets" (mp3), one of the most beautiful songs in the world right now.

Tomorrow is almost exclusively metal day for shows for me. I'm so excited I might have to wear diapers to sleep tonight.

P.S. - Speaking of 4 month old Seann news, Seann had to grow a ridiculous moustache for the film we were shooting. To show our sympathy, all the guys in the crew grew the same ridiculous 'stache. Seann even put up a $500 cash prize for a contest ($200 for best 'stache, $200 for most Gary-like, and $100 for creepiest). This was my awful entry.

P.P.S. - With the navigation thingy on the right of the moustache picture, go back (to the left) and see other funny-esque pictures.

Mormon.

Utah is cold. And drunk.

Snowboarding hurts.

I have a three hour layover in the Houston airport tomorrow. Can you say "mega drunk"?

Captain Party

The few pictures from Sundance this year that I hoped wouldn't surface, came a knockin' at my email door. Ladies and Gentlemen, I introduce... Captain Party.

I believe this was at a festival staff condo party after the Closing Night Party. Someone left a brand new bottle of Patron Citron on the counter. That was their (and my) biggest mistake. Other pictures include Mike and the Zellners and Jimmy Bananas and my friend, Scott, who I hadn't seen in 10 years.











Ouch.

Videoz.

Here's that Explosions performance from the other night. It probably won't be on YouTube very long.

The Number Lame.

Two people last night said they were excited to see the movie, The Number 23. I, on the other hand, refuse to see any Joel Schumacher-directed film that doesn't have the words "D.C. Cab" in the title.

EITS.

Today is a big day for Explosions in the Sky. They are some Austin friends of mine. Their new album comes out today. And tonight they are going to be on Late Night with Conan O'Brien. You should watch it and cheer. Then go buy the album. And maybe catch them live.

I'm going to drink whiskey now.

Eyes burning, fists clinching.

I accidentally watched a lot of television the last few days.

First off, doing some hardcore lounging on the couch last night, I was reaching for my whiskey and my hand must of hit the remote or something, because the channel suddenly switched over to the Grammy's. For half a second, I thought it was some sort of award for the "World's Greatest Grandma", but that dream soon faded. I only saw about 8 or 9 seconds before I could get control of the situation, but it was too late. I saw the moment where the Dixie Chicks won some "best song" award. The sight burned through my eyes, down through my stomach, and somehow penetrated the fortress where my sperm live and breathe. My little boys were contaminated.

So I had to let them free.

Which is cool, because I was going to do that anyway.

In other accidental news, I tripped and accidentally poured about 7 beers and 3 or 4 whiskey drinks into my mouth tonight.

And in other, non-accidental news, I'm spending the rest of the week on Grindhouse reshoots. I guess its wrong to call it a reshoot, considering we're shooting the ending that we never shot the first time around.

I'm pretty sure that I'm king of the pointless blog.

What up, Fatlip?

Quite possibly my favorite video of all time. Just laid back. And cool. I think I could probably talk about this song/video for hours. (Directed by Spike Jonze)

Lame.

I was about to write something, but I have to take off. Unfortunately, that's about as interesting as the post was going to be.

Maybe I won't take off quite yet. It's 4pm and I have to take my fourth dump of the day.

Thank you, horrible pancakes.

Aftermath.

I've been out here at Sundance for a little over 24 hours. I've already spent one-third of it with a hangover.

There's also already been two P. Diddy sightings, but I haven't had a chance to punch him yet.

Yet.

Sundance put our short online. You can watch it here if you want...

Aftermath at Meadowlark Lane

I need food.

"Whoa is me." - Joey Lawrence

I started using the phrase "woe is me" an awful lot. I mean an awful lot for a person that doesn't even know what it means. But, to be fair, I didn't know what it meant because I always thought it was "whoa is me".

And also, by "using", I mean not to other people. It's strictly for the conversations in my head.

In other news, they put up a trailer for Grindhouse, which I spent most of last year working on. Some good times, some bad times. A fat bank account. We're even.

More snow.

I'm headed out to the Sundance Film Festival on Saturday with the Zellner brothers and Jim and Jenny and NIck and a few others. Yet more drunkeness.



At the rate I'm going now and the rate I'll keep in Utah, I'm pretty sure I'm going to need about 3 or 4 weeks of detox when I get back. Which, of course, will translate into about 3 or 4 hours before I start drinking again.

In other news, I took some pictures of the mad icicles growing around the roof from the last two days of the ice storm. If I sober up, I'll post them.

P.S. - Punching icicles is fun AND awsometastic. They shatter like you're some kind of superhero. Just don't let the hippie neighbor that lives across the street that plays shitty guitar see you doing it, because he'll think you're retarded.

P.P.S. - In other news, here's an old(ish) video that Nick did for The Octopus Project that I dig a lot...



P.P.P.S. - And while we're at it, here's a live video of The Octopus Project at Emo's from last year. This was probably my favorite show of last year. And maybe my favorite song from that show.

I don't want a funeral. Please.

Just got back from spending 4 days in Tallahassee, FL at my grandpa's funeral. I got drunk a lot.

My dad's side of the family is a bit of an akward mess.

I just sat here for 40 minutes and tried to type out some sort of clarity of the statement above. I erased and re-typed and erased and re-typed and cut and paste and re-typed, but in the end, there was no logical way to do it without typing an 8 page essay.

And nobody wants to read an 8 page essay about akwardness in a family.

But the coolest part was seeing my cousin who's not really my cousin (just accept that fact and be thankful I'm not writing an 8 page essay). We're both about the same age. We've only seen each other twice, with the last time being probably in 5th or 6th grade, but twenty years later, we both remember those two times quite well. He lives in Boulder, is getting married in September, and being socially-impaired like myself, is also quick to get his drink on. It was cool to hang out with someone who looks for as many excuses as I do to take a nap or have a cocktail. Plus, we're cousins. But not really.

I just read that back, and it sounds like I want to hump him or something. Maybe its the whole "we're cousins but not really" thing. I was just glad to have someone to hang out with.

Messy.

In hindsight, maybe getting drunk and trying to eat a super sloppy bowl of shrimp and tomato sauce and pasta in bed wasn't such a great idea.

Go, washing machine, go!

Donkey Kongs.

In my search for a Donky Kong machine, I've settled on MAME games to keep me at bay. Tonight, I destroyed my third gamepad after yet another lackluster performance (um, from the gamepad). When I press "up" or "right", I expect to go up or right. (For the record, holding the USB plug end and swinging the controller onto the pavement is the preferred way of destruction.)

I should stop buying $10 gamepads, which suck ass to begin with.

I think I broke the last cheapy gamepad today. I'm going to buy a nice joystick tomorrow. And see how that goes.

Damn, it's hard to type and make sense when I'm drunk.

Lawsuit.

I think the producers of Dancing With the Stars should be legally required to remove the word "Stars" from their title.

And while we're at it, "Dancing", too.

Happy New Year, or something.

That was easy.

So, I'm down in South Florida visiting the ol' folks. I was supposed to get the stitches out of my eye today. I either had to drive an hour and a half south to get my cousin to pull them out or an hour and a half north to have my uncle pull them out. Suck.

I just woke up and asked my pops if I could use his truck. He asked what for and I told him.

He said, "Why don't you just pull 'em out yourself?"

I'm really not quite sure why I hadn't thought of that myself.

So, I grabbed some gnarley tweezers and my mom's sewing scissors and went Rambo on myself and yanked all 5 out. Fairly painless. Fairly.

The best part is I can screw the drive and go back to sleep. Happy Birthday, Jesus! You skeeza.

Sucky sucky.

Hey there, Little Caesars.

I was extremely excited to hear that you finally suited up and stepped into the battle of the 2006 Pizza Price War. A large, one-topping carryout for $5. I was pleased as punch, especially knowing that you have a location about three blocks from my house.

After one slice, I remembered why I haven't eaten Little Ceasars pizza in 15 years.

And $5 is a ripoff.

P.S. - Actually I figure it to be $9, considering the extra toilet paper and air freshener I'm going to have to buy.