As you have no doubt heard, yours truly made an appearance on the show Off Their Rockers last night. I'm finally famous. No not really, other than being stopped by a couple kids at USC today and some wall posts and tweets life continued on as normal. My general take away from the whole experience is I can't believe the whole world saw me wearing a fucking Hollister shirt. Honestly, I'm burning that as soon as I get hope. Those pink shorts are legit, and I'm glad I got to rep IU, but christ, sitting on a park bench wearing an Abercrombie spin-off brand marketed to 12 year old wannabe surfers? Unacceptable. On any other day I could have been wearing a fresh horse with a half pop or a frat tank, but no...they caught me in the one Hollister shirt I own.
Keep in mind that was shot 8 months ago, I was new to LA and living on a couch, doing laundry wasn't near the top of my to-do list. When that guy offered me $460 for the sandals you have no idea how drastically that could have improved my life. I was thinking, yay I'm going to cash this check and move into an apartment today. I'm going to have a non-ramen meal tonight! Alas when that jackass walked away and some doofus revealed that his stroller was actually a hidden camera, I blindly signed the release form and stormed off in a fit of rage. I assumed of course that it would never air, the show sounded stupid, oh Betty White and a bunch of old people acting zany...watch out! But then ironically while hosting a bbq for the cast of my new tv show my Facebook wall and Twitter feed start blowing up...holy shit bro, you're on tv. I would like to thank everyone for bringing it to my attention, I recorded it and had a drunken viewing with everyone that came to the party. Hollister and a Blackberry, what a douche.
Making things even more interesting was when I checked my email later a buddy of mine had told me that he could get me a staff writer job on this Betty White show with old people, it's like Venus was in retrograde or some shit and this was all a fucking sign. More likely that not though whether I start writing for Betty White's Off Their Rockers, whether the pilot I shoot next week sells to a major network, I will probably never make another appearance on prime time television. I'm not an actor, I'm not going to win any awards, I had my 45 seconds of screen time (your boy actually looked decent in HD) and it's over, but I continue to dream. Some of you may wonder why I spend so much of my time writing a blog full of worthless drivel and conjecture. The simple answer is: I love it.
I was never great at anything growing up, I peaked athletically at 12 and was a member of a handful of teams in high school and after but I was like a second string kinda dude. And that was ok, I mean being on the team was cool, the road trips were fun, and due to my tall and athletic build I looked the part, and that was all that really mattered to me back then. Writing was the first thing that I realized I was better at than other people. I mean I can fuck most people up in foosball and I have a higher pension for partying than most, but unfortunately one can't really make a career of either unless you go on to be the "party douche" on a reality tv show. But writing is something I can actually do, I can unlock so many chambers of my imagination and create worlds where the rules we live by don't matter and it's just fucking awesome.
And I realize that this blog will not make me rich or famous. It's not outrageous enough to be Tucker Max, there is no schtick, it's just a middle class white kid being moderately funny while being outrageously racist and sexist. But it is real I suppose. I don't do this blog for that though, I do this for me, to keep me inspired, to keep me going. Sure I share it with the world, or the 200 or so of you that read it, but this is what excites me when I wake up every day...when I'm out drinking, oh shit I've got such a great idea for a blog post. It's hard to write a screenplay or a manuscript it takes fucking forever, there is no recognition and after like 12 months of work that shit probably won't sell and it will feel like an epic waste of time. At least with this I get a Facebook "like" or something, and that means the fucking world to me. It validates what I'm doing as relevant, someone out there appreciates what I'm doing. But if not even for that the fact that I can click POST and I know that I have completed something, something very fucking small and seemingly insignificant, but I did it. It's there, it will be there forever. Anywhere you go with an internet connection you can find out how mad I am at myself for wearing a stupid fucking Hollister shirt in Westwood that one time I was on a hidden camera show.
So that's what's up. Right now I'm getting ready to star in a pilot about college music touring. I will play an exaggerated version of myself and probably pretty quickly be typecast as the party douche...I've actually put a lot of thought into it. Like even if this show is a breakout hit, it probably has about 3 seasons in it before people get bored by the premise and then it's either become an MTV VJ or I don't know make Spring Break appearances until I'm 35. I used to think, "I would never go on a reality tv show, it would ruin any career I have afterward. Nothing worse than a 40 year old washed up reality star." But what I have come to realize is, 'who fucking cares?' I would rather be a 40 year old washed up reality star than a mid level manager who wears a tie every day. Fuck it, I'll write a reality show about washed up former reality stars. The premise will be, "I sell insurance now, because it's a commodity but people buy from me because they want to know if i ACTUALLY fucked Tina in the ass." No, fuck that selling insurance would be awful but you catch my point.
I can never give it up, my fingers tell my story and hopefully the story has just began. And I'm sure I've got a long way to go before my passion actually nets me a single dime, I'll probably have my next 3 novels and screenplays rejected as being 'too sophomoric' or 'lacking a sophisticated edge' but some day I'll get there. I actually find it the most fascinating thing about being here in LA. Say what you will about this place, it's full of shallow horrible people, a crooked industry and miserable urban sprawl. But people out here fucking go for it, and it's the coolest thing in the world. I rag on struggling actors, wannabe models and even starving writers and comedians. But the thing is, a few of them will pop off, and maybe I'll be one. Maybe my roommate will or that guy I went to college with, or that chick I banged that one time. It's the fear and excitement of the unknown. And a lot of people will crash and burn and maybe move back home, or maybe they'll buy a surf board and sell necklaces on the Venice boardwalk and live in a tent behind Mao's Kitchen, but they will never say they didn't try.
I often use this blog as an outlet for my hedonistic fantasies that I would always be too insecure to speak, but feel much more confident writing. Often I will rant about people that are unlike myself because I'm a human and I fear what is different. But I hope what you always take away from this place when you visit is that I am a big proponent of fucking going for it. I feel like if I wrap my message in a clever formula of hate and humor I might be able to sneak it by without sounding like a Tony Robbinsesque "Carpe diem" banner. But that really is my only life belief. So I'll keep going, I'll write because I love it. It will consistently be above average, and hopefully some day it will turn excellent, and maybe just maybe I'll write something important some day and I'll be interviewed. In the interview they might even play that clip from that time I was on a hidden camera show...and I'll still be wearing that fucking Hollister shirt...but at least I'll partially redeem myself with the pink shorts.
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