Path of no resistance

Today I was minding my own business at work signing talent release forms as celebrities such as myself are wont to do, and I was blindsided with this little gem of awesome, Matchbox 20/Goo Goo Dolls ticket presale. You may or may not be down with the Goo, but I still have vivd memories of sucking some serious face of a girl I had recently mentored at my Catholic high school. I had prayed with this girl, I had been a sounding board on her day of recollection. But I was drunk as fuck, sweating profusely and committing misdemeanor statutory rape at good old Deer Creek.

That portion of the story is largely unrelated, but I just thought it important to throw that into the ether of the internet. I have never seen Matchbox 20, which is a shame because I hear they were good and popular in the 90's, a decade of classic music that I missed because I was too busy memorizing every lyric to Puff Daddy and the Family's No Way Out. I remember he had a song with Santana and a song with and the one where he complains about the real world hassling him.

I get it. For those of you that read this blog regularly, you know that I am oft at odds with this so called thing called reality. Growing up I was told things such as "You should be on the radio." Unsure if that was a compliment for my voice or a slam on my face. Likely both. I was also told once in a while that I should be on The Real World. It would be cool to be on tv I thought, but at this point in my life I was still worried about things like my "corporate career and image" clearly I have regressed because I don't give a fuck about those things anymore. Regardless, I never put much thought into it.

However, one day I was at my senior house (shingles) throwing one of my legendary post tailgate parties that was typically shut down by the swat team. I was still drunk from the Chi O bar crawl the night before and had recently Hulk Hoganed whatever shirt I was wearing. So here I am, sitting in a Walmart kiddie pool/beer bath wearing a swimsuit, half a shirt and pouring a beer on my face. My buddy Colin walks by and tells me that Real World is hosting auditions at Sports, a local bar nearby.
I am well beyond the social definition of intoxication at this point, but I like a drunk walk as much as the next person so I embark on a journey to said bar for my audition.

When I arrived I kind of waved at the bartender from afar and was immediately poured a double long island pitcher. An MTV producer saw this take place and immediately assumed I must be a big deal if a bartender knew my drink and gave it to me free of charge as soon as I walked in (this is how Steven from Laguna Beach was cast, he was the most infamous kid at the school.) I am rushed to the front of the line to sit down for my Real World audition.

As I sit down, I inform the producers that I will be drinking during the interview. They did not object.

Producer: What happened to your shirt?

Me: I ripped it in half.

Producer: On purpose?

Me: Yes.

Producer: Why...do you do this often?

Me: It's a phase, I guess I just felt like it. It's nice out...I suppose I wanted some sun. Do you have a problem with it?

Producer: No, but you could have just taken it off.

Me: That would be far less awesome.

Producer: I see...

Me: Hey man, I'm having a really awesome party right now, how long is this going to take?

Producer ignores question.

Producer: How do you get along with people different than you?

Me: Different? Like GDI's? I don't I hate them.

Producer: Thanks David, you can go back to your party now.

I realize now that he was probably referencing living with gays and minorities...or gay minorities. Anyway, that shows you how much of a Brobot I was back then, I assumed he was talking about non fratters. So I go back to my party thinking nothing of it. I pick up a girl, take her up to my room and halfway through our day shack she pukes everywhere so I bailed back to Kilroys. Eventually during the evening I saw a string of calls from the 212, I didn't answer because I was in a bar, it was loud and I had my eyes on a pretty rad sophomore that I thought I was close to converting on.

As is the case still, my voicemail box was intentionally full because fuck you text me.

Days later I realized it was probably MTV calling to cast me in real world. I called back finally on like Thursday, it was too late. I had lost my opportunity for stardom.

Years pass. I go through a really rocky period of my life that we will just call "The Chicago Years" those involved know about the atrocities that took place. One day I pulled my head out of my ass long enough to move to LA and surprise surprise, I hated it.

Until one day whilst sitting on a park bench in Westwood, whining to some girl from back home about how I want to come back, an old man offers me $400 for my sandals. $400 that could have changed my life. $400 that could've gotten me off the streets and change my future. But it turned out that a 90 year old woman was punking me and I was still living on a couch.

ALAS, 6 months later while having a barbecue to prep a new reality show that I had just written I made my reality TV debut on Betty White's Off Their Rockers, almost 4 years to the day after my Real World audition. That was fun, got a few random Facebook wall posts from friends and family (but seriously what the fuck are you doing watching Off Their Rockers) I went about my life continuing to work on my new reality series until it suffered the same fate as countless others. After shooting the pilot the series was shelved indefinitely. Dreams shattered.

I start doing PA work for all sorts of random low budget movies, tv shows and commercials and low and behold one day an actor doesn't show up.

But some of his scenes were already shot.

You don't see his face so we just need someone that is his height, who can we find last minute that is 6'4!

THIS GUY! They put me in a movie and because of non disclosure agreements I can't tell you what I do, but it's fucking awesome.

Sure I'm a glorified extra, but I'm in a fucking movie and you're not. I may not have made it on the Real World and I may not be a writer producer of a tv show and I may not make 100,000 a year yet, but I live in LA and when you work here sometimes cool shit happens.

I'm sitting in my office right now killing time before I walk over to Staples Center for a Passion Pit concert. The last time I saw a Passion Pit concert was in Bloomington. I pregamed in Fiji of all places and a lot of people in the house were doing Molly before the show. Due to my rambunctious personality and questionable reputation, the president of Fiji blamed me for the illicit drugs because heaven forbid a Phi Gam take party drugs before a rave. Allegedly there was an attempt to ban me forever from the house, an attempt that apparently failed because I have visited my brother since. But the main takeaway is, even though I have done PLENTY of things to wrong FIJI, in that particular case, the drugs weren't mine and I didn't even drink that night, and the asshat who blamed me while perhaps successful will likely marry a girl that won't suck his dick even on special occasions. And he will never be in a movie.

Take the path of no resistance, because while the cream may rise to the crop, so too do things that have been dead for a while.

Enjoy Coachella you degenerates.