The Water Bottle Part 1: The Vanishing

On March 28th, 2016 one of the writers assistants upstairs washed out his water bottle before heading on an afternoon coffee run. It was a stainless steel water bottle with a street value of about $2.60. It had a chip in it from where David had dropped it while hiking Machu Piccu several years before. Other than this it was a totally normal, unremarkable water bottle. Before leaving the office, David left his water bottle on the drying rack of the shared third floor kitchen.

David went to Starbucks and picked up his usual double macchiato latte and returned to find something curious. He returned to the third floor kitchen intent on filling his water bottle for the afternoon (he had made a 2016 resolution to stay more hydrated) but the water bottle was gone.

He searched the sink, the dishwasher. Nothing. He walked to his desk thinking perhaps a good samaritan had seen it in the kitchen and erroneously returned it. It was not there.

"Have you seen my water bottle?" David asked Katie who was grabbing a bag of White Cheddar cheez-its from the kitchen. I left it in here to dry before I went to Starbucks and now it's gone.

"No, sorry. Maybe someone mistook for their own water bottle?"

Possibly, David thought to himself, yet unlikely. Water bottles are quite personal, how could one mistake it? Sure it was a rather plain, indistinguishable stainless steel water bottle.

But that chip. He kept coming back to that chip…

It wasn't a small chip, David had been looking at his watch, tracking his heart rate when he slipped on some rocks. David fell hard, but the water bottle took the brunt of the trauma. As his sherpa helped him up, David cursed himself for losing focus. He saw the now one inch indentation on his water bottle, it hadn't punctured fortunately. The water bottle would survive, just a new scar, a new story.

So if someone didn't mistake it for their own…maybe they just borrowed it?

It was after all a 'shared' kitchen. There were plates and bowls in the kitchen that were for use by everybody. Hell, David himself used Megan's coffee mug sometimes when he was working late. But a water bottle just struck him as an odd thing to borrow. They're so personal, right? Maybe he was just being weird, the water bottle will show up.

24 hours passed and the water bottle did not show up. David did his due diligence by asking all of the writers on his floor.

"Have you seen my water bottle?" He asked a passing producer.

"Sorry man, I haven't."

It started to dawn on him that maybe someone was playing a prank on him. He was a cool guy, but certainly not the kind of cool that would absolve one from office hijinks.

Who would play a prank on David the writers assistant? Maybe Victor in post, the assistant editor with the cool socks. He seemed like the type of guy that would love to punk an angsty thirtysomething. Just like the jokester that was stealing packages off of his patio in Venice. He had started having his fresh fruit boxes sent to the office. Sure he caught a few friendly jabs for having organic fruit sent to work, but still it was better than some Los Angeles bandit making off with his juicy pluots.

David decided to ask Hannah, the Post PA is anyone in the editorial department had been seen with a stainless steel water bottle.

"Sorry David, the only person in our department that uses a water bottle is Kurt, and his is plastic."

He returned to his desk dejected. It would be very odd for someone to STEAL his water bottle. Nearly everyone on this floor made well over $3000 a week. Why would a wealthy person take a used water bottle with a notable one inch chip in it?

Perhaps he ought to check downstairs. Maybe one of the office PAs would know something…

While walking down the stairs he had a thought, fleeting, but embarrassing. Would it have been the maid? Of course not, she doesn't work during the day.

David walked into the production office, home of Jennifer Nate and Dave. Jennifer was playing Haim Pandora, David rolled his eyes.

"Have you guys seen a stainless steel water bottle?"

Dave didn't look up from his computer. He was likely blogging about cocaine and hookers.

"It disappeared on Monday, I've asked all of the writers and editors…"

Dave dramatically stopped typing.

"Did you say Monday?"

"Ya."

"I know someone who was upstairs on Monday…"

THE STORY WILL CONTINUE WITH PART 2: The Suspects.

Border Run

It's 4pm on a Friday and you start to get that sinking feeling.

Am I going to have a shitty weekend?

One of your roommates is out of town and your main slay piece is back home visiting her niece.

Why the fuck is everyone always going to visit their niece? I dare my brother to have a daughter so he can see how often I do NOT visit her.

You start to get doubly concerned because you're already working late tonight and tomorrow's forecast is quasi shitty. Netflix just dropped a fuck ton of content and there are rumblings of one of those 'relaxing weekends.'

But those people don't get it. When you live for the weekends, you can't afford to take one off. The release of partying your face off for 48 hours is the only thing that will get you through the next 5 days. You're falling behind, you're professionally unsatisfied, you lack a significant other. You can't also have a boring social life. That was the one thing you and going for you…

So you pick up your phone and dial up a Hail Mary…two letters.

"TJ?"

No, not your friend Taylor Jackson. You're not requesting a specific spin-off of a foot job. You're suggesting a border run to Tijuana, Mexico.

Despite what the US State Department would tell you, Tijuana is relatively safe if you stick to the city center. There are real hotels, Marriotts and Hyatts and such. Of course there are also sketchy guys in alleys that will offer you cocaine and also try to take you to a donkey show.

But you're not down there to pull a Marissa Cooper. No, TJ exists to give you and your bros a brief respite from the oppressions of Los Angeles, while allowing some good bonding time. Follow this brief travel guide on how to make a border run and live to tell about it.

SingleDude Travel Advisory 1: Don't Drive
Let's step away from the immediate fact that the line at the border can often last hours and you don't want your ass to get Sicario'd…What do you think you look like when you're driving across the border Sunday morning back into the US?

You look like  a bunch of strung out bros that drove to Mexico on your quarterly drug run. The customs agents will tear your Chevy Tahoe to shreds and take all of your smuggled tequila while they're at it.

No friends, there is a much easier way to do this. Exit one clearly marked THE LAST FUCKING EXIT IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA has parking lots for $6 a day. There is then a simple bridge you walk across and boom you're in Mexico. From there, merely hop in any cab and offer the driver $10 to take you to the Hyatt Place. With you, you should have a swimsuit and an outfit. This is plenty for your trip. This leads to…

SingleDude Travel Advisory 2: Stay at a Goddam American Chain
There are independent 5 star hotels in TJ. There are luxury Mexican chains too. But you know what? Stay at the fucking Hyatt. This is going to sound xenophobic, but I just want you to ask yourself this…"Is Jay Pritzker going to let something bad happen to me?"

The answer is no. If there is a cartel in Mexico, they have no interest in fucking with American interests, because they know what will happen if they do. I know this because I watched about 70% of a two hour Netflix documentary on the subject.

The Hyatt/Marriott/Hilton/Holiday Inn will have a pool, it will have a bar, it will also have other Americans. Don't be a hero. Settle for your upper middle class family hotel.

SingleDude Travel Advisory 3: Do not seek out hard drugs
Why would you go to Mexico to do drugs? You can do them in LA and there is a much greater chance of you NOT getting your head chopped off. This is not the reason for the TJ trip. If you want a big drug weekend, plan a night at the Avalon. You can even get a room at The Roosevelt. Do not under any circumstances go on a Bacchanalian Odyssey to seek out drugs. Party in congested areas, eat the worm, have some Mexican food and NEVER deviate off the beaten path. After Lollapalooza, I got into a cab with a homeless man with sinister intentions. He took me to the South Side of Chicago under the guise of giving me something I should not have been seeking. When we got there I realized I was just about to robbed and possibly shot. I stayed in the cab. Always remember, if you find yourself in a cab in the middle of nowhere, do not get out.

SingleDude Travel Advisory 4: Do not black out
Ordinarily, I love to black out. Blacking out is life's roulette wheel. If you drink yourself retarded you never know what will happen. Perhaps You wake up in bed with a chick, perhaps you wake up on your kitchen floor. In Venice, I always have a reasonable expectation that no matter how drunk I get, nothing too terrible will happen to me.

This is not the case south of the border. If you fall asleep in an alley in Mexico, you won't wake up in bed with 2 bottles of water and a silly note from your roommate who carried you there.

SingleDude Travel Advisory 5: Pill up son
Ok aside from bagging some rays at the pool and taking in some culture at the street markets, there is one legitimately nefarious reason to go TJ: Pharmaceuticals.

If you walk into any pharmacy in Mexico, they will offer you any narcotic under the rainbow. Uppers, downers, screamers, laughers. But the main three will be Xanax, Vicodin and Viagara. You can buy an unlimited amount in Mexico and use. Crossing the border is a bit of a stickier situation as if the pills are discovered, the customs guard could ask you for a prescription. While crossing through security as you walk back Sunday morning, treat it like TSA if you had a bunch of someone else's ambien for flying. You're a white American, customs won't bust your balls too much, but don't flaunt it either.

And there you go, you've made an investment in your future hangovers, Sunday Scaries anxiety attacks, and drunken one night stands!

You did a day in Mexico and didn't even get chopped up by the likes of Tuco Salamanca. Congrats!

SingleDude Travel Advisory 6: Be a Tourist
TJ is pretty dope. There are lots of street markets where you can buy literally anything, and it's all up for negotiation. This is fun! The bars are cool, Coronas and Tequilas are like a buck each. Liga MX is dope soccer and Tijuana has a team.

Just remember, don't follow those sleazy club promoters trying to take you to the REAL party. You're just fine drinking on the main strip until midnight and heading back to your mainstream hotel. Other American girls will be impressed by your safety first mentality. Who knows, you may even be able to Beta test one of those Mexican Viagara before you even return to America.

Winning your wrap party

"Wait until they see how awesome I am…"

This was my initial thought. I was convinced that once people knew saw me operate at a party they would want to make all of my dreams come true. Look how fucking cool this dude is. He has killer dance moves. He just taught me a great drinking game. I better promote him.

No, my entire plan for success in a career as a screenwriter hinged on people enjoying drinking with me.

That plan had flaws.

My first wrap party wasn't even really a party. It was a Happy Hour on a Thursday night after filming. I proceeded to black out and be sent home by this guy.

My second wrap party was at a bowling alley. Again I blacked out. I tried to make out with Minnie Driver. I used some especially lewd dance moves with out 78 year old Script Supervisor. I split my suit pants and I lost my shoes. I'm pretty sure cocaine was involved.

The next day women wouldn't look me in the eye and the guys on the crew started calling me Superman not because I was cool but because I was so drunk I looked like a quadriplegic.

The girl that I was kinda sorta seeing immediately cut things off and essentially said "I realized who you actually are and it wasn't the guy you were pretending to be around me."

Ouch.

But whatever, I'm sure there are chicks out there capable of loving an unapologetic bro.

I went as a plus one to a couple Bones wrap parties and not wanting to make a total asshole out of myself, I restrained myself a bit. I met some people, got some good contacts and actually had a few job offers come out of it.

For my third wrap party, I finally figured it out. I brought a date, drank heavily, but not embarrassingly, talked to all of the people that I wanted to and then I left a little early to go have sex with my date.

The next day at work everyone complimented how hot my date was, how much fun they had with me and no one compared me to Christopher Reeve.

I have mastered the wrap party. And you can too. Just follow this simple step by step guide and avoid the mistakes of my youth.

WRAP PARTY 101 - Work gathering basics

So you've been spending 60 hours a week with a group of people for 9 months and you're finally going to get together on a weekend night to let the hair down a little. Sounds fun, right? WRONG. Wrap parties can be stressful as fuck. If you make an ass out of yourself in front of your bosses they will not soon forget it. 

Stories are still told about the guy that pissed himself at the Modern Family Season 3 party. Don't be that guy and don't do all the dumb shit that I did. Instead follow these very basic principles.

1. Stay social early

Look I get it. You want to let it rip. But the truth is, most of your coworkers are old as fuck. They drove to the venue and valeted. Do you know what that means? They are going to stay soberish enough to DRIVE home. You can never assume that your behavior at a party will be forgotten simply because 'everyone was as drunk as you.' That is often not the case. Not everyone is like us.

2. Bring the right date

There is no shame in bringing a friend to a work party. If you don't have a wife or girlfriend, it might be the best move. Think of it this way. If you are on a third date with a girl, does she really want to meet a bunch of people she doesn't know and have forced awkward conversations with them? It will be miserable.

"Oh tell me what it's like to be a set medic? You give hungover people Advil? THATS SO INTERESTING!"

Bring a bro or a lady bro who is also in the industry and knows a handful of the people, you'll have more fun.

3. Dress to impress

You can roll into the office wearing a wrinkly Polo every day but if you show up to the party looking like a slob, people will judge you. I recommend a classic black 2 button suit with a dark shirt. Open collar, no tie. It's a good look.

WRAP PARTY 201 - Intermediate wrap party theory

If you use what you learned in 101, you will have a fine time and offend no one. But for those looking to make a bit more of a splash here are some mid-level tricks to maximize your experience.

1. Host the pregame

On every show there are a handful of young people: the PAs, the assistants, maybe casting, maybe costumes, possibly one or two staff writers. A good way to ingratiate yourself to your peers is have them all over for a drink before the party. This way you can all share a fleet of ubers and arrive together after taking the dye off with a whiskey or two. This also establishes your crew for the night. It's essentially the same motivation you would use for a normal pre game (minus the cost savings) but now you don't need to worry about when to show up and who to hang with at the party.

Note: Arrive at the party 1 hour after the open bar starts.

2. Seek out a few targets

Obviously everyone is going to be trying to get time with the executives and producers, but early in the night find some more approachable people. A department head, a mid level writer. Talk about something other than work, feign interest in that person's date. 'Oh you write ad jingles for children's toothpaste, how quaint! How did you get into that?" Then if it comes up organically, 'Hey I've been kicking the tires on this pilot and I have a draft, would you mind giving it a read?'

There is a 100% chance they will say yes. Then the next day when you send it to them this person will be thinking, 'Dave is awesome, he likes scuba diving, he was really nice to my wife. I'm going to read this pilot and help him as much as I can.'

3. Get the dance floor going

Despite what I said about making an ass out of myself on the dance floor earlier, the dance floor instigator is ALWAYS appreciated. Pretty much the number one indicator of any party/wedding: How lit was the dance floor?

If you followed my previous advice, you will have a clique of 8-10 people already from your pre game that can start things off. Don't be afraid to bust out some old favorites: Limbo, The Double Dutch or even the soul train. This shows the people that are paying for the party that you are fun AND a team player.

Wrap Party 301 - Advanced independent study 

If you pass 201 you will be remembered fondly. You may have strengthened some coworker relationships and you may even meet up for a drink some day. That executive story editor will probably give you some nice notes on your script. It probably ends there. If you want to win your wrap party, follow these steps. But tread lightly my friends, experts only.

1. Go hard late

In 101, we learned to socially drink early. Talk to people, maybe eat some light apps. In 201, we learned it's ok to start the dance floor, just don't be an asshat. In 301, I want you to know that after a certain hour, it's ok to throw all that shit out the window.

The older folks who drove to the party will leave. Even the 30somethings will probably hit the road, they probably have young kids and a babysitter that they need to relieve. And here's the deal, the open bar may 'officially close at 11' but without fail a producer will hand their credit card to the bartender and say 'keep it open all night for the kids.' This is when you and your midnight marauders can really rip it up. Turn in the cocktails, wine and beer for some shots. Bust out some of those R-rated dance moves. Take some regrettable pics in the photo booth. Pull the jacket off, drop a couple buttons, you've earned it.

2. After party

Eventually, around 1230ish, the open bar will end. Your venue is likely not a bar but a banquet hall that isn't accustomed to staying open until 2am. There will probably be 10 or so of you that want to keep it going. While I would never shame you for hitting up the Avalon or another Hollywood late night staple, you can never go wrong with a house party. If you get back to someone's house and SOMEONE else brings up drugs, this AND ONLY THIS is when you bust out what you've held in your pocket all night.

It's like inception guys, it always has to seem like someone else's idea. Maybe after this you head to a rooftop pool deck. The back door at 8811 Burton Way never locks. Maybe you finish the night by getting a Grand Slam at Denny's. You could do worse.

Wrap Party 401 - Elective

Concerning the elephant in the room…

I told you if you didn't have a wife or girlfriend to maybe bring a buddy because it would be awkward to bring a new chick to a work function. 

Well there was also another reason for this.

ON EXTREME OCCASION, there is a single girl that you have been quasi flirting with all season. Maybe she also brings a friend to the wrap party. Your question of course is: should we hook up?

The obvious answer is: no you shouldn't.

But if you pre game together, dance together, after party together…the thirst is going to be out of control and you might not be able to help yourself. My advice, use discretion. The last thing you want to be part of on  Monday morning is a salacious story about you banging the costume PA in a broom closet at Bugatta. Whisper in her ear on the dance floor, if you want to do this, get in a cab and take it around the block and come back.

That way there are witnesses to her departure. Always have someone to corroborate your story.

Monday morning, get in early looking incredibly chipper. Some people will be moping around hungover. Compliment an older woman on her dance moves. Ask someone how their wife enjoyed the party and when you see the girl that you eventually spent the night with make no mention of it, but give her the smallest wink, a smile and keep walking.

Should you go to Coachella?

Last week our script supervisor broke her ankle. Knowing this would delay filming and in turn my weekend, I selfishly volunteered to fill in. For whatever reason, I was heralded as a hero. "You saved the show!" I did nothing. I literally sat in a chair, watched a monitor and wrote in a notebook stuff like, "She holds her coffee in left hand."

Apparently the person that does this is in a union and makes $400 a day. I was informed because of my altruistic sacrifice that I would be getting a pay bump. I immediately decided on the spot that I would use that money for a Coachella ticket.

I also have three use it or lose it sick days so I can easily make my Coachella trip a 5 day weekend, so fuck it, I'm going.

However, you may not have a script supervisor that breaks her ankle. You may not have a bunch of sick days. Or you may care enough about your job that you won't call in sick when you are blatantly going somewhere to do drugs.

That's ok. That's why I'm here.

Welcome to the 2016 Coachella decision guide.

First take this brief questionnaire.

1. Are you under 30?
2. If you were dropped in the middle of a field would you be able to make your way home?
3. Can you party 4 days in a row?
4. Do you love neon?
5. Are you generally a fan of hedonistic raves?
6. Do you use snap chat filters?
7. Are you voting for Bernie Sanders?

If you answered no to any of the above questions, you might want to skip out on the whole process. Maybe take a flier on burning man in the fall. But if you answered yes, congratulations you're a millennial! No need to check your privilege here my WASPy friend. Get your bitmojis and flash tats ready, you're going to the desert!

Step 1: Weekend one or weekend two?

Ah, the fundamental question as old as time. Summer or Anna…Boobs or ass…blow jobs or cheese…weekend 1 or weekend 2?

Full disclosure: In my three Coachellas I have never gone to weekend one. It's not that I don't want to vape it up with Leo or roll balls with Kendall Jenner. It comes down to the fact that television production usually wraps mid April so it's easier for me to jet to the desert for weekend 2.

Weekend 2 is also a lot cheaper. I have never paid for than $275 for a ticket and if you so chose, you can save about 30% on a house the second weekend.

That said, some people swear by weekend 1. People will be talking about weekend 1. There will be tumblrs and think pieces. There will be surprises. Weekend one is when the cool kids go.

But weekend 2 is always a bit more of a shit show. You won't find any Harvard Westlake girls on Spring Break at weekend 2. More like burners and rave girls telling stories about Lightning in a Bottle and Beyond Wonderland.

Simply put: Weekend one is a Bungalow crowd. Weekend 2 is a warehouse party crowd.

Some people like to see and be seen with the pretty people. Others like to stay up until 4 in the morning doing acid. Choose your own adventure. They're both pretty dope and you will have fun regardless.

Step 2: House, hotel or camp?

Probably the most important decision you will make in your life. You can divorce your wife, you can disown your children, but once you make a lodging decision in Indio, you're stuck.

Obviously a house and hotel will be more comfortable. Renting a 14 bedroom house in Palm Spring with 2 pools, a hot tub, a tiki bar and all that shit is great.

BUT. You rely on shuttles that come every 30 minutes. You will probably have a 15 minute walk to the shuttle stop. The shuttle to Coachella is 45 minutes. THEN there is another 20 minute walk to the venue. It kinda blows. Imagine making that reverse commute when your Molly is wearing off.

What ends up happening when you rent a house is a really fun day party at your house, then at 2 someone says "Hey I wanna see fuckbuttons at 3!" But no one is ready to go, so you miss fuck buttons. Then someone says "Hey I want to see the ferret avengers at 5!" By the time you have all motivated and get to the show it's 6 and the ferret avengers are done. Then you sit in the beer garden for 2 hours drinking 20 dollar beers until the headliners come on. Then the girls you are with will want to leave early because they're sobering up and want to beat the foot traffic to the shuttle.

By the second day you will just appoint sober drivers. By the third we considered not even going to the show. Renting a house in Palm Springs is awesome but it's not always the best play for Coachella. If you're going to rent a house shoot for something walking distance to the venue. It's worth the extra cost. But even if you are right next door, you won't realistically be able to go in and out, it's legit a 2 mile walk to get inside the grounds.

Hotel is similar to a house, but there will be random people to party with, so in case you don't have 14 friends, this might be an intriguing play.

But my recommendation will always be to camp.

Does it suck sleeping in a tent and waking up at 6 o clock in the morning to thumping bass? Yes.

Will you care? No.

Camping is the only way to truly experience Coachella. You will be sun burned, you will be dehydrated, you will smell. You may go down on a girl who hasn't showered in 2 days. But then when you hit the silent disco or get a 100 person game of flip cup going at 9am you will know it was all worth it.

That is unless you are heroes and get a house AND a campground. Rookies need not apply. (RVs and off-site camping are also intriguing veteran plays)

Step 3: When to leave

You'll want to work a half day Thursday and then have your friends pick you up at work (unless you're doing the whole sick day thing) this maximizes your obnoxiousness. I would recommend even changing into some raver gear before walking out the front door.

The campground opens at around 4 on Thursday and it's a good night to meet your neighbors, plant a few seeds, set up camp.

I would strongly discourage raging. Resist the temptation to start doing hard drugs. Your body can handle 3 days of partying on a semi-annual basis, pushing it to 4 might cause you to break Sunday evening.

If you opt for a house or a hotel the Thursday night house warming party will be fun, but again cap it at 10 drinks, Rome wasn't built in a day.

On the back end, take Monday off. Leave the campsite around 9 on Monday. It will take 4 hours to get back to LA it will suck, you will be hungover. You will be sad, your body devoid of endorphins. But you know what is worse? Leaving at 2am and driving straight to work on Monday. Never attempt this.

Step 4: What to bring

Obviously this will differ depending on your living arrangements, so I'll focus on a few of the intangibles you might forget.

Bring more beer than liquor. You can always make your beer cold, but if it's 100 degrees out no one is going to feel like slugging warm vodka. Bring a fuck ton of bluetooth speakers. It's probably the most important thing you can bring.

Whether you're in a house or not, bring a camping pad to sleep on. There may not be an available couch or bed when you get home. I slept on a pool floatie on a hardwood floor once. A camping pad would have been better.

Hot dogs are incredibly easy to cook and you can eat them cold in a pinch.

You should obviously spend at least a week picking out your coachella outfits but bring some sensible shit too. You're in the desert, it can inexplicably become freezing overnight. Bring some warm shit to sleep in. Also you might get fucked up and forget sunscreen day 1. You'll want some long sleeves to prevent skin cancer on day 2.

Also bring sun screen…a lot. And water…a lot.

If you have a shower bag that would save you a long shower line if you're a camper.

House or camp, bring games. Games are the shit. Cornhole, a beer pong table, even a deck of cards can go a long way, and it's key to making friends.

Oh and you'll want 6 pills per person…and some Advil, definitely Advil.

Step 5: Who to see/What to do:
Jack U, GNR, Zedd, ASAP Rocky, Calvin Harris, Flume, Sia, Miike Snow (Galantis!) Matt and Kim. Go see the headliners, don't be a hero.

Any time there is a lull in your schedule check out the Do Lab or return to a campsite to drink for free. Don't forget to eat. I always forget to eat when I'm partying. The easiest way to sneak drugs in is in the lining of a dude's swimsuit literally under his balls.

Always wear war paint.

Never go to bed early.

Stay with the group, it's always more fun than going to see The Lawyr's Sriracha Revival by yourself.

Make some memories, your 20's are finite and they will be over sooner than you think. You'll never want to grow up, but some day you just might have to.

Oh and PS I need a ticket. HIT ME UP and I'll see you there.

Emo

"What exactly do you want me to do?"

"I don't know...stand over there by that tree or something. If anyone tries to walk past that tree, tell them no."

It's my first day in the entertainment industry. I'm on the set of Paranormal Activity 4. We're in a remote neighborhood of Los Angeles called Santa Clarita. It is highly unlikely that someone is going to walk past this tree.

My boss is some thirtysomething who was probably one lucky break away from a career as a successful screenwriter. Now he line produces commercials and independent films. He hands me a $20 bill and tells me to go pick up a 6 pack of Lagunitas for the director.

"But don't turn this receipt in. Pick something up in the parking lot of a grocery store. We can't expense alcohol."

I got this job because my friend Eric works on a tv show with this guy's wife. I interviewed with her but didn't get the job. Some producer's kid got it instead. But the consolation prize is that I get to be a producer's assistant on a promo for the 4th installment of a bad horror movie franchise.

When I get back to set with the 6 pack, a PA is violently waving her arms at me. I park my car and get out.

"WE WERE ROLLING, YOU RUINED THE SHOT!"

I don't know what this means, but I'm convinced I'm going to be fired. I walk up to my boss, 6 pack in hand and prepare to profusely apologize.

"Oh dude...don't worry about that. Only three things matter in entertainment. Show up on time and don't fuck up lunch or wrap gifts. People love free shit."

That movie was weird. Since it was so far from LA proper, most of the crew lived in the house. There was a pool and batting cage in the backyard. One day at lunch I threw on a swimsuit and showed everyone my mad skills off of the diving board. I know how to do a full gainer (inward flip) something I thought would be impressive to the crew. I am also an excellent baseball hitter. I broke the camera man's nose by hitting the ball back at him. He was not pleased.

I ended up working for this guy for about 6 months and then he pawned me off to his wife who worked at Fox.

"You've been called up to the big leagues Dave."

"I promise I won't fuck up the food or wrap gifts."

It was a rough transition to network TV. My first day on the job I told someone that the traffic getting in was 'worse than cancer.' Her dad had died the previous week from cancer. My uncle had died that day from cancer. Obviously traffic is not worse than cancer, I just say things sometimes to shock people.

I made a lot of mistakes on that show, Keifer Sutherland sent me home from the wrap party because I was too drunk and I was convinced I would never work again.

I went back to work for my original boss after Touch got cancelled. We were doing a Cadillac commercial. I had to drive a 7am tech scout on a Sunday morning but I had friends in town that weekend. We got a room at the Roosevelt hotel in Hollywood. We stayed up until 4 o clock in the morning doing questionable things with women of ambiguous morals in the hot tub. I was two hours late to work.

When I showed up at 9am, my boss looked at me and said, "You know it never changes right?"

"What do you mean it never changes..."

"You don't just wake up one day and say 'I'm not attracted to skinny 21 year old girls anymore' you will always want to stay up until 4am and bang sorority girls it's just that some day you're not allowed to anymore."

I shockingly never got fired from a movie, tv show or commercial in Los Angeles. I am about as reliable as a herpes outbreak and not generally good at anything.

I haven't blown up in any capacity though and am still at the moment a 29 year old assistant barely above the poverty line.

I don't remember when I decided that I was something special. The first 10 years of my life I was a nerd. I went to special schools because my mental aptitude was frighteningly high for Indiana. The next 10 years I was a bit of a loser. I tried to roll with the popular kids and was consistently left in the dust. I was picked last in pick up sports and would sometimes sit alone at lunch. Inexplicably the last ten years I decided that I was some sort of party God that you would all bow to. It's incredible what above average dance moves and an impressive alcohol tolerance will do...but I was convinced I was going to be famous.

My two neighbors growing up got famous. One is in the NFL, the other is a closer in Major League Baseball. Maybe Bowline Drive was just blessed with talent.

But it didn't happen for me. I would often sit around and think about every decision I made in my life. What if I wouldn't have blacked out in Manhattan the day before my Leo Burnett interview? What if I would have never changed my major to Marketing because I wanted to prove to people I could do it? What if I never left Chicago? What if I learned how to hit a curve ball?

And yet here I am, in Venice Beach, living in a three bedroom apartment with dirty clothes on the ground.

My mom used to come to Bloomington and do my laundry. It was great.

But here's the deal. I might never make it. It's entirely possible that I will live in a 3 bedroom apartment in Venice until it's long past the point in time that is socially acceptable to have roommates.

But...

Who cares?

I went bowling tonight with buddies. I wore a beer stained shirt that looked like it was covered in cum due to the black light. It was hilarious.

We went dancing in a basement bar. I was so hot and sweaty, I almost passed out.

And now I'm drunkenly writing an emo post at 2am to parrot my old boss's sentiment.

I'm still happy here. I didn't wake up today and decide I wanted to have a family, I woke up today hoping for an adventure.

Tomorrow I'll play bad golf on a 9 hole course. I'll probably have too many beers. Then I'll go to a boozy brunch on the beach. I hope there is an Easter Egg hunt. At some point I'll have to make it to improv class, I'm kinda dreading it. But whatever.

The important thing is that tomorrow will be awesome. My life is awesome. LA is a fucking dream. If I make it as a professional writer that would be great, but if I don't?

It could be worse.

An Open Letter to Face Swappers

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Always Exfoliate

"What the fuck happened to you?"

I'm staring at my friend and his face is purple and his nose is bleeding. It looks like he has either been punched several times in the face or he is Joffrey Baratheon on his wedding day.

"This happens to me sometimes. I puked so hard that all of the blood vessels in my face exploded. I think I need to go home."

Home is not 'home' of course. We are standing at a bar in West Lafayette, IN and it's approximately 8 o clock in the morning. I am wearing a Boy Scouts Troop 444 vest and some extremely short shorts that I had procured at Goodwill the day before. At 19 I was convinced that I was in excellent shape so I would routinely wear as little clothing as possible to show off.

"Here is a key to Sig Ep, go sleep on Brad's couch, and for fuck's sake put on some make up or maybe find a mask."

So then it's just me and a bunch of kids from my high school standing around at the Wabash Yacht Club aka Stacks for Purdue's famous 'Breakfast Club' tradition. As much shit as I constantly give Purdue, it's the one thing they consistently got right. Instead of going to the tailgate fields at the ungodly hour of 5am, they would go to the bars for a while and THEN tailgate. Everyone wore ridiculous costumes and was shitfaced by 10am.

Cut to: 12 hours later I'm at a frat party at maybe Fiji? Perhaps AGR? Whatever frat had the fucking semi-truck converted to a DJ booth in it's basement.

I came out of a blackout, making out with some chick in aforementioned DJ booth. Being the enterprising young man that I am, I immediately tried to go upstairs and find an unattended room to borrow. Don't judge me.

Upstairs I found rooms of people taking shots, rooms of people doing drugs and notably a room of people doing a video cumshot power hour (yes, it's exactly what it sounds like, Purdue is weird)

I eventually decided to go back to that chick's dorm room.

I get back to my friend Brad's place the next day at 9am and he gives me Axe Snake Peel.

"I only use this when I feel the need to physically exorcise my demons from the weekend."

"What do you mean? Like it rips your skin off?"

"No they're just exfoliating beads. It's a metaphor. It makes me feel less guilty about one night stands."

I thought this was one of the funniest things I had ever heard. My buddy kept special soap around to use after the most debaucherous of evenings.

Unfortunately the Snake Peel didn't work and I ended up with Mono. I couldn't drink for two weeks.

It was awful.

Several months passed and I didn't think much about Brad or his shame soap. Until I went home for Easter that year.

Despite the fact that I was 19, my mom would still hide Easter Eggs in our yard, They would contain things like gift cards, $20 bills and candy. The last egg would include instructions on where to find our Easter baskets that would have some larger gift items that wouldn't fit in an egg.

When I found my basket behind the TV it was full of things you would give a college student. Cash, easy mac, a 4 pack of Red Bull, an Adderall refill and a giant bottle of fucking Axe Snake Peel.

To this day, I exfoliate after certain treacherous evenings.

***

Ten years have passed since that Easter and I still try to fit an entire week's worth of fun into every Saturday. And my friends are indeed planning a big celebration for the holiday. But this year instead of going to church like a good little Christian and then spending the night drinking to the resurrection of Christ; I will spend the day hungover dreading my impending improv class.

Friendly reminder: never make binding plans on a Sunday.

But if you ARE planning some Easter fun, I've whipped together a handy guide for your Easter party.

1. Easter Egg Hunt
If you and your friends don't do an Easter Egg hunt full of mini bottles, you need a new group of friends. If the plastic eggs you buy don't fit a mini bottle, you can always adjust them like so…

I also recommend hiding some Smirnoff Ice along with the eggs. What's funnier than reaching into the mailbox for an egg only to take a knee and chug a wine cooler?

2. Croquet
Spring is here, WASPS everywhere rejoice! Croquet is the perfect afternoon leisure sport to be played preferably in sweater vests and boat shoes. Remember, since March 21st has passed pastels aren't only acceptable, they are encouraged.


3. Day Daqs
Remember the first nice day in college? Everyone would take the day off and throw on shorts. One enterprising guy would drive to CVS to pick up a blender, 3 bags of ice, some daiquiri mix and a fuck ton of rum. Of course everyone will bring something to your pot luck party, but the guy that will be the biggest hit is the one who brings that daiquiri station.


4. Don't forget the games
Two elite eight games will be played on Sunday afternoon, possibly including your Indiana Hoosiers (***knocks furiously on wood) At this point you can go ahead and just pour yourself glasses of straight rum.


5. Fuck it, go out
I usually don't recommend hitting the town hard on a Sunday night. But whatever, it's Spring. It's Easter! The weather is nice, you look good, you're having fun! Just remember, no matter how drunk you are, try to be in bed by midnight…and if you go home with a random, remember to exfoliate with some Snake Peel in the morning. Happy Holidays!