9.20.2012

This Radio...It's Bookend Tiger

Confession: I have no clue what the title of the Bookend Tiger Radio podcast means.
Is it an anagram?*
Is it a radio made of bookends that look like tigers?
Is it merely an arrangement of words that sound pleasing together, like "cellar door"**?
I...do...not...know.
What I do know, is that, at around 1:30 this morning, my phone rang and I was then connected with one Mr. Dan "The Blade" Delgado and one Mr. Andy "Hot Snakes" Overton, the Mad Scientists behind Bookend Tiger Radio.
For the next hour and a half or so, we spoke.
We spoke of many things.
Many NSFW things.
Many completely fucking NSFW, are you out of your mind?? things.
The topics touched upon included: The Human Centipede 2 (I had nothing to do with it, even though I am more than familiar with the series, the 2:14 Downtown L.A. to Long Beach AIDS Bus, intentionally getting AIDS, intentionally getting AIDS from Magic Johnson, Mitt Romney in black face, the depth of my voice in correlation with the size of my penis, corporate handjobs and, oh does it really matter?
It's dark.
Dark dark dark.
And fun.
Fun and dark.
Or at least the three of us thought so.
It was a blast and an honor and I'd love to do it again if I haven't lost them too many listeners (although they're  clocking in at about 2.5 billion downloads per episode).
Not sure when it'll be up, but, hey, I'll probably mention it once or twice in a couple places, you know?

Then, it was sleep, although not nearly enough, because, this evening I am meeting Jade and Allister for dinner downtown and therefore had to rise at 9:30 (remember, 9:30 am to me is like 3:30 am to you) in order to become ready for work.
I probably should have called in sleepy and just taken the day, but, well, I dumb.

And so, here I sit, sleepy and cranky; my normally expansive patience for and tolerance of morons is already dwindling, my iPad is at home, getting iOS 6-ed (can't wait to ask Siri my litany of stupid questions) and some third bad thing...oh yeah, the stupid, fat, loud mouthquake of a shitbox I hate is working three feet from me.
Yes, you, you blatting, nosy, swollen carbuncle.
You reek of regret and ignorance.
And yo' mama so fat that no one wants to look at or talk to you.
That one.

Hm.
It seems that, while typing this, I received a message from the good folks at TransPerfect. They'd like me to remotely supervise a recording tomorrow afternoon. Which means they put me on speakerphone while someone else records a voice over session and I correct them if they fuck something up, grammatically.
And then they pay me.
While I'd never give up voice acting for listening to someone voice act, I am flattered that they recognize me as good at talking English good and the concept of this is just twinkling.
I think I'm going to be naked for this phone call.
Mmmm...naked grammar....
Let's see those gerunds.

STOP!










* I found "Breeding Took" and "Rebooted King"...so, either they are fans of Tolkien or perhaps making a veiled political statement?
** Yes, I saw that in Donnie Darko and, no, I don't know what they were talking about.

9.19.2012

I HAVE CONSUMED ONE SIXTH OF THE RESIDENT EVIL 6 DEMO

Yes.
Specifically, playing as Leon in Leon's campaign (as opposed to Helana, whoever the fuck that is, these demos are a very vertical slice).
Very tense, very dark, very creepy.
I'm doing my best to stretch this out as long as I can because, man, I don't think I realized how much I have been looking forward to this game...
Luckily, I'm pretty tied up with stuff until it drops on October 2nd and I play it over that weekend with Jen as my co-op partner and Lisa as our the-person-who-sits-behind-us-and-screams-when-something-scary-happens.

But still...I yearn...

Anyway, tonight I make my very first appearance on a podcast EVER.
It's called Bookend Tiger Radio (a podcast about bookends which are shaped like tigers, but are actually radios...I assume) and you can check out their glory here...I think; they seem to have a several SoundCloud pages...
It's going to be excellent and I'm very excited for you not to hear it because you don't have enough time to listen to a podcast or you never listen to podcasts or what's a podcast?
Fucking Christ.
GOOGLE THE INTERNET, LUDDITES!

Earlier today, I had yet another Comcast VO session, but, BUT, rather than record with the same template we've used for a year and a half, we tried something different with my read...perhaps the worst thing that can happen to a voice actor...conversational.
*shudder*
Yes, up to this point, it has been sort of excited, slightly over-the-top...well, hear for yourself.
But, apparently, one of the Comcast Godlings thought that it sounded a bit too much like the Comcast sports guy, so they wanted it to be more...conversational.
And, of course, we've all had those conversations where someone just perks up and says, totally apropos of something, "hey guys, Xfinity gives you instant access to the most talked about movies and original programs On Demand- on TV and online" and everyone is, like, slowly backing away from that person...yeah, happens all the time.
Seriously, when have you ever called anything on television a program or used the phrase "most talked about"?
Ugh.
Advertising.
I'd be more upset if they loved/paid me less.
In the end, however, I gave them a different read which, while maybe not conversational, certainly sounds good. We'll see if they dissolve my contract or continue to give me hot towels, foot rubs and little, meaningful kisses.

The other night, I took Lady Jay Rock's advice and watched Death At A Funeral.
Rather than talk about it using words, I think I'm going to use an image:



Formulaic? You bet, but the trick is to have some really great actors and writers to create that big chunk in the middle, and that is exactly what they did: Alan Tudyk, the guy who played Spud in Trainspotting and Peter Dinklage (one of the tallest actors in Hollywood*), doing an incredible job as a little person, so convincing. Truly a fun, filthy movie.

Totally unrelated: those subway ads for that show "Nashville" (which, based on the number of subway cars utterly plastered with said ads, is going to be a total hit) that just feature the word "Nashville" and a kind of slutty looking woman just make me think of Nashville Pussy.
The band, not...yeah, anyway.

I had about forty five minutes before I was planning to go to bed the other night, so I watched the forty four minute documentary Six Days To Air, which follows the conception, creation and airing of an entire episode of South Park. Somehow, I have more and less respect for those two, but continue to want to be their friend, the only actor they don't hate and disdain... Learned from said doc that Bill Hader is a cast member and writer for the show, but, oddly enough, you never see him pitch one idea in any of the writers' meetings, just laugh at other peoples' stuff and repeat it, so, not sure what the viewer is supposed to take from that; most likely that Matt and Trey had it edited that way to be dicks.

I'm sick of all these letters.







* Industry secret, shh.

9.18.2012

Monsters On The Subway

On the train yesterday, there was a man, huge, sitting, assembled from slabs of mud and clay and silt.
His arms were crossed because they couldn't be uncrossed.
Then there was a proud yet dour guardian, part robot; his mouth was a smell, disapproving line, but he was there to protect us all.

9.17.2012

Aeon Reflux

This title is so fucking clever and apt that...I...aw, FUCK, just you wait....

*breathe*

Let us begin...

Tried to go to bed early on Friday, failed.
Woke at 8:30 to shower and head to the most south and east corner of Manhattan for another day of shooting Unker & Physia with Jess and Phil and Kris and Chris and Andrea and Minna and Veronica and other people with names.
Despite a bunch of hitches, it went pretty well and we finished shooting an entire episode.
Anyone who happens to be Will Pomerantz will recognize my costume...much thanks for your gift of silk, Mr. Basa.
Tasty taste.

Then I got lost looking for a subway and accidentally wandered through some sort of Little Italy fair day or something. It was...brutish...
After some time I found myself next to the Noho Star and quickly boarded the 6.
Once I got home, I decided that I wanted to eat ribs and watch the rest of Aeon Flux (which I'd started the night before), which, if you are unfamiliar...just...don't, don't, okay?
Track down the episode called "Chronophasia" and, if you dig it, call me and, if not, just...just don't, okay? Just don't.
I can't really think of any voice actors utterly owning and defining their characters more than Denise Poirier as Aeon and John Lee as Trevor Goodchild, they really knock it out of the park.
It was especially challenging for them as these two characters had never spoken once (well, Aeon said "Plop." in the short "Leisure", but, since when does "plop" count? Stop thinking about it...) and yet already had such strong personalities thanks to Peter Chung's artistry.
And, speaking of Peter Chung (the creator of Aeon Flux), there was a little documentary about Aeon Flux in which he states that the idea for Aeon Flux, who and what she was, how she moved and all that, came from his frustration from working on Rugrats.
Yeah.
The guy who created Aeon Flux played a huge role on Rugrats.
He said he was getting tired of these clumsy characters that couldn't really do anything, and so he created this dominatrix assassin ninja badass...the complete opposite of a baby.
And then he decided that she would die at the end of every episode.
Way to fight the babies, Chung.

Anyway, ribs.
Thankfully, a new smokehouse just opened down the god damn street from me (John Brown's Smokehouse) and I was in luck.
I ordered $30 worth of ribs and put them all on, then in, my face, as is the proper fashion.

After finishing the ribs, the Aeon Flux series and all the Aeon Flux shorts (I'd forgotten how awesome, beautiful and hilariously over-the-top these things were when it came to the violence and sexual content, the completely random sexual content), I remembered that, on the Aeon Flux DVD, there was a little collection of bits from Liquid Television.
Liquid Television was...it was one of the reasons people used to love MTV; it was the stuff they did that wasn't music videos that actually worked on a channel called "Music Television".
Liquid TV and The State and The Maxx and The Head, all these things were so...fresh...and NEW, it's just crushing to see what's become of this once great experiment in culture.
I miss it so.
Anyway, after experiencing all that good, I decided to watch the Aeon Flux movie...which I remembered as being bad, but, hey, I AM AN IDIOT.

Some notes:

No, you know what?
One note: this was a movie about something else entirely, and MTV just used the names and locations from Aeon Flux.
Boom.
They also mispronounced Bregna (BREN-ya) as BREG-na, the awful fucks.
And they fucked up the character's backgrounds, motivations and fucking everything else.
Like I said: they must have had some shitty sci-fi script ready to go, then decided to cash in on all the good faith and credibility that Japhet Asher and Peter Chung had garnered from this amazing, singular creation and waste it on this piece of shit.
After about a half hour, I gave in to how exhausted I was and went to bed at 3-ish.

After four magic hours of sleep, I awoke to find the $30 worth of ribs trying to flee my body by any means necessary.
I'll be honest...I spent a tense twenty minutes or so wandering, naked, around my empty apartment (Chris had gone to New Paltz for the weekend, leaving me alone to DIE), murmuring to my stomach, slowly petting it downward in order to encourage peristalsis and discourage reverse peristalsis and convince the food to go in the direction that Jesus the Christ intended and not the other way, and, after setting my pillows at a 90 degree angle, I slept on, not dying.

Honestly, I'm not sure if it was the ribs that did this or something else, but, believe you me, I'm only going to try their food like four more times.
I'M A BLOCK AWAY FROM A POTENTIAL PULLED PORK SANDWICH PIPELINE, YOU'RE FUCKING-A I'M GOING TO TRY THEM AGAIN.

I woke later that day and...hm...forgot what I did the rest of the day it seems...maybe played Samurai Shodown in the original Japanese...?...then Chris came home and we watched The Cabin In The Woods, which, somehow, I had not had spoiled for me.
And, you guys?
Holy shit.
I'm just going to leave it at that because there's nothing I can say about this movie that will make it any better.
Just go and watch it.
Watch and love it.
It really is like nothing you've seen before.

After all this madness was done, I finished the first season of Homeland and saw some of the best acting Claire Danes has ever done.
Her manic episodes are so beautifully and tragically acted...aw man.
Do Emmys still matter?
If they do, give one to her.

Then, there was sleep.
But not, it seems, enough.
Then, before work today, I made a little thank you for the Sex Geniuses that run Bookend Tiger Radio, as they are having ME as their guest on this week's episode!!!
I am ecstatic and nervous, not at the quality of my performance, I always deliver the goods, it's what I do, but more because I'm going to try recording the whole thing on ProTools from my end so Andy can just drop in my side of the conversation sourced from my sexy mouth talking stick.
Ladies and gentlemen, prepare for Buttered Sex Honey.*
I'm confident that my appearance on this podcast will result in my instant and meteoric rise to stardom, nationally, internationally and, thanks to the satellite technology utilized by Dan and Andy, galactically.
So, be ready.

This sudden rush to film the majority of Unker & Physia has left me feeling a bit...frayed, but, whatever happens, it's done by November first, so it's my job as a professional actor to do what I can to make it the best goddamn web series you won't watch because, while it's so easy to click "like" on Facebook, how many of you have actually bought my fucking audio book?
Don't apologize to me, apologize to Phil!
I only read it, he created it!
Fuck.

Anyway, you can purchase Philip Tucker's The Grind Show audio book on Amazon right now!!!
It's eight hours of your superimportantbusy time spent listening to a silken-voiced god-king (me) telling you about love, loss and demons.

Also, the Speakaboos story, the Tortoise and the Hare has been uploaded! I'm the Fox (doing a passable Paul Lynde) and the Bear (just kind of sweet and dumb)!
Go to www.speakaboos.com, where you will be greeted by a friendly dragon (voiced by me) and then click on the story, then "Read It Myself".
Click on the Fox and Bear and BOOM, I'm in your ears!
I'm also Humpty Dumpty (the egg, not the leader of Digital Underground), the narrator of The Boy Who Cried Wolf and either Turkey Lurky or Cocky Locky in Chicken Little, I honestly cannot remember which.
There will be a lot more soon...

Hm...all right, it's 10:16. Now I'm going to sit and ponder nothingness in preparation for the coming void.

Nam myoho renge kyo.
Hai!

*BWOOOOONG*








* This is in reference to the quality of my voice and not the funk octet from the early 1970's. Again, the funk octet from the early 1970's, Buttered Sex Honey will NOT be performing on this week's Bookend Tiger Radio podcast.

A review of "Default" by Atoms For Peace

Sometimes, Thom Yorke's otherworldly keening can serve to perfectly convey human emotion and, sometimes, it can annoy the piss out of me; "Default" is 100% the former.

I haven't heard Yorke use his voice this effectively in years; so much regret...
The first words we hear him speak are "It slipped my mind/and for a time/I felt completely free", but you don't start a song like that unless things are about to go downhill, fast, and they do.
The overall tone of "Default" is regret, unfathomable regret, but a resigned regret ("guess that's it/I've made my bed/now I lie in it"), poor choices were made, but he's learning to deal with them and be at peace with his decisions and move on, and it's almost believable until, towards the end, the dam breaks and Yorke sings, almost under his breathe, as an afterthought, "and it's eating me up" over and over. There's more emotion and expression and feeling in that quiet aside than some artists could ever hope to muster with their most tortured, throat-rending scream.
At that point, one might begin to think that the ever-present rattling noises they've been hearing this whole time perhaps betray his true self, the one his detached, disconnected voice has been trying to cover up, the one who's being crushed and killed by this regret.
While still admitting that "it's eating me up", he begins to say, "if I get free of these snares..." and then trails off, leaving the listener to ask: then what? You get free of these snares (that you clearly set for yourself), then what? Will you change? Will you start over? Or will you do all this over again?
Is that last statement, "if I get free of these snares...", one of hope or of fear?

And all of the above happens amidst a warm yet somewhat uncomfortable sonic landscape, the highlight of which is the buzzy, unstable synth line that comes sweeping in with the chorus. There's not one sound on this entire track that sounds correct, clean; everything has something, some tiny detail wrong with it: a stutter, a hum, a warble, and it reflects the mood and lyrics perfectly.

There's something about the slightly menacing toneless electronic blips that pervade this track that make me want Trent Reznor and Thom Yorke to collaborate on something*, a triple-album resulting in a world tour preferably, but I'd settle for one song. These two have been innovators in their field** for, literally, decades and have yet to really cross paths. Now that Yorke is taking a break from Radiohead and Reznor is taking a break from Nine Inch Nails...well, one can yearn, can't one?
*sigh*

The full Atoms For Peace album is set for release in early 2013, and, if "Default" is to be any indication, it's probably going to be pretty amazing.

Go to http://atomsforpeace.info to hear "Default" now.





* That would be the field of amazing, progressive sonic creation.

9.10.2012

A return to the banal

THIS IS NOT ABOUT BANE OR ANAL AND HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH BANE OR ANAL, SO JUST STOP, OKAY?

Thank you...jeez!

Since returning from the Great White Whale, I've gotten back into my routine of watching...things...

Although I've seen it before once or twice, I had a hankering to watch The Departed again...and so I did.
Martin Scorsese can really only do one thing right, but, well, he does it right, so who cares? One thing I didn't remember from the last time I saw this was all the deus ex machina that happens.
Oh, Matt Damon left the ridiculously incriminating envelope on his desk for anyone to see.
Oh, the entire time Nicholson had some other mole buried way deep in the State Police.
Oh, some other.example that I'm too tired to remember.
Great movie though, it manages to keep that crazy ultra-violence without the silly accents of the Italians...although the Boston accents are pretty funny, I'm looking at you, Alec Baldwin, Mark Wahlberg and Martin Sheen (whose accent might be the funniest because it disappears from time to time...like a spring peeper!)

I also rewatched Hot Rod, which still holds up beautifully as one of the best comedies in the vein of Wet Hot American Summer since Wet Hot American Summer. Not quite surreal comedy...more like...hyper realistic? Absurd? Whatever. Hot Rod can suck its own dick...and does...a lot.

Chris and I have begun (and are almost done)* rewatching Firefly and remain utterly baffled as to why it was cancelled. Was it the excellent writing? The really solid acting? Maybe the well-rounded and multi-faceted characters, perhaps? Well, I'm sure you made the right choice Fox...you always do what's best for people.

And, after considering her recommendation for about a year, I have finally taken Becca's advice and started watching Homeland, starring Claire Danes looking like smoothie made of cuteness, paranoia and screaming psychosis. I am enjoying it thus far and my only regret is that I will be finished with the first season weeks and maybe months before the second season is out and available for totally legal download.
I used to watch My So-Called Life** and seeing our little Angela screaming obscenities and doing other adult things that would have melted MTV in the 90's is...well...weird, it's fucking weird.

In news not relating to things that aren't real...does that scan...?...yes...anyway, Saturday, Jen and Lisa joined Chris and I to eat much meat at Alobar (bacon-wrapped meatloaf...all of it...in me...) and give the brand new Second Expansion of Cards Against Humanity a twirl.
Some very nice additions.
Sadly, I don't think I can play that game for a while...between the laughpocalypse with Chris, Jim and Phil a few weeks ago and this most recent foray, I don't want to overuse this gift, na'mean?
BUT that won't be a problem for long, as Resident Evil 6 comes out in a few short weeks and (maybe) I'm going to have a sleepover with Jen and Lisa and we're going to do my hair and talk about boys' butts and kill the living shit out of the victims of the most recent Umbrella Corporation abomination.
And make popped corn.

On Sunday, Chris and I met up with Hillary and Alex at Bare Burger and talked of things which aren't really public yet, I don't think.
She was in town to get shoes and do some ADR for the upcoming film The East which is going to be awesome for her.
Then Chris and I spent about forty five minutes with a ten-week old, black French bulldog and almost bought it...but, luckily, we thought it over and, after finding out that that particular pet store was investigated for buying puppies from a puppy mill, we decided against it.
And I'll say no more on the subject because it will break both our hearts.

And, finally, today, one Jen Rock began her internship at MY shitty Hospital. After her shift, we got lunch and macarons and then ate them loudly in front of the statue that I thought was Christopher Columbus, but which is not.
Bummer.

Now, I might write a song about having a Birthday party for a box of pancake mix.
I just don't know.









* Fuck you so hard, Fox.

** That's putting it mildly. My friends, Kirsten Snyder and Elizabeth Burden actually called each other characters from the show...I was Brian Krakow... * sigh *

A review of David Byrne & St. Vincent's "Love This Giant"





















Putting this right on front street: I only know a handful of Talking Heads songs (from the radio) and nothing of David Byrne's solo stuff except for one track off of the Future Soundtrack of America and his appearance on Space Ghost: Coast 2 Coast...which endeared me to him forever.
I am, however, a huge fan of St. Vincent, and I understand how singular and innovative and amazing Byrne is, and so I also understood how awesome it was that they were working on a project together.
And guess what? It turns out that project is pretty awesome.

The album started as bits and pieces sent back and forth between Annie Clark (St. Vincent) and Byrne; some music without vocals, some vocals without music. Over a period of about three years, they assembled Love This Giant, the instrumentation of which is built around an eight-piece brass band, with some drums, guitar and light programming thrown in to flesh out the mix. The album is split about fifty/fifty when it comes to St. Vincent and Byrne's contributions..
LTG opens strong and brash with "Who", an excellent way to usher in this experiment in horns and style and the collaboration of two amazing artists. The horns' interplay with the beat and vocalization is just perfect, and the accompanying music video is fantastic. One is required to boogie. After this, aside from the Clark helmed "Ice Age", the programming on which gets in the way and which never really goes anywhere but up in volume, the album stays well-crafted and vital, showing off the strong points of each artist beautifully.
The stand out tracks for me include "Weekend In The Dust" (which feels so sassy and snide and...I don't know...sunglasses in a dark room? Plus, the horns (as on the majority of the album) wind their way perfectly through the song), "Dinner For Two" (in which the overly paranoid lyrics are offset and made enjoyable by the horns' whimsy), "I Should Watch TV" (another Byrne-only contribution with some spectacular horn arrangement and his trademark rejection and ridicule of all things pop culture ("I used to think that I should watch TV/I used to think that it was good for me/wanted to know what folks were thinking/to understand the land I live in/and I would lose myself and it would set me free"). This one gets dark and epic right around the middle, then it's back to the jittering, driving electronics-laced horns), "Lazarus" (which starts off slow, but evolves into something grand thanks to some really excellent guitar, rife with Biblical language and references), "Lightning" (which has an almost dubby feel to it before it opens up into one of the best arrangements on this album), and "The One Who Broke Your Heart" (a manic, insane samba? Mambo? to which one must dance like a fiend so as to sweat so no one can see the tears rolling from one's eyes. Laughing and crying at the same time.).
This truly amazing album comes to a close with the soft and sweeping "Outside Of Space & Time", which, I think, could have used more St. Vincent, but, whatever, this whole project is about 93% solid gold and I have no right to complain.

Anyone remember Chris Cornell and Timbaland's bowle movement, Scream?
No?
Good.
Love This Giant is better.
Lots better.
Lots and lots and lots better. 
In fact, this might just be my favorite album of 2012.
So buy it, listen to it, and then go see them in concert (details and dates and such at www.lovethisgiant.com), because, if it's half as good as the album, it's probably going to be something people talk about for years to come.

9.05.2012

The Rush...Is On

*sigh*
I suppose I should actually recount my time in Alaska, you know, for posterity and the future and the children and all that bullshit.

All right, so Chris has a step-brother named Tom.
Tom, being a massive asshole, lives in Alaska and being a massive sweetheart, invited Chris and I to his wedding in Cooper Landing, a tiny place north (I guess, outside of New York City I have less concept of direction than a turtle in a centrifuge) of Anchorage.

Everything started with me playing Johnny Horton's "North To Alaska" at about 3:30 in the morning, it became a go-to for most of the trip, something like a lifeline or a constant that we could return to when things got weird...like that spinning top in Inception.
The cheapest and fastest flight there left from La Guardia at 6:45 am on Thursday, August 23rd. Since this meant being at the airport at 4:30 am (better safe than sorry and all that) and I got home from work at 11:30 pm, five hours before we had to be at the airport, I decided (because I am the smartest man in the world) to forgo the measly hour or two of winks before this massive undertaking.
At 3:50 or so, we called the amazing cab service that we've been using since Jess Howell's birthday party a few months ago that will bring you anywhere at any time for hardly any money, and got to the airport early. Two hours early.
Eventually, we got on the three hour or so American Airlines flight from New York to Chicago.
A quick side note: I do not, cannot sleep on planes. I can not do it. I'm 6'8 and this is one of the times in my life that is blows to be so. I also can not reason spending upwards of a thousand fucking dollars in order to alleviate my discomfort.
I'M A PARADOX.
CONTINUE!
Anyway, things were overly bright until I put on my sunglasses, hat and particle mask, then, while I didn't feel more human, I certainly felt more armored against what was about to take place.
Chris and I tried to interact but that was flobbery.
Bottom line: me on planes is shit and me on planes without sleep for many, many hours is double dippy doo dog shit.

We arrived in Alaska in the early afternoon of Thursday the 23rd and decided that we should stay up until 9 pm, Alaska time, in order to better function properly. Were we stupid to decide this?
Yes.
But, thanks to one Jesi Mullins, whose father was a tour guide in Anchorage, we had a whole slew of stuff to keep us awake.
First, we visited the Ulu Factory.
At first mention, I thought an Ulu was some sort of thick, Alaskan parka, or part of Cthulhu,, but, upon hearing it was a curved blade, I got really excited, picturing a massive double-handed weapon that could be used to kill shotgun-toting polar bears; the reality, that it is a tiny (the largest blade we could find was 8 inches) kitchen tool used for cutting fish, was rather disappointing.
So we bought one and, on our way out, some friendly dude handed me a free ice cream cone containing birch syrup and pecan ice cream. At that point, my impression of Alaska shifted somewhat.
We then drove about the dingy city of Anchorage (can't spell "Anchorage" without "rage") for a bit before checking into our hotel which was functional as a hotel and nothing more, although the check-in chick was SO HOT, I'm surprised there were any glaciers left in the state.
I said GOD DAMN.
Ermagherd.
Ser buuafeh
Next, lunch with Chris' stepmom and her father, who is the coolest grandpa alive.
HE MELTED THE BARREL OF A .30 CALIBER MACHINE GUN KILLING FOOLS IN WORLD WAR TWO.
Your argument is invalid.
I ate sweet potato tater tots with prosciutto and then a hot dog made of reindeer.
REINDEER.
I ATE IT ALL UP.
At that point, it was only about...I don't know, fucking time got fucked, but we knew we couldn't sleep yet, so, also thanks to Jesi, we headed towards Wild Berry Park, where there was a chocolate waterfall (not as impressive as the one in Willy Wonka, but still a chocolate waterfall nonetheless), crazy good candies and jellies and sauces and whatnot I've never had before AND REINDEER YOU COULD PET.
So Chris and I pet the reindeer (and got Reindeer Married) and sang to them while they alternately looked at us and shat.
Then, finally, it was late enough to consider sleep.
And so we did.
I have to say that I was expecting 40 hours without sleep to be like choice moments from Fear & Loathing, but it wasn't, I was just cranky.
Boo.

The next day's highlight was going to the Alaska Zoo and meeting, feeding and petting a red fox named Chance. It turns out that if you give the zoo money (like a hundred dollars), they let you play with certain animals (birds, polar bears, tigers, wolves and foxes to name a few).
So we went and fed Trip and Mac, two red foxes who didn't really seem to like us, and then got to pet a fox.
We pet a fox.
Fuck everything else you did on Friday the 24th of August, because me and the love of my life got to pet a fucking fox.
And he liked us.
Then, after finally wearing Chris down, I got anal.
Just kidding.
I got her to pull into a Barnes & Noble so I could buy Johnny Horton's greatest hits in order to listen to "North To Alaska" on our SUV's bumping speaker system as opposed to my iPad.
You could really get the low end on those background singers...
Then, more food, possibly the best on the trip except for the at the wedding.
I had mini-Kobe burgers with bleu cheese, bacon, caramelized onions and pineapple and an orgasm.
Along with that, I tried the braised short rib toast, which featured crazy good short ribs on a tiny piece of toast with a dollop of goat cheese on the top.
Boom.
Morgasms.
Then we headed out to Girdwood for some family weddingy dinner.
The drive finally got us out of Anchorage, which, as it turns out, had been our problem with Alaska thus far: it was awful. Anchorage was awful.
Like a huge, gray strip mall.
The drive included a shit ton of mist-shrouded mountains, any one of which could have housed an ancient civilization of shoggoths.
We listened to a bit of the Girl With The Dragon Tattoo score then got creeped out and turned it off.
Then there was very good steak...and stuff I'm not allowed to talk about, as per Christina's request.
You know I'm not one for censorship of any kind, especially when the thing being censored is the truth and, in my worthless opinion, should be addressed so the issue can be solved, but, whatever, I'm marrying her and I love her and respect her, so, yeah.

The next morning, our last in Anchorage, involved a diner in which I had dessert for breakfast.
Next, we enjoyed the three hour drive north (?) to Cooper Landing, where the actual wedding and stuff was to take place. This drive, folks...was epic.
I may post pictures later or make that video I threatened to make, but they won't do it justice.
Eventually, we arrived at the Alaska Heavenly Lodge (which was neither like Twin Peaks nor Silent Hill) where there were three cabins for those staying on site.
Then we sat around.
Suddenly, everyone ran to the "rehearsal dinner", which, after two wrong turns and a monkeybag of confusion, consisted of some pretty good BBQ.
Then sleep, for the humans anyway.

The next day (the day of the wedding), we sat around and did nothing (although I was making quite a bit of headway in The Simpsons iOS game, Tapped Out) until around 3:30 (the ceremony was to take place around 4), when people started getting dressed and showering and, you know, whatever.
Then, Tom and Natalie got married, you know, and stuff.
Then there was food and, you know, dancing.
The food was exceptional; skewers of shrimp bigger than two penises tied end to end, a Shepard's Pie type thing that made me black out and see shadows in the trees, fresh halibut chowder (amazing, and it was the least impressive thing there), some sort of sliced meat that, if someone had told me was baby, I would have still eaten three more pieces before getting upset...and then I would have sneaked some for later, and the most starling pasta salad ever...IT WAS A MEAL, NOT A SIDE DISH.
Then, dessert: a three-berry crumble that made me reconsider the existence of God, various succulent tasties and the wedding cake, which was the best carrot cake I'd ever eaten.
And everything was prepared by family and friends.
I think.
I don't really know or care, it was just one of the best meals I've ever eaten.
I was sad to see it go.
Then...I danced.
So, up to that point, this wedding party consisted of the closest childhood friends of the groom and his brother.
Chris and I were, for lack of a better term, outsiders.
It was hard to relate to these guys, we were soft city folk who'd never punched a horse or eaten a tree or whatever people like this do when they've been drinking for most of a week.
...
Okay, for brevity's sake, I'll say this: the fourth song they played was "Kiss" by Prince.
I am now a legend in Alaska.
Everyone is my friend.
Problem = solved.

The next and last day at Heavenly Lodge went much the same as the first few, except we met some gay guys and some people who aren't made of nails and whiskers and axes and bourbon and actually had some cool conversation while eating some staggering burritos.
I had a bloody mary sans vodka and I think I've found a new friend...underneath myyyyy pillow...
That evening, with everyone gone but Tom, his brother, Steve, and his awesome wife, Lauren, Tom's cousin, Sean and their aforementioned childhood friend, Marlin, Chris and I were actually able to integrate and relate a bit. Much of the isolation and disregard we'd felt melted away and, as we sat around a roaring fire, we began to feel like we were a part of something, rather than bystanders.
It was pretty satisfying and went a long way.
Then, more sleeping and, when we woke up the next day, it was time to drive back to Anchorage.

Our time in Cooper Landing had been bitter sweet, and I'll leave it at that.

But we weren't through yet...

Our flight out of Anchorage was at 1:10 in the morning, over twelve hours away, so we had a full day to kill before we were free from this beautiful, pristine hell.
We drove to Hope, Alaska, where Chris' dad's ashes are scattered and took in some more astonishing beauty on the way there and back, then we pulled off the road so I could dunk my head under a waterfall made from glacial run off (it was cold), then we met some of the stragglers at Moose Tooth Pizza where I was to have a really amazing cheese pizza.
The pizza in Alaska had been talked up for a while and it didn't disappoint.
Was it the best I'd ever had? Hah, fuck you, but it was very, very good.
Eventually, we got on our first plane from Anchorage to Seattle (in at 5:30 am),and then our next plane from Seattle to New York (in at 3:30 pm), and then, finally, we were home.

This...was quite a trip...and we are still recovering.

9.04.2012

Cards Against Humanity/For Laughing So Hard You Cry And Are Unable To Speak For A Good, Solid Minute

I will never play Apples to Apples again.
Never.
I have no need, so why would I ever do so?
"Why (you don't ask aloud), why, Paul, do you have no need?"
Three words: Cards. Against. Humanity.

NUTSHELL: A group of long time friends played Apples to Apples and decided that it wasn't dark enough.
Yes, you could pair the adjective "effective" with the noun "Adolf Hitler", but, at its heart, the game wasn't about that.
It was great...but it wasn't that.
So these sick fucks made a Kickstarter page and the rest is black, black history.
And, after a struggle, I obtained the main game its the first expansion.
And, because I did, I laughed the longest, deepest and hardest that I have in years.

I'll stop the pitch and get to the funny:

On Saturday night, after a long and less than excellent shoot, I met Phil, Chris and Jim at Bare Burger in Queens to have some dinny poo and talk of things, then, we retired to my home where we broke out CAH.
Folks, we played through every card in both decks.
That's 600 cards.

Some highlights* (there were four white cards submitted to each black card, one from each of the three players and one from the Pile, a random card thrown in to make things more interesting. The Pile always has a spooky succinctness to its submissions, at the end of this game, the scores were Chris with 29, the Pile with 26, Phil with 22 and Jim and I tied at 17. I'm writing the answers I can remember.):

"Next from J.K. Rowling: Harry Potter and the Chamber of __________"
Dead parents.


"What were Bane's final words to Batman?"**
Vigorous jazz hands.
Balls.
Gandalf.
Making the penises kiss. (the winner, obviously)


"Next on Lifetime:__________, the story of __________"

Golden Showers//The Make-A-Wish Foundation
Free Samples//Grave robbing

While the Bane one had us all paralyzed for some time, the below picture was my favorite and had me completely incapacitated for a solid two minutes or so.




Guys, I really don't know what to say: Cards Against Humanity is described as "a party game for horrible people", but, if being a horrible person feels this good?
Then we should all take a few steps in that direction.

Buy Cards Against Humanity.
Get horrible.










*And, when I say "highlights", I mean that the four of us were incapacitated with laughter, with tears streaming down our faces, unable to speak for a period of time. I am not exaggerating one bit.

**This was a blank card, written in during my first game with Chris, Lauren and Jen some weeks ago.