Hey!?!? What gives!!!

Since when is Silverman a Prussian name?

traceit

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back, baby

extasy

I'm never going back. They can't make me. I'm staying here. I'm selling everything. Wait, I don't have anything to sell; never mind. But if I did, I would sell it all. Then I'd move into the mountains. Far away from everything. And everyone. I'd run from ambition, hide from the world's problems, and escape the daily dilemma of survival. I'll slide down endless slopes of soft, fluffy white, carving arcs on baby-smooth slopes.

The Land of Toque

Ah... Canada, eh?



The only information I found on the legendary Canadian clothing-for-your-head, known as the Toque, was an on-line dictionary that defined it as...

1. A woman's small, brimless, close-fitting hat.
2. A plumed velvet cap with a full crown and small rolled brim, worn in 16th-century France.



Inspired by my current vacation (or my temporary liberation from La Republica Americana), I've decided to come up with a top-ten list of...

...THINGS I'VE NOTICED THAT PROOVE I AM IN FACT NOW IN CANADA!!

1. The word "Democracy" actually means something when spoken in public.
2. I don't see any cars with obnoctious "Paul Martin for President" stickers on their bumpers.
3. When I watch the local news report, I'm find out what's really happening in Iraq.
4. I can breath the air.
5. Ketchup, I'm told, is in fact NOT a vegetable, because the local grocer stocks it in the CONDIMENTS ISLE!!!!
6. The fact that there's no Hockey this year, has actually effected daily life.
7. Saying "Eh" and "bean" and "aboot", doesn't render me a complete idiot.
8. There's something called "seasons" up here. In fact, right now, we are in the "season" of "winter".
9. I had a moose burger the other day.
10. Not everyone is a complete jack-ass.

Cecil Hotel, The Vancouver

Body Shop's better. I'm coming back to LA.

Cecil Hotel, The Vancouver

Stanley and I...

The best place to run in Vancouver, and maybe one of the top places in North America, is the Stanley Park Sea Wall...



9KM in the fresh, BC December air, at sea level, circumnavigating an old-growth forest five minutes from the downtown core.


Download full-size PDF map

Corrado GTG - December 2004

"I keep trying to have more fun, but life is always getting in the way."
- not sure if I stole this quote or if it's original, but I'm saying it anyway.









I'm off to Canadia. If I don't post, see you in 2005.

TOP PLACES IN LA TO CHECK OUT GORGEOUS WOMEN.

1. The Starbucks on Ventura Boulevard, next to that Laundromat, with the red awning, but not the one on Magnolia, right next to the car wash. Also not the one on the South East corner, the other one with the faux-redbrick finish and the pseudo-London theater-district appeal. That Starbucks.

2. The Grove, at 3rd and Fairfax.

3. Clear. Especially when Connor’s throwing a party.

4. Clear. But not when big black guys are offering to mow your lawn.

5. The Sadddle Ranch; but only when you’re REALLY f*cked up. Sometimes not even then.

6. Anywhere in and around the UCLA campus.

7. The Body Shop.

8. Santa Monica and Western. For those special occasions when you’re jonesing for some randy Latin action.

9. The Dresden. The ultimate hipster hang-out. Get your corduroy sports-coat, vintage VANS, sarcastic political-commentary t-shirt, and brush up on your Rousseau quotes. Marty and Elaine are playing (every night ‘til eternity)!

10. The Whales Tail in Oxnard. Lean back. Wwwwwwwway back.

11. Isn’t ten enough?

rotten.com: This is rotten dot com

rotten.com: This is rotten dot com

The Pick-Up

I recently had the opportunity to talk to a "professional" writer/comedian, and was currious to find out from him, if in fact, people who's profession it is to come up with witty remarks, are indeed better at picking up women then the rest of us. Here's what he had to say:

Women keeping telling me, “You’re a writer, you’re a comedian, you must have great pick-up lines. How can someone whose job it is to come up with clever one-liners, NOT have great pick-up lines?” The part they miss, is that when I see a girl I want to approach, I have to go home first and brain storm, work out a few different bits, rehearse them, re-write them, call my editor, find out their all shit, start from scratch, call my manager who’ll set a few pitches and lunches with producers, meet with a director who’ll tell me he’s “interested” but it isn’t the type of material he’s looking for right now, get drunk, feel sorry for myself, swear to god I’m quitting the business, visit my shrink, complain to him about the state of global politics, meet with a writer-friend who brags about the six-figure development deal he just signed at SONY, go home and sift through old ideas, hoping to find something commercial enough to sell, fly to some shit little town were I give a seminar on screenwriting to a bunch of eager young Mamet-wannabes, get home at mid-night on a Sunday, sit down on the toilet, take a shit, and it’s usually in this moment, as I’m staring at the imperfection of the plaster on the wall above the toilet paper dispenser, for the umpteenth time, that I come up with the most perfect (in my mind) line that I could have used. Of course, at this point, it’s a week later and when I go back to the bar I was at and start looking for the girl I was checking out, I find that she isn’t sitting at that booth anymore and although I stand outside the women’s bathroom, pathetically hoping she just stepped off to powder her nose, I never, ever see her again. So THAT’S why, I don’t have very good pick-up lines. Of course, next Friday I go out, again, and see someone else, at which point I’ve completely forgotten what ever happened.

Any Given Sunday

"We're a bottle-opener short of a party in the parking lot."
-Anonymous December, 2004

Urban slang, yo.

I found a website that explains all those wonderful and wimsical little words that have found there way into everyday, mainstream conversation, no thanks to MTV and BET.

Urban Dictionary

1. fa shawty

1. Really.

2. Fa shizzle.

3. For Sure

That party was off da chain, fa shawty!

DAAAAAMN, dat ass is huge, FA SHAWTY!

No more looking like a foo whislt kickin' it in Compton with your gang of gees.

Oh, and just for fun, here's the leader of the free world at his moment of victory.

The "Perfect" Job

In Hollywood, the best way to find inspiring and gratifying work, is by getting yourself on the "UTA Joblist" distribution list. Someone (I'm not sure exactly who) at UTA, publishes and sends out a twice-weekly list of openings with in the studio, agency and independent production community. Most of these jobs are executive, assistant and corporate, as oppose to "set" work.

The problem with this list, is that all the job advertisements pretty much sound the same, making it very difficult to decide what the best career choice is. Below, is one such an ad, that I recently found. It pretty much sums up what the average job entales. Happy hunting.

WANTED:

Non-descript, generic entertainment company, responsible for many important things of business, is seeking a bright, energetic and enthusiastic individual to join our growing team of management specialists.

This position will consist primarily of a regular, daily routine that will involve arriving at the work place in a timely fashion, and displaying a vain attempt at desire to be present, despite total contempt for the company, its officers and all other employees.

Required skills include, but are not limited to, making oneself “busy” for an entire 8 hour work day, with out upper-management being aware of the total lack of necessity for your position and labor; Great follow through skills, or in the absence of those skills, being able to cover up duties that have not yet been completed (or even disregarded entirely), to ensure that no one actually realizes the fact that you couldn’t give a damn about your responsibilities. The following skills would be preferred, but training will be provided: lying, backstabbing, deception, creative passiveness, pseudo-respect, and brown-nosing; ass-kissing, moral, and a “can-do” attitude.

Applicants should have a minimum of a bachelors degree (actual major and grades achieved are irrelevant) from a university we might have, in passing, heard of.

(NOTE: We do NOT consider your education to be adequate proof of intelligence, nor will you ever actually be required to use the knowledge you acquired during your four years of frat-parties and drinking, but we strongly believe in the status-quo, so, what the hell.)

Please send poorly formatted, rambling and irrelevant resumes, along with a self-indulgent, redundant cover-letter, to the following e-mail: theultimatejob@yahoo.com (not an actual address).

Please put the following quotation in the subject-line: “APPLICATION 1234A – DEPT. C”. We will consider your failure to complete this simple yet meaningless task as a sign of your inability to perform, and will banish your application to the recycling box upon receipt.

CNN.com - Company lets U.S. travelers�'Go Canadian' - Dec 7, 2004

CNN.com - Company lets U.S. travelers�'Go Canadian' - Dec 7, 2004

A, America, how thee envy's us. Of course, not our military, or our dollar, or our economy, or our industry (or lack of it), or our "liberal" government, or our taxes, or our foreign policy, or hold on world-wide media distribution, or our Premiere, or....

But gee, we sure love how they are thought of as harmless and un-threatening to the rest of the world.

A little bit of advice to my American friends, both Republican and Democratic: fear is a good thing, because it gives you power. And don't go telling me you don't like power, 'cause everyone, including my cat, loves power.

THE CHASE

I love women.

Curvy women. Beautiful women. Classy women. Short, tall, petite, voluptuous, grand, eccentric, shy, exciting, daring, smooth, clean, radical, intelligent. Women.

In fact, I love women so much; I could have them all the time.

Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. Maybe an afternoon snack, or even in the middle of the night (if I felt like getting up and I needed something to nibble on, that is).

Oh, how wonderful they are; running around on the Sunset Strip, with their 800 dollar Versace purses and matching pink poodle. “Ooh, ooh! A new shop! I haven’t seen this one before!”

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stereotype. Not all women are like this. Some are genuinely smart and sophisticated. Have a mind, are educated, have powerful, respectful positions within the framework of society. These are the women I love the most. They know what they want. They went to Harvard business school; fought through and survived the boys club; triumphed against the status-quo and proved that they are just as worthy as the rest of us. Magnificent.

There I go, stereotyping again. Not all women are like this either.

Some are ugly; desperate, insecure, hateful, arrogant, conceited, fat. There’s nothing WRONG with fat, it just so happens that the larger portion of society does not ENJOY putting their arms around a tree-trunk sized marshmallow and squeezing. I for one (and this is only personal opinion), do not enjoy comparing love making to leafing through the financial section of the Sunday Times. But there’s nothing wrong with fat. Or ugly, or stupid, or rude, or insecure, or hateful….

Did it again; stereotyping. Sorry.

But the true reason I love women so much, is for one, very good, simple quality. This one quality I will never, ever, no matter how hard I try, be able to possess. It’s not a physical attribute, nor a quality of character. It’s not flowing long hair or a cute little smile that could defrost my freezer; nor is it a sweet, smooth, tight, curvy, hello-I-just-did-40-leg-extensions-at-the-gym ass. It’s not wit, humor, sensitivity or soft pink lips.
Soft, pink, lips….

It is in effect an inherent quality. This quality is the very essence of what makes women, women, and curses men to a life of suffering and misery. It is a quality that exists across the board, with all species. Monkeys, giraffes, zebras, mice, and yes even leprechauns, of the female sexual persuasion, have this quality. It is an innate quality that is rooted deep in our biological programming and will never, ever go away. The gene pool, the rate-race, the need to survive and create off-spring; these are all bi-products of this very quality – Selectivity.

Men blast a shot gun at what ever gets in the way, and women set-up a leg-trap and wait, patiently.

Where was I? Oh, yeah, women. Sweet, sensual, titillating women…

Jerry Seinfeld once said, “Only 12% of the population is date-able. The rest – UNDATE-ABLE!!”. I tend to agree with him.

(Beautiful)Women need only be concerned with quality control. Men, on the other hand, are concerned only with quantity control. As in, MORE quantity; some quantity; a quantity. In my case, any quantity.

Men have no standards. What for? If we had standards, we would all be in deep shit. “Standards” is a word that was invented for people who have “selection”; as in: a large quantity to choose from. The majority of men (please refer to the 12% rule), are simply out swingin’ the bat at whatever might get in the way.

Oh, to be a woman. To afford to be so selective. How I long to be chased by the hordes; to select among the many that knock at my door. How I long to scrutinize; to pass judgment on those that flock to my feet with flowers and promises of romantic dinners.

What’s the most, that I as a man, get to pick on? “God, she can’t even recite the alphabet with out pausing to think about it, but she sure looks ready to go at it, so what the hell!”

You see, we men need it all the time. Day and night, night and day. Pretty much when ever it’s available. You’ll never hear a man say I’m too tired. Hell, you’ll never hear a man say I’m too anything.

As a friend of mine recently commented, “I had sex twice already today, and all I can think about is finding a strip club”.

Why do you think prostitution is “the world’s oldest profession”?

So, that, in a nut shell, is why I love women. How I long for them, need them, desire them, feel for them; fall for them. Why? Because I’m not.

What inspired me to write this little rant? A similar rant, Beyond Sunset: The Dating Game, from the other side of the fence, complaining about the lack of quality in LA. The Lack of men meeting her standards. No, that’s fine. You have the right, as a woman, to be choosy, as to who will get to decant your Merlot, taste your Zinfandel. After all, if I had dozens of women tugging at my coat-tails everyday, I’d start to get pretty picky too (then again, maybe not). As a man, I don’t suffer that problem though.

Am I jealous? Yes.

Am I bitter, angry, insecure, lonely, un-happy, self-loathing, frustrated? Yes.

Do I know the first thing about how to get women to take their pants off for me? Besides putting 300 dollars down on the dresser? No.

PowderFone - Never Miss a Powder Day Again!

YES! That's right, "POWDERFONE".

PowderFone - Never Miss a Powder Day Again!

Just sign up for the service; enter your name, number, resort, minimum amount of snowfall warranting a wake-up call, you will receive thiscall (click me for the test sample) at your chosen times.

Now, when I'm stuck in traffic on the 405 going to god knows where, I'll be sure know that Blackcomb just got dumped with 30 fresh centimeters. yippy.

Rally - Japanese Style

"I don't like the WRX. It's like Margaret Thatcher, naked on a cold night."
- Jeff White, 2004

Oh, sweet, sweet alcohol....

Damned if you do, damned if you don't

Why is this town full of so many flakes?