Remember kids, God is dead and we're alone.

Now it's my turn to link to YouTube! Check out a clip from comedy genius Louis C.K.'s new sitcom on HBO. YouTube is the only place I will be able to see this show until 2010 when HBO releases it on DVD. In the meantime, I can take comfort in the fact that this clip is pretty funny and true to C.K.'s form. He takes the premise of the loser family man sitcom and actually makes it watchable. I have yet to see the interactions with his wife character but I have faith that he won't just do the usual sexist as hell “My wife always nags me and all I want to do is watch the game” jokes.


This article was seriously on the FRONT PAGE of our local paper this morning. What? There's nothing more important going on the world than teenagers feeling alienated by MySpace?

looking for you

Plight is on hold. The budget is just too unfeasible for a first-time feature. This doesn't mean it won't get made. It just means we're putting it off until we can make it right. In the meantime, we will be focusing on Faye's ghost story script, Fetch (which has little to no special effects and only a few characters…think Japanese horror film but without Toshio!). This also puts ME on the back burner a bit. The only reason both of us were directing Plight is because we both wrote it. So this time 1 writer = 1 director. Dom said I can co-produce but what does that mean in terms of an uber indie film? It sounds kind of like “associate producer” and anyone who's seen State and Main knows what that means.

I'm excited for Fetch. The concept alone makes my skin crawl and the Japanese horror film style is hot right now so it has a good chance of going somewhere. There's also a chance that we could get one of our favorite little blonde teen detectives to star in it. I always wanted Faye to get Fetch made. I just assumed it would happen after we got famous together.

In the meantime, I have been commissioned to work on some of my ideas “just in case”. Unfortunately, none of them are particularly cheap or as much of a winning concept as Faye's. They are more along the lines of “hollywood horror for a quick buck”. One is basically an Eli Roth movie. Maybe I'll write that one and send it to him along with a picture of my boobies and see how far that gets me. Going through my short Rolodex of hackneyed ideas makes me feel a little bit like, well, a hack.

Anyway, I'm just a little worried about how I fit into this new GadZook plan, is all. I am happy to take one for the team if it means I will be brought back into the picture at a later date. I just feel a little redundant right now.

I'm sure Faye and Dom will try to argue with me here (or at least I HOPE they'll feel the need to do so) but there's no need. I know I'm still part of the team and blah di blah. I just wanted to whinge a little.

my zejom



The weekend kicked off with dinner and cocktails at the Liberty. In attendance were Brugos, Elyse, Booze (who would apparently be disturbed to learn that she is being mentioned in a blog) and Scott. This was a totally different experience than my first one with Meep on a Sunday afternoon. Of course, a Friday will always have a different vibe than a Sunday as far as clientèle and crowd size, but this was also (and perhaps more so) an employee issue.

The sushi chef and waiter were different than the ones Meep and I encountered previously. I ordered the same drink that I had gotten before, but, for some reason, it wasn’t nearly as delicious (partly due to lack of a sugared rim?). The sushi rolls that Brugos and I ordered, whilst still delicious, weren’t presented as fancily. Perhaps these details had something to do with the difference in treatment of two single girls on a Sunday versus a group of mixed gender folks on a Friday. Regardless, it was a bit disappointing.

Things only got more uncomfortable as our waitress’ demeanor was slightly odd. She seemed like she had never waited tables before and was extremely nervous about it. She was meek and forgot drink orders repeatedly. Still, she carried a certain charm in her shyness. And she seemed to appreciate the fact that every time she came to our table, we were talking about something weirder. We also had a little drink mishap wherein the drink that Booze ordered (being the same drink that she had just gotten and liked) tasted different, and not at all pleasant. We passed the drink around and confirmed: it was gross. Scott remarked, with the waitress present, that it tasted like baby aspirin. The waitress thought he had said “baby ass”. Luckily, she seemed to find that funny, and not at all disturbing that this man might know what baby ass tastes like.

The small space began to fill up and, by 9, there were groups of people playing table vulture. Our couch spot was much coveted, but we were just about done anyway. A new waitress arrived on the scene. Unlike our cute and sensibly dressed shy waitress, this new blonde girl wore a ridiculously short shirt which would make it impossible for her to daintily lean down to take the orders of people sitting on couches. She, clearly believing herself to be super hot, didn’t seem bothered by this. She helped clear our table and asked Scott if he would like another beer. He said no thank you and she respondede with a bitchy smile with what I SWORE sounded like “good”. What the fuck? I asked Scott if she had just said “good”. It was loud in there so he wasn’t sure. However, after we had settled the bills with our shy little muffett, the blonde bitch (who Booze and I had just witnessed making a BIG show up putting her long, flowy hair in a ponytail), came up to us to collect our bills. “Are we all set here?” she asked. We said yes. This time, in NO uncertain terms, she flashed her cunty little smile at us again and said “good”. It occurred to me then that she was taking over the shift and knew that she wouldn’t be collecting the tip from us, so she wanted us out of her section ASAP. But she shouldn’t make it THAT obvious to people who may, one day, be in her section and responsible for her tip. Needless to say, I won’t be spending a lot of time in that place on a Friday or Saturday. Sunday is the way to go.

After we vacated the Liberty, the Boobergs and I crashed a birthday party for one of Brugos’ friends at the Canterbury. The birthday girl was extremely drunk. I’d never met her before, but she apparently felt it was her duty to mention the fact that she caught Brugos leaving Capital Hill at 7:30am on a weekday. She didn’t “want to get [him] in trouble” though. She mentioned it two more times, even after I told her that there was nothing suspicious about this and that the girl she saw him with was most likely me.

T’was the evening of the bitchy blonde waitress. I missed that sweet little blonde waitress with the piercing and said so, realizing after the fact that it made me sound like an 80 year old man. I suppose that wouldn’t be the first time I have sounded as such.


I spent most of the day getting ready for the Hovelwarming: Two trips to Safeway, one trip to Walgreens, one trip to the liquor store and one trip to the party store on 15th. (Thanks to the ailing Meep for accompanying me on errands). This was followed by a good cleaning of the apartment. Of particular note, I used TWO lint rollers in their entirely in order to clean all of Tobe’s hair off the couch. And this was AFTER I vacuumed it. Note to self: invest on a cream-colored couch cover and pillow set ASAP. Or shave Tobe.

I then started in on the baking. I finished decorating the Triscuits with easy-cheese just as the first guest arrived.

The party was a lot of fun. And most of you should know as you were there. Thanks to the Boobergs for the truly lovely orchid (my first plant in the new place…god, I hope I don’t kill it) and to Meep for the AWESOME framed picture of my sweet little Tobe. Thanks Borg for the long-coveted costume dress (which I can only hope looks at hot on me as it did on Borg). Thanks, Ahe for the gourmet boxed wine and to Howland for the traditional Franzia variety. I now have enough cheap wine and beer in my apartment to last at LEAST a week.

The only awkwardness occurred when LITERALLY everyone I work with arrived. They had been drinking since noon. They were in frat mode. They didn’t mesh with my other guests. They also may have pissed off my neighbors when they loudly shotgunned several beers out back. Note to self: keep co-workers and friends separate when’ere possible. Further note: hide rubber novelty dildos when boss is in apartment, for he will surely chase the receptionist with said novelties.

The evening finished out with Sherwood, Borg, Howland and me enjoying the cool night air in the parking lot and debating not whether or not the destruction of humanity will occur, but when and how. It looks grim, but if I find myself at the end of the world with similar company, I won’t complain.

Something compelled to wake up early and clean. Perhaps it was the knowledge that I had a bit of a search on my hands for all the kitchen objects that my boss and the intern had decided to hide the previous night. Perhaps it was the dips and hors de’ oeuvres festering in the kitchen. Regardless, I was quite proud of myself when, an hour later, the only evidence of a raging party sat in 3 bags of recycling. If I can keep up this kind of compulsive cleanliness, I might actually be mistaken for an adult.

Brugos joined me for breakfast, after which we hit the road to seek out the ultimate mini-golf experience. This experience was found at Parkland Putters in Tacoma. It was a lovely day to be outside. With 4 courses to choose from, we ventured the “wild and hilly” course. It was indeed challenging, but we welcomed it. And we each scored a hole-in-one during the course. We received ribbons to commemorate our competition. Brugos was sported the blue and I the red, but it was a close game. Besides, everyone knows that first place is second loser. NO FEAR!

We wanted to do a little T-Town karaoke but had hours to kill before this would happen, so we decided to fill our bellies and hang out at Point Defiance for a bit. We lunched at El Toro (not the one that Meep and I used to frequent, since that one was reduced to ash and rubble in a fiery inferno, along with our dreams and innocence), grabbed delicious Antique Sandwich Company milkshakes and snagged a nice little spot on the world’s softest grass on which to digest.

After that, we wandered around Never Never Land, Fort Nisqualy, and the waterfront, before heading to Bob’s Java Jive to await the karaoke.

Bob’s Java Jive is the very definition of a punk rock dive bar. Why there isn’t a place like that in Seattle is beyond me. Brugos pointed out that were a punk rock dive bar that had a smoking patio and karaoke 7 nights a week in Seattle; it would have been packed with people, even on a Sunday. In Tacoma, however, the place was empty. Eventually, the DJ showed up. Brugos and I were the only people in attendance who weren’t close personal friends of the Java Jive. The song selection was pretty good and there were definitely some unusual selections available. We were kind of nervous to be singing at what essentially felt like a private party that we were crashing. They didn’t seem to thrown by our presence though. Twice when Brugos was up, the ENTIRE room (which was only 4-5 people) went outside for a smoke. This included the DJ.

Before we knew it, it was 11:45 and, this being a school night, DEFINITELY time to hit the road. Since it was late Sunday night, we assumed that I-5 would be empty and that we would be home in no time. Dead wrong. Apparently, some genius decided that Sunday night was the perfect time to reduce I-5 from 4 lanes to ONE. Very frustrating. This was compounded by the fact that we both had to pee. Eventually, the merging was complete, we had peed, and traffic was moving normally. But it was well after 1am by the time I was snug in my bed. Amazingly, I am only HALF a zombie today.

confederacy now?

I know a lot of people have blogged recently about the governments' proposition to put severe, ridiculous restrictions on abortion and birth control. This week, The Stranger has an article that outlines all of these threats in one, horrifying, concise list. It's all very Handmaid's Tale and it makes my vagina clench with fear. There isn't, however, any suggestion on what can be done about these threats. Just the notion that we should all be aware of what's being proposed. So we're aware. Now what? I don't want to wake up one morning and find out that I must now make babies for wealthy white men and their frigid wives through a hole in a sheet, or else run away and become a prohibition-style whore. But to whom can we voice such concerns (besides the other liberal bloggers out there)? And how can we make sure this doesn't happen?

The obvious choice.



After work, I met Meep at the grocery store to purchase provisions and catch the buses to Fremont for Elyse’s birthday party. I made a little bus cocktail for us.

On the bus to downtown, we overheard two crusty, possibly homeless, possibly just hippy types exchanging recipes across the aisle. Apparently, they were all about the “fresh grated parmesan. Not that other shit.” We also saw a teenager holding a bouquet of flowers and inexplicably taking swigs from a bottle of Tabasco sauce. We could not figure out her motivation for doing so. She was alone so it didn’t appear to be peer pressure.

While waiting for the Fremont bus downtown, Meep and I consumed our bus cocktails. The bus to Fremont was less eventful than the bus downtown. We got to Fremont 30 minutes early, so we decided to have a drink at the much lauded Buckaroo Tavern. It was, indeed, a very pleasant experience, full of gentlemanly bikers and big comfortable booths.

We arrived at Elyse’s just in time to test out her karaoke machine, which is one of those self-contained mic units that gives you a grade when you’re done with your song. Early on, Meep set the precedent with a score of 92 that was, to my knowledge, not beaten. Her song was “Alone”, by Heart. Naturally, she did a great job with it. More people showed up and someone had the idea to play suicide karaoke, wherein you let someone else choose your song. I played one round and got a song I had NEVER HEARD in my LIFE. I powered through and made up a melody, but the machine knew, and gave me a mere 27 points for my efforts.

A special mention must be made for the hors de’ oeuvres. Apparently, they were all from Trader Joes. Nonetheless, Elyse did a fabulous job heating up those mini quiches and onion tarts, the memory of which still haunts my taste buds with deliciousness.

Considering that Meep and I were already two drinks in by the time we arrived, and wasted no time opening our bottles of libation, the evening flashed by. Before I knew it, everyone was extremely drunk and it was time to go to Laser Floyd already. Unfortunately, Elyse had to wait for an out of town friend without a cell phone, so she was unable to come with us to the laser show; the activity that SHE had chosen for her birthday. Part of me wondered if this was some sort of prank that Elyse had come up with to entertain herself on her birthday; getting all her friends to go agree to a laser show and then making up a story about an out-of-town friend so that she could stay behind and we could spend our Friday night with high school kids. But since the show actually was pretty neat, I’m sure Elyse would have come if she could.

Still, it was kind of weird to be waiting in line with a group of teenagers right behind us. We began to joke about what laser shows were comprised of in “our day”. The best one was Borgia’s “Hand Puppets and Glen Miller”.

Despite the show being pretty neat, I was still laying on the floor after consuming mass amounts of alcohol, so sleep was inevitable. I think I was only out for a minute or two.

After, we discovered that Meep had left her bag at Elyse’s so we went back for it, finding the birthday girl already snug in her jammies. And for the rest of us, it was most definitely time for bed.


The morning and afternoon were spent doing very little and enjoying every minute of it. Brugos and I got breakfast at the Wayward café, which is all vegan and very delicious. I must attempt to make those chocolate coconut pancakes on my own.

We talked about walking over to the Fremont Solstice parade but TV and laziness won out.

At 5, I met Sherwood and Dom at Araya (second vegan restaurant of the day! Mark would be so proud.) and we stuffed our faces with scrumptiousness. Then we got in line for the Seattle premier of the Strangers With Candy movie. Meep was supposed to meet us too, but the poor girl was still hurting from the night before. I had no trouble selling her ticket, however, as the movie was apparently the hottest show in town. This would be the only SIFF movie I would see this year. Every year, SIFF gets more and more mainstream. I used to think it was neat that such a big-deal film festival was in my town. But now, why would I pay $3 above regular movie price to wait in long lines for a movie that’s just going to be out in theatres in a few months anyway? I wouldn’t. But I made an exception for Strangers With Candy because 1) it’s a movie I’ve been excited to see for a while and 2) I assumed one or more of the filmmakers would be in attendance.

Turns out it was just ONE filmmaker, Paul Dinello. Still, it was pretty cool to see him introduce the movie. The movie itself was funny. I definitely think that Strangers With Candy works better in a shorter format. As it was, it just felt like one long episode. I didn’t much see the point. But it was in the spirit of the show and still funnier than, say, Nacho Libre probably is.

Afterward there was a Q and A. It started off kind of annoying. It was the usual extreme fan boy questions (“My question is about this thing that you casually mentioned on the season two, disc 1 commentary…”) but eventually someone asked a question that “Amy would know the answer to”, so Paul decided to give Amy a call. She was in New York, working on a book which is why she wasn’t at the screening. It being close to midnight in New York, she was also asleep, but she very graciously answered the question on speaker phone, and also said hello to 700 very excited fans. It was neat.

After Amy hung up, someone in the audience shouted “Call Colbert”. Paul said that he was probably asleep as well, being that he was in North Carolina with his family, but that he would try his cell and we could all leave a voicemail. He put the ringing phone up to the mic and the voicemail kicked in “Hello. This is Steven. I’m not here right now…evidently. So please leave a message.” After the usual 5 minutes of operator instructions, Paul left a quick introduction to why 700 people would about to be cheering into Steven Colbert’s voicemail, and then we all cheered. It was neat.

Next, we parted ways with Dom and then Sherwood and I caught a bus back to the Hill. Sherwood went home and I met Brugos at Neumo’s for the Twilight Singers show.

The first opener was a guy called Jeff Klein, who was in love with his large guitar pedal collection and wouldn’t let us forget it. He also clearly had a tendency to do his hair in the dark. We couldn’t wait for him to get off stage.

The second act wasn’t too bad. They were called After Hours and their sound was all over the map. One minute they sounded like old Afghan Whigs and the next minute they sounded like ELO. It was enjoyable, though.

More enjoyable still was the flabby, middle-aged woman in a tight black outfit who danced like a maniac throughout the Twilight Singers set. The show wasn’t as good at Neumos as it had been in Austin. But it’s hard to top seeing any band you really like in a small, intimate bar, over seeing them in a large, packed club. Plus, I was kind of tired from having done nothing all day. We left during the second encore to beat the crowd and it was off to bed.


Brugos accompanied me to yoga, which I hadn’t been to in over a month. As a result, I knew it was going to hurt. I was right. I really needed it though. My back, which had been bothering me lately, felt better immediately. It still does. I really mustn’t slack on my yoga.

I briefly considered staying in and trying to finish up organizing my apartment, but decided against it when the opportunity to go to the House of Fun and play Karaoke Revolution presented itself.

Karaoke Revolution is really fun. And it turns out that my fears of it making me feel incredibly untalented were unfounded. I still know I don’t have a pretty voice, but I’m apparently not bad at the game. It helped, I think, that you’re able to create characters that look kind of like you. Like a hyper-sexy version of you. Or, in Brugos’ case, like a version of him in a hilarious tiger suit.

After a while, we worked up an appetite and then got some yummy Indian food, the leftovers of which I plan to consume shortly.

After a feast of Indian food, there’s really nothing for it but more lounging in front of the television. I love a productive weekend!

NEXT WEEKEND: My hovelwarming! Be there, bitches!


This quiz is dedicated to a recent conversation I had with Faye about how we're gross for girls. It's a good thing we're super cool!

You Are 60% Gross

You're more than a little gross, but probably no more gross than the average person.
Maybe it's time to drop some of those disgusting habits that could eventually embarrass you!
How Gross Are You?