Dream?

Meet fruition.

The best parts?

1) "ATTENTION: CLIMAX CLUB-II, LOCALLY KNOWN AS THE CLUB WITH THE OUTDOOR POOL IS NOT PART OF THIS OFFER !!" (Bold mine)

2) "This offer is for those who would enjoy a fun hobby..."

To start...worst video game/idea ever??

From the Gamespot Review...
Universal Studios is an odd game; in fact, it's really a mishmash of various minigames that extend from a hub, which is the park itself. Each minigame is based on one of the more conspicuous rides at the real-life park, such as Back to the Future, Jurassic Park, and Jaws. You guide your character through the park, seeking each ride so you can play the minigame based on it. Upon reaching a ride, however, you'll discover the game's first disappointing "feature"--the lines at the rides are so long that you can't get in.

That. Is. Hilarious.

But back to Universal Studios and its new problems. I've got a season pass there because I am a glutton for punishment for me and my visiting friends. Usually, there's usually one attraction there that I fixate on for a moderate amount of amusement.

It used to be the ET Ride just because I liked the fact that you rode on bike-like thingees instead of boring regular seats. And at the point where your bike lifted off, you flew over these miniature houses and hills and such. And ET talked to you and told you to "be good." And it warmed your heart.

Then, it was the Spiderman Rocks musical. Bad acting. Pop songs like Ricky Martin and the immortal Bonnie Tyler classic, "Holding Out For A Hero." It was an orgasm of badness that I never wanted to end.

I had hyped it up all weekend leading up to a visit yesterday. I enacted specific scenes to friends from out of town. I got all psyched up as we walked up to the show's usual venue. And it was gone. Bambi's mom shooting-like sadness quickly enveloped me as I wanted to throw myself to the Jurassic Park Ride's dinos.

So, while this is going on, I'm going to be there as well. Picketing. For Spiderman Rocks's return.

Serenity now.

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Here's some insight into my neighborhood for LA Blogs, using the cool new A9 Yellow Page Search thingy...

1. My favorite eatery. Birds is a great place to go on a Sunday afternoon. You can sit outside. Order some of their fabulous broasted-esque chicken. Talk with friends. See celebs often. Be aware that it's dreadfully close to the Church of Scientology though. My friend Joe says their Sloppy Joes are the best.

2. My favorite margaritas. Cabo Cantina is the bar you'll find me at the most often, especially when it's warm outside. I can't really tell if their margaritas are that good, really. I just know that between 4 and 8 every day, you get two for one. So that clouds my judgement. They also have a really good jukebox and some boneless buffalo wings that make my stomach happy.

3. My crack dealer. OK, not really. Never done crack. But if I did, I think this is where I would buy it. This food stand is near my apartment. But it is never open. Every once in a blue moon, they'll open up, sell a few tacos and then disappear. And they have a B restaurant grade too. Fishy, if you ask me.

4. My favorite place to shop. I don't shop. But when I do, I like a place that combines my favorite two places, cheap department stores and escalators. The West Hollywood Gateway has both. Who can resist Target and Best Buy being so close together? Throw in a Starbuck's, a Bevmo and a meat loaf sandwich from Zeke's Smokehouse and I am effin happy.

5. My favorite movie theater. Technically, I live in Movietheaterville. There's a lot of em around these parts. Long ones, fat ones, short ones, smelly ones. But I like the Laemmle 5 Sunset. Why? Because they're the underdog. They show independent films. Little films no one else usually has. That...and they have an escalator. Booyah.

6. My favorite grocery store. Rock 'N Roll Ralph's. This place is within walking distance from my apartment. Every time I go it's like an adventure. I've seen big time celebs, bums, stippers, pimps, American Idol contestants, travestites, porn stars and, of course, rock 'n rollers there. Simply the best, Tina Turner style. And they make some damn fine sandwiches.

7. My favorite place that has a mechanical bull. Oh, Saddleranch. For some reason, this is the place most people from out of town want me to take them. And I do, begrudgingly. I wouldn't mind it if it wasn't always as packed as those clubs you remember from your Spring Break days. But with more expensive drinks. They have a bull, which is fun to watch, drunk or sober. This is also where Real World and Road Rules cast members go to die.

8. My favorite strip club. Truth be told, I've never actually been inside the Seventh Veil. My old apartment manager used to bounce there and I'd go and hang out and talk with him. He'd try to trick me to go inside by saying, "Hey, we have all types of girls in there. Hot, ugly, fat, skinny, hairy..." I just like to say I live near the infamous club Axl Rose use to sing about. Or was it Poison? Hell. I'm sure they've all been there.

I just want to say that this news makes me cry.

Huge, fat unemployed tears.

I mean...gosh damn, that's a lot of cheddar.

I just downloaded Hall and Oate's Greatest Hits.

For some unknown reason. Is "sleepdownloading" a legitimate disorder??

OK. That's not entirely true. My first pseudo-girlfriend in elementary school was named Sara. We "went together" for like a week.

This was during the times where I didn't know why I liked the girls I liked. I just knew that I liked them for small amounts of time. Then I moved on.

But when it came time to personalize Valentine's Day cards my mom had bought at the local drugstore in bulk, I wanted to write something really "nice" for Sara.

"I like you more than Legoes." No.

"I like the clothes your mom picks out for you." No.

So, I just wrote, "I like you." And wrote some of the lyrics to the song, "Sara Smile" underneath with a smiley.

Baby hair with a woman's eyes
I can feel you're watching in the night
All alone with me and we're waiting for the sunlight
When I feel cold, you warm me
And when I feel I can't go on, you come and hold me
It's you... And me forever

Sara Smile
Won't you smile a while for me
Sara

Man. Her mom must have thought I was some insane little looney boy.

:)

Man. What a disappointment.

How in heckfire does Paul Giamatti not get nominated for an Oscar for Sideways??

Last year, he should have been nominated for American Splendor. This year, he did one better and completely carried the film acknowledged by critics as the BEST.

Ugh.

Whatever. I hope he Pig Vomits on everyone who didn't vote for him.

There's one degree between me and Kevin Bacon.

I once shared an elevator with him here in LA when he was doing his rounds promoting "Mystic River." I wanted to say something witty and memorable (like "Footloose, huh? Awesome.") but all I could get out was "Hi."

But anyways...anyone who knows me instantly has a link to the Bacon. Take for instance, my friend Chris.

Chris ate burritos at Cabo Cantina yesterday with Justin
Justin was in an elevator once with Kevin Bacon.

Sooo...besides my friendship, you have that going for you as well.

Neat.

p.s. This entry was sponsored by my friend Cory who wants to go see "The Woodsman." Starring Bacon as a reformed child molester. I'd much rather go see "Racing Stripes," a happy family movie with a talking zebra. Genius. With a message, most likely.

THE AMERICAN IDOL LINE

I just stared at that picture for 5 minutes until I saw a boat.

Jee-sus.

I would never ever ever wait in that long a line. I don't care if Jessica Alba was at the end wrapped in a bright pink bow sucking a lollipop. I can't even stand the Express Line at Ralph's.

In other news, since I watched the first episode with over 100 spillion peeps last night, I now have already picked the winner.

The guy with the band. And the long hair. Mortal lock.

You heard it here.

Living in Hollywood, I see a lot of people asking for money.

Since for some reason, I always seem to be carrying a lot of change, I have historically given 95% of the time. You need a quarter? Here. Whatever. Buy a gumball.

Sometimes I even ask them to tell me a joke. I've gotten some of my best jokes from Steve, the guy who hangs out at the 7-11 near La Brea and Sunset. Another guy that sits outside the 7-11 farther west on Sunset has suggested some good books (he's reading every time I see him ~ thus the convo starter).

Today, a guy asked me for some change. And he had a six-pack.

And not the beer.

And I just looked at him and said,

"Ughhhhh."

And scurried away.

I hope this doesn't make me a bad person. I usually don't carry the stereotype with me that the homeless shouldn't have miraculously sculpted abs. I was just flustered.

Maybe I'm just hoping he's web-surfing while ab-rolling or something right at this second. If so, I'm sorry. :)

YAY...I got the job.

Unfortunately, I got lowballed on the offer of payment for said job. Who knew that "low to moderate pay" meant "low to moderate existence" in LA. I would have to devise some really creative Ramen recipes to survive.

Well back to my job as Jack Bauer's undercover partner. I'm always about 30 minutes behind him so you...uh...never really see me...onscreen.

"I've been very lonely in my isolated tower of indecipherable speech." ~BJM

I had a job interview this morning. Downtown LA. It was a hoot.

It was in a nondescript building near MacArthur Park. But once I stepped into the elevator, it started reminding me of that job interview scene from "Being John Malkovich." Very quirky yet endearing in its own way.

I got there a little early and the entire company is located in a loft-style office that was located down a dark hallway, once I got off the elevator. Luckily, it wasn't located on a 1/2 floor.

Halfway during the interview, a blood-curdling scream from across the street in the park stopped me from selling my resume's finer points. Both the man who interviewed me and I quickly turned towards the window.

"Some girl must be getting raped in the park again," he said.

Joking, of course.

Only in Los Angeles.

Thank you Open Water.

Scared of sharks? Not so much.

Scared of people that can't count? Now, yes.

Now if I meet a clown in a dark alley that coincidentally also can't count, I'm having a heart attack. At age 24.

I've just learned that I get predictive text on my Sprint cell-phone. Which means that conversations with my girlfriend take less time. And according to the aforementioned predictive text thingee, we can be dirty but...not.

Her: "So, just type anything."

Me: "Like, I have a large remus."

Her: "Remus??"

Me: "Yes. Apparently I can't type remus. It types remus instead."

Her: "LOL!!"

Me: "I guess it won't let me talk about your puppy either."

Her: "Damn."