12/7/04 @ 8:00am.............Last time I woke up.
12/8/04 @ 7:00pm.............Current time.
10/15/04...........................Last time I felt sane.

A Homoerotic Epic of Bad Acting, Bad Writing, and Bad Directing...OR: Why A Couple Hundred Million Dollars Won't Guarantee You A Good Film...OR: How I Wasted 3 Hours of My Time

If you haven't guessed, I'm talking about the recently released "Alexander." This was literally the worst film I have seen in a very very long time. I don't walk out of films...ever; but I was so close to walking out of this film that I even surprised myself. Let's discuss the finer points of this masterpiece:

The Alexandrian army was using everything from Scottish to British accents, almost all the men were wearing eyeliner, at least two characters had identical eye-gouged-out-scars that weren't even good, there were at least 3 completely androgynous characters, the plot (though mostly historically accurate) was confusing, the timing was ridiculously slow or fast respectively in the completely wrong places, the countless longing looks between Alexander and other men were completely laughable, there was almost no believable acting, the writing was so cliche I thought it was on purpose for humor's sake, and 10 minutes into the film I was already ready for it to be over.

Seriously, just don't see it. I beg of you. Don't see it or you will regret it. There was nothing redeeming about the film. You want some good war scenes? Watch Braveheart or something...anything other than "Alexander."

Oh man...I hope I don't dream about it.

After Ignoring My Website for Some Time...

...I'm back to ramble some.

I'm pretty much more stressed than I have ever been other than that one time I had 2 weeks to learn a semi-lead part for a play and I pretty much had a nervous breakdown. But other than that...yeah, this whole movie thing takes the cake. And I don't want it to take the cake. I like the cake. In fact, if I had the cake right now I would have a piece, but no...the movie thing has taken my precious cake and now I am left cakeless and alone.

On the other hand, my movie should turn out pretty dang good.

Here's a mini-update in one jumbled paragraph: I saw the Grudge and was pretty much scared to sleep for a couple nights, I got a little bit of a raise at *bucks, I was mistaken for Chad Murrey (that kid from One Tree Hill or who used to be on Dawson's Creek), I registered for the last classes I will ever take at Chapman, I got a tiny bit of sleep, I won some tickets at Dave and Busters, I let my room slowly deteriorate and still have no intention of cleaning it, I took on two huge editing projects at the same time, I didn't have my penis dilated (wow, I haven't even mentioned it in a long time), I nearly failed a science test, and I spent a ton more money on the pre-production of my 4 minute film.

Now it's time to sleep. Tomorrow I have to take step 8/35 to get permits to use fake guns in public.

Goodnight...goodnight...again I say goodnight.

Reason #47 Why I Hate Spiders

I pulled my car up to the house the other night and right before I turned off my lights I saw a huge black spider on the wall by our mailbox. I ignored it and went to bed. The next day I looked there again, just to see, and to my surprise the spider was still there. Only this was no ordinary spider. This was, literally, the biggest spider I have ever seen outside of a zoo type environment other than a tarantula. It was so massive and so pitch black that I was afraid to get within 10 feet of it. So I got wasp killer that sprays up to 20 feet. I tried to build up some confidence and then started soaking the monstrosity to no end. As it spun around I noticed something on its underside...that's right...a red hourglass. It was the mother of all black widows. I smashed it with a newspaper and for the rest of the day I felt like I had spiders crawling all over me.

Today I found yet another black widow in almost the same place. It was smaller...but like that matters.

If I stop writing you'll know that the black widows have taken over the house and I am wrapped up frodo-style in a giant web. If that happens and you come and save me I might give you a dollar or something cool like that.

Devil's Night

After getting sick and having to work at *bucks anyway and not sleeping and "waking up" sicker than before and having to go to a film shoot all day, I realized that Shauna's birthday party/haloween party was TONIGHT and not tomorrow night. I still had nothing to wear, so I hurried over to the costume shop and bought some Ben Nye and meticulously applied a bald cap and a half a pound of blue grease paint. Paired with all black clothing, I was a Blue Man. As in, one of the Blue Man Group. Only I was groupless. The stuff stung my eyes and my nose was/is running thereby streaking the paint and then it took over half an hour to scrub MOST of it off (meaning I'll be in church tomorrow with some blue eyeliner looking stuff on), but I was told it looked pretty darn good.

Naomi was Stevin Tyler. She wore a sock in her pants. She tried to poke me with it.

Other costumes consisted of a catholic school boy paired with a priest with a fake penis sticking out of his robe, Smokey the Bear, the kid from Rushmore, a group of four or five leather clad policewomen, and some guy who I think made his face look like a baseball.

Now it's time to drink some tea and sleep. And then I'm off to church, another six hour shoot, writing a paper for class, doing homework for class, and then work at 4am Monday morning. Wee!

900' of film.....................................................................................$300
craft services..................................................................................$160
12' truck rental for 2 days................................................................$130
film processing/telecine...................................................................$125/hr
2 replica handguns..........................................................................$65
costumes........................................................................................$50
magnetic sign..................................................................................$40
faux wedding ring............................................................................$10
leaving film school with my own film................not nearly priceless enough

for everything else there's slaving away at an underpaid job

Forgive Me If I Make No Sense

It's 1:30AM, it's absolutely pouring outside, and I can't, for the life of me, for the second night in a row now, get anywhere close to sleeping.

I just wrote a huge paragraph and then erased it because it was numbingly boring.

Instead of trying to be witty when I can barely stay awake but can't go to sleep, I will tell you a bedtime story.

There was once a boy named Grant. He made small amounts of money working at a coffee shop and didn't quite work hard enough at school. One night he couldn't get to sleep.

The end.

Sigh...again...

Josias...you are totally and utterly caught up on your emotional story here. Until you can get past that (which may never happen, I'm not telling you to get over your father's death, I'm telling you to not argue while you are emotional) give up trying to persuade people who have done their research, have their educated opinions, and will not change for a sob story. I'm not going to argue with you any more because you are completely against listening to anything anyone says. Shauna laid out a perfectly good explanation of what she believes and why she believes it (she agrees with YOU for god's sake) and yet you go back to saying we're all wrong because your father died. Try arguing without mentioning your father even once and maybe you will come across as credible.

Sigh...

Apparently my little talk about stem-cell research offended a person or two. Here's a comment I got:

"well, my dad died of diabedes earlier this year, and splitting a cell or two could have saved his life. I'm sure the Matrix really made an impression on you, but this is real life.

I really resent kids that think they have some kind of concept about what life is all about. Maybe when your dad is laying face down on the kitchen floor you'll be a little bit less self-righteous. Ignorant people like you are what is going to continue to keep other fathers like mine dying.

So spare me your concern for molecules when I remember my dad trying to speak to me one last time."

Josias

.....


Well Josias, I truly am sorry that your dad died. Death is an incredibly difficult thing that has touched pretty much everyone. It does not, however allow us to justify anything we want. I'm glad to see that the main thing you got out of my post was the comment about the Matrix. You know why I put that in there? Because I was trying to not be too gloomy about a horrible subject. It's called a societal reference...glad to see you know the difference in a comparison and a thesis statement.

Oh, and next time you want to make an argument, you might want to try something other than argumentum ad hominem. In case you are even more ignorant than you are accusing me of being, that's attacking the person rather than attacking the argument. You can tell me I'm ignorant, I'm just a kid, and I have no concept of what life is all about, but that doesn't mean anything when what I was talking about was stem-cell research. In fact, it just makes you look more ignorant. Plus, good job telling me I don't know what life is all about when you know absolutely nothing about me as a person. Shows how smart you really are.

The comment you made about "when your dad is...." how in the world do you know whether or not I have been through something just as, if not even more tragic and traumatic? What I displayed in my post was nothing similar to self-righteous behavior...it was completely selfless in that my desire is to help inform others so as to save the lives of thousands, hundreds of thousands, even millions of babies lives.

And yes...I like the line about people like me being the reason your father died. Good job of placing the blame on completely innocent people. Good use of argumentum ad misercordiam.

Also, I had to laugh out loud when I read the line about my concern for molecules. I don't care about molecules, Josias, I care about lives. If you think I haven't done my research on this topic and am just bs-ing it all, make another guess. I have done intensive, in depth research on this topic. Have you done research into how babies will be mutilated and thrown in the garbage in the name of science?

Just because something is possible, doesn't make it right. Take a look at my examples in that post. Shooting someone in the head to save an ill person's life is absolutely in no way justifiable. Therefore, neither is stem-cell research.

Not everyone who has an opinion differing from yours is misinformed.

Satan Rejected My Soul

I don't pretend to know much about the state deficit, the United State's foreign affairs policy, or even how our tax brackets work...but there's an issue or two that I do know about. And no, this isn't going to be an account of the debates, that can be found anywhere.

This is going to be about legalizing murder.

I find it funny that so many people are utterly against the death penalty, against animal cruelty, and against mistreating humans in any way shape or form, but are willing to say that it's fine to have a partial birth abortion. But I don't even want to talk about abortion right now, I want to talk about stem-cell research.

For those who don't know, this is where you take a stem-cell (the cell before it is turned into a specific cell for the body to use) and harvesting these to use for just about anything. They are incredibly helpful and can heal all kinds of diseases and save lives like none other. So why would it be so bad to have unrestricted stem-cell research?

Remember the Matrix? Remember the harvesting of humans? That's what we'd be doing. Take an in vitro fertilization. When these take place, there is often more than one egg fertilized. These are frozen and can be used later because normally the person who is going to have the child doesn't want more than one kid.

Now TRY and tell me that those fertilized eggs are not the beginning of life. Try and tell me that when all you have to do is put the fertilized egg in a uterus and 9 months later you have a child, that it is not life.

What would this mean for stem-cell research? It would mean that we could take those frozen eggs and take the stem-cells and throw the eggs in the trash. We would literally be throwing the first stage of little babies into the garbage. Which is no different than abortion...it's just seen as even LESS bad since it is doing some good in the end.

But tell me...is it worth it to kill one in order to save another?

If you were in a room with two people, one of whom is terminally ill and one of whom is fine, and you had a gun, would you shoot the healthy one to save the ill one's life?

Sigh...I’m too tired to think of more logical reasons why stem-cell research is wrong. Please do some research. Please vote against it. I'm so apolitical it's not even funny...but this is serious.

14-41

Hola mis amigos. Hoy es mi cumpleanos. I had work at 4am and I was forced to wear a little golden crown that, let's just say didn't make me look very manly. Earlier in this week the wearing of the crown was used a punishment. So I guess the crown is punishment or reward depending on the situation. The customers were split into 3 groups. The first third thought I lost a bet. The second third thought it was my birthday. The third third thought I was coming out of the closet. One of our customers even explained his desire to get me on the counter and spank me. Oh yes...birthdays at *bucks.

Then it was off to class, class, and more class. Then it's band practice. Then it's 10pm. Then I didn't do anything for my birthday. Wee!

Here's a New End Original song just to be like all the angsty teens out there. This isn't how I feel...just a good song....download it....illegally.

AHHH....MARRIAGE.....AHHH!!!

It seems that Cupid is on a bloody rampage of epic proportions. I'm talking a maelstrom of arrows from every angle. There's no other explanation for it. Everybody and their mom is getting married. No really...I know a guy who is getting married around the same time his mom is. Let's count. High school friend married (she's my age) AND PREGNANT. Ex-roommate friend getting married in the next couple weeks. Long time family friend just married this weekend. Cousin who is one year older than me married. Naomi's sister is getting married in a couple weeks. Two very close friends just engaged. Another friend engaged and talking about marriage. Plus, at least two couples who are on the verge of engagement.

Everyone needs to chill out and stop getting married so I can stop freaking out about people my age getting married and having kids. Seriously people, don't you consider my happiness more important than your own?

Marriage changes passion - suddenly you're in bed with a relative. ~Author Unknown

I can't think of a good title

I'm off to 2 birthdays and a wedding. In San Jose. And one of the birthdays is mine. But it's not really during the time I'm home. But that doesn't really matter. Anyway...I know you'll all miss me terribly. Try not to cry too much.

...

After they finished having sex in the bathroom and I had gone in to mop, their friend started throwing up in the parking lot. The girl dressed like a 70's something or other asked for a trash bag for their friend's clothes.

In Honor of Ed...

I was reminded today that I have had this site for over 3 years now. 3 years! That's a long time. When I started:

I was about to turn 19........................now I'm about to turn 22.
I was a lowly freshmen.......................now I'm about to graduate.
I was in a horrible relationship...........now I couldn't ask for a better one.
I didn't play any instruments..............now I have 3 years bass experience.
I lived in the dorms............................now I live in a house.

etc....etc....etc.....

So in honor of 3 years of rambling...here's a story about drugs:

Two guys walk into *bucks. But there's no punch line here. These guys show up around 4:15am. We're not even open yet, just setting up. The second we open they come in, hyper as can be. I thought they were off to some meeting or maybe on a business trip and had to fly out early. But they wouldn't leave. They both immediately used the restroom and downed a couple cups of coffee.

That's when it dawned on me. They were high.

They were touching everything, talking a mile a minute, sweating profusely, pacing, twitching, and seriously invading everyone's personal space. They were drinking tons of water, explaining that they hadn't slept all night, rambling about crashing and needing more coffee, and...generally...annoying everyone.

Ah methamphetamines.

After they used the restroom about 4 more times a piece it dawned on me that they were snorting/shooting up in there. They stayed for about 7 hours. They sat at a table outside and went over script ideas. As I went to empty the trash I could overhear little bits of their conversation/script ideas:

I don't like women....but I like girls. I don't like women...but I like girls. I don’t like women...

Apparently, the night before, one of them got engaged and was accepted into the screen actors guild.

You Know You Spend Too Much Time at the Doctor When...

I walked into room 101 and headed towards the window.

Hi Grant! one of the three women cheerfully shouts.

Another of them says, Looks like you got a haircut.

It makes you look happier the third woman chimes in.

The little old woman who has seen my penis more times in the past year than I ever expected someone who's name I didn't even know to have seen it walked towards me. She held the urinalysis cup in her hand and sort of danced it around in the air like you would do to a baby that didn't want to eat it's strained carrots.

I followed her into the examination room and on her way out said, You know what to do and closed the door behind her.

Doctor K didn't even tell me what he was doing this time. Everything was deja vu and he proceeded to tell the nurse a little story about his daughter instead of paying attention to me and explaining his actions. The song It's All Been Done Before played in my head. He didn't even try and tell me to relax this time.

Within 15 minutes I was dressed again and Doctor K was drawing me a picture of my urethra and signing me up for another dilation in December.

Maybe next time he'll at least buy me dinner before touching my penis.

Um...

Right now when you go to Hotmail, over on the left, where there are normally news articles, there is a picture of a little girl putting on lipstick. The clickable caption to the right of it says, "Hot on Hotmail: Girl applying lipstick." Oh, and the girl is like 8. When you click on the link it comes up with a page that says "No such link."

Looks like Hotmail is entering a whole new world of financial possibility.

MORE RESULTS!!!

Thanks to Aro (who's in Spain) I have more result. Read it and weep. (same rules as last time)


Grant has been going to the yogurt dispenser in order to have medical procedures done to his thumbnail. He even had a platypus in his Inner Thigh and he had to Kablam in a liberty.


Grant works at a Shark wrangling company and he makes scoops. He wears a pterodactly green rock-star wrist band and drinks too much molten lava. The high-flying customers really get on his nerves and he wants to face-plant them all.


Grant is in Destruct-o-tron school learning to meow film. He wants to work with rippling people and make stone for a living.


Grant has lots of medical problems. These include: an upper arm that has been broken twice, a nostril clogged with scar tissue, a mohawk that has sharp burning pain every so often, multiple Furbys and Super Ninjas on his leg hairs at any given time, and a rear end that is still not healed after a golfing accident.


Grant is dating Princess Zelda. This upcoming September, they will have been together for 3 1\2 years. Princess Zel always tells Grant to inhale his pie, but Grant never listens. At this very moment, Grant’s penguin is still horribly freaking cold!


Grant is very banished right now and should probably not be yelping on his hair-raising pirate. Since that is the case, he is going to love to dolphin as soon as this ferocious army is completed.

See ya'll next time. I need to find a blanket for my penguin.

RESULTS!!!

Thanks to Kyle....HI KYLE!....I have some results from my madlib thing. I was sorely disappointed to find out that nobody answered my oh-so-fun post, so here are the results of the one and only cool person out there. The bold words are the filled in responses.



Grant has been going to the hooker in order to have medical procedures done to his spleen. He even had a swiss army knife in his sphincter and he had to throw in a peanut.


Grant works at Dr. Val?s k9 Crisis Veterinary Center and he makes scissors. He wears army green rubber gloves and drinks too much blue raspberry icee. The dizzy customers really get on his nerves and he wants to falling them all.


Grant is in pet rock school learning to hit film. He wants to work with soft people and make JFK for a living.


Grant has lots of medical problems. These include: gums that have been broken twice, a big toe clogged with scar tissue, a love handle that has sharp burning pain every so often, multiple feathers and police on his hairs at any given time, and a lymph node that is still not healed after a golfing accident.


Grant is dating Lorenna. This upcoming September, they will have been together for 13 years. Lorenna always tells Grant to cut his dumpster, but Grant never listens. At this very moment, Grant's death valley is still horribly sweaty.


Grant is very dead right now and should probably not be sawing on his large pencil. Since that is the case, he is going to run to spoon as soon as this broken Grant is completed.


p.s. I am highly disturbed to find out that my death valley is still horribly sweaty.

Insomniacs on Ice

It was Friday and I only had one class to attend. That night I had woken up at least 3 times feeling rushed and worried that I was missing something or was late to something. I guess that should have clued me in. I strolled into my room at 9:45 and for no apparent reason double-checked the start time of my class. I KNEW it started at 9pm. It started at 9am.

I ran out the door wearing the same clothes I wore the day before and started to skate to school as fast as I possibly could. Room 150 is all I cared about. I showed up and ran into the building scanning the room numbers. It was 9:58 and I wasn't too late. I showed up only to find out that room 150 is not a room at all...instead it is a hallway of teacher's offices. Oh goody. So I went to the office to ask where the class was. It was in the goldroom...which is a good mile from campus. The online schedule I was given was wrong. And I had no car.

The temperature was already around 90 degrees and I was pedaling way too hard. I hit an intersection and stopped along side a jogger to wait for a car to pass. We both started going since this red mustang just pulled up and stopped at the stop sign. I was halfway across the intersection when out of my peripheral vision I saw the red mustang coming towards me. Suddenly everything was in slow motion. I assessed the situation and leapt from my skateboard, flew through the air, hand-planted off the hood of the car, was hit in the leg and lower back by said car, and landed a few feet away. I turned around, unbelieving of what just took place. This guy had just hit me. And his car was on my skateboard. I had to ask him to back up so I could pull it from under his wheel. He offered me a pathetic "sorry" and I ignored him and skated away swearing at him in my head.

I got to the goldroom and ran inside. I was a sweaty mess and I couldn't breathe, but at least I had made it and it was only 10:10....the class didn't end till 11:15. I asked an employee where the class was taking place and, yes, you guessed it, the class was let out early.

I exhaustedly skated back to my house to take a shower.

Seriously...does this kind of thing happen to everyone or is there some practical joke group out there specifically assembled to put me in unbelievable situations?

Grantlibs

Alright everyone, it's time for some mad madlib action. Fill in the blanks below and then insert them into the appropriate spaces in the sentences. If any of them turn out funny, send them to me and I'll post them. Have fun! (p.s. the dashes are not the number of letters that are supposed to be in the word)

1-profession____________
2-body part_____________
3-noun_________________
4-body part____________
5-verb_________________
6-noun_________________

7-business_____________
8-noun________________
9-color________________
10-artical of clothing_______________
11-liquid_______________
12-adjective____________
13-verb________________

14-noun_______________
15-verb________________
16-adjective____________
17-noun_______________

18-body part___________
19-body part___________
20-body part___________
21-plural noun____________
22-plural noun____________
23-body part (plural)____________
24-body part______________

25-girl's name_____________
26-number________________
27-same girl's name______________
28-verb______________
29-noun_____________
30-noun______________
31-adjective___________

32-adjective___________
33-verb ending in "ing"_____________
34-adjective____________
35-noun_______________
36-verb________________
37-noun_______________
38-adjective___________
39-noun_______________




























Grant has been going to the (1)_________ in order to have medical procedures done to his (2)_______. He even had a (3)_________ in his (4)__________ and he had to (5)_________ in a (6)_________.


Grant works at (7)__________ and he makes (8)___________. He wears a (9)_________ (10)_________ and drinks too much (11)____________. The (12)___________ customers really get on his nerves and he wants to (13)___________ them all.


Grant is in (14)__________ school learning to (15)_________ film. He wants to work with (16)__________ people and make (17)_________ for a living.


Grant has lots of medical problems. These include: a (18)_________ that has been broken twice, a (19)____________ clogged with scar tissue, a (20)___________ that has sharp burning pain every so often, multiple (21)_________ and (22)_________ on his (23)__________ at any given time, and a (24)__________ that is still not healed after a golfing accident.


Grant is dating (25)___________. This upcoming September, they will have been together for (26)_________ years. (27)__________ always tells Grant to (28)_________ his (29)__________, but Grant never listens. At this very moment, Grant?s (30)________ is still horribly (31)__________.


Grant is very (32)__________ right now and should probably not be (33)__________ on his (34)__________ (35)____________. Since that is the case, he is going to (36)___________ to (37)___________ as soon as this (38)_________ (39)__________ is completed.


goodnight.

......and then I found five dollars.

Here are some rational thoughts that I wish I could inject into most of the worlds populous.

-Marriage for Dummies
Getting married at a really young age isn't stupid. Getting married at a really young age when you are not financially stable IS stupid. Then again...getting married at ANY age when you are not financially stable is stupid. I have some good friends, and some casual acquaintances who are married...and who are younger than I am. Sure this freaks me out, but that's not the point. Take this girl I know who I will call X for anonymity. X went to my high school and is my age. X got married at the age of 20, and though her parents are absurdly wealthy, she and her husband cannot afford to even live on their own. So here is X and her husband, Y, who are now living with X's parents and holding minimum wage jobs in hopes that some day they can live in their own house and have some privacy. As for now, X still has to ask daddy for spending money when she wants to go buy a pizza.

Seriously, what is so hard about waiting? X loves Y. Y loves X. Why will it make ANY difference if they get married at 20, or at 25. Those five years can make all the difference in being able to take care of a family. Sigh....

-Driving Lessons for the Painfully Stupid
Let's say we're taking a road trip. Let's say we're on the 5. Let's say we're going to be on the 5 for about 300 miles (since this was my situation four days ago). You have two choices. You can sit back and relax; pass if necessary and drive like a normal person. OR... you can commit these travesties: 1-riding 3 inches from the bumper of the car in front of you until they move, even though the lane to their right was clear for passing. 2-going absurd speeds to pass the car in front of you in order to get there before you have to slow down because of the semi-truck in the other lane, only to be stuck behind the next car which is an amazing 10 feet farther up the road....then doing this again and again and again. 3-riding 1 inch from the bumper of the car in front of you showing as much impatience as possible until the car moves over into the other lane so you can pass, only to have you slow down again, or go JUST fast enough so as not to pass the car that graciously moved over for you.

None of these will get you to your destination more than 5 minutes faster. All of these will raise your chances of getting a ticket or getting in an accident. Sigh....

-You are not God's gift to mankind
Parents: Letting your 10 year old girl dress like a hooker does not make you cool...but it does give 50 year old men something to look at. Ignoring the subject of sex completely, or calling it "of the devil" will only spur your little ones to want to try it more (check the stats on Jr. high sex). Sheltering your little baby from the big bad world will only work for so long...and if done to the extreme, will only backlash and lead to complete lack of thought when it comes to your kid being away from home (why do you think sex/drugs/drinking are so rampant among the kids of the strictest of Christian homes?)

Girls: Wearing slutty clothes will not make up for your beer belly. A thong sticking 4 inches out of your pants will not attract your knight in shining armor, unless your knight in shining armor keeps a tally of all the girls he has scored with. Calling yourself "princess", "queen", "hot", or "spoiled" only means one thing to guys...stay away from that girl. Fake breasts are super attractive...to guys who are purely (and only) obsessed with the physical (ie: not the guy you want to spend the rest of your life with). Just because the world (ie: Cosmo magazine) says that guys play mind games, does not make it true...believe me, what a guy says is what a guy means 95% of the time.

Guys: Games such as burnout, bloody knuckles, and gas pedal do not put you in a good light with the girls, unless you want to be seen as sophomoric or infantile. Working out till your man-boobs are big enough to need a bra will not attract the ladies. You are not going to find a girl who plays video games, farts, burps, watches porn, loves cars, plays sports, and loves sex even more than you...so stop looking. Pride is not attractive. Flashing money will attract needy women...just what you want, right?

Everyone: Reading a book won't kill you (and I mean a book without pictures). Figuring out why you believe what you believe is probably a smart idea. Religion is not a crutch...calling religion a crutch is a crutch. Spouting anti-america, anti-corporation, and anti-government lyrics is just a wee bit self-refuting when you are doing so on a major radio station. If you hate Bush/consumerism/capitalism so much...go spend a few weeks in Cuba. Stop arguing about issues you don't know anything about.

.....ok, I'm off my soapbox.

p.s. I have a friend who would always tell these really long stores that would go on and on and on and then suddenly stop. Everyone listening would keep staring as if waiting for the rest of the story, only there was no more story. They were just pointless stories. After a while, she realized that people never knew what the stories were about, so she started to tack on, "....um....and then I found five dollars." If everything you say needs said suffix...rethink what you're saying.

Hydracodene and Saltines

Wednesday the 11th I woke up around 10:30 in a white room, naked expect for a paper thin sheet, and I knew for a fact that I had been naked in front of at least 5 people and at least one of them had been touching my penis. No no, I'm not filing for sexual assault...I paid them to do this. I paid them at least $12,000 in fact. Yes, friends, it's time for another installment of "Grant Had Penis Surgery!"

No worries...no details this time. My first doctor was an idiot and messed me up a little. I have a new doctor who knew what he was doing, so once more I went under the knife. I can't believe I've been through well over a year of pain for a simple eighth inch of scar tissue. Alas...what is normally a small ordeal has become the bain of my existence.

The funny part about the whole thing is that I had to wear a catheter for 9 days. I felt like a super hero who never had to go to the bathroom. Sure it kinda leaked out of me into a plastic bag thing tied to my thigh...but technically I never had to GO to the bathroom. If I had a bottle with me, I could take a 24 hour road trip and never stop. That's not to say it wasn't the most annoying thing in the entire universe.

So I was hopped up on Vicodin and eating saltines for a day or two. Oh, and drinking at least 2 liters of water a day. Go find something in the store that is 2 liters. It's HUGE. I had to drink that every day. I would just sit there and drink water all day. It's really amazing how quickly water goes right through you when your bladder muscles are bypassed. Plus, working at *bucks on Vicodin is fun.

So now I have a month to heal and then it's right back to more cysto-dilations. The non-under-anesthesia kind. And I have at least 4 or 5 more of those.

There was this video in the doctor's office entitled, "What Every Man Should Know About His Prostate." I got thinking...I don't know too much about my prostate....what vital information is on this video? I may never know.

CONTEST TIME!!!
If anyone (but Naomi) can tell me what the little tube taped to a wall, or a cabinet, or a towel dispenser in every single doctor's office is, I will give them a dollar.

p.s. It's road trip time. I'll have pictures when I get back.

To Paraphrase a Scene from Garden State:

"There's a point where your house is no longer your home. Eventually you have to create a new home with your new family. I'm homesick for a place that doesn't exist."

It's so bizarre, but this is exactly what I was explaining to someone very recently. The transition between the place you grew up being home and the place you grew up not being home is so quick that you do a double take. Last summer I didn't go home to live. And the summer before that it seemed like I was just home to visit. Just to visit the place that I lived for 13 years of my life. Most people end up getting a call from their parents that goes like this:

parent: "Hey there."
kid: "Hey."
parent: "You know how you don't really live at home anymore?"
kid: "Um....yeah?"
parent: "Well, we're turning your room into the new gym/office/champagne room."
kid: "Um...ok?"

Though my conversation with my dad went a little bit differently. He called me about a week ago and the voice message went something like this:

dad: "Hey grant. Hope you're doing well. Grandpa has advanced lung cancer and won't be alive for much longer, so I've started moving things out of your room so he can stay there since he probably won't last much longer."

Wee! I guess your room, even if your house is no longer your home, is still your room. It has your stuff in it. Your secrets. And then it doesn't one day.

So here I am, "homeless" until some day I create a new home. And oddly enough, create a new family. You never think when you're a kid that one day you'll have a "new family," but I guess that's how you could think of it. Anyway.

Countdown to surgery #2: T-minus 3 days, 11 hours, 20 minutes, 32 seconds.

Oh, and Garden State was excellent. Very much so. See it.

I'm Falling Apart...

It's 1:51am and I am sincerely worried that my leg is broken. I mean...I'm sure it's not, but it's hard to be sure of that when you directly slam the shinbone into a metal pole (that just so happens to be perfect grant-shin height) and now you can hardly walk on it, put any pressure on it, and it's swollen to the size of a marble. A medium sized marble. You know.

So now I have a bad of ice taped to my leg because I couldn't type and hold it on my leg at the same time. Only I'm in my boxers so I had to scotch tape the freezer bag full of ice to my bare leg.

Let's count down Grant's physical ailments:

1 seemingly broken shin
1 broken penis (ok ok, not broken)
1 off and on horrendous pain in the same shin (only not caused from this accident)
1 hurt wrist
A myriad of cuts/burns/bruises from *bucks

I'm really not trying to complain. I'm just writing while I wait for the prerequisite 15 minutes of icing is up so I can try and sleep. I will gladly accept comments such as, "What a wimp!" or "Stop whining you baby!" or "You're such a _____" (fill in blank with your favorite word)

g'night

8/7/04
DX - stricture
NPO
consent: visual urethrotomy
prep
Labs- CBC, SMA-7, PT, PTT, VA

Laying down, if I closed my eyes it could have felt as if I was trying to sleep on a twin bed with a too hard mattress. Opening my eyes, however, revealed a bright florescent light burning rectangle shapes into my vision. Scanning the pock-marked ceiling, I found the sad face...the one that I had found the last time. I smiled, showing the polar-opposite of my little friend. Then I closed my eyes tight for the cleaning, the application of the Novocain, and the 26-gage steel. Fists holding the flimsy sheet underneath me squeezed so tight that afterwards they stayed red. Back arching and every muscle in my body tensing despite the gentle words, "Just relax...just relax" coming from the doctor.

You think I'd be used to this.

You think that this being the 7th time I have had it done that I would think it was nothing.

Marylyn Manson, when he was a kid, had the same procedure done. His urethra was closed and they had to dilate it. It was so bad, that even though the doctors told him to have it done again at a later point, he refused. Let me say that again. Marylyn Manson, the antichrist, the devil incarnate (no, I don't think of him so, but he enjoys representing that so let's play along) said that the procedure I have had done 7 times was so bad that he risked serious health issues and did not go back for a second time.

On the bright side I didn't nearly pass out this time. And so I don't make you pass out I'll skip the gory details this time.

Now I have another surgery lined up in August. The big kind of surgery. The kind where they put me to sleep and go at it with a knife. The kind where I can't drive for a day after. The kind where they leave a catheter in for up to 10 days after. The kind where I dread it every single second until it takes place.

I could really use some hope right now. And some prayer. I don't care if you're a Christian or not...could you please send a word or two up to God for me?

Money is the Root of All Personality Traits?

In a matter of weeks I have changed my job from barista to psychoanalyst. Who knows...maybe this could catch on...get your morning coffee and a quick mental breakdown for one semi-low price. You can tell all kinds of things about people by looking at their daily, mostly subconscious activities...like getting coffee. When you work at a coffee shop, you are merely a machine employed to do the customer's bidding; nobody expects you to actually think, especially not think about them. One of the easiest ways to tell about someone is how they use money. Here's what I've figured out, and you can see where you fit in:

Psychoanalysis of a Barista: Part 1
(Money)

The Crisp New Bills: Often a business man/woman. Rarely in small denominations. The crisp bills compliment their nicely manicured nails, flashy watch, white teeth, and hurried actions. Often digs crisp bills out of a stack of other just as crisp bills. Tips? Either nothing, or allot...never in between.

The Wadded Mess of Money: Often a kid, or disheveled adult. Usually has just enough to cover the price of the drink. Often tries to straighten out the bills as if embarrassed of the crinkled nature of the money. Usually a relaxed demeanor. Tips? Never.

All Change: Varied looks, always insanely thrifty. Even if the drinks add up to 8 or 9 dollars, all of it will be paid in change, holding up the line all for the sake of not breaking that $20. Always makes small talk about using so much change. Always feels guilty and tries to make up for it by smiling allot and apologizing profusely. Tips? Only if change is lower than 10 cents.

Exact Change: The usuals...the ones who come in once, twice, or three times a day. They know their drinks, we know their drinks, and they don't like waiting for change. Often hand off money and walk away before any questions can be asked. Tips? Either nothing or allot.

The $100 Bill: Varied looks, but always someone who is trying to be sneaky and break the bill. The order is always $5 or less, but they still hand you a $100 bill and act like they are surprised that it's all they have. They are given away by starting the surprised look before they even look in their wallet. We don't take $100 bills. They sigh and pull out a credit card or smaller bills every time. Tips? Never.

The Math Minded: These are the people who throw in a few bills or coins extra to make the change an exact amount so they end up with all bills or specific change. Usually looks down upon person as register and explains that they realize they have handed you more than necessary thinking that since said person works at a nearly minimum wage job, said person must not know math. Tips? Never.

The Reluctant Payer: This is the person who acts like they are doing you a favor by paying for their drink. You say the price, they roll their eyes, then they slowly...very slowly...count out the change and hand it to you like they should not have to pay so much for coffee...yet here they are at *bucks. Tips? Never...and possibly even takes money FROM the tips and pays with it if in need of a dime or two.

Stay tuned kids...next week maybe I'll cover the passive-aggressive, the openly aggressive, and the looking-for-a-handout customers.

I'll have a Mocha Frappachino With Some Racism on the Side

The other night I was working a late shift and suddenly at around 12:30am a huge line formed out the door...every person in said line wanting a drink of blended goodness (which I don't find that good). Needless to say, things got hectic and people had to wait a few minutes extra for their drinks. As I was making the last of the drinks, a guy walks up and asks if his drink is ready because he has been waiting for a while. Greg, the guy on the register, explained that one of our blenders is broken and because of the rush there was a wait and he apologized for the wait. The guy then said, and I quote, "You would have made my drink quicker if I was white." Huh? Since when did race become the deciding factor in how quick you get your drink at Starbucks? Neither Greg nor I had even noticed that he was Hispanic until he said that. Oh, and we had a guy of Hispanic origin working with us at the time.

On a lighter note I just took a shower and am wearing only a towel...so I should get dressed.

But first...

Grant's 1 Second Movie Reviews

Boondock Saints: Great film. William Defoe rocks....and crossdresses.
Sylvia: Eh....too slow.
Shopping: Not bad at all. Car chases, gangs, death....you know.
One Last Minute: Or is that what it's called? Pretty good.
Bad Santa: Bad.
City of God: Absolutely amazing.
Elephant: Totally different and worth watching.

P.S. I'm dressed now.

The Disenchantment of the Happiest Place on Earth
(or Consumerism Bites the Dust)

My family came to visit my brother and I for his birthday which, subsequently, is the day before July 4th. This means that I was obligated to go to Disneyland to watch the huge, amazing, grandiose fireworks show for the 4th. Naomi and I moseyed on over to the park (the word mosey should be used more often...along with cheeky) and bought us some $50 tickets. Who in their right mind spends $50 to go to an amusement park for one day? That's like a whole days work for me just to go to Disneyland. Anyway. After eating at Naples (the restaurant, not the city...oh, and the former owner, er, employer of Shauna...the same Shauna who, on the last post, so eloquently told off Silus The Idiot) we went to find a seat for the much talked about show. I should keep a small timeline going here. It was about 8:50 now...1 hour and 45 minutes before the show. There were already a couple thousand people waiting for the show. After evading Mr. Toads Wild Ride, my family, Naomi, and I went to find a seat. There was a perfect spot in front of the castle with no trees blocking, so we decided to sit. The time was 9:30, 45 minutes before the show. We sat. Then we sat. Then, for a change, we sat some more. Finally, after fending off some crowd induced claustrophobia, at 10:15, the show began. This is where it gets funny. The first firework goes off in all its colorful brilliance...and we couldn't see it. You see, the castle was blocking the fireworks. I know you want to tell me that we were stupid for sitting in front of the castle, but that is where we were led, like cattle, by the workers with the flashlights. As the explosions continued, we were able to see about half of the show. The other half we heard quite clearly and were able to imagine what it might have looked like. Which is, ya know, probably not what everyone paid $50 to do. At 10:21, exactly 6 minutes later, there seemed to be a pause in the show. We all sat patiently, waiting for the next volley and then then amazing finale. Then we waited some more. Words slowly began to drift over the crowd....."Is that it?" "Was that the WHOLE show?" "Wait...is it over?" After another minute we realized that Disneyland had played a giant joke on us. They had made us believe that we were going to see a great show and low and behold, they put us through 6 minutes of pathetic fireworks, most of which was blocked, and then told us that was it. I still say we should have rioted.

I was going to tell a side story, but I'm really tired and just rambled must longer than I planned. Basically, I got $150 shoes for $80......at the mall. Yeah...who knew you could barter at the mall? Not me. Maybe I just participated in something very illegal, but I like to think that it's good karma for me being such a good person.....even though I don't believe in karma. Ah screw it, I don't care how it happened, I just like my new shoes.

DON'T DRINK THE WATER!....er.....tea

It's 2:07 and I just got back from hours of washing dishes and making coffee-type-drinks. Eh...it pays well. Much better than selling my body ever did (obviously people like my coffee better than my body). Speaking of my body...I went golfing the other day with my brother and we both got some iced tea to quench our thirst on the 90 degree day. A couple holes later we both began to feel incredibly queasy and nauseous. Seriously...how do you get sick from friggin iced tea? Obviously they don't clean out their iced tea machine. Obviously they want their patrons to get a staph infection and die and never come back to play golf again. So the rest of the game we both felt like vomiting. Just thought I'd share. Oh, and if anyone wants to donate $60 to me so I can go to the Curiosa festival (where, appropriately, The Cure is playing) I would forever be in your debt and be your personal servant and do anything for you. Come on. Do you really want me to start selling my body on the street again? I never got any offers on selling my brother's body...so that offer is still in the air. Anyone?

My Friend Melatonin

In the past week I have ordered 2 first edition, hard cover, signed books by Will Christopher Baer. "Who?" You might ask. But even if I tell you, you just won't know. That's because I have found myself with the insatiable urge to buy books that, if the author were famous, would become extremely valuable and collected and so forth; but the author is not/will not be famous (at lease to the best of my knowledge) so the books will most likely depreciate in value and I will be stuck with first edition, hard cover, signed books that are merely good for reading. C'est la vie.

Oh, and I saw Mystic River, Stepford Wives, and Saved!. Fantastic acting, coulda been better, and actually had a good message....respectively.

Do you ever find yourself somewhere in life that you never expected to be? Not necessarily some huge change from your original plans, but maybe just some minute shift in what you thought would happen. Maybe just a little deviation from where you thought life might be at your current age. Something you never thought would be part of your life, but now it is, and you aren't even sure how you got to where you are. Or maybe it's the melatonin speaking.

10 Easy Steps To Becoming A Corporate Whore

There are basically two options. Finding a job that is not "corporate", but will still offer some kind of financial reparations for the work done for them, or working for a "corporate" business. I chose the latter. I'm working at Starbucks starting next week.

There seems to be a problem, however, in the way everyone spits out the sentence, "Oh, you work for a corporation." The problem? Here's the definition of corporation: "A group of people combined into or acting as one body." Hmm...so that means even the most anti-government, anti-big business, and anti-major corporation companies are in fact a corporation.

Anyway...

Things That Have Happened

-I worked out yesterday and thoroughly pulled something in my right arm...now I can't move it past a 90 degree bend
-I went back to the urologist and had, no joke, 6 dilations done in 30 minutes (if you don't know what I'm talking about, check my archives for other urologist related posts)
-I got a really bad sunburn......on the right side of my face. Yup...just the right side.
-I am now eyebrow piercing-less and am soon to be mohawk-less too (damn you Starbucks!)

Movies That Have Been Seen

-Happiness: Incredibly disturbing. Don't see it if you have a clean soul.
-Monster: Amazingly good. Don't see it if you're an optimist.
-In America: Even amazinglierly good. Don't see it if...um....ok, just see it.
-The Spanish Prisoner: Very interesting. Don't see it if you need flashbacks to explain things.

Now I'm off to band practice. See y'all later.

MORE Hate Comments...

Alright, well Abdual wrote me another comment about my post on his comment. Here goes:

"Yeah you American feel so superior to all of us. Well your helicopter came and destroyed a house on my street yesterday. Enjoy your nap.
-Abdual

Sigh...do I really have to do this again?

First: Abdual, I never said anything that would make me sound as if I believed I was more superior to you as a person. You made a stupid comment last time about me not being validated in my emotions. Come on. I was giving a rebuttal to an attack on what I am allowed to feel. To risk sounding pedantic and immature, you started it.

Second: I am so incredibly pissed off about this ambiguous "you" that keeps flying around it's not even funny. Our world has devolved into a bunch of mudslinging, stereotyping hypocrites. Much as it was not "the Germans" who persecuted the Jews, it sure as hell is not "my" helicopter that bombed the house on your street. You know what I think of that bombing? It's ridiculous, stupid, and completely and utterly unnecessary. If I could have stopped it, I would have. But guess what? The American government doesn't come to each house and ask if it's okay that civilian houses are bombed. So get over calling it "your helicopter" or anything similar.

Third: Once more we are back on whether or not I am allowed to feel stressed over allot of work or relieved when said work is complete. Do I need to explain this to you again Abdual? This is not MY war and whether or not I believe in it it's happening. If I were not allowed to feel happy as long as someone else in the world was less happy than I, I might as well shoot myself right now. Let's put it this way...Abdual, I can't believe you use a computer. Shame on you. I know this homeless guy down the street who doesn't even have shoes, let alone a computer. And there you are using a computer to read websites. That is so selfish.

Abdual, not all Americans are evil and selfish and wanting the destruction of the rest of the world. I am allowed to feel stressed/happy/sad/ecstatic and that has nothing to do with my opinion on world affairs. So get over yourself.

Hollywood Unoriginal? Wow...Big Surprise

I just saw a Catwoman trailer (the new Halley Barry version) and their trailer tagline is this:

"It's been said that when a person dies a cat can bring back their soul to make the wrong things right..."

Here's the opening line of "The Crow":

"People used to think that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes...only sometimes the crow brings that soul back to set the wrong things right."

You're kidding me, right? I thought I had seen The Crow rip-offs before but this is just utterly ridiculous. Sigh...

Hate Mail..er...Hate Comments

Hey kids, I just got a nice comment on my last post in which I talked about being incredibly busy and really really tired. I never said anything about wanting to die, I never said anything about how horrible my life is. Here is the comment I just received on that post:

"Yeah well another couple kids in Iraq lost their appendages today so cram it. But oh I'm sure it's real horrible for you."
-Abdual

Well, Abdual, thank you for the comment. Now let's think about what you said, shall we? First off, thank you SO much for setting me straight. I mean gosh, for a second there I must have thought that me being tired and busy was worse than horrendous suffering. Without you I might have accidentally considered myself worse off than those kids. You are truly on the road to being a great politician or lawyer since you are obviously quite good at twisting words.

Secondly, nice logic there Abdual. If we are to take your comment seriously then nobody can feel any emotion at all because someone else in the world is probably feeling that same emotion to a higher degree. ie: I feel happy, but that obviously is discredited since someone just won 6 million dollars in the super lotto jackpot and that guy is most likely happier than I am.

So the anger you felt about my post? Sorry...doesn't matter...because I bet those poor Iraqi kids are angrier than you are about losing their arms and legs, so your anger doesn't mean anything.

Next time you might want to think twice about making a stupid comment Abdual.

So...Much....Tired....

In the past 48 hours I have spent over 24 hours working on this film. Yes, that means that since 7:30 Sunday morning I have been up. It's now 7:50 Monday morning. Now I have two 10 page papers to write and finals to study for. I'm doomed.

......

spent 12 hours mixing sound today.....that's 12 hours in front of a computer with 2 pee breaks and a 10 minute food break.....don't cross me right now....i'm liable to kill someone

Oh How I Wish I Could Utter the Words "I'm Bored" and Mean It

Somewhere between doing sound design for a film, choreographing a dance, filling 200 pages of a sketchbook, writing three 10 page papers, trying to get a job, going to class, and trying to find time to simply eat and sleep, I have lost all hope of making it through the next week alive.

Oh, and seeing how every girl I know if madly in love with my brother, I think I'm going to start selling dates with him. It would probably be a very lucrative career move. I think I'll start the dates at $20 a pop. And that's with no sex. With sex, $40. Any takers?

Oh yeah, I have a mohawk:

Coachella, How I Love Thee, Let Me Count the Ways...

Maybe the Coachella music festival should have a tagline that goes something like this: "If you love wondering through crowds 60,000 strong, suffering through 108 degree fahrenheit weather, and getting covered head to toe in a thin layer of dust that sticks like glue to your sunscreen, then COACHELLA IS THE PLACE FOR YOU!!! The six of us showed up as we watched the car's thermometer raise up to 108 degrees as the traffic hit a dead stop. We were a mere 1.5 miles from the entrance, which was not a long way at all...or so we thought. Two hours later we finally got to the parking lot. I officially hate traffic more than anything. No, I take that back...the sun is still my number one rival. Traffic takes a close second.

Once inside we raided the merch stand and I got this great Cure shirt:

yeah...it DOES say "hte cure"

We then wondered aimlessly through the biggest crowd ever trying to find bands to listen to. With 6 stages it wasn't very hard to find music. Naomi and I sat down to watch a little Bright Eyes:

They seem to have turned slightly country...which really really confuses me. But hearing Lover I Don't Have to Love live was amazing.

There were enough weird happenings for a thousand lifetimes, like the girls riding the giant smoke churning dragonfly:


The giant Tesla Coil which shot bolts of electricity 10 feet through the air:


Not to mention the double-decker bicycle jousting, the giant skeleton with exploding heart, the people on stilts, the massive mechanical monsters shooting fire, and the giant metal black widow......and I wasn't even one of the thousands toking up. Now that I think about it...everything was really big.

Next we saw Air perform, which, from the CD, sounds like it might be dull. It was anything but. The drummer was amazing and hearing them try and speak english was fun. Next I was off to another tent for some shirtless glowstick raving to the Crystal Method. I guess I pulled off the look well enough since someone asked me for some E. Later a guy walked slowly behind us saying "muuuuushroooooms" in a quiet sing-songy voice, attempting to alert us that he had mushrooms for sale but in a way that he could pass off as just talking to himself if confronted by the authorities.

We saw The Flaming Lips from inside the Beer Garden. I was more interested in the naming of the not-so-aptly named Beer Garden then I was in The Flaming Lips. Some bands are very good at making you feel like it's a show just for you. Other bands try way too hard. The Lips tried way too hard.

Considering that the food looked like this:

I didn't eat any dinner.

I was perfectly fine with this though since we had found great seats to see The Cure. The girl next to me tapped me on the shoulder and asked if her lipstick was smeared. It was all over her face in typical Cure fashion and I responded with, "Yeah...just a little." She asked me where and I pointed to a tiny spot on the corner of her mouth, trying to joke back since it was all over. She thought I didn't get it and said, "I was just joking." I told her I got it.

The Cure came out and immediately started with a brand new song. This being my first Cure concert ever, I was a little excited to say the least. It was amazing to see thousands and thousands of people standing around watching such an amazing show. We also got a great view from the giant screens:

Yeah, I looked stoned...but I swear it's because the smoke + my contacts = bad. Oh, and that guy between Chad and I with the large B sized breasts....he's one of the actors on Passions. Heh.

The Cure put on a great show, plus on encore of some of the greatest hits. The fans loved it, but there was this one girl who, the ENTIRE time, did this weird gyrating move where she would stick her hips out to the right side as her upper torso and legs stayed to the left. First off it looked painful. Secondly this isn't exactly the kind of "dancing" you would expect to see during music like this. Third, she did it the whole freaking time...never stopping. It was ridiculous/amazing and everyone in our group just stared at her very confused.

Overall the whole thing was absolutely amazing. Plus I bested my foe and escaped with barely the slightest bit of sunburn. Depending on who's headlining, I'll definitely be back next year.

The Epic Battle of Grant and the Spider (in 3 acts)

Preface: As a kid I used to hunt down spiders/snakes/etc with my friend Craig. We even found a black widow and caught it in a small plastic tupperware container. Somehow something changed and I no longer like spiders. In fact, I absolutely abhor spiders.

Act I

My alarm was blaring and I stumbled out of bed and put on my glasses. I was lazily gazing about my room when in my peripheral vision (I must make note that I have very good peripheral vision) I saw a black dot on my ceiling that I did not remember being there before. On slightly closer inspection, I found it to be a huge black spider about the size of a quarter. There were two problems here: 1) I hate spiders and 2) It was above my bed. I decided to poke at it with a really long bamboo stick -that I have for some reason- in hopes that it would scurry away from my bed so I could kill it. I poked. It fell. Into my bed. I have a black bedspread.

Intermission

That night I literally woke up every hour at least once thinking the spider was crawling on me or to check if it was on my ceiling. I hate spiders that much.

Act II

The next day, after a long day of classes, I came home to relax. I did a quick scan on the ceiling to see if my friend was back. I noticed a black spot on my ceiling, once more close to my bed. Alas, it was my spider nemesis. I couldn't reach him from where I was, but I needed to kill him, so I grabbed the bamboo stick once more and placed a folded sock on the end of the stick in order to have a larger mass to crush his fragile body with. I jabbed at him hard and smushed him into the wall. Then he fell to the floor and scurried under my bed.

Intermission

That night I convinced myself that I had injured him and he went under my bed to die. This was ALMOST believable, but I still scanned my ceiling for him every so often. Then I was attacked by another spider on my desk which I crushed with enough force to crush a walnut.

Act III

This morning I woke up and started to get ready for my day. I KNEW the spider was dead so there was no reason to check, but I did anyway. As I looked above my window...there he was...the bane of my existence...the reason I didn't sleep...the spider. So I grabbed a magazine, climbed up to reach him, and smacked him as hard as I could with the magazine. I sincerely expected to see him fall to the floor and run across the room to hide under my bed again. This spider was mortal however and his splattered remains still adorn my wall in a warning to other spiders who decide to plague me.

No...More...Applications

So in the last two days I have filled out something like 12 applications. All to restaurants. All in hopes of getting a barback/bartending job. If I don't get an offer from ONE of these companies, it will be indisputable evidence that someone up there don't like me too much.

Oh, and if anyone in the Orange County area knows of a good restaurant/bar that needs a tender of bar...or can refer me to their boss or something....I would forever be in your debt. Or at least until I promptly forgot about the debt after getting my first paycheck.

I'm Gonna Have to See Some I.D.

As if I don't already get enough people telling me that I look quite a bit younger than I actually am, I just took a test that is supposed to calculate your real age. Guess how old I REALLY am?

14 years old.

That's right...I've regressed to a point 7 years ago in my life. Eh...I guess I'll blame all the stupid things I do on being a teenager.

You Know You're a Chapman Film Student When...

So I'm not too sure how film school goes for the attendees of other prestigious film schools, but there's a way of life here at Chapman which all who enter these hallowed halls firstly observe with awe, secondly experience, and thirdly weep in agony over. Here are my observations.

Top 25 Ways You Know You're At Chapman Film School

1. If Nothing works. No...really...nothing works.
2. If the geniuses who designed the school put a pair of classroom speakers into the wall so they stick INTO the "foley room" thereby adding bits of pieces of teacher's lectures into your sound effects
3. If the "foley room" is nothing more than a tiny room full of assorted crap and no acoustical construction
4. If you can answer EVERY problem with, "What do you expect...for it to work?"
5. If the lab assistants are only around when you don't need them
6. If "that bearded guy" ends up in EVERY SINGLE STUDENT FILM
7. If every student film is obsessively cut until the last minute and then ruined by bad sound
8. If you know the title "Tire Change" or "Gunsmoke"
9. If you spend countless hours on a project that is suddenly dropped for no good reason
10. If millions are spent on new equipment...and that new equipment consists of PCs with AvidDV since, you know, nobody uses Macs or Final Cut Pro since it's not the industry standard or anything
11. If you have been taken advantage of because you need to "fill your reel"
12. If you have lost entire projects due to random deletions which take place on every school computer
13. If you hear of how incredible the school is GOING to be...once you're gone
14. If people donate 20-something-million-dollars to the film school, yet the ADR rooms still have mic stands that don't even tighten
15. If your academic advisor merely reads you descriptions from the student handbook as a form of "answering your questions"
16. If it becomes big news that ONE film out of hundreds makes it to ANY film festival
17. If the school STILL uses an editing program called Discreet...since it's just that, so discreat that nobody else uses it
18. If you're an editor who ends up doing makeup, a screenwriter who ends up editing, or a producer who ends up acting
19. If you have spent enough consecutive time in the film school to grow a quarter inch of facial hair
20. If your first film had to do with suicide
21. If ANY of your films had the "look into the mirror and splash water on the face" scene
22. If you are told you WILL have to go to grad school in order to get a good job, even though you just graduated from a film school
23. If half the teachers don't even know how to run an average DVD player
24. If you made more films as a freshman than you did any other year at school
25. If you're still reading this boring piece of crap or if any of this made ANY sense to you

I would like to sincerely apologize for this post. As I hit number 20 I realized that nobody cares. But I couldn't just erase it. So here it is...if you read this, I apologize. If you skipped to this paragraph, I congratulate you for realizing that this wasn't worth reading. It was basically for my own amusement.

Now it's time to sleep.

Lonely Ramblings of a Solitude Junky

My ear started bleeding earlier today. I scratched just inside the pinna and hit a bug bite or something and as I removed my finger and glanced in its general direction....I saw blood. Oh how I love bleeding...especially in areas which I cannot physically see. So I stopped the bleeding and hopped into my car. (Yes...it is possible to "hop" into my car if the top is down, but seeing as how the steering wheel is the size of a bus' steering wheel it's more than likely you will hit some body part on it which makes landing and looking cool kinda difficult)

I have a confession to make. The place I was going in my car....was.....the movie theatre. Yes, yes...I was alone. This is the second time I have been to a movie by myself. I walked up to stand in the long line for Kill Bill Vol. 2 and put in my iPod earphones. I cranked Wish by The Cure and started observing. It's amazing how putting headphones in your ears makes you feel invisible. Kinda like how people in cars will openly pick their noses, sniff their armpits, or do other activities that are deemed "not suitable for public" because you feel safe and alone in your car...surrounded by very see-through windows. So there I was, watching the couples, groups, awkward first dates (to Kill Bill?), and families with very small children (seeing Kill Bill?) Not one other lone person was heading into the theatre. I had this image of me and one other lone person seeing each other from across the room and instantly becoming friends, like the two nerds who always get picked on in middle school who bond together to form The Impenetrable Force of the Two Nerds. No such luck. I sat down in the perfect seat (it's so easy to find one seat, much unlike how difficult it is to find five good seats next to each other) and kept listening to my headphones. Funny how everyone assumed I had someone coming to join me and therefore left 2 seats on either side of me even though 5 rows down and 5 rows up from me there was not one empty seat.

On the way home I found myself with nobody to converse with about the film...so I cranked the techno that KROQ was playing (even though it's "LA's ONLY new rock!" and not "LA's ONLY new techno!") And now the clock reads 1:37am. I have to get up at 7:00am. At the moment I am not even phased by this information, though I will most likely be uttering swear words at myself under my breath and pretending not to hear them to complete the effect.

Oh yeah...the movie was good too.

And Doctors are Getting Smarter

I was filling out a generic medical form for Dr K. the other day and was somewhat surprised by one of the questions on the form:

-Has any blood relative ever had? (circle all the apply)

-blah -blah
-blah -blah
-blah -blah
-blah -suicide

Yes, because, you know, suicide is contagious and all. I can hear it now, "Uncle Jimmy had the suicide real bad like and I think I gots it from him."

Just Like in the Movies

There is something very liberating about cutting your hair off. Today, after a very belated midterm, I walked into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. My hair was being particularly unruly. I have massive quantities of gel/pomade/goo that could have fixed the problem, but I went with the more drastic (and therefore more fun) method. I grabbed Ed's razor and buzzed off a good half inch of hair. Immediately coming to mind is Empire Records when the girl goes in the bathroom and cuts her hair off due to a big change in her life. Or The Royal Tenenbaums when Richie cuts all his hair off. But he tries to kill himself afterwards. Then again he did shave his beard before slicing his wrists. If any of you ever see me trying to shave off my goatee...stop me. Then again, I haven't seen my chin in what, 3 years? I almost want to shave it off just to see how I look.

What am I talking about? I so should not be given access to my own webpage.

Mr. Paige...You Might Want to Sit Down for This....

The brown leather couch is incredibly comfortable and is more than an adequate sleeping spot. After only a few hours sleep, taking a nap sounds like a good idea. There are pictures of little girls on bikes, little girls all dressed up, little girls hugging their daddy. Colorful plastic models of male and female reproductive systems hang on the walls next to generic black and white photography. The air conditioning is blasting, which is too cold for most people, but just fine for me. I'm reading a People magazine and finding out about the not-so-secret lives of famous people the media tells me to care about. After nearly half an hour sitting in the quiet office, a tall, thin, bearded man walks in, shakes my hand, and introduces himself as Dr. K. We sit down and I talk to this stranger about a part of my body that I don't talk to many people about...in person. After a while I am presented with the options ahead of me:

1- Hope that the last cysto-dilation corrected any and all problems (chances are nearly nil)
2- If not...another scope while I'm awake. If scar tissue has built back up, either:
__*cysto-dilation with cold blade while awake
__*cysto-dilation with laser while awake
__*home catheter insertion (applied by me)
3- If those options do not work I am faced with the possibility that I will have to go in to get regular cysto-dilations for the rest of my life
4- If I do not WANT cysto-dilations for the rest of my life there is the possibility of a major surgery in which the part of the urethra with the scar tissue is removed. Think of it this way...take a hose, lay it out flat, cut out a chunk from the middle, sew the remaining pieces together. This can cause major problems if it does not heal correctly.

I then took off my pants to show him a part of my body that I don't show to just anyone. After being fondled and being asked to cough he did a prostate check...which is when...um....you know. Sigh...I didn't even flinch.

I am seriously just completely and utterly beyond hoping right now. I'm past crossing my fingers. I'm over trusting. I'm laughing at luck or karma or fate. I'm so ridiculously afraid of how this is going to turn out that it's beyond funny. Though I don't know why it would be funny in the first place.

Drunken Singing and Bunny Rabbits

Yup...there were both of those today.

Not gonna say whom...but definitely both took place today.

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A Reverse Chronological Inventory of Nicknames

(Nicknames were given TO me and not chosen BY me)

ET: Given to me at the ripe old age of newborn a nurse decided to call me ET since I was prone to stretching my neck up as high as possible and looking around the room...supposedly ET-like. The nickname never stuck.

Pokey: Given to me at something like 2 because I just wouldn't walk. I knew HOW to walk, I just wouldn't do it. I preferred crawling on hands and knees everywhere I went. Seeing as how this was slower than walking, I was deemed Pokey.

Skin: Fast forward to junior high when I was acting in plays. I was the Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz and that character is also one of the farm hands. The farm hand wore overalls. One day during practice I forgot my undershirt and had to go out on stage wearing just the overalls and no shirt...kinda embarrassing for a scrawny pale kid like me. Later, during an actual performance...as in lots of lots of people in the audience...I was forced to go out not wearing an undershirt. Kinda traumatic. I was called Skin only in the theatre.

Spandex: Same time, same play, same costume. I had to wear silver spandex under my Styrofoam costume and this...being junior high...is a time when kids like to point out to other kids why they are weird or different or stupid. I was called Spandex only in the theatre.

GP: High school now and I had this teacher who I'm pretty sure just didn't know my name...but could remember my initials. To him I was GP. Soon everyone was calling me this.

GPness: Say it out loud. Like right now. Heh. My friend Brad would add "-ness" to the end of everything. ie: let's go get some foodness. One day, while calling me GP (which was normal) he added his semi-famous suffix and said, "Hey GPness" which came out as "Hey G-penis." Let's just say I still get called this today.

Condom Boy: As fun as this nickname sounds...it's really nothing like it sounds. I used to wear this beanie to school that my friend Aaron decided looked like a condom on my head. I was then Condom Boy for a short period of time.

Video Guy: I wasn't so much popular in high school, but I wasn't looked down upon. I was just this entity that did things every now and then. Since I was in the video yearbook class I always had a camera on me and people notice you more when you have a camera on your shoulder. So after some time I was that Video Guy instead of just some passing face in the crowd.

Mac Daddy Nifty-Whip Flapjack Bisquick: This one is kind of an anomoly. I don't really remember EXACTLY where the name came from. I mean, I know it was with Jordan at school during a play when we were trying to come up with our rapper names, but I do not remember what prompted this name to be given to me. It has, however, stuck quite well.

Mo Betta': Another Jordan appointed name. This one comes from one of the best restaurant names I have ever seen. In West Hollywood you will eventually pass by the "Mo Betta Meaty Meat Burgers" restaurant completely surrounded by barbed-wire and bullet-riddled walls. The name was so great that...wait...I'm not sure, once again, how this name turned into a nickname. Once more, though, Jordan gave me a nickname that has stuck like glue.

Sprout: My brother's friend Ky told me that when he doesn't like someone he forgets their name, but if he likes someone, he gives them a nickname. Since I was too young to go into a strip club, which is what HE wanted to do with the rest of the night, I became Sprout. This later morphed into Kid from the same guy.

Slick: Also highschool...also due to a piece of clothing. I got this old, beat up leather jacket from a thrift store and since I was the only guy in high school with a WAY too fancy leather jacket for high school I was nicknamed Slick.

Grunk: College now and I was writing on a white board to tell my roommates that I was "Out taking over the world." I signed it "Supreme ruler of the world....a.k.a...." and then I wrote my name. Or tried to. When I write fast my "a" looks like a "u." That would make my name Grunt which is funny enough, but no...I somehow, in my rushing, put a "k" at the end of my name. That's right...I pretty much wrote "Grunk" instead of "Grant." When I came home Ed and Aaron looked at me and said, "Who's Grunk?" I didn't believe them that I wrote it until I looked at it and indeed I had written this horrible remake of my name. I still get called this today.

Sergeant Penis/Sarge: After my whole urethra dilation ordeal, Rob (the Beatles fan) decided that it would be fun to call me Sergeant Penis as an ode to Sergeant Pepper. This was later shortened to just plain ol' Sarge since yelling, "Hey Sergeant Penis!" in public would cause problems.

Stealth: Also from Rob. Every time I used his tuner, I would do so without him knowing. He would walk to his bag and his tuner would be gone and he'd yell out "Stealth!" The funny thing is I never tried to hide my using of his tuner.

Starch: A play on words from my other nickname: Sarge. After a conversation about steak and potatoes having too much starch, I looked at the people having the conversation and nodded while licking my lips and then spouted out, "I love starch!" Without my knowing, a large group of people were informed that my name was then changed to Starch.

This is not a completely comprehensive list. There are many many more names (ie: That Goth Guy, That Art Guy, That Preppy Guy, That Computer Guy, That Guy, etc.) but most don't need any description and most are too boring to talk about. You know...unlike all the ones I talked about which are so fascinating that I'm sure you won't be able to keep your eyes away from the computer monitor. *laughs slightly at self* I'll have to update this when I think of more.
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I Have Bad News and Badder News

(shhhh.....I'm allowed to invent words)

But before the bad news I have an interesting observation. I was sitting in my history of film class, watching some crappy movie with about 120+ kids when a particular scene's crowd response caught me by surprise. A panning shot showed a crashed car with nobody in it (an earlier shot showed us a man, woman, and dog in the car). The shot continued and we saw the dead body of the man laying twisted on the side of the road. *silence* The shot continues and we see the injured body of the dog laying on the side of the road.....the whole crowd goes "awwww!" Isn't it a little odd that the dead man elicits NO emotional reaction from the crowd, but a dog that isn't even dead but is merely injured gets a loud pitying sound? Yeah, we humans are pretty screwed up.

And now on to my bad news.

Racism is alive and kickin. Ok ok, so nobody ever said that racism was dead, but I realized recently that I have never been witness to a truly racist comment. The closest I get to hearing racism is Ed telling me that I blame everything on him because he's black and then me telling him it's true. But I recently took part in a conversation that went something like this:

x: *sigh* I...that's just so wrong...
me: What is?
x: That. They shouldn't be dating.
me: Why?
x: It's just...you know...white people with white people, mexicans with mexicans, blacks with blacks...
me: What? That's totally racist!
x: Oh I'm not racist...I don't care so much about the other races...just white people should be with white people.
me: But it's just color. Why do you think that?
x: I don't know, I just....it's just wrong.
*later in the evening*
x: I like the Chappelle show.
me: (jokingly) But I thought you didn't like black people.
x: (not jokingly) I don't...but he's funny.

And here's the badder news. (shhhhh...)

This ignorant racism is being spawned by none other than the people who should be looking at themselves as models to children: parents. Guess what mom and dad? Your words actually GO INTO YOUR KIDS HEADS and then those words MAKE AN IMPACT on how the kid thinks! *gasp* I know, big surprise, but you, being the parent, are the first person your kids look to in order to understand the world. One of the parental figures of this misled little girl was later overheard complaining about mexican families with no money and "fat black mommas" (despite his own weight problem) and...and....this is just a sad world. Idiotic racism being spread through the stupid views of people too self-centered to take the time to look at the facts.

And after that somewhat depressing ranting...here's a picture of me in my new Versace glasses:


"Do these make me look fat?"
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Actual Newspaper Headline From Yesterday:

"COLON IS THANKFUL FOR OPPORTUNITY"
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Where Were You When We Were Getting High...

I went in to the eye doctor today to get a checkup and they dilated my eyes. I've never had this done before and it's kinda freaky. So for a good four hours afterwards anyone who looked me in the eye saw this:


(and this was in bright light)

No officer...I haven't been doing anything illegal.
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errrr....

And I'm tired. Like really really tired. Like really really really tired.

And something reminded me of a story. You know how you sometimes get into situations where you lose all control and become totally helpless and scared and in desperate need of help? When I was younger, let's say 12, I was in school. In school I had PE. In PE we had to change into these little blue cotton shorts with a "gold" insignia of a lion head that was actually just yellow. Our shirts were yellow with a blue insignia of a cross and a lion or blue with a yellow insignia. We had one big room where everyone changed...not even a locker room because our school was actually just the extra rooms of a huge church. Now don't get me wrong, it was a real school, just a real school with not much money. I, being the exhibitionist that I am, did not like to change in front of all the rest of the kids. This led me to the bathroom at the oh so coincidental time right before we would change. I would change in the stall and then run out to the field which was further from the bathroom than it was from the "changing room" so I had to change extra quick. One day I was in the stall and was a little behind so I decided to skip a step and not untie my shoes, change, and retie my shoes. So I pulled my early 90's tapered legged jeans over my shoes and got to the bottom and then they were stuck. I pulled harder and they were still stuck. I pulled even harder and they were even more stuck than before. I sighed and tried to pull them back up to untie my shoes and just accept the fact that I would be late. This is where my heart started beating faster. They were stuck so far onto my shoes that they would not come back up just as much as they would not come off. Suddenly all I could think of was how my whole class would find me sitting in the bathroom stall with my pants stuck around my ankles and my tighty whities not seeming like enough coverage and then someone having to cut my pants off of me. I panicked. I started jerking at the legs harder, any way I could, faster and faster. I HAD to get them off. Tears started building in my eyes and I just didn't know what to do. I was sitting there on the ground with a feeling of complete and utter helplessness abounding inside of me and I was crying. This is JUST how a 12-year-old boy wants to be in the middle of the school day. I somehow ended up getting at my shoelaces and then finally prying off my shoes and changing and getting to PE late. I had to run laps for my tardiness. From then on I took my shoes off before changing.
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I'll Believe that when Fish Fly

I have horrible horrible news to bestow upon you. The other night I was in bed, attempting to sleep, when the sound of screeching tires woke me from my slumber. Horns were honking, tires were squealing, high pitched girly-screams were echoing through the air, doors were opening and closing, and I awoke the next morning to find out some grave information. We were the victims of a brutal drive-by goldfishing. I know, I know...it's unbelievable, but it's true. For those of you who's lives have yet to be tainted by the cruelty of this world...I will explain what this means. As the car with the offenders drove by they rolled down the window and begin to assail our cars with baggies filled with water and goldfish. Luckily, the bags did not come untied and the fish survived. This harrowing experience has left us all checking under our beds at night, locking our doors, and not talking to strangers. I mean, what's next? Old shoes? Baked goods? Little old women being flung at our cars in the middle of the pitch-black night?

On a serious note...WHO THE HECK THROWS GOLDFISH?!?

Just so you all know, we have adopted the abused pets and they are living happily and healthily in our home.

*sings to the tune of the goldfishes commercial* "Bet you never thought one day you'd see a flying goldfish..."
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Evil Doctor Pain and His Whatchamacallit of Death

So today I went in for a checkup doctor appointment. Key words hear are "up" and "check" in no particular order. I was told that I would be coming in to have the doctor ask me a few questions. I, being the particularly gullible person I am, believed them under the false pretense of the argumentum ad authority. We are taught that doctors have our best interest in mind...but no my friends...we need to be taught the morbid truth of sadistic doctors under the guise of peaceful people who care deeply for our welfare. I walked in to the waiting room after peeing into a cup and expected to sit down in a chair, wait for the doctor, and answer some simple questions. I was slightly shocked to find the nurse prepping a needle, KY Jelly, and a large pair of metal forceps that go in reverse. Needless to say I was soon naked from the waist down having my urethra dilated....AGAIN. That's THREE times. THREE TIMES! I have had a chunk of metal inside my penis THREE TIMES! I cannot emphasize this enough. If I knew how to make the words blink and a wav. file scream "THREE TIMES!" I would have it happen. And that's not the best part. The best part is that I am signed up for a "checkup" in four months at which I will, once more, be completely violated by this sadist posing as a doctor. After it was done I felt like crying and just couldn't concentrate on the rest of my day. My entire day has sucked because of some simple scar tissue.

I fear I will never again know what it is like to pee normally and not even give it a second thought.



p.s. I'm realizing that I should probably just change the sites name to: 50Fifty...and stories about Grant's penis
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AIM is F'D

So I decided to talk to my good friend Jordan (the girl) on IM and something went wrong. Here's a slightly abridged transcript form that IM session:

G: yo!
J: grantman?
G: yup
J: is that you?
G: no, it's my evil twin. grant is dead.
G: so you'll just have to talk to me
J: i know you're saying stuff but i can't see anything
J: it's just showing up blank
G: hang on
**restarts IM**
G:NOW can you see my writing?
J:oh good
J:happy is important
J:are you in San Jose?
G:no
J:yes?
G:jordan....i have something to tell you....i'm gay
J:sweet! till thursday?
G:yes....just till thursday
G:oh...and i killed a man
J:friday?
G:that's when my next hit is
G:will you marry me?
J:was that a yes or a no?
G:that's what YOU have to tell ME
G:yes or no
G:marriage with me or not?
G:TELL ME
G:you don't love me....do you?
G:talk to me jordan....tell me the truth
J:well, since you're in town, we should hang out sometime really soon!
G:you're avoiding the issue at hand!
G:i need truth
J:oh good
J:i'm glad you're answering that affirmatively
J:i would LOVE to know what you're typing right now
J:it's kind of freaky to not know...
J:like I'm in Scream 4 or something...
G:i give up
G:you're just going to avoid everything i say now
G:that's it...i'm going to marry someone else
G:even though i would have changed my gay-ness just for you
J:i'll bet that was a witty comment you just made...
J:can you read what I'm saying?
G:yes
J:ah
J:i see
J:but not really
J:DANG IT!
G:goodbye forever jordan
G:FOREVER
J:i hope you can hang out. Is your week all booked up?
G:I said goodbye!
J:okay cool
G:i'm leaving since you'd mashed my heart up like a stepped on slug
J:THERE'S NO USE TYPING ME BIG MESSAGES I CAN'T SEE!!!!
J:just stick to one *brrrrrrring!* for yes and two for no!
J:my mom and i are hitting up a spa on thurs
J:but any other day is good
G:f
G:f
J:hmmm...that was a no
J:what are you no-ing?
J:hanging out this week?
G:f
J:so you're NOT in town?
G:f
G:f
J:so you ARE in town
G:f
G:f
J:darn it! this whole time I thought you were in TOWN!!
J:well geez!
J:that makes half the conversation irrelevant
J:come HOME for crying out loud!
G:f
G:f
G:f
J:yeah- well right back at you, pal
J:take THAT!
G:f
G:f
J:YES!
G:f
G:f
J:YES!
G:f
J:HA!

p.s. no, I'm not gay. but yes...I expect Aaron, Ed, and Christina to all have a field day with this.
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