Craigslist: Reliable Entertainment

LOOKING FOR HOLLOW EARTH EXPERT WITH MAPS
Reply to: gigs-433216154@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-09-26, 7:41PM PDT

I am researching hollow earth theory and would like to interview someone who knows about it AND HAS A MAP TO LOCAL ENTRANCES. If you have a map, please email me back and I will schedule an interview asap. Could lead to a possible paying gig in the very near future.

* Location: LOS ANGELES
* it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
* Compensation: no pay

Velvet Breeze

This weekend I had to return some deodorant.

I’d grabbed it from the shelf without carefully scrutinizing the label. Instead of “unscented”, I’d picked up “VELVET BREEZE”.

Which sounds like it would be girly and inoffensive. But instead, it SMELLED LIKE DUDE. So every time I reached for the phone or my cup of coffee or tucked my hair behind my ears, I would get this disconcerting waft of Man Smell. You know, that Generic Dude Smell, that’s sort of Sharp And Artificial, and it’s how cheap cologne smells? It was like that. It was totally freaking me out! I kept thinking that a man was standing behind me! It was making me paranoid! What if OTHER people thought I smelled like a guy?!??!?!?!?!?!?!? SO MUCH ROOM FOR DISMAY.

And normally you’d just toss it and forget it, but unfortunately I’d taken advantage of their 3-for-2 offer to stock up, so I had to go back with my little pile of deodorant and fill out a log explaining why I was returning the items.

REASON FOR RETURN:

Makes you smell like a man.

And then the checkout girl squinted at it and asked what the last word said, and it was sort of awkward. But really! I don’t think you should call your product VELVET BREEZE if truth in advertising would require you to label it MAN-SCENTED.

This is basically how we are! Only, not dudes. Or British.

Naomi sent this: it’s a skit of an author and his agent. His agent keeps making helpful suggestions to improve his novel.

That’s sort of how I pitch ideas, too. “Okay, what if something happens, only it in NO WAY resembles what I’m about to suggest– that is, it’s much better and more awesome, but the general idea is–”

Married people

Oh man! I’m sorry about the absence. I would say something like “We couldn’t blog the daily minutiae of our lives because we were too busy picking out furniture for our brand-new offices” but it would be, technically, a LIE.

(Also, not-technically.)

Last weekend Naomi and I went to some mall in Torrance (“SoCal’s Regional Chain Restaurant Capital”). We did two things:

1) Eat at a chain restaurant
2) Shop at the Naturalizer store

Man, we’re such giant nerds. It’s terrible.

Neither of these experiences were as satisfying as you might think. We got so overwhelmed by the chain restaurant options (“What about LUCY’S SMOKE SHACK STOCKPOTTE? Is that a chain?”) that we went to Hometown Buffet.

Yes.

At Hometown Buffet, we had a mild married-person argument. (Naomi and I aren’t married, but if you are, or know any married people, you will recognize the following.)

NAOMI
Okay, do you want to eat here?

ELANA
I don’t know.

NAOMI
Well, we can go somewhere else. Like PF Chang’s.

ELANA
I don’t know. I’m too hungry–

NAOMI
Anything you want is fine.

ELANA
What if the food here isn’t delicious?

NAOMI
…

ELANA
I’m just saying.

NAOMI
DO YOU WANT TO EAT HERE OR NOT.

ELANA
Are you cranky?

NAOMI
NO.

(We actually had a very good time.)

Some things I have been thinking about recently include:

1) Do you think Matthew McConaughey is ever like “Everyone just thinks I’m a charming rogue… so I have to live up to that. But sometimes I feel like people don’t care that I have a mind– a whole inner life, you know? I’m really interested in Edith Wharton. And that’s just for instance!”

?

No?

2) Earlier this morning, a lady executive (the one I call Cheri Oteri) stormed by, saying: “I NEED BUTTER. Does anyone have any butter? OH GOD.”

I don’t know why.

3) A few weeks ago, Naomi and I were going to this party in Venice, and we saw this car with a ton of humorless bumperstickers of the “ANOTHER FAMILY FOR PEACE”, “STOP THIS ENDLESS WAR”, “MEAT=MURDER” type. And we decided that the greatest thing ever would be if that person also had a “HONK IF YOU’RE HORNY” sticker, just to lighten things up.

Really, who doesn’t like Susan Sarandon?

I have a Tivo, so I almost never watch commercials. Unless they look particularly awesome (the one where the guy is dressed as a guy from AC/DC – I don’t remember what they’re selling, WITNESS THE EFFECTIVENESS OF TRADITIONAL MARKETING) or cheesy/stirring (the Marines), in which case I will rewind and watch them several times and tell people about them: “So I just saw this totally rad commercial. Yeah, it’s about a Marine. I dunno, he jumps out of a plane and bonds with his friends in various harsh landscapes. It’s pretty cool. You should check it out.”

My current favorite commercial is the one for Mr. Woodcock, the movie about how Billy Bob Thornton marries Susan Sarandon and it turns out he and his new stepson go WAY BACK… all the way to gym class. Cue jokes about the pain and humiliation implicit in dodgeball.

I keep trying to tell people about the joke where Seann William Scott appears to be challenging Billy Bob to a duel of some kind (I assume hotdog-eating-related, as they’re both strapping on bibs) and Billy Bob goes “OH YEAH? You must like getting spanked… it runs in your family.”

Only, every time I try to share this joke with the world, I get it wrong. So instead of managing to explain that Billy Bob is freaking Seann William out by implying that his mom likes, you know… a firm hand, I make it sound like he’s threatening to send his stepson out back for a switch, and then people make this face, and then I realize that they just rewrote the move in their heads as a serious child abuse drama, and I go “No, no, see–” but it’s too late.

It’s very upsetting! Possibly this is a clue as to why I am still not a highly-paid comedy writer, though. Hmmm.

What Harry Potter, food, and Denise Richards all have in common

Do you ever read the message boards on IMDB? No? So it’s just me then? Guys, there’s some prime entertainment to be found in there. Most of the people type like they just came out of a (long) coma, but the frothing at the mouth, epic flamewar battles, and general humorlessness is pretty great.

HOWEVER. There’s this one dude, who, sort of like that guy on Amazon who reviews things like MILK, is having a grand old time. Here are his most recent posts:

Oh man, I feel so old!

My upstairs neighbors are having a party. Normally, when people here have parties, if they just keep to the front of the house, it’s fine! You can just go into your bedroom and fall asleep early like the OLD AND BORING PERSON YOU APPARENTLY ARE.

But there were these three dudes on the back stairs. And I’m trying to finish a new draft of my UNTITLED APOCALYPTIC ROMANTIC DRAMA. (No, really, this is something I’m voluntarily writing. I KNOW.)

And the dudes were having conversations about the following (their voices were clear and bell-like):

*Is it a dealbreaker if a hot girl you’re seriously interested in can’t spell?
*What if you’re just interested in Doing It with her a lot?
*That’s probably okay. All in favor? Motion carried.
*Oh man, I’m so wasted.
*Totally.

So eventually I went out and said: “Hey you guys? Would you mind going to the front steps? Our bedrooms are in the back, so…”

And the ringleader dude said “Oh man! We’re totally sorry. Are we bothering you?”

“…well. You know. Our bedrooms are back here. So.”

“Yeah… So you wanna smoke a bowl or something?”

…?

KIDS TODAY.

Also, earlier, Naomi and I saw 3:10 To Yuma (A++, WOULD GIGGLE NERVOUSLY AT RUSSELL CROWE’S VIOLENT MANLINESS AGAIN.) and then ate pho.

I know it seems like all we do is eat food and watch movies, but sometimes we do other things, like go to bookstores! And eat food. Or get coffee! And talk about food we could maybe eat later. Etc.

(Sigh! Now there are NEW dudes on the stairs. These ones are all SENSITIVE. The one just said to the other “I’m all fuckin’ pensive, dude.”)

The Guardian of Colorado Boulevard

The other night, Naomi and I went to have sushi at a neighborhood restaurant. Several things happened:

1) I had delicious udon and splattered broth all over myself because I cannot eat in public without being messy. Apparently.

2) Naomi saw cops outside and said “They’re coming for you!” and, inexplicably, I ducked and looked terrified. (I don’t have any warrants out or anything. Really.)

3) We saw these two girls – picking up food from CHICKEN ON FIRE – who were dressed like hookers, but were probably just wholesome college students. The one girl wore shorts so small it was like she had missed the clothing/underpants divide in the Victoria’s Secret catalog. The other girl wore a pleated miniskirt that did not cover her bottom in any way. It was like a big fabric belt. And her bottom! Was RIGHT THERE! FLASHING THE DINERS IN THE LITTLE FAMILY-OWNED SUSHI PLACE! It was difficult not to feel alarmed and concerned, but then I suppose that young ladies who see no reason to cover their personal areas while picking up Thai chicken from a strip mall on Olympic are probably more forward thinking in the areas of personal modesty and wearing clothes that cover your entire ass, etc. etc.

And now, hot off the presses, an installment of:

THE ADVENTURES OF BUDDY, DOER OF GOOD

Last week on BUDDY, DOER OF GOOD:

Buddy and Naomi hang out.

Buddy and Naomi eat pizza.

Buddy looks around hopefully for squirrels or delicious crumbs.

In this week’s episode…

INT. NAOMI’S LIVING ROOM – DAY

Naomi stands at her window, pointing outside.

NAOMI
(re: tree)
Buddy, look who’s up there! Who do you see? Who is it?

BUDDY
*blank stare, some panting*

NAOMI
Do you want to go for a–

BUDDY
*excited spinning and grunting*

NAOMI
–walk?

CUT TO:

EXT. LIBRARY – DAY

Buddy and Naomi exit the library and prepare to scour the city for good deeds that need doing.

Rounding the corner onto Colorado Boulevard, they cross paths with an opportunity for good…

HOMELESS MAN SPRAWLED ON SIDEWALK
Excuse me…

Buddy snaps to attention, his Buddy-Sense tingling.

HOMELESS MAN SPRAWLED ON SIDEWALK
I’m detoxing real bad. Can you call the paramedics for me?

NAOMI
You want me to call 911?

HOMELESS MAN SPRAWLED ON SIDEWALK
Uh, yeah, that’s what I said, smartass!

Buddy sniffs him, gauging the level of emergency, then sits and looks expectantly at Naomi:

BUDDY
(“What, you think I’m gonna just whip out my iPhone and make the call? NO THUMBS HERE ALL RIGHT.”)
*meaningful glance*

Under his supervisory gaze, Naomi waits on hold for several minutes and finally gets through to Emergency Services.

With wailing sirens in the distance, Buddy and Naomi head home, the streets of Santa Monica safe for one more day.

A post in three parts

1) I know, it’s super-annoying when people tell you about their dreams, but I have to. I HAVE TO.

Because last night I dreamed that I got an urgent email from George Clooney.

Hey there–

Please tell Kinan to get some nice boiled wool for my visit. I’ll come by this afternoon for a fitting.

~G.C.

In my dream, we had accidentally told George Clooney that we knew how to sew, and then he would not stop harassing us about suits he thought we were going to make him. (?!?)

As is also true in real life, instead of just declining to do something I didn’t want to do, I did it, but was super passive-aggressive and irritated the entire time. I kept whining and complaining about how if GEORGE FREAKIN’ CLOONEY wanted a new suit, couldn’t he go BUY ONE from some overpriced designer? And then Clooney cornered Kinan and me and demanded to know if we thought we could make him a nice shirt with puffy sleeves to go with his new suit, and we kept subtly suggesting that we were really terrible at sewing puffy shirts, and wouldn’t he rather have a puffy shirt as created by Marc Jacobs? And finally he said: “So are you saying you don’t WANT to sew me a puffy shirt?” and we said “No, no, we’re not saying that…”

And he was kind of hurt and said that if we didn’t want to sew him elegant suits and puffy shirts, couldn’t we have said so earlier? And then we all stood around awkwardly and I said “Hey, um! I really liked Syriana!” even though I hadn’t seen it.

2) This weekend we went to a party where a man kept miming kneeing Naomi in the groin as a joke.

3) You know how people who are not WASPy like to give their babies names that, to them, apparently SOUND WASPy? You know what I mean! Things like Bentley and Tisdale? Naomi and I have figured out the Platonic ideal of names like this.

“Chappaquiddick! Hyannisport! Montauk! Come get some spaghetti!”