Trying out new material

July 13, 2010

So, last week I had a meeting at my agency. The meeting was fine, except for the various awkward moments.

I don’t know if you know this, but people in Hollywood tend to dress really casually. Writers in particular dress in a way that makes it clear that you’re a WRITER, a CREATIVE, not some kind of person who has to go to an office every day *draws imaginary square with index fingers* (even if you are actually a totally serious writer who keeps steady hours at your office every day.)

Dude writers wear sneakers and jeans and t-shirts and don’t shave very often. Girl writers dress like they’re going out for french toast with some pals. Writers don’t wear sweatpants or anything, but come on, you’re not going to put on SOCKS. (Someone once told me that Brian Helgeland is basically like “Fuck it, I’m Brian Helgeland! I’m gonna be comfortable.”, so he always wears shorts.)

And that’s fine and people are used to it. In fact, if you dressed up for a meeting, people would probably ask if you had just come from a funeral or something.

But, and I’m getting to my point here, agents and people who work at agencies dress really nicely. They wear suits. SUITS.

SUITS.

SUITS YOU GUYS. It’s them and some bankers downtown, they’re the only ones keeping the LA suit industry alive!

So anyway, the morning of this meeting, I get dressed and go over to Century City and felt totally fine until I walked in

AND REALIZED I WAS DRESSED LIKE A HOBO.

Because there was this line of assistants – people who make so little money they have to scrounge for bagels in the conference room at lunchtime – dressed to the nines. Absolutely splendid-looking rows of bright young things. My agent’s assistant looked like a picture from a J Crew catalog. (In a very nice way.)

And I just slunk into the meeting and sat there and thought “OH MAN NOT EVEN LIKE A VERY STYLISH HOBO, NOT LIKE THAT ONE HOBO WHO WAS ON MAD MEN.”

So there was that.

And then, when we came out of the meeting, I looked at the row of assistants and said “Are you running some kind of call center here?” and my agent smiled politely and said “I know, everybody says that, it’s like we’re selling TimeLife or something.”

I don’t know if you’re a person who likes to be funny. But if you are, you will probably agree that nothing is more awkward than making a joke and realizing that you are the 1000th person to make that joke and that the person hearing it is TOTALLY. OVER. IT. COME UP WITH SOME NEW MATERIAL ALREADY.

AND, I made that joke in front of the nattily-dressed assistants, who’ve heard it ELEVENTY BILLION TIMES, but are prohibited by California law from rolling their eyes where you can see them.

Also. So before that meeting, I was getting some coffee. And this lady walked in, and she was wearing a hat and a sweater exactly like my friend N. often wears, and the lighting was very low, and I thought it was N., and I said “N.-!!!!!” and then the lady came into the light and I realized I was wrong. So of course then I say “Oh! I’m sorry, I thought you were my friend N.-” and the lady is all “I know, I know, we all look alike to you.”

!!!!! HAD I MENTIONED THAT THIS LADY WAS ASIAN.

So – pretty embarrassing.

It gets better/worse. So THEN, I’m wandering around thinking that this is a pretty funny story, kind of CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM. But I make a terrible mistake! I don’t try it out before telling it to a PATCH OF AGENTS.

YES. You know what’s coming. It was bad. I’m telling this story and instead of anyone going “Haha! That’s so CURB.” or even just “Well, you ARE a notorious racist.” everyone looks sad for me and is all “Gosh, I’m sorry that happened. That must have been really uncomfortable.”

This is why you always try out new material before you take it to the Apollo. Sigh.

I am about to get on a plane to go back to LA, but several things I wish to share:

1) Happy birthday, America! Apparently we should all read the text of the Declaration of Independence each year.

A good plan! (Of course, you may squirm uncomfortably when you recognize some current US behaviors in the complaints we once had about THE KING WE HATED – but hey.)

2) Today’s screenwriting outlook: bleak as heck.

3) General Petraeus is IN IT TO WIN IT.

(That article is not actually funny. I just like the idea of big-deal generals being like Texas high school football coaches, saying things like “We didn’t come here for SECOND PLACE.” and “I expect you to give 110%, twice a day, every day! GO RAPTORS.” – this may just be me. I have been delighted for days by Gen. McChrystal (Ret.) and his total glorious insanity in the Rolling Stone article that was his downfall. SO COLORFUL.)

4) I know that bed bugs are a serious problem. But COME ON, this is funny: Abercrombie & Fitch, Hollister, struck down by bed bug infestation.

5) You know what you should buy today? This T-shirt. Because it’s America, and your freedom to wear ridiculous t-shirts was purchased for you by the blood of patriots, etc. etc.

Orange!

June 20, 2010

Okay, I am currently in HOLLAND, home of MY MOM AND DAD. One of the greatest things about having family in Holland is how when you tell other Americans where you’re going, they’re all “Danish cheeses are the best!” or “Belgium! I love your saunas.” or “Finland is so lovely this time of year.” – like all of Western Europe that isn’t Germany just fades into this area you have basically-pleasant feelings about. (I don’t take this the wrong way. Geography is hard.)

ANYWAY, HOLLAND. It’s pretty good. As a for-instance, I’ve already tried to feed Husband Guy french fries with mayonnaise, but he refused. He doesn’t know what he’s missing! I am a person who is very mayo-averse, but I’m telling you, on fries, it’s… different.

Plus, near my parents’ house, there’s the local (tiny) red-light district. My awesome mom said, as we were going for a walk around the neighborhood (which is a very nice place with many families and professionals and cats wandering around, and coffee places – it’s not even full of hipsters or a place you can describe as “gentrifying”) “I just want to warn you, the red light district is-”

“OH,” Husband Guy said.

Yes! Right there! In front of you! LADIES SITTING IN THE WINDOWS! IN THEIR UNDERGARMENTS! THEIR AFFECTIONS FOR HIRE!

I am European enough to feel that this is a fine way to handle such things, but also American enough to go “I KNOW!!!!! THEY ARE SITTING IN THE WINDOW IN THEIR UNDERPANTS AND I SUPPOSE WHEN THEY HAVE GENTLEMEN CALLERS THERE IS A MOMENT OF AWKWARDNESS AS THE GENTLEMAN IS ALL “I AM CASUALLY WALKING DOWN THE STREET OH WAIT NOW I’M DIVING INTO THIS MINI-BROTHEL!!! PHEW I HOPE NOBODY SPOTTED ME.”

Holland is generally so excellent that while we were strolling the cobblestone streets next to the river, admiring the picturesque river barges, Husband Guy said “So… what are the dark sides of Holland? Does it have any?”

And I thought about it for a while, and then luckily some kids on brommers roared by.

Brommers are mopeds. Like so:

So there’s that.

Also of course it’s the soccer World Cup right now, and the Dutch are soccer-obsessed (fine) and have totally bought into the vuvzela craze:

It took me days to figure out that I wasn’t hearing someone practice the trumpet really badly. It’s Quite Terrible.

But that’s about all I can think of. Mopeds, and annoying noises (which is really just one problem served up two different ways.)

Training montage

May 18, 2010

First, read this article:

How ‘The Karate Kid’ Ruined the Modern World.

Yes, it’s on cracked.com. But this article is TOTALLY RIGHT ON in its worldview and also strangely poignant, basically positing that actually getting extremely good at something takes talent+many thousands of hours of extremely hard work, whereas training montages convince us all that if you JUST HAVE FAITH and also a STIRRING SOUNDTRACK you are destined to succeed.

That is so true! You know that thing about how it takes 10,000 hours to develop mastery of something? Once Naomi and I were walking down the street discussing this topic, and she said “What do you think you’ve spent 10,000 hours doing?” and without missing a beat, I said: “Looking at things on the internet.”

Yes. That is my skill, my kung fu: looking at things on the internet.

Part of that is useful – like I am actually quite good at delving into a subject I know nothing about and coming out the other end able to synthesize all that information into a few short paragraphs, like all the times I’ve gotten interested in fringe subjects like the male-dandy-blogger subculture or whatever-

…okay, that doesn’t SOUND that useful. But you know what I mean. If I were some kind of intelligence analyst, that skillset would totally come in handy. As it is, I’m just the person sitting across the room who can Google things marginally faster than you can.

YOU
Ugh, I’m supposed to download some updated driver for my phone. What does that even–

ME
GOT IT.

Anyway. I think this thing of TRAINING MONTAGES RUINED MY LIFE is pretty funny, because a) it’s true, and b) even writers of scripts that contain training montages are totally subject to this.

F’rinstance. So I just recently turned in a treatment to someone. I am not going to say that it was the best treatment in the history of the world or anything like that. But it was- workmanlike, you know? I am not embarrassed by it. If I were a carpenter and someone wanted me to make them a cabinet to fit in that corner over there, I feel like at this point, my cabinets would not be TERRIBLE.

(For many years, my cabinets have had interesting, attractive features, but have also been wobbly, with one leg shorter than the others. Also, after a couple of months some of the joints get loose, and you have to use some glue and one of those Ikea wrenches to jam them back together. (AM I PUSHING THIS METAPHOR TOO FAR?))

But I feel like now I am pretty much a journeyman cabinetmaker. I am not going to win any awards with my cabinets. Nobody is going to say “This cabinet! It is unmatched in the history of the world!”. But on the other hand, nobody is going to go “This doesn’t even look like a cabinet! And why does it have this stuffed raccoon mounted on one end?!?” – if somebody wants a cabinet, I CAN BUILD THEM A DAMN CABINET, etc.

You get where I’m going, here.

Anyway, training montages! I just think this is funny, because of how long it has taken me to become a journeyman-level writer – so much longer than I would have thought. If you had asked me last year, or the year before, I would have said: “Yes! Absolutely! I am totally ready. SEND ME TO THE SHOW.”

But I wasn’t. Not really.

(Because I have chosen to attempt to get a job in what is basically a high-risk, high-reward profession (see: the Freakonimics guys on “Why Drug Dealers Live With Their Moms”), that is of course still no guarantee that anyone is ever going to write me a check. I’m just saying: I think, at this point, that I have put in my some talent+10,000 hours, and I could do the job.)

Also, look at this excellent John August post about screenwriters and worst-case scenario thinking. Do you do this? I imagine you do. Are there people who DON’T do this? Because I know that whenever I’m in an airport, say, I have two tracks going in my mind at once:

“Okay, if a terrorist tried to take us down NOW, what would happen?”

and also

“If I were a terrorist, how would I smuggle bombs into the airport? I KNOW, I WOULD HIDE THEM IN THE LETTUCE ORDER FOR THE SANDWICH PLACE.”

(Of course, I try to keep my mouth shut about these musings – airport security people seem prone to humorlessness.)

How I outline.

April 21, 2010

(I am going to try to write some posts about writing. We’ll see how it goes. Also these may be total snorefests! Because almost nothing is as dull as writers droning on about writing. However, I promise not to use the phrase “the craft”. Because it creeps me out.)

So – this is about outlining. Some people do it, some people don’t. I can write a short story or an essay without outlining (or maybe it’s short enough that the outline can just live in your brain and you can feel your way through it) but I can’t write long things without outlines.

I kinda-sorta use a version of Blake Snyder’s beat sheet*.

Obviously, I start with a basic idea: “A guy gets asked to transport a locked trunk to a secret location, but then something goes wrong! Also there are monsters.”

Okay, so I have a number of turning points I need to know in order for that idea to become a story, and for that story to work. So I fill those in:

Opening scene: this is usually where I figure you find out about your main character, or your backstory, or both. Like I might meet my main character, a guy who works in a surf shop.

Setup: this is where you find out about the rules of the world you’re in.

Inciting incident/page 10 or 15: this is the part where somebody asks your hero to go across town to pick up a locked trunk.

Debate: now there’s a bit where your hero is either thinking it over, or has agreed to go across town to pick up the locked trunk, but hasn’t really bought into it completely yet.

Hero buys in/act break: this is often a moment where you physically move from the old world to the new world – or if it’s not physical (sometimes you were already in the new world at around page 15) it’s emotional, it’s the part where the hero stops being on the fence and goes “OH MY GOD I OPENED THE TRUNK AND A MONSTER POPPED OUT AND NOW THE MONSTER IS CHASING US, LET’S GO!”

Some stuff happens: (I will come back to this.)

Midpoint: the midpoint is often a hard moment to break for me. Sometimes the midpoint is what I think of as the “okay, now it’s personal!” moment – like you THOUGHT your hero had bought into the quest at the first act break, but now you realize that this is the moment where he can’t turn back, he can only go forward, his emotional or physical life depends on it. Or sometimes the midpoint involves another change of location, almost like an additional act break.

Some stuff happens: (I will come back to this as well.)

Everything is terrible/Low point: the monster has driven our hero into a dead-end cave under a mountain of burning tires at the dump. Our hero gives up and waits to die.

Hero decides to Do Something About It/act break: BUT WAIT! He realizes that he knows how to turn tires into eco-friendly sandals for hippies, and all he needs is a knife… but the knife is buried in the monster’s tail!

Climax: Something something something, our hero gets the knife back, fights the monster to a standstill, and agrees to go into the eco-friendly sandal business with him.

Final scenes: The monster and our hero live the life of Riley on a tropical beach and receive some kind of recycling award. Fade out!

So after I do that, I have these big giant holes in the second act. I fill in those holes with a combination of:

*brainstorming with anyone who will listen
*watching movies like the one I’m trying to write and seeing how that writer solved the problem
*crying

But eventually, you have a comprehensive outline, and then you can write. I used to start writing before I had the holes in the second act filled in, but THAT WAY LIES MADNESS. So I don’t do that anymore. For myself, if I get stuck, it’s basically always because I have either effed up the internal logic of the story (“But wait, WHY would the monster live in a trunk?!?”) or because I just don’t know what happens between pages 30-55.

So. For what it’s worth, that’s how I tackle outlining. The outlining is the hardest part of writing, for me. The actual writing is not so bad. If I really know the beats of the story, the writing kind of progresses without much terribleness – the outlining part is the part where I say things like “This is a terrible idea! I AM A TERRIBLE WRITER! I AM GOING TO MOVE TO COSTA RICA.”

*Blake, may he rest in peace, was a super nice guy who I got to know a tiny bit because my friend worked for him. I am pretty skeptical of books that claim to be able to teach people How To Write A Screenplay That Will Sell For Millions, but I feel like Blake’s books are different: he’s a guy who was clear on the fact that mainstream Hollywood movies are kind of like sonnets or something, in that they follow specific forms. And if you can internalize those forms, writing a movie is easier (not necessarily easy). So. That’s my two-penny endorsement.

ZOMBIE HORDES

Husband Guy is doing another Army course (ladies! if you meet a gentleman and he’s all “Well, you know, I’m in the service…” – you must immediately internalize the fact that that actually means “Hey, are you interested in spending a lot of time in hotels out by the airport? BECAUSE I CAN MAKE THAT HAPPEN, SUGARPANTS.”), so I am currently living in a very nice hotel in the technology-park wastelands around Our Nation’s Capital.

The areas near airports are always mostly technology parks, which is weird. And it’s also weird that these areas are basically a sustainably-minded person’s worst nightmare. They have nothing to recommend them! They aren’t even suburbs! It’s like if you were a person who really liked the idea of suburbs – who really liked the idea of sprawling, inefficient development, of anonymity, of being far from everything, of there “being no there there” but decided to TURN IT UP TO ELEVEN.

I complained about this on Facebook, and my friend Skye, who spends a lot of time in these places for work, said that she always thinks of them as a preview of the zombie apocalypse. This is totally true! The other night we walked over to a nearby 7-11 to acquire ice cream, and on the way back I kept looking over my shoulder.

Also, yesterday I was out for a walk in the wastelands and there were these two cars parked in the middle of nowhere (next to some old mattresses) and I thought “Probably some anti-gay senators out cruising” but then some guys in Really Intense Paintball Outfits came out of the woods: thigh holsters, CamelBaks, scary helmets.

There was this weird, awkward moment where we all stared at each other and I felt mildly threatened and they felt like big dorks. And then, to make it MORE socially awkward, I nodded and said “Good evening.” while trying to make clear that I was TOTALLY TAKING MENTAL NOTE OF THEIR LICENSE PLATE NUMBERS and then ran away, in case they weren’t actually paintball players but instead, you know… assassins.

THIS IS THE KIND OF SHIT THESE TECHNOLOGY PARKS MAKE YOU THINK, OKAY.

HECK YES, THE CIA

Another weird thing about this technology park in particular, because of where it’s located, is that it’s full of bland buildings with ambiguous names like COMPUTER RATCHETING DIVISION HEADQUARTERS except they have armed guards and everybody going in has military haircuts and DOD stickers on their cars… so you pretty much know what’s going on in there.

Which is kind of pleasing, because of how often in life I will see a business with a really boring name like “REGIONAL TECHTRONIC” and excitedly think to myself: “That is obviously a CIA front operation!”* So this is sort of delightful to me, to be around what are probably actual CIA front operations.

But also really disappointing, because these buildings have parking lots full of mini-vans and stuff, so either they are THE BEST COVER EVER or they are the CIA front operations for, you know, “TOILET PAPER PROCUREMENT: AFRICOM”**. So dull, so disappointing.

WALMART’S TOTALLY MISLEADING MARKETING CAMPAIGN

And finally, another weird thing about these technology park type places in general is that you’re basically in a food dead zone. Hungry? Well, there’s that 7-11 up the street. Or a Wendy’s.

Oh, you want groceries? What are you, some kind of SOCIALIST?

A few days ago, we drove over to the nearest grocery store. It was about five miles. The grocery store was simultaneously so terrible (wilted broccoli, dented tomatoes) and so expensive (dented tomatoes at seven dollars a pound) that I would have declined to go back EVEN IF we hadn’t also been panhandled by another customer while in the checkout line and if there hadn’t been a huge family feud happening in the parking lot immediately next to our car. But we were and there was, so the next time I needed milk, I looked up our options on The Goog and we headed over to the only other grocery option within 10 miles: a Super WalMart.

Now – I am a person from the Pacific Northwest and from Europe and from Los Angeles, and there are no WalMarts in any of those places. In fact, I had been in a WalMart only one time previously, several months ago when I needed new contacts and all the eye doctors on our health plan were like “I can see you in three months!”

And yes, this whole thing I am about to complain about is very STUFF WHITE PEOPLE LIKE, which I have some awkwardness about: I am the kind of person who listens to NPR and loves Neko Case and drives an old Volvo, but I am embarrassed about it, thank you.

Anyway – WalMart, have only been there once previously, kind of concerned about The WalMart Experience, YOU GET WHERE I AM GOING WITH THIS.

So we go to this Super WalMart. I was pretty ambivalent about it, but then I kept thinking “But remember all those jolly TV ads where moms go shopping at WalMart and the apples are really lovely and also everything is bathed in warm, comforting light?!? Maybe it’ll be like that!”

It was not like that.

First, there was the guy wearing the t-shirt advertising a strip club. And this wasn’t some kind of hipster, sex-positive feminist strip club or anything. It was a lady in thigh-high boots and a pole and a name that was like MISS BOOBY BOOB’S FULLY NUDE BOOB BUFFET. Also the guy was shopping with his twelve-year-old daughter. YOU GUYS.

Second, there were the cops at the entrance. You know how sometimes at stores you have to show your receipt to an employee before they’ll let you leave? This store had somehow gotten actual on-duty cops with guns and badges and shirts that said POLICE to do this. So you have to assume that this is a store where people try to shoplift terrible cheap made in China shorts and then get caught and then get violent because they got caught, SO violent that the store asked the police to come help out and the police agreed. Also the cops looked like a super lame, downmarket version of Herc and Carver from The Wire, which doesn’t really have anything to do with anything, but I feel I should mention it.

Third, the grocery was both depressing and RIDICULOUSLY EXPENSIVE.

Husband Guy and I started in the produce section. We stared at the terrible (wilted, MOLDY) vegetables and the ridiculous prices (five-dollar kale). We looked around furtively.

ELANA
This must be the organic section.

HUSBAND GUY
I know you’re not from here, but I don’t think WalMart has an organic section.

ELANA
It has to be the organic section! Look at how small and hideous this four-dollar cabbage is.

HUSBAND GUY
(tapping away on his Droid)
Hmmm.

ELANA
What are you doing?

HUSBAND GUY
Looking up historic broccoli-pricing trends. Maybe there’s been a plague and we missed it?
(beat)
Nope.

Man, it was so depressing. Between the guy with the stripper shirt, the armed police at the entrance, the ridiculous prices, the terrible selection, the many people yelling at their children, blah blah blah…

Maybe it was just this particular WalMart and other WalMarts do indeed have the nice apples and the attractive lighting, but I was completely bummed out afterward.

ALSO, I DID NOT FEEL LIKE I GOT ANY RIDICULOUSLY GOOD DEALS, which is the only thing that would have made the terribleness worth it. So now I am completely perplexed by the popularity of WalMart in general! While we were checking out, this family in front of us was buying four hundred dollars worth of clothing for their kindergarten-aged daughter. Do you know how much crappy clothing you can apparently buy with four hundred dollars at WalMart? Their stack was several feet high. And the weird thing is that of course a kindergartner grows too fast to get four hundred bucks worth of use out of that many clothes.

I feel like, somehow, this is maybe WalMart’s business model. You sell cheap shit at prices that are actually not that great, and maybe you put all your stores in areas where people have no other options, so they come in and do this orgy of consuming? Like, maybe you TELL them “OMG! Our prices on glittery pink shorts for kindergartners are CRAZY!!!” and they don’t see any other shorts for sale, so they just assume you must be telling the truth?

WalMart.com seems to think that the official slogan is “Save money. Live better.” but unless this particular WalMart was a crazy aberration, I just don’t see how that could be true.

PS, I feel like this makes me sound like a snooty person – I totally am not, I am as cheap as the next person and feel resentful whenever I’m in a Whole Foods. I’m just amazed that WalMart seems to be both EXPENSIVE and CRAPPY, when basic economic theory would seem to dictate that there can be only one.

Anyway. WalMart! So weird and not what I expected – kind of like how I am always mildly obsessed with going to chain restaurants, because they seem mysterious and fascinating to me, but then on the rare occasion when I actually go, I’m like “This Outback steak is expensive and actually not very good, and why do they bring me a piece of bread with a knife jammed in it? This is terrible.”

The next time we needed milk, I made Husband Guy take us over to the local Army base, where we shopped at the commissary, paying totally reasonable prices for nice vegetables and cheese and dark chocolate, thus restoring my faith in American capitalism.

Go Army!

*I can’t be the only person who does this.
**Wouldn’t it be totally weird to work in covert intelligence, but to actually be the guy who orders toilet paper and mops and stuff? You probably couldn’t tell anyone what you did for a living (“I’m in plastics.”) but it wouldn’t be for a cool, dangerous reason. So you’d always feel kind of lame and embarrassed, because you’d know that other people were assuming awesome stuff like “Wow, I bet that guy jumps out of helicopters on the regular and whatnot!” but really you sit in a cubicle and argue with suppliers about discounts on paper towels.

THIS IS THE MOST RIDICULOUS BLOG POST EVER. It makes me sound like a total crank. I know. Just… I have to get it out of my system. Look the other way, fight with your relatives about health care, whatever. I’ll just be over here COMPLAINING ABOUT THE NCIS FRANCHISE.

IRRATIONAL IRRITATION PART THE FIRST

NCIS: ORIGINAL FLAVOR is just fine, if you like that sort of thing. It’s a procedural, everybody likes Mark Harmon, etc. But why is one of their detectives an Israeli national and a former Mossad agent? AND WHY DOES EVERYONE ACT LIKE THIS IS TOTALLY OKAY?

Come on, you guys. This is a country where we have to take off our shoes before they let us on planes. I just cannot suspend enough disbelief to accept that government agencies who investigate crimes on nuclear submarines would let Mossad agents/Israeli nationals join their teams of suspiciously good-looking detectives.

Why isn’t everyone they run into constantly like

GUEST STAR OF THE WEEK
(sotto voce, to Mark Harmon)
Um. Is that girl…?

MARK HARMON
Tough and hot?

GUEST STAR OF THE WEEK
Actually, I meant… her accent.

MARK HARMON
Yeah, she’s Israeli. PRETTY HOT, EH?

GUEST STAR OF THE WEEK
What?!?

MARK HARMON
And a Mossad operative. SO TOTALLY HOT.

GUEST STAR OF THE WEEK
(throwing his coat over the Secret Military Equipment)
What the fuck is wrong with you!!!

IRRATIONAL IRRITATION PART THE SECOND

Have you seen NCIS: LOS ANGELES?

IT ANNOYS ME SO MUCH. But not because of anything about the writing or acting (I have seen a combined total of 27 minutes and several billboards). It’s about the name. THE NAME.

If, as the internet informs me*, the Naval Criminal Investigative Service investigates crimes related to the Navy and Marine Corps, why would it have a big office in Los Angeles? IT WOULDN’T. It would be NCIS: San Diego or maybe NCIS: Pendleton. LA doesn’t have any military stuff (I guess you could have like NCIS: NAVAL AIR STATION POINT MUGU, but that would be one guy and a fax machine, max.)

Honestly! If you were going to investigate vaguely military crimes in LA, you’d always be investigating, I don’t know, the crime-of-passion murder of a military adviser/Navy veteran who was doing some work on a movie called JOHN CENA IS JOHN CENA IN THE MARINE: THE RECKONING.

And my other big nerdy problem with this show is related to TRAFFIC.

When LL Cool J flexes his muscles aggressively and is all “Don’t call it a comeback! I mean– I’ll be right there.” to the witness telling him about forgery in the Marine Corps, the drive to Pendleton appears to take him about 30 minutes.

HA HA HA.

Google Maps says: Driving directions to Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton
78.4 mi – about 1 hour 25 mins (up to 2 hours 40 mins in traffic)

Like I said… these complaints make me sound like a total crank. I know.

IN OTHER NEWS

Here is a thing I just found on Wikipedia. I was looking up a list of kennings for a thing I am trying to write. And this one is amazing:

Primary Meaning: sword
Kenning: onion of war
Explanation: or leek of war

(Lol.)

Also, and this makes me sound like a crank again, I lost my phone on a plane recently. And I actually have a new phone (thank you, uncle Dean), I just have to go to the store and get it turned on. So. Basically I don’t have a phone. And people keep sending me these sad emails that are like “Did you get a new number and not tell me about it?” and then I have to explain that I lost my phone but refused to buy a new one, because of how I KNEW FOR A FACT that the airline had it, and then it became a battle of wills that they didn’t know they were involved in.

Do you ever get things like that? This is such a lame part of my personality. My brain gets all “SPARTAAAAAAA!” except it’s about things like this.

Sigh.

*And the internet is never wrong.