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Strange Bloopers

2006-02-13T21:10:00.000-08:00

I recently Directed a Music video for the band Summerbirds in the Cellar. If you haven't heard them then you should immediately head over to their offical homepage Summerbirds.com You can also check out the video I made in the "videos" section of the website.

For all of you that have already seen the video, here is a quick blooper reel from the shoot. Enjoy.

Goodnight, Goodnight

2005-12-10T13:10:00.000-08:00

So, I graduated...(I'll give you a moment to finish clapping) and over the past few days I've found myself is this wonderful utopia where I'm not required to worry too much about anything. Or at least, nothing school related.

So, obviously in order to prepare for the gritty crime/drug/drama film I'll be working on in January I've been watching a lot of movies...in particular, romantic comedies. And I've found that everyone of these movies has a universal scene that links them all together. At some point in the film the guy character and the girl character are so taken a back by each other that they can't wait to get out of their vehicle and into the comfort of their house to start making out, no, they have to make out right there in the car, and on the way to the door, and while they fumble for their keys to unlock the door, etc.

And so I got to thinking, and I can't remember any time in my life when this event has occurred to me. As I continued to think, I wondered if it had ever happened to anyone outside the realm of the romantic comedy. Am I just an outcast that has been without enough passion to led to such an event? Well if so, I say, "no more!"

I pledge to make out with someone from the car to the house, (and perhaps through the house, maybe around the house, we could even do a couple laps) by January first of this year. I realize this doesn't give me much time...but, I'm a busy man and in addition to that, I'm an impatient man. So come on ladies, get on it you only have three weeks. Also, I will be in Georgia from the 21st-27th and if you come all the way to Atlanta, you get bonus points.

Merry Christmas to me!...Hopefully.

Soon I'll be famous and none of this will matter

2005-09-19T19:18:00.000-07:00

I have class on Mondays in Daytona. Which may sound like it sucks, but I like to drive and when I leave early I get a chance to surf or just sit on the beach, so it’s not that bad.

The class is American Lit. II and one of the last classes I will ever take. Which is sweet. But, it's three hours long and my teacher just began to sing. He sang a whole song. Is this necessary to the teaching of literature? There's only like seven people in the class so needless to say I feel a little awkward.

It's like at Macaroni Grill when the guy comes to your table and sings and you don’t know if you should clap or tip him or just try and ignore it. Pretty much the same situation.

Wait...ok he finished...and the class clapped, but everyone looks as confused as I do so at least I'm not alone.

But, now that I think about it, if I was a teacher I'd sing too, just to confuse my students and make sure they're listening. On second thought, this teacher is genius; I've got to go listen, because apparently we're discussing Robert Frost.

Oh, wait...I just realized I don't care. Oh nine o'clock, where are you?

It's not art...it's stupid

2005-08-30T00:33:00.000-07:00

I've recently noticed an increasing number of girls downtown that felt the need to, not only get tattoos, but also specifically get tattoos on their chest. And each one seems to be bigger and more extravagant the next.

I saw one this evening that spanned across the entirety of this chick’s chest and had wings that stretched out onto her shoulders. Am I missing something here?

I mean honestly, when I'm using my few seconds pushing past some girl in the bar to check out her cleavage I really don't need to be distracted. I mean these are precious seconds which should be used for perverted viewing, not for trying to decipher at what point it seemed like a good idea to get a 9'x9' snoopy head permanently etched in between your breasts (if you're a girl and are at this point offended then please, feel free to stop wearing low cut shirts)

I can't help but thinking at some point in my life I might have kids and I try and wonder how I would react to my child if she were to come home with a chest tattoo. I'd like to say that I'd love her in spite of it, but the reality is I'd probably explain to her, "Sweetheart, next time you come home, please go ahead and pack up your stuff."

So, I guess the point I'm trying to make, and I can't stress this enough, when you’re in the chair and about to get a chest tattoo, just take a quick assessment of the future ten years of your life and think hard as too whether or not this is actually a good idea or if you are just mad at your dad. And, please don't ruin my day because your dad was an asshole.

Love you all!

Mash-ups are the musical equivalent of an asshole

2005-08-25T22:16:00.000-07:00

Remember that song? That one that was really popular like ten years ago? Do you think that if we took that song and mixed it with Busta Rhymes it would be good again? Yeah? Awesome! Maybe DJ's all over downtown should play non-stop like it's the greatest musical achievement of man.

Have you found yourself caught in the very same conversation? It could happen to any of us. I agree that perhaps "mash-ups" in theory seem like a good idea. But, please understand, that they are not.

Let me break it down for you. The common misconception exists in thinking that mixing an old song and a new song will make the old song good again. The problem is that the old song never stopped being good, it just stopped being popular. It's very important to see the difference.

Now, I know that the "Grey Album" is amazing, and is acceptable; my issue resides in the countless crappy mash-ups that followed. When you mix my favorite Beatles song with the damn milkshake song, you've gone to far. Other than mash-ups just being laziness on the DJ's part, I think it's a smack in the face to music...in general. They just give music a bad name. I don't want to hear "Just Like Heaven" and "Woo Ha" at the same time, there's a reason they're two different songs.

I feel like this should be self-explanatory, but week after week more and more songs are ruined and I felt it was time to take action. So, here's the plan, next time you're at your local watering hole (bar) and the DJ plays a mash-up, rush the table and scream "Why do you hate music?" If he continues to play the song then just simply flip the DJ table over and understand that when you get thrown out, that it was for a good cause.

Dave Matthews is a freaking idiot, and other observations

2005-08-06T12:40:00.000-07:00

I woke up bright and early the other morning and made my way on over to my local dentist. I made it the office thirty minutes before my appointment hoping I could get in a little early and make it home for Scooby-Doo reruns. However, this was not to be, instead I was left in the waiting room for that thirty minutes with nothing to read but the world renown publication, “Life after Sixty.” After learning how to be a supportive husband during metaphase, I was called in.

I made it to the far back of the maze they called a dental office and sat in the ultimate recliner as my teeth cleaning got underway. The whole cleaning process didn’t take more than ten minutes, as I pride myself on my incredible oral hygiene. I do this, not to keep my teeth healthy, but rather to avoid the lasting awkwardness getting your teeth cleaned entails. I hate it because, beside the dentist always asking you questions you can’t answer due to the utensils in your mouth, I never really know where to look. Staring at the dentist the whole time is just weird so I always end up looking into the magic light they use that some how seems to emit light and yet doesn’t hurt your eyes to stare at it. This is the kind of technology I had expected in 2005, forget the flying cars, we have no shine lamps. I want one…this is of course, beside the point.

As I stared into the light and tried not to make dumb faces as the dentists continued to cram that shape hook thing into my gums, I began to listen to the radio station they had playing throughout the office. The DJ was going nuts over some concert going on during Halloween in Las Vegas. She began to list off the bands and I couldn’t believe that anyone could be this excited about a show that was going to be head lined by Dave Mathews guests, Phish, Jack Johnson, Left Over Salmon, and any other low talent “Jam band” You can think of. In case you don’t know, the term “jam band” is short for “extremely shitty music that never ends.”

I was stoked that I have such clean teeth and I wouldn’t have to be subjected to the day the radio station had dedicated to playing special live versions of songs by the bands playing at the festival. So the dentist finished my teeth and said… mind you, this is a quote, “I’ll be back in just one second hun.”

One second. I figured I could manage that. A really bad song was coming to a close after what can only be explained as five minutes straight of a humming solo. Stupid hippies. I was happy at this point because I was thinking about how easy it would be to fire bomb this one location and take out all this crap music as well as a hefty percentage of hippies. And then the DJ came back on and announced that the next track would be a “very special version” of Dave Matthews’s song “Two Step.” So I was like “OK” because I sort of knew the song from riding in cars with all the morons in my high school, who idolized the Dave. So I starred blankly at everything in the room as the song played and three or so minutes passed. I remember thinking, “Oh yeah, I actually sort of like this part of the song.” It was the part at the very end of the song that I liked. So I made the stupid mistake of thinking the song was almost over.

Let’s fast-forward literally twenty minutes. I had the dentist pointed scraping tool in my hand and was contemplating ending it all, as the dentist had still not returned and the freaking DMB song was still going. Every member of the band had at least two five minute solos. I was so angry I can never begin to explain it. I wanted to find all these bands sit them down in a room and explain to them that if they are too high to figure out how to end a song that is not a reason to continue playing for twenty freaking minutes.

Finally after what seemed like days the song ended. The DJ came on and talked for a couple minutes about how much she loved that song, blah, blah. Then the commercials kicked in which was a surprisingly enjoyable change of pace. Several minutes passed and it was something like thirty minutes since last I saw the dentist. I was furious and about to just get up and leave when finally, some random due came wandering into my room. Luckily, he was dressed as a dentist so I figured he was legit. He claimed to be the “Head” dentist and had me lay back in the chair so he could do a quick check of my teeth. The word quick scared me as one second had turned out to mean thirty minutes, but I laid back nonetheless. As I did I heard that DJ come back on and announce that the next track was going to be a Phish song. I freaked out, this was beyond torture. I was about to punch this guy in the nose and run for my sanity when he announced, “Ok looks good. Make sure and sign up for your next appointment.” I was so pissed; I had waited thirty minutes for this guy to spent two seconds looking in my mouth?

Obviously, more than upset, I spent the remainder of the day trying to decide who I hated more; Dave or the Dentists. Freaking idiots!

It floats!

2005-07-12T01:31:00.000-07:00

So, my roommate Mike and I decided to explore a new venture this evening. I heard about it a few days ago and decided tonight was the night to try "the beer float." The ingredients included beer (Miller lite), ice cream (generic Publix brand), and a spoon. The process is basically pouring your glass about half full of beer, dropping a hearty spoon full of ice cream, and then stirring. We found that it was better to keep the spoon in the cup throughout the drinking process enabling you to stir as needed (the threat of curdling was more than enough for me to be in constant stir).
So we each knocked out a glass and I’m here to tell you, the beer float is outstanding. Think of Guinness, but not chocolate, not as heavy, and not quite as disgusting. I would say it’s for beer drinkers and non-beer drinkers alike, because it both maintains the beer taste, but also comes with a strong ice cream taste that mixes in flawlessly. But, don’t take my word for it go out and try it yourself. It’s definitely a nice summer treat for all you loyal B-B-Q alcoholics out there. So drink up and enjoy!

Nice guys finish last.

2005-07-10T01:31:00.000-07:00

I had a friend of mine roll into the bar this evening with his girlfriend. It was the first time I'd met the girl and if he hadn't introduced her as his girlfriend I wouldn't have been able to distinguish her from any other random girl in the bar due to the lack of physical contact going on between them. Eventually, she left for the bathroom and we were able to talk. I inquired as to the uncharacteristic nature of their relationship. And he replied by saying "Well I don't want her to touch me too much, I mean there are a lot of hot girls in here tonight and I don't want to give them the impression that I'm dating someone." Lets back tack, my friends girlfriend, is gorgeous...am I missing something here? I thought girls always said they want nice guys who treat them right and are…well…nice to them. Apparently, I've been going at this all wrong. I've been being nice to girls to try and get their attention, no wonder I'm single. Time to switch gears. So, if I'm totally mean to you next time I see you, don't get upset, it means I like you.

Who has a wedding at 8am?

2005-07-09T01:31:00.000-07:00

I jetted home thursday night after my ears bled from the mind numbing volume of the rock Dinosaur Jr. provided for the hundreds of concert goers that went to see them at the ol' House of Blues. I got home just in time (midnight) to lay out the clothes I would be wearing the following day and take a sleeping pill forcing me to obtain atleast five hours of sleep before I'd have to wake up and head to Lakeland.
My good friend Will Campbell and my first girlfriend ever Ellie Hodges decided a few months ago not only to get married, but also to invite me to the event. Will's sister, also named Ellie, told me thursday before leaving for Lakeland that the wedding would be at Covenant church at eight. She made sure to remind me not to be late, before hanging up. Will's cousin Samuel, my old roommate, also informed me that the wedding would be held at eight the following day.
So as I woke up friday morning at 6am I felt I was pretty well informed when I headed off to Lakeland. And that is why when I arrived at the church fifteen minutes before the ceremony to find an empty parking lot, I was confused. I assume you have already realized what transpired. Seeing as how the wedding would be held at 8pm instead of 8am I was about twelve hours early for the ceremony. So, I wasted a day in Lakeland at the end of which Will and Ellie did in fact get married. But, at that point I was too tired to care and just wanted to go to the reception where I would immediatly hit up the wine bar. Nothing like a good merlot to celebrate the union of two friends.

I hate bums!

2005-07-03T01:29:00.000-07:00

After a questionable night at work, and finally drawing a close to the questionable 2nd of July I was more than excited to jump in my car, drive home, sleep, and wake up to the party filled 3rd of July. However, this was not to be instead some stupid freaking bum decided to extend my 2nd of July as long as possible. If I ever find that bum I will smack him in the face. And I'm not talking about some cheap girlie smack; I'm talking about a smack that will stay planted on that bums face for like..forever. And all the other bums would be like "Damn, don't mess with that Register kid, look at ol' leroys face. Man he's mesed up!" I would be feared by bums near and far....ok wait I'm getting off topic. I got to my car to find that my back window (which was there when I went to work) was nowhere to be found. Upon further investigation I found that the window was actually inside my car transformed into hundreds of smaller windows. So I gave my car a quick search and discovered that only one thing was missing...my eight-dollar sunglasses I bought from Marshals. Only a stupid freaking poor bum would break my window to steal my eight-dollar glasses. So I walked over to the police station, which was closed. "Son of a..." So I called 911, which I was actually pretty excited about since I'd never had any reason to call 911 before. It was extremely disappointing. The depressing women on the other end of the line told me that a cruiser would be dispatched to my location momentarily. Last time I checked that phrase meant soon...not two and a half hours later. But, I'm not here to argue semantics. So I sat in my car for two and a half hours waiting for the cops and while I did I watched all the bums walking oh so slowly down the road. And that's when I realized that the bums downtown are not all that different from the zombies found in far too many bad movies right now. So that's when it hit me, we should gather up all the bums downtown and cast them in the next questionable attempt at a scary zombie movie. The movie studios would save money because the bums already look like zombies, and the bums would make money, because they'd be actors. And that way they would have money and they wouldn't have to break into my car. Freaking bums... I hate bums.

Is there something in the water?

2005-06-19T06:19:00.000-07:00

So last night I was working at the bar and I noticed that downtown there are countless hot girls that are all about three to four inches taller than me. I must say it was a little disheartening. I mean I'm 5'8 which I feel is a reasonable height for a strapping young man such as my self, but these girls just towered over me. And to add insult to injury, the ones that were only an inch or so taller than me, opted to bust out these six inch heels, as if to say "The inch I already have on you just isn't enough, I'm gonna need to bump it six more to make you feel adequately ridiculous." And, as much as Tom Cruise is still fighting the good fight and trying to make it cool for short guys to date tall girls, at the end of the day I'm not Tom Cruise. So, this brings me to my point, I propose we somehow form an uprising and make it socially acceptable for men to wear heels and not girls. I feel this would really help out my cause. But, don't get me wrong, I'm not talking about little girly stiletto heels, we'd obviously have to make our own. I'm thinking something along the lines of tying a tree trunk to the bottom of our shoes, or if we could get the guys from American Choppers to fabricate us a pair, man, those would be some tough heels. So that's the idea, there are obviously a lot of kinks to iron out, but I feel the concept is solid.