Coming attractions

May 16, 2008 by wolf.

Some of you may not know this, but I have a lot of contacts in the movie industry. They know of my expertise in screenwriting, and are often asking me all sorts of questions and offering me advice, including “Would you like butter on that?” and “Sir, please put that thing away. This is a family movie.”

But I digress. Recently I went to see one of my industry insider buddies, and after sneaking past the security guards, I sat down and grilled him on the future of cinema. Well, first I grilled him for his PIN and his smoked salmon recipe, and then I grilled him about cinema.

As an informed consumer and movie-goer, like me, you may have noticed the current trend of turning video games into feature films – games like Resident Evil, Silent Hill, and Steel Magnolias. Well, my contact assured me that this trend will continue. As (name withheld) put it, “What? Write something new, with a fresh storyline? I don’t have time for that! I’ve got to reach level 5 gazillion on Grand Theft Auto IV. Now get out! Go watch Alvin & the Chipmunks again!” (It shows how important somebody is if they can actually speak in roman numerals. And pronouncing the ampersand is also tremendously difficult.)

Because he was so rude, I feel compelled to share with you the industry secrets he involuntarily passed along to me while he was raiding the candy machine down the hall. Mark your calendars: The following blockbusters are coming soon to a theatre near you.

That last one looks like a blockbuster to me.

(This is cross-posted over at Burt’s Mustache.)

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Aaaargh!

May 15, 2008 by wolf.

I told myself I wouldn’t post about it.

I told myself it was petty.

I told myself that suffering in silence is manly.

But I can be silent no longer.

The elastic on my right sock is totally shot, and the feeling of a loose sock flopping around my ankle is driving me f***ing INSANE. I keep reaching down to pull it up, and that wrecks the elastic further, and thus the vicious cycle continues. I may soon be able to pull my sock over my head like a blanket and hide from the world.

Okay, I posted it.

No, I still don’t feel better.

Damn sock.

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Ol’ One-Eye

May 13, 2008 by wolf.

Even here in the Great Frozen North, summer is coming. Nay, for all practical purposes, it is here, since we don’t celebrate Spring much here. We have winter and summer.

I say this because, with the advent of summer comes home improvement season, and thus long walks through the aisles of the local Home Depot.

Now, I could regale you with tales of house construction, of eighteen different types of hammers, of discovering that HOLY CRAP sheets of T-111 are expensive. Rather, however, I shall spin a yarn of sawdust.

This sawdust was happy, and lived happily ‘twixt two sheets of plywood. Until, that is, an innocent passerby happened to raise the top sheet of plywood and then release it, thus expelling two pieces into the air, and thus directly into the eyeball-apparatus of said passerby.

This passerby (me, if you’re having trouble keeping up) then rubbed and rubbed, trying to get the sawdust out, with some luck. However, there was an unintentional side effect.

Keep in mind that each of these two pieces of sawdust was roughly the size of a Volkswagen. Rubbing your eyes when a Volkswagen-sized piece of dirt is in there is never a good idea. The result? A corneal abrasion.

Yeah, it’s fancy talk for “I scratched my eyeball.”

If you’ve done it before, you feel for me. It hurts, and entails a trip to the emergency room, where I was poked and prodded and half-drowned as they washed out the eye and proceeded to put all sorts of drops and chemicals and what-have-you into the eye, such that it seemed like a good idea to just keep the original sawdust in there instead.

Still, I let them have their fun, and I walked out of there with a tube of antibiotic cream to go in my eye for five days and a worthless Vicodin prescription (worthless because not only does Vicodin do nothing for me, but these were for 5 mg pills. I don’t think a large termite could get pain relief from 5 milligrams of Vicodin.)

I have had to put “Vicodin” into M$ Word’s dictionary. I feel dirty, somehow.

I wonder if Hunter S. Thompson ever had to do that.

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Feeling inadequate?

May 7, 2008 by wolf.

Just in case you were starting to feel good about yourself and what you’ve accomplished in your life so far, check this out:

Teen graduates high school, graduates college a week later

If you suck up your dignity long enough to read that, you’ll see that not only is he graduating college a week after he graduates high school, but that he’s graduating with two degrees. Summa cum laude. And, to top it all off, he was a preemie.

If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go dunk my head in a bucket of water and blow bubbles. I like bubbles.

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Spamalot

May 5, 2008 by wolf.

Dear Mr. Spammer-person:

First of all, congratulations. You have single-handedly increased my spam comments on this blog to twenty or thirty a day, compared to the measly five or ten a week I was getting up until about two weeks ago. I’m almost starting to feel popular.

But secondly, why are you here?

And I don’t mean that in a metaphysical sense. Rather, why are you bothering me?

I realize you have a small penis, and I feel for you, I really do. But – and I’m asking you to trust me on this – spamming random blogs just isn’t going to fix anything. If you had bothered to email me first and ask some questions, I could have done some research, pointed you towards a few helpful support group websites, and so on. But you appear convinced that leaving random comments about ringtones is going to solve your little problem (pun intended.)

What about this blog, in particular, made you decide to market ringtones here? I just did a search, and in two years of posting I have never mentioned the word “ringtones.” Not once. Yet every single one of your spam comments is attempting to sell them to somebody, and linking to a webpage that doesn’t even exist. Which confuses me even further. I thought the point of spam in general was to sell something, but when your link is broken, seems like it’s a waste of your time and mine. If your link was working, at least one of us would be getting something out of this parasitic relationship you seem to have fostered.

Well, I have done the necessary research, and I’ve reported your spamming ass to your hosting company. If the world was a just place, you would be strung up by your undersized testicles and forced to listen to Michael Bolton singing tenderly about losing a hangnail, for hours and hours and hours.

 Of course, since the world is not a just place, you will probably receive a firm letter, asking you to cease and desist. And I can only hope that you will take that in the spirit in which it is intended: with all the power of a white-hot ball of rage and sorrow, along with a case of herpes. Rabid, HIV-infected herpes.

Sincerely,

wolf

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Sticky

May 1, 2008 by wolf.

There’s something sticky on the bottom of my shoe.

Ordinarily that wouldn’t bother me too much, but it’s giving me all sorts of problems.

First of all, I work in a carpeted office, and it doesn’t stick to the carpet. This means that I only notice the stickiness when I wander down the hall to the tiled restroom. Then I start to stick, along with the accompanying sound effects: step schwick! step schwick! step schwick! But I won’t look at the bottom of my shoe in the bathroom for two reasons. One: I’m not sure what I might end up looking at, and two: if someone were to walk in just as I was looking, they might think that I had done my business on the floor rather than in the facilities and was checking to see if I had stepped in it.

So I decide that after I do my business, I’ll investigate further once I get back to my desk. But then, because I have the attention span of a slug, I see my shiny computer and promptly forget all about my sticky shoe, because it’s not sticking to the carpet.

(It just occurred to me that perhaps that’s not the best analogy. I can only assume that slugs actually have a pretty long attention span, otherwise, given their normal speed of travel, they would forget where they were going on a fairly regular basis, and we would have slugs aimlessly wandering everywhere, too confused to ask for directions and only knowing that they need to avoid Salt Lake City.)

But anyway: I have investigated the stick. I know all I could possibly know about it without actually looking at it.

1. It’s only on my right foot, so I managed to halfway avoid stepping in whatever I stepped in.

2. It’s not on the ball of my foot, only on the heel, as if I had dug my heel into something repulsive. (You never dig your heel into something non-repulsive. Think of the last time you stepped on a cockroach.)

3. It’s very sticky. I mean, super-power-like sticky. If I could figure out the physical logistics, I could give Spiderman a run for his money. Unfortunately, I think a superhero whose only ability is that of sticking his right heel to a wall and hanging from it has a limited chance at success.

4. It doesn’t stick to carpet (see above.) Perhaps, were I to attain superhero status, this would be my Achilles heel – my kryptonite, to continue the superhero theme. “Oh, you’re going to fight Sticky Heel Man? You know what his weakness is, don’t you? Berber. Or a nice shag. It’ll drop him every time.”

5. It doesn’t smell. At least, I haven’t noticed any particular odors following me through the office, and none of my coworkers have said anything, so I can safely assume that I am odor-free.

So what it boils down to is this: at some point this morning, I stepped in an extremely sticky, non-odorous substance that was repulsive enough to make me dig in my heel. At least part of me was paying attention enough to make me jump aside and avoid stepping in it with both shoes. And I can write an entire blog post about it without looking to see what it is.

And now I stick to the bathroom floor, with no increased chances of becoming a superhero. It must be Thursday.

Humor-blogs.com has many, many arch-enemies.

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In synch

April 30, 2008 by wolf.

Announcer 1: So now we come to our next event: Synchronized Snoring.

Announcer 2: That’s right, Bob! This event is probably one of the most difficult we’re going to see today, if only because both team members are, as part of the rules, asleep.

Bob: So, refresh us on the rules, would you, Jerry?

Jerry: Sure, Bob! Basically, both teammates must be snoring for this to work at all. There’s a human team member and his canine counterpart. Snores must be audible – the louder the better. Snoring in perfect rhythm is what you’re going for, and every now and then you’ll get what’s called a “Stream” in the sport.

Bob: A “Stream?” What’s that, Jerry?

Jerry: Wow, you’re kind of an idiot, aren’t you, Bob? A Stream is what happens when the human is inhaling while the dog is exhaling, and vice versa. The end result is a perfect stream of snore, uninterrupted by respiration.

Bob: That’s awesome, Jerry! Oh, and by the way, I love the new toupee.

Jerry: Thanks, Bob. Now, as I was saying, a Stream is unusual. Only the best teams get them. Basically the judges are looking for a good solid rhythm. Let’s go to our first team, Wolf and his dog.

Bob:  I gotta tell you, I’ve seen these two perform before, and when they get into rhythm, it’s a beautiful thing. Here’s the drop off…

Jerry: Well, it’s going to be a few moments while they get their breathing settled. Let’s have a word from our sponsor, Nyquil®.

****************

Bob: Aaaaand we’re back to this year’s synchronized snoring event. Wolf and his dog are settling in to a nice rhythm. They had a rocky start, but they’re making up for it.

Jerry: Bob, it looks like the Wife’s awake.

Bob: That’s great, Jerry. If the team can keep the spouse awake, it’s a point in their favor with the judges. Now, I – Oh, wait a minute. Looks like the dog dropped a beat, there.

Jerry: He certainly did. Looks like he rolled over on his ear. That’s going to be hard to pull out of. If they’re looking to beat the Swedish team, they’re going to have to do better.

Bob: Did I tell you I met the Swedes last year after they took the gold? Nice team. They- Wait a minute. What’s he doing?

Jerry: I didn’t think I’d see it, but… yes, Wolf’s using the apnea! See, by not breathing for a minute or two, he can get back in sync with the dog. Oh, that’s brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. They’re going to pull it off.

Bob: Let’s take a look at what the judges have to say… An 8.5, a 9.2 and a 9.4! Those are great scores, Jerry. We might be looking at some medalists, here.

Jerry: Well, like you said, this can truly be a beautiful thing. I’m glad I saw it. We’ll be right back.

Humor-blogs.com probably takes sleeping pills.

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Three stars

April 28, 2008 by wolf.

A few weeks ago I stumbled on a blog, Ask and ye shall receive. A simple blog, really, with one purpose: to review submitted blogs truthfully, not pulling punches, not sugar-coating the review. There is a group of reviewers that take turns with the submitted blogs, and I gotta say – the reviews are often as much fun to read as the blogs.

Yup, you guessed it: While my forebrain stepped out for a smoke, I submitted the Cheetah for review. The review’s up today, and while I didn’t get a “I f***ing love you,” I got three stars, and I’m pretty happy with that. Especially considering that one of the alternatives is a flaming middle finger.

Anyway, head over and check out the review if you like.

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I need to suck up to Nielsen

April 25, 2008 by wolf.

He appeared behind me in the bathroom as I was combing my hair and getting ready to go to work. There was a pop! and standing behind me was what looked like a grumpy leprechaun in a three-piece suit.

 “Wolf, I’ve got some bad news for you,” he said without preamble. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to cancel you.”

“Cancel me? What do you mean?” I decided to ignore the fact that Danny DeVito’s ugly twin brother had just appeared in my bathroom and concentrate instead on the specter of imminent cancellation, whatever that was.

“Well, your ratings are way down. You’re losing viewers faster than we can attract new ones, and I think we’re just going to have to cancel your life.”

“You mean –”

“Yeah.” He attempted to look remorseful, but it looked more like someone had stepped on his foot. “We’re gonna have to switch to reruns. Syndication, baby!”

“Wait! I can be funnier! I can do more dumb things! I can do more bathroom humor!” Without warning, the gaseous digestive side effects of last night’s artichoke dip exited my rear end. “I can do less bathroom humor!”

He shook his head. “I just don’t know. Viewers love adventure, controversy and scandal. You’ve got nothing. Look at yesterday, for instance. You stayed home with the Offspring because he had a sore throat and a cough. Plenty of opportunity for hijinks there, but what did you do? You wrote some of your so-called book, read a bit, and watched Return of the Jedi. Hardly stimulating entertainment.”

“Well, summer’s coming, and I do live in Alaska. I plan to do some hiking, take some pictures, maybe try some whitewater rafting.”

He appeared to consider. “Might be a possibility. Rafting, did you say?”

“Yup. Plenty of chances for bodily injury.”

“Yeah, they do love the bodily injuries. What else you got?”

“Um. Replacing my water heater?”

“No, that won’t do. Any chance you can be linked romantically to Paris Hilton or Britney?”

“Are you kidding? Not only am I happily married, but even if I weren’t, I wouldn’t touch either one of them with somebody else’s penis!”

He shrugged. “All right, can’t say I blame you. I gotta tell you, though – we need something to keep people interested. Gotta keep ratings up.” His eyes started wandering around the bathroom, and I could tell he was losing interest in the conversation. My mind was racing as I tried to figure out how I could convince him to let me stay on the air.

Suddenly, I remembered that he was in the entertainment business. I leaned over and wiggled my ass at him. “How’s about if I let you –”

He held up his hands and fell over himself trying to back away. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! We run a clean show here! None of that!”

“What?” I asked him, confused. “I was going to let you pick my pocket! What did you think I meant?”

He shook his head. “All right, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. If you can promise to spice things up a bit – you know, break a limb or two, cause some local neighborhood chaos, that sort of thing – I’ll tell the board to renew you for another year. Can you promise me that?”

At that point, nothing else mattered to me. “You bet I can! Just wait! I’ll have you guys in stitches! You’ll have to book me on Oprah and Letterman to keep up with my new fans!”

“All right.” With a flourish, he produced a sheet of paper from somewhere inside his jacket, scribbled something on it, and handed it to me. “Step it up, wolf. I like you, I really do, but it’s not up to me. Savvy?”

With a pop! he was gone, and I was left alone in the bathroom, holding a chartreuse piece of paper that renewed my contract for another year. Apparently my negotiation skills suck, because a salary increase wasn’t even listed. Still, I suppose I should be happy I didn’t get cancelled.

In the meantime, I need to purchase a chain saw, two model rocket engines, fifteen bags of Fritos and a “Don’t Walk” sign.

Humor-blogs.com drives a hard bargain, or so I hear.

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Empty pages

April 23, 2008 by wolf.

Interesting.

I finished editing and submitted my book about a month ago. (No, nothing yet. Or, rather, lots of “No, thanks” and no “Yes, please, I’d like to read it” responses yet.)

So what’s happened? I’m knee-deep in another book, and this one I’m pretty excited about. It seems that I was right, and that submitting the novel would get it off my creative plate, so to speak, and let me move on.

I closed the book on it, you could say.

Okay, sorry. That one was uncalled for.

But anyway, the new one’s coming along nicely, I think. I’ve only been writing seriously for about three days and I’m already 4,000 words in. I’m trying some different things this time (a la Stephen King’s On Writing, et al,) and so far they seem to be working.

So I’ll just keep going until something makes me stop. As I just read from Jodi Picoult, “you can always edit a bad page, but you can’t edit a blank page.” Awesome quote.

Regarding my first novel: the more I think about it, the more I’m pretty sure it’s not going to sell. No problem. Selling a first novel is rather rare, or so I hear. So I’d like to offer you guys a chance to read it – on the condition that you give me some feedback when you’re done. I’ve got some pretty good ideas what’s wrong with it, but I’d like to hear some other viewpoints.

So – anyone interested? Let me know in the comments, and I’ll email you the file. It’s in M$ Word, in case you need to know, and it’s a fantasy.

In the meantime, I’ve got pages to fill.

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