Posts tagged with stuff

102 Notes

Pietà

I walked past a crying woman sitting on a bench, her wailing face turned to the sky. Tears streamed unhidden down her face and she held her arms wide. At her feet, a purse lay on its side, spilling its lip balms and mustard packets onto the beaten ground. 

Stunned by how open she was in her grief and forgetful of my place as a stranger to her, I opened my mouth to ask her if there was anything I could do.

Also forgetful of the fact that I was currently in a contest with myself to see how many chocolate chip cookies I could fit in my mouth at one time.

It was seventeen.

But they were the little ones.

86 Notes

The Hulk Buys Slacks

“HULK SMASH!”

“No no no, sir. Hulk does not smash.”

“HULK NOT SMASH?”

“No. Hulk buys slacks.”

“HULK BUY SLACKS!”

“Yes, sir. Hulk buys slacks. Now, will that be cash, debit, or credit?”

“HULK HAVE DEBIT CARD!”

“Excellent. Please swipe your card with the stripe facing in.”

“HULK SWIPE!”

“Good. Now enter your PIN.”

“HULK ENTER PIN NUMBER?”

“Actually, PIN is an acronym which stands for ‘Personal Identification Number’. So, saying ‘PIN number’ is redundant.”

“HULK SMASH!”

160 Notes

What has Twitter Done for Me in Real Life?

A few days ago I was contacted by Misty Harris, a reporter for Canwest News Service. She was doing an article on some Canadian Twitterers and what sort of effect it has had on their offline life — book deals, job opportunities, etc. She asked me to send her my experiences.

The article is online here: Tweets translate into fame and fortune for Canadians

But if you are interested, here is the full write-up I sent her:


What has Twitter Done for Me in Real Life?

I get asked a lot what I’ve gotten out of Twitter. A new job? A book deal? Anything?

The fact is I’m still working at the same job, still living in the same house, still staring at the same bank account. I have no book deal. Agents do not call me. I’m still me.

But in a lot of ways, Twitter gave me back my life.

When I first joined Twitter, it was my Dad that told me to sign up. If you go back to the first page of the people I follow on Twitter, his avatar is right there at the bottom. And I used Twitter in the way that most people probably use it. I said what I was doing. I commented on things I saw. I posted some links. Nothing special.

Then, in June of 2008, my father was struck while cycling and killed instantly. He was a man that lived life to the fullest and only seemed to speed up as he got older. He was my hero and my best friend. I was devastated.

Soon after this I started to use Twitter more, trying to distract myself from the grief I felt. I started following more people on Twitter, mainly people whose websites I enjoyed and then the people they followed. And somewhere along the way I heard about a site called Favrd. (Don’t go looking for it — it’s not there any more.) I don’t remember where I read about it, but the description that stuck in my head was that it was like making your Twitter feed like “Evening at the Improv”.

Favrd was basically an aggregator of tweets that people had “favorited” (or “starred”). You can favorite a tweet on Twitter by clicking the star next to the tweet. Originally, it was designed to be a way to bookmark tweets that you liked. The people using Favrd had started to use it to indicate laughter. Favrd was pretty simple. The front page was a listing of the most recent tweets that had gotten at least three stars, while there was another page that listed the tweets that had gotten the most that day (the leaderboard). Basically, Favrd crowdsourced comedy.

Suddenly, Twitter wasn’t just a place for me to record the minutia of my day — it was a creative outlet. How do you make someone laugh in just 140 characters or less? They say limitation help creativity. This was definitely true for me. Suddenly, Twitter wasn’t just a way to pass the time — I had something to do. I had to make people laugh.

Yes, I used Twitter as an escape. But in the end, it became a doorway.

I started out trying to make people laugh, but — more importantly — I started laughing at what everyone else was writing. I started following more people, people I found funny. And people that found me funny started following me. And what do you get when people discover they make each other laugh? You get friends. I have made an *incredible* number of friends through Twitter. And no, I am not using that word lightly — I have made real, flesh-and-blood friends. I have traveled to Boston and North Carolina and San Francisco, all to meet with friends I met on Twitter. And we (my wife finally joined me on Twitter) have more trips planned for this year to Tampa, Chicago, and Toronto.

But it’s not just funny tweets and good friends that I’ve gotten out of Twitter — I’ve rediscovered my creativity.

I used to be an actor — I went to Theatre School at Dalhousie and worked as an actor for eight years. But I stopped. I found I wanted to be able have a job that allowed me the time and money to do other things beside just trying to survive as an actor. And I’ve been okay with that decision. But what I did miss was having a creative outlet. In this community, I have more creative outlets than I know what to do with — now I write, I draw, I take photos, I even make short — and very silly — films. A lot of this creativity has found its home on my Tumblr site iamyourcanadianboyfriend.com. Tumblr is a blogging community that a subset of my Twitter community has colonized. I’ve described it this way — if Twitter is the stage, Tumblr is the cast party. It’s where we can go to try our hands at different things: art, writing, photography, music, video. And still a whole lot of just trying to make each other laugh. Tumblr also allows us to share more about our lives. It has allowed us to become better friends. I know a number of people that have met through Twitter and Tumblr and fallen in love. And there are a number of us that have fallen on hard times and the community has rallied to support them. We make each other laugh. We give each other support. We cheer each other on. We push each other to try new things.

Somewhere along the way, someone at Twitter HQ decided they thought I was a good person to recommend to new users of Twitter and I was placed on the Twitter Suggested User list. That’s when my follower count started increasing by thousands a day — at the moment it’s over 1.2 million. I don’t think the majority of those people know what to make of me. I had to make a decision not to let it change how I used Twitter. All I can do is keep trying to make people laugh by posting things that make me laugh. Hopefully I’ve made some of them laugh too. (Twitter recently changed how they implement the Suggested User List, so the torrent of new followers has stopped. I’m remarkably okay with that.)

In the end, I’ve made a very tiny bit of money — two of my tweets have been made into Threadless t-shirts and I have an online store where I sell some t-shirts, mugs, and prints of the silly drawing of animals I make. Grocery and comic book money.

So far, none of this has changed my professional life.

But it has changed my life.

(But if an agent did call…)

113 Notes

Just say “Fine”

“How are you?”

“Not good, man. Not good. I can’t get the word ‘vagina’ out of my head. Seriously. Right now I’m talking to you, but I can see the word ‘vagina’ flashing in the corner of my mind’s eye. Blink. Vagina! Blink. Vagina! Blink. Vagina! We’re talking one hundred and sixty-three days now. I’ve tried everything. Physical activity. New hobbies. Lots of sex. Getting obsessed with typography. Absolutely no sex. Excessive drinking. Underground fight clubs, which — can I say? — are actually more like underground ‘saying that one line from Fight Club over and over and high-fiving each other’ clubs. Repeated viewings of Season Two of Cagney & Lacey. Ornithology — by the way, chickens are jerks. Learning Mandarin. Eating mandarins. Electro-shock therapy. Writing Cagney & Lacey fanfic. Repairing previously popped bubble wrap and then shipping it to the Sudan to cheer them up. EVERYTHING. Unfortunately, the only noticeable difference is I’ve suffered some mild brain damage along the way and now think ‘vagina’ means the feeling of carrying a papier-mâché bust of Queen Elizabeth through the canals of Venice while Abe Vigoda berates you quietly from behind. You?”

“Same.”

102 Notes

Meanwhile

“Ok, here’s the plan. Since the cake is in my backseat, we’ll have to take your car-“

“Batmobile.”

“Fine. ‘Batmobile’. We’ll stop by Costco for the pizza bagels and jalapeño poppers-“

“Batpoppers.”

“Really? Whatever. Then we have to head over to the liquor store and pick up the keg I ordered-“

“Batkeg.”

“Keg.”

“Batkeg.”

“Ke- we have to pick ‘it’ up by four to give us time to clean. People are going to start showing up around eight o’clock, so this place-“

“Bat o’clock.”

“… you know what? Fuck you, Batman. Fuck. You.”

[Footsteps. Door slams.]

“I’m so Batlonely.”

Notes

Stop Throwing Your Opponent Across The Room

I can no longer overlook this.

We were watching Terminator: Salvation yesterday. And over and over again, various models of Terminators would grab a human and throw them across the room and/or post-apocalyptic landscape. And I couldn’t stop thinking: “Why are they throwing them?”

Why do they keep throwing beings that are weaker and more fragile than they are? Because invariably, the mere act of throwing their weaker and more fragile opponent means three things:

1) Their weaker and more fragile opponent WILL NOT DIE.

2) Their weaker and more fragile opponent IS NOW A DISTANCE AWAY FROM THEM. This means they now must travel that distance in order to engage their weaker and more fragile opponent if they hope to throw them across the room once more.

3) During one of these trips across the room, their weaker and more fragile opponent will use their monkey brain to figure out a way TO KILL THEM before they get there.

Maybe it’s just me, but I figure if I’m a super-strong killing machine, the most effective use of my super-strong killing powers — once I have my weaker and more fragile opponent within my grasp — IS TO TO CRUSH THEIR SKULL. If I have the strength to grab my opponent and throw them dozens of feet through the air, I definitely have the strength to hold onto them with one hand/claw/grasping appendage and with the other hand/claw/grasping appendage grab their head and CRUSH IT. Boom. One weaker and more fragile opponent dead. Next problem.

(It doesn’t have to be crushing the skull specifically. I could beat them about the face. Poke holes in their chest. Rip off their skin. Hug them until they turn into jelly. Whatever. I’m super-strong, I’m a killing machine, the world is my oyster.)

This is not just a fault of the Terminator movies. (But holy hell did it happen a lot.) Whenever you have a super-strong opponent fighting a weaker and more fragile protagonist, you’re gonna have throwing.

And I, for one, am tired of it.

Notes

Situations in Which a Husband Should Always Ask His Wife If She is Done Using the Bathroom Before Assuming He Can Use It:

  1. If she is in the bathroom.
  2. If she has just left the bathroom.
  3. If she has ever been in a bathroom.
  4. If she is an alien crash-landed on Earth who is hiding from an Imperial armada hunting her down for being the last surviving member of a benevolent galactic dynasty and may at some point wish to use the bathroom to shed her chitinous exoskeleton.
  5. If he is married.

92 Notes

Idea for SNL Digital Short that I have to get out of my head

Scene: Evening in New York. A fancy restaurant. Camera pans around dining room showing couples being romantic. Softly tinkling piano music is heard.

Cut to shot of MAN at a table holding a glass of wine. He is on a date, enjoying himself, talking to someone off camera. The date is going very well. He raises his glass and clinks it with a glass that appears from off-camera.

Cut to shot of his companion. It is an EAR OF CORN.

Cut to romantic NYC montage:

- MAN in horse-drawn carriage going through Central Park. EAR OF CORN is sitting next to him.

- MAN sitting on bench by the river looking at the lights of the city. EAR OF CORN is sitting next to him.

- MAN is in taxi. EAR OF CORN is sitting next to him.

- MAN is back at his apartment on couch, lights are dimmed, candles are lit, romantic music is playing. EAR OF CORN is sitting next to him. MAN places his hand lightly on EAR OF CORN.

- MAN opens door to his bedroom, looks over his shoulder, and beckons with his eyes. EAR OF CORN is leaning against hallway wall.

- MAN is lying in bed. EAR OF CORN is lying next to him. The bedsheets chastely cover them.

- MAN leans into EAR OF CORN.

Fade to black.

Scene: Morning. City sounds blare. MAN wakes up in bed alone. Sunlight streams harshly on his face. He is hungover. He looks at the other side of the bed. He is alone. He sighs in relief.

MAN stumbles out of bed. Rubs at his stubble. Tastes wine and regret on his tongue. He heads to the bathroom. Stares at himself in the mirror. Looks at his bloodshot eyes.

MAN grabs a magazine from rack next to toilet. Pulls down pants and sits on toilet. He begins to read.

Suddenly, MAN looks up in shock. Gets off toilet in panic and looks down.

Cut to shot of EAR OF CORN peaking out of toilet.

MAN stumbles backward out of bathroom and into his bedroom. He frantically puts on clothes.

Cut to shot of EAR OF CORN in the bathroom doorway.

Dressed, MAN grabs his keys and rushes out of his apartment. Outside, he looks up to his apartment window.

Cut to shot of EAR OF CORN looking down at him from his apartment window.

MAN calls for a taxi.

Taxi pulls up. MAN gets in backseat of taxi. MAN signals taxi to drive… just drive. MAN looks through back window of taxi.

Cut to shot of EAR OF CORN in the backseat of a following taxi.

MAN exits cab at a police precinct and rushes in. Inside, the police precinct is bustling with people. MAN goes to the front desk to speak to the desk sergeant. Suddenly, the MAN freezes.

Cut to shot of EAR OF CORN sitting at the front desk.

MAN looks around in panic. The people bustling around have been replaced with EARS OF CORN. MAN rushes into street.

The street is filled with EARS OF CORN. Staring at him.

MAN screams.

Cut to shot of MAN bolting awake in bed.

MAN sighs. It was just a dream. MAN lays back down and turns on his side.

He is face-to-face with a CARROT.

MAN sighs and falls asleep.

Notes

If I ever found someone’s wallet, I’d keep it for a month and then mail it back filled with Argentinian currency, an empty condom wrapper, and a picture of an otter.

Notes

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

707 Plays

My Tumblr Talent Show submission: A reading of the first scene of Icarus 54 , a one-man show that I wrote and performed waaaaaaay back in 1996.

It’s long (over seven minutes), so I understand if your Twitter/Tumblr-addled attention spans can’t stick around.

I was going to actually film the scene and not just the audio, but my back’s out of commission so you get what I can give you. And I’m on fun meds. Whee.

Closest thing I’ve done to actually acting in years.

I will now post this before my many insecurities prevent me by beating my brain senseless.