October 21, 2004
Christ, that's depressing
I hate when I send myself an email to remind myself to do something and then, not less than a minute later, I get all excited that I got an email before I realize it's the one I just sent.
October 16, 2004
You have a friend at White Castle
When I was considering shaving my beard into a mustache, my friend Erik Sofge told me that during the period that he had one, he met a number of people who thought he was an asshole and then later confided to him that it was partially because he had had a mustache. So Will, you might ask, why did you grow one and what does that have to do with White Castle? I'll answer one of those questions.
I went to see Bishop Allen with my good friends, The Hazzards, and there I noticed someone else with a mustache. My distaste for him was instant. Yes, I am constantly judging complete strangers. Yes, it was because of the mustache. Yes, I am a hypocrite.
So, a couple of beers later, I found myself wandering back to my apartment, kind of drunk, kind of hungry, when what did I see but the local White Castle. How could I resist. In line, I noticed that that mustache guy was there. Some crazy woman was talking some gibberish about how she went to college to be a social worker and how she was going to hire a hitman. Or something. The mustache man and I exchanged bemused looks. His friend was ordering and was short twenty some cents. I happened to be fumbling with a quarter in my pocket, so I offered it to him. "You were at the Bishop Allen show, weren't you," I said. "Yeah. Come have a seat with us," he responded.
So, after I ordered the six pack, fries, and a Sprite, I decided to take him up on the offer. What did I have to lose. They seemed considerably more sane than the woman who was going to hire the hitman. My six pack was almost too much to handle. A regular burger, cheeseburger, jalapeno burger, chicken sandwich, bacon cheeseburger, and the piece de resistance, the dreaded fish burger. I ate it all, somehow.
But more importantly, the two guys and I started chatting about girlfriends and bands and what have you. I genuinely enjoyed our chat. They were both well over thirty, which kind of blew my mind - I'd like to think that showing up to White Castle drunk on a weekday is a habit I'll break by the time I'm in my thirties. One of the employees offered us a surplus of biscuits. There were two boxes, so one of my new friends offered it to the girls seated nearby, who I hadn't really taken much note of until now.
One of the girls was really cute and really drunk, and she told us she didn't want biscuits, she wanted water. My new friend told her all he had was biscuits. He then complimented her on her boots, and then sat back down. White Castle, the great equalizer. She may be hot and dressed up all nice, but when it all comes down to it, she's just another drunk at White Castle.
Anyway, we finished up our burgers, shook hands and parted ways. One of their names was Dan, I forget which one. I'll probably never see them again. But we'll always have White Castle.
October 14, 2004
Oops, we won
Last year we entered a competition called NYC Midnight, a filmmaking contest where you have two weeks to make a movie with a genre and topic of their choice, and then, in the second round, you have twenty-four hours. We made Open Spaces. We were runners up in the first round. We were decidedly bitter. This year, they added a screenwriting contest. Cas wrote a very funny script about penis enlargement spam, and I wrote a script about a guy who saves the world from destruction, but only to make people feel more guilty when he committed suicide. Cas placed, I didn't. We were decidedly bitter.
And then the filmmaking competition rolled around again. Cas stepped up to the plate and wrote False Alarm. We made it to the second round. The day of the second round approached, and we readied as best we could, but how much can you really prepare. We shot all day. I scored and Cas edited all night. The final output of the movie to tape put us both into hysterics. No, not because the movie was funny, it was, kind of. Not because we were delirious from sleep depravation, we were. But because we were so confident that we would lose. The latter half of the movie was like some kind of horrible fever dream. We rushed it in with fifteen minutes to spare, and I was convinced that we would not only lose, but we would be genuinely embarrassed at the screening the next day.
Well, as you may have gleaned from the title, we actually won. All told, we beat some hundred and forty filmmaking teams and a lot of movies that we both liked. The cast and crew cannot be thanked enough, if one of them hadn't been there, we couldn't have done it. For those of you waiting to see it, the movie will be posted on the rhl as soon as we take out some of the more embarrassing edits that we didn't have time to fix.
Long and short of it is, with our friend Jon Togo becoming a regular on CSI Miami, and my friends and former bandmates, The Bravery becoming international rock stars, it's nice to have a little pat on the back saying, hey, you're not doing that bad, Will.
October 6, 2004
Google is a bunch of jerks
I'm not proud of a lot of things I've done. Fortunately for you, many of the mistakes I've made will be preserved forever on the internet, thanks to Google.
I encourage you to browse around:
Now the reason I'm making this post is on the fourth page:
Scroll down a bit, and you'll find a letter to the editor. Yes, I wrote a fan letter to Usagi Youjimo in 1992. 1992! I hadn't even heard of the internet then. What the hell are those people doing putting old letters to the editor on their site. They didn't even buy the domain until 1997. They went to the trouble of posting an inane letter from a fifteen year old, five years after it was written, and now it is indelibly attached to my name.
The other thing google has taught me is apparently there's some kid named Will Carlough in the midwest that skis a lot.
That doesn't bother that much, I guess.
There's also these two sites:
Which (don't click on those links, by the way) I think are just there to try to install spyware on your machine, but somehow their strategy involves pairing my name with such popular search terms as "bodybuilding chicks", "DOG HOROSCOPES", and "Basilian Fathers".
Now if I ever relesase my dog horoscopes to the public or write a letter to the editor of Bodybuilding Chicks Monthly, people are going to end up very confused.
October 5, 2004
Alas, I am not fab enough to date her
I took this test to find out if I was fab enough to date who ever made it. I am not. In fact, much to my dismay, I am a poser.
Are you fab enough to date me?|
brought to you by Quizilla
Oh dear, you didn't get it at all did you? You
should be dating a shallow primadonna, rather
than this deep primadonna. You're a poser!!!!
I decided to be big about it though. If I can't have her for my own, I'm not going to stand in your way if you score well on the test. Her happiness means too much to me. All I ask is that you treat her right.
October 2, 2004
Wait - I started a blog?
I hate blogs. Blogs, at their best, are people who are well versed in a given subject opining on that subject so drily that only the most hardcore fans of the subject can stand to read through it. At their worst, they're exercises in vanity, with people rambling on about nothing, talking about what they had for lunch, and posting stupid pictures of them and their stupid friends.
So one day I woke up, and oops, a domain that I had owned for four years but never knew what do with is now a blog. My roommate, a professional skateboarder, was interviewed by a skateboarding magazine, and the interview went something like this:
Was there anything that confused you about skateboarding when you were growing up?
So, ha ha, now I'm wearing Skidz. In a conversation with Brian, who has been blogging for what now, five years, I noted that I'd like to rant about this and that, but that the people I'd be ranting about would probably end up reading it. 'That's the paradox of blogging,' he said, although I don't think he actually used the word paradox. Well, I haven't told my parents about this yet, I could complain about them, but they're pretty nice people, sadly. I have a handful of ex-girlfriends that'll probably never find this. Yeah, so screw you Laura Macininch or whatever your name was, I never liked you that much anyway.
I suppose my point is that I'm a hypocrite. And now the occasional rant that I'd make to people about topics they don't care about will now be preserved on the internet forever so my grandkids or my pet robots will be able to make fun of me when I'm old.
October 1, 2004
Margaret Cho sucks
Margaret Cho has no less than three stand up movies to her credit. One would think that that would indicate an incredible stand up comic. I mean, Martin Lawrence only has two.
But flipping through the channels the other night, I came upon Ms. Cho in one of her movies doing an extended impression of her mother. Yes, she's still doing it.
I laughed at that impression once. ONCE.
Now, far be it from me to blame a comic for relying on material that works. Look how far it got Jeff Foxworthy. But the rest of Cho's act is just bland.
So at this point, you may be asking yourself, who cares. So she's a bad comic, so what. What did she ever do to you. Here it is. I've figured out why she's so popular.
White, middle class people are sitting around thinking, you know, I want to laugh at Asian stereotypes, but I can't help feeling guilty about it. If only there were a way for me to enjoy someone making that funny buck-toothed face and using that ridiculous accent, and not trigger my white liberal guilt. Hey, there's a new Margaret Cho movie out, sweet!
What is my point? Do I think that minority comics shouldn't make fun of their ethnicity and if they do, white people shouldn't laugh at it? No. Do I think that putting an hour and a half of stand up into a multiplex is a waste of theatre space to begin with? Yes, but that's besides the point. I don't know what my point is. Margaret Cho just sucks.