Today is a truly awful day. I wish I hadn't woken up this morning, really. A lot of nice things have happened since my last post, but not today.
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So, Christmas Day. While I'd have loved to see my family on this Most Blessed of Occassions, it simply wasn't in the cards this year. Carey and I woke up mid-morning and exchanged gifts. We also opened the remainder of the Holiday parcels that our loved ones had Amazon.com-ed to us and, thanks in no small part to our Amazon wish lists, the day was very merry indeed. Christmas also happens to be our cat, Gilbert's, birthday (with our other cat, Calliope's, birthday a few days later), so we indulged the little maniacs with toys and treats, much to their delight.

Although I felt a little awkward about it at first, we decided to take our friends, the Browns, up on their invitation to spend Christmas dinner with them. I'm very glad we did, because it gave us the opportunity to eat a very delicious Christmas meal and enjoy the company of some truly wonderful Christmas friends. Somehow, during the course of the dinner, the subject of this Blogger was broached and I found myself promising to mention everyone at the table and our table conversations somewhere in my next post. Well... frankly, I can't remember every detail, so I'm afraid that's going to be an impossibility. Suffice it to say, however, it was a very good time.

In the evening, I called my sisters to extend a Holiday greeting or two. Apparently my family had barely survived the Christmas From Hell back home. Mom was sick with a virus, sicker than she'd been in years. I'm told there was a lot of throwing up. (Sorry, Mom.) Needless to say, no one but her husband, Bill saw her all day. The day was also punctuated by a very violent blizzard, which inhibited any and all travel for my wife's family. The same should have been true for my own, but... Dad hit an ice slick on the way home from his lady-friend's house and smashed up his car quite badly. Totalled, according to a police officer who swooped onto the scene. Later on, my sister Erin and her husband had a similar accident in their own car. Not quite as damaging, but an accident nonetheless. Hoofah! Sister Lauren fortunately avoided auto mishaps, but was sadly forced to spend Christmas apart from her finacee. Christmas 2002 was marked by sickness, tragedy and alienation for the Bear family. Fortunately, there were a lot of very nice gifts to make up for it, I guess.

And, in honor of Mr. Bob Cratchett, I found myself working a few hours on Christmas Day. I couldn't believe it myself. Perils of having one's own business, I suppose.
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The rest of the week was somewhat lazy. Worked a little, slept a little. Got way behind on a few things.
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Friday night was the Virginia Country Club Staff Christmas Party, the place where my dear wife spends her days. A pretty good time and I must admit that Carey works with some very fascinating people. Also, I don't think I'd ever realized exactly how popular she really is. Everyone loves her and everyone wants her attention. I felt very much like the Prom Queen's boyfriend-from-another-school. As she flitted around, I rode her coattails and met many of the people I hear her talk about at the end of every day.

Now, let me just say that I've always taken a certain degree of pride in the fact that, while I enjoy a social drink as much as the next guy, I've never been drunk. I have this weird alcohol thing where the minute I can begin to feel alcohol's influence in my body, I stop because it becomes distasteful to me. It's nothing moral or even responsible, really, it's simply how my body reacts.

Well, Carey swears up and down that, indeed, I was drunk at her company's party. I disagree. I had nothing that even slightly resembled a hangover the next day and my recollection of the evening is crystal-clear. I must admit, however, a marked lack of inhibition and a few basic motor functions (like dancing), so I guess she may possibly have a point. In the end, though, what is drunk? I'm certain I'd have passed a breathalizer with flying colors. I'm fairly sure my speech was anything but slurred. I don't know. I think I've always just sort of thought that if I were drunk, I'd somehow know it. Isn't that how it works?
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A true story of bitter irony:

Picked up some lunch at the In-n-Out Burger over the weekend. As I'm pulling in, I spied some maniac screeching through the parking lot and into a parking spot. Now, In-n-Out parking spots are very tight, usually requiring a 3-point turn at least to wedge one's way in. This hoser indeed hits the brakes, his bumper mere inches from a green Accord sitting empty and innocent in the adjoining spot. "Jeez," I thought, "that was friggin' close." After backing up for point two of the three-point turn, Hoser hits the gas again and crunches into the side of the green Accord. Ugh. Hoser gets out of the car, checks the damage, looks around to see if anyone is watching, and goes on his merry way, without leaving a note or anything.

Well, this infurates me, of course, but... it gets worse. Hoser, as it turns out, is walking toward ANOTHER car in the parking lot that obviously looks extremely scraped up. Beside the scraped-up car stands a very befuddled looking gentleman who happens to be the spitting image of Lenny Kravitz. As any concerned citizen might, I rolled down the window to listen to their conversation...

HOSER: So, what kind of damage are we looking at, here?

LENNY KRAVITZ: Well, uh. Looks like you scraped up the front driver's side pretty good.

HOSER: Anh, it doesn't look too bad to me. See, you can get most of it off with your fingernail. See? Look how easy.

LENNY KRAVITZ: Yeah, I, well, it looks like it's pretty dented up, too. There's definitely some, you know... some damage there, uh...

HOSER: Okay, okay. Listen, don't be a jerk about it, okay? There isn't any need to get the police or citations into it. I'll take care of the damage.

LENNY KRAVITZ: All right. Well, if you've got your insurance info on you, we can exchange--

HOSER: No, no, no. I don't want to mess around with insurance. Forget it. I said I'd pay for the damage, what else do you want? Besides, you were barely in your own parking spot anyhow, it's not like it was all MY fault...

LENNY KRAVITZ: Hey, man, listen, I was totally in my spot. You hit me. I don't know what you're trying to say here...

HOSER: Maybe if you'd done a little bit better job of parking, this wouldn't have happened.

(That clinched it. No friggin' way. I pulled my car over to these two guys and rolled down my window.)

JER: Excuse me? Sir? I just saw you hit that green Accord over on the other side of the parking lot. Was that your SECOND accident in the course of one minute?

HOSER: Are you talking to me?

JER: Yes, you. I hope you're not trying to weasel your way out of a citation, because your driving skills are absolutely atrocious.

HOSER: Hey, punk, mind your own business. This doesn't concern you.

JER: Oh yes it does. That's two cars in this parking lot you've smashed into. I don't want to be next.

LENNY KRAVITZ: Wait, wait, he hit ANOTHER car? Not just mine?

JER: Yeah, that green one over there. He didn't leave a note or anything.

HOSER: THAT... IS... that's a whole other... look, mind your own business! This doesn't have anything to do with you!

JER: Sir, do you respect anyone else on the road?

LENNY KRAVITZ: Listen, would you mind if I got your name and number? Like, as a witness? In case this goes to court or something?

JER: Absolutely.

HOSER: !!!

LENNY KRAVITZ: Let me grab a pen...

HOSER: I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE, STICKING YOUR NOSE IN WHERE IT DOESN'T BELONG, BUT I SUGGEST YOU GET OUT OF HERE!!! NOW!

JER: Learn to drive responsibly, sir. Just do me that favor, okay?

LENNY KRAVITZ: Okay, what's your name?

HOSER: Hey!

JER: It's Jeremy Bear.

LENNY KRAVITZ: And your phone number?

HOSER: HEY!!!
---

In the end, I gave my information and the Hoser was more infurated than ever. He was an older looking guy, maybe he was just too senile to drive or something. As I pulled away, he tried following beside me and even threatened to call a lawyer on both me and Lenny Kravitz. Huh! Go for it, dude. Whatta laff.

While peculiar, these events may not seem all that ironical, as stated above. Well, the irony's coming... Hhhh...
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Brings me to today. Still a pisser of a day, let me just tell you. Here's what happened:

Often, when I see that I'm running early for work (usually because traffic on the 405 has been uncharacterisically merciful), I'll grab some quick breakfast from McDonald's. The one about 3 blocks from the office in Costa Mesa works well enough. Since I didn't have to be there until 9 and I pulled into town at about 8:45, I hit the Mickey D's.

No, seriously. I HIT the Mickey D's.

As I pulled into the parking lot, toward the drive-thru, some joker decided it would be more convenient for him to exit using the lane with the little "in" arrow, rather than the lane with the more appropriate "out" arrow. No big deal, but I had to swerve around him, seeing as how he was in the lane that I'd planned on using. Well, whatever. As I corrected the swerve, the morning sun hit my windshield at a particularly deadly angle. For about a half second, I couldn't see a thing. At the milisecond that visibility was restored... well, you know.

Whammo.

I'd crashed head-on into one of those light-up McDonald's Drive-Thru signs. You know the ones. About waist high with the yellow arrow. Plastic, glass, metal and wires flew everywhere, exploding over the parking lot. My front bumper mangled, front passenger panel and hood dented, front lisence plate laying about 5 feet away. The sign itself was blown to absolute bits.

Man, there's nothing more infuriating and horrible and jarring than a car accident. It's terrible. I hate it. I HATE IT.

So, I immediate walked inside and told a manager what happened. Her reaction was a little bit surprising: "why did you come in and tell me? Why didn't you just drive away?" Because, I told her, that's not honest. I don't operate that way. She thanked me for being honest and came outside to inspect my dirty work.

As it turns out, a McDonald's regional manager happened to be visiting at that exact moment, and she walked over. Her outfit looked very official, almost like a police officer, except for a small pair of embroidered golden arches where a badge should be. She seemed none-too-pleased.

"Hi, your name is?"

"I'm Jeremy. Are you a manager here?"

"I'm a regional manager. I happened to be here inspecting this morning. What happened?"

"Well, I crashed into your sign. I was swerving around someone who was exiting in the wrong lane and... well, this happened."

"Was it their fault?"

"No, no, not really. It was mine. The sun was in my windsheild, you know, and... look, I'm really sorry. I gave the other manager all my information. I hope there's... you know. I don't know how expensive these things usually are..."

"I'm not sure, but I think these signs are somewhere in the range of $2,000."

"Really?"

"Something like that."

"Ouch. Well, again. It was my fault and I do apologize. Let me know what the damages are and I'll make sure it's taken care of. Maybe my insurance..."

"Uh-huh. Sir, I have to ask: why didn't you just drive away after it happened? You'd probably have gotten away with it."

"Well, I guess it didn't really occur to me. I can't do that, it's not honest."

"Are you a Christian?"

"...Actually, yes, I am a Christian."

"Mm."

"...Why, uh... why do you ask?"

"I thought you might be. I am too. I wouldn't have driven away either. Thank you for your honesty."

She shook my hand and that was that. I wasn't hurt, incidentally, but this looks to be a pretty expensive little mishap. Mostly, it's just really depressing. I feel stupid and embarrassed and... well, I guess I was able to be a decent representative of my faith, which is a good thing. We Christians will always tell you the straight truth, even if our driving skills are terrible.

So, that's that. I'm dreading the fallout, but I've officially joined the ranks of Dad and Erin with their Holiday car-crashes.

If there is a moral to this story, I guess it's... I don't know, really. Maybe I should've taken it a little easier on the Hoser at the In-n-Out. Ug.

Well, Merry Christmas to all. I've decided to celebrate this most joyous of days by Blogging. Yeah, I know, I've been awfully lax about it. My apologies. First of all, let me get some business out of the way...
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*** CONTEST! * CONTEST! * CONTEST! ***
*** WINNERS! * WINNERS! * WINNERS! ***

Much thanks to everyone who entered... hhh... okay, I cannot lie: the contest turnout was DISMAL to say the least. I think I may have had a total of 5 entries, which was a bit depressing. One nervy bastard even had the cheek to PHONE IN HIS GUESS rather than email it. Huh! Well! Anyhow...

The first person to accurately guess the identity of the mystery graphic... Randy Bear of Hartville, OH. That's right, it was my dad who correctly identified my sister Lauren's engagement ring through the haze. Congratulations, Pop. We're all very proud.

And the most creative entry goes to... Dave Pacheco of Winona Lake, IN. Dave not only had the wit to come up with "It's what a fly sees when he/she looks at a marble", he also had the honor of being the only person to bother coming up with a creative entry. *Sigh*. Well, thanks Dave and Dad. Your prizes are on the way, as soon as I figure out what to give you.

Now, to be fair, Lauren was tremendously embarrassed that such a shoddy pic of her new ring was posted here for all of cyberspace to gawk at. After all, it is her big day, her big beau, and her big ring. Sorry, Lauren. But, the Blog comes first. However, to make up for my pig-headed-ness, here is a much nicer pic of the ring in question. Isn't she just the luckiest little gal ever? It's a beaut, Laur. Try not to wear it in the shower.

Also, Lauren's fiancee, who's name is Steve Martin, has decided to ask me if I'd be an official wedding party flunkie. Of course, I accepted. Actually, wait, I haven't accepted yet. Crap, I've got to do that. At any rate, if you're reading this, Steve Martin... yes, I'll be a wedding party flunkie. Very kind of you to ask, Steve Martin. (The wedding of Lauren and Steve Martin is in August, by the way. She'll be marrying Steve Martin at the Chapel in Akron and the whole family is thrilled for her and Steve Martin. Sadly, it's difficult to get to know Steve Martin, what with my living on the other side of the country, but I'm sure there'll be ample opportunity as the months and years pass to enjoy the company of Steve Martin. Lauren will be taking on Steve Martin's last name, making her "Lauren Martin." Her husband, however, will keep his name: Steve Martin.)
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The latest script is still Dave's. Yes, I'm lazy.
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Carey and I have received many wonderful Christmas cards and Christmas updates from family and friends. MAN you people are on the ball! It usually occurs to me to send out Christmas cards around December 21st or so each year. I always have grand plans for a fully illustrated card or a Flash-animated e-card from the wife and I... but, I can never manage to get on the stick. Next year, really, we'll do it.

We've been thouroughly enjoying the year-end updates that a few have sent us. Whoever first came up with the idea of attaching a "catch-up with me and the job/family" letter with their Christmas cards deserves a healthy raise, by my estimation. What a great idea. In particular, I really liked the update provided in the Christmas card from my Aunt, Uncle and Cousins, the Wolfe family. They not only gave us the scoop on the family and what's going on, they included articles about the Christmas season and a fun list of Christmas traditions they enjoy. It was such an interesting read that I decided to compile my own list, especially for the holidays...

Bear Family Christmas Traditions from My Childhood
by Jeremy Bear

- Watching our old How the Grinch Stole Christmas video cassette, taped off the TV in 1986, which fails to edit out commercials and begins 3-1/2 minutes into the show.

- Turkey sandwiches leftover from Thanksgiving for Christmas lunch.

- Hiding feces in Grandmother's stocking.

- Thrashing the Jewish kids at school for their chocolate Channukah coins.

- Arranging and rearranging the nativity set under the Christmas tree to accomodate baby Jesus on the roof of the stable, the shepherds battling Joseph kung-fu-style, and the wise men riding into town on cows.

- Picking Grandpa up after his getting drunk on egg nog, falling asleep on the way home, and somehow waking up, disoriented, in Shaker Heights.

- Crank calling the Salvation Army

- Spending lots and lots of money on crap for the sake of tradition and appearances.

- Getting around to taking the tree down right before Valentine's Day.
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Okay, so The Onion I ain't. It seemed funnier in concept than in execution. Sheesh.
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Christmas Eve was a very strange day. It's my contention that Christmas Eve is the most "Christmassy" day of the year, even more so than December 25th. Because, see, it's on Christmas Eve that the whole Christmas season comes to a terrifying head. The final parties. Last minute shopping. Last minute wrapping and decorating. Last chance to rethink Dad's cologne or the wife's Holiday Gift Basket from The Body Shop. Last day of insane traffic at the mall (and don't try to tell me that the week after Christmas counts, because it doesn't. The post-Christmas season is a whole other season altogether).

Anyhow, Carey and I had some last-minute shopping to do, so we made the near-fatal mistake of journeying down to Costa Mesa and throwing ourselves into the whirlwind of Orange County's South Coast Plaza.

***Interuption***
Crap, I'm a little concerned. I can hear gunshots outside. It's 2:30 in the morning on Christmas and I can hear gunshots. What on earth. Sorry, back to the regularly scheduled Blog.
***End Interuption***

Anyhow, don't be deceived, the South Coast Plaza isn't some little row of pet stores and Fashion Bugs. No, this thing covers at least 4 city blocks and is easily the most massive mall-village I've ever seen. Being Christmas Eve, these people were out for blood, too. We got in and out of there as quickly as possible, barely escaping with our skins intact.

We then joined a few of our friends later on in the evening for a Christmas Eve service at Long Beach Grace Brethren Church. It was nice enough, I suppose. I tend to get hung up on little things like the song leaders not knowing the words to what we were all singing, but no harm done. (However, I must say this... if you ever find yourself in a position where you need to suggest Christmas carols for large groups of untrained singers... ex. a church congregation... please do us all a favor and steer clear of the classic "O Holy Night". While a beautiful song, it's simply beyond the abilities of 99% of the carol-singing poplulace. Thank you.)

After that, we went out for a very special Christmas Eve dinner with Kelly Larned and his roommate, Steve Groff. It's a Larned family tradtion to eat Chinese food on Christmas Eve, so, since Kelly isn't able to be with his family this Christmas, we were more than happy to oblige. Chen's Chinese Palace. Actually, it was delicious.

We headed back to the Bear crib to hang out for awhile and it wasn't long before Carey and Steve discovered that they not only grew up in the same town in Pennsylvania, but they also went to the same church and were even playmates as toddlers. It was one of those astronomical coincidences that would probably creep you out if you thought about it for too long.

Since (as has already been established) I'm a lazy git, I journeyed back out to my car to grab some gifts out of the trunk that I'd yet to giftwrap. This was at around 11PM. I know, I know, setting brand new standards in procrastination. Anyhow, on my way across the street, I was propositioned by a real-live prostitute. It was very exciting! I'd never had this experience before, and here, on Chistmas Eve 2002, finally hit up by a hooker. Well, the novelty faded quickly enough for me to inform her, "thanks anyway, but I'm married. Have a Merry Christmas, though." She shook her head and frowned. "Married, huh? I guess all the good ones are taken." Apparently, I'm a 'good one.' Who knew?

Anyhow, that was Christmas Eve 2002. It's time for me to go to bed, now that the gifts are wrapped, the tree is lit, and I've Blogged everything I meant to Blog.

So, Happy Holidays. If you think of it, be sure to take a minute to give thanks to the combined powers of Capitalism and Consumerism... the true Reasons for the Season.

Oh, and also don't forget the Jesus thing. Because you know.

Hooray, already getting a few contest entries. Remember to please be specific. Some of you are on the right track, but it'll greatly serve your chances to name not only what, but also who and why... (hah?)
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Also, it's usually against my policy, but I've revised the latest script a bit. It's come to my attention that Ping doesn't make golf balls. Oops. Mistake caught. Revision uploaded.

*** CONTEST! * CONTEST! * CONTEST! ***

Take a good hard look at the image to the right! Can you guess what it is? Well, put your thinking cap on, amigo, because the first one to correctly guess what phenomenon is photographed at the right gets a SUBSTANTIAL PRIZE, courtesy of JeremyBear.com!

Not only that, but the person to come up with the MOST CREATIVE guess will ALSO get a substantial prize, courtesy of JeremyBear.com! How's that for service? Yow!

So, get those ballots in, laddies. You have until midnight on Thursday. Good luck!
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We've got a Christmas tree, at long last. With a good 11 days to spare until Christmas morn, we went out to a local lot and picked ourselves a... actually, I don't know what kind of tree it is. But, it's Christmassy, whatever the case. According to Carey, it's "perfect." And I'd agree.

But, woof, the prices of trees out here! Regular full-sized trees were going for somewhere in the 70 dollar range. We didn't drop that kind of coin, but not far off. Pretty unbelievable. So far, though, the cats have been pretty polite with it. Only one ornament has been batted down since we put it up yesterday, and I'd call that a success. Thanks, cats, for a blessed holiday.
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Let's see. The newest script is up, and wouldn't you just know that the title comes from Dave Pacheco of Winona Lake, Indiana? Dave was kind enough to take a minute out of his hectic schedule to suggest My Caddy, Nigel, and how could I refuse? Read it right away. IT'S THE BEST THING I'VE EVER WRITTEN. History, ladies & gentlemen. I've officially peaked and it's all downhill from here.
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I don't know why I bothered waiting until the previous posts to start suggesting cool links. I recently discovered this little beauty: www.orisinal.com. I think this may take the cake for the coolest use of Flash I've seen yet. Not only does this designer do some utterly astonishing work, the site manages to be a whole lot of fun and I recently found myself spending hours I don't have messing around on it.

Orisinal.com officially bridges the gap between fun, interactive online Flash-based games and attractive design work. I think I've just taken it as a given that online games are, by nature, garish and overly dramatic with agitiating music designed to stress out and adict the player. Not so here. The games are accompanied by soothing piano and synth music and, for once, I actually felt myself DEessing while playing. My favorites were "The Bottom of the Sea" and "Snowbowling", but I'd have to say "The Truth is Up There" wins for most creative concept. Go take a look and be sure to click on everything you can... it's an awesome experience.

Don't be fooled by the rocks that I got
I'm still, I'm still Jeremy from the block
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I mentioned a few weeks ago that I'm thinking of doing a web comic. I'd decided to do something slightly autobiographical about my unhealthy fixation with Neil Gaiman, but, after writing the script and doing some of the initial concept art, I began to creep myself out. Besides, who really cares about autobiographical crap anyhow? I'm barely interested in my own life, why put others through the torture?

Anyhow, I've changed gears a bit and I think I may do a black-humor-ish thing on Tomas de Torquemada. Biographical stuff usually doesn't interest me, but this fellow's life was terribly interesting. Normally, reasearch is a royal pain in the neck, but I'm really getting into it this time around. He was the Christian Hitler of the 15th century and I think a lot of people haven't even heard of him, which is a shame.

Mostly, I'd like to tell a story that's horrifying-but-kinda-funny. Whatever the case, it should be surprising. Because, you know... nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.
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Doing a lot of fun work lately. For some reason, I can't seem to escape doing superheroes. I suppose it's my lot in life.
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By the way, if you've emailed recently, I promise I'm not trying to ignore you. I'm in the middle of unearthing myself from an other-worldly ball of chaos and it's taking some time. Sorry.

Extra-special thanks to the ultra-matron herself, the divine dame, the magnificent marm, the before-there-was-Martha-Stewart, Ms. Suzette Wolfe of Akron, Ohio. Her title is the latest script, so go have a gander: Big Red and the Liar.
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On Saturday I decided it was time for a change. My hair is now a glorious shade of absolute black. I think I've officially become a fan of hair dye (although I'm beginning to suspect I'm a bit allergic). I haven't decided whether or not black is me... to be honest, I don't think it looks quite right sitting on top of my head... but, whatever. The wife likes it and, let's be honest, does anything really matter beyond that?

Saturday was also my company's Christmas party, which was actually a lot of fun. Even though my job search took a few months, it's becoming more and more obvious that I'm really very lucky. Everyone I work for and with is an absolute joy and it's always a privilege to watch wonderful people get drunk around you.
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Over the weekend, I also managed to complete a landmark personal goal in my design career: my very first all-Flash website. Hoh, yes. Now, to the average joe, this means nothing. But, let me assure you: Flash is one of those wonderful animation programs that allows you to do just about anything. A whole website using this technology is no small feat. Well, it's no small feat for me, anyhow. In fact, since I think the "Drunken Monkey" feature on the homepage has worn out its welcome at this point, I'll change it to this latest project. I'll link it up when it's all live.
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We still don't have a friggin' Christmas tree. This is gross irresponsibility on my part. Carey has been hounding me about it for a couple of weeks, but it's so hard to carve out a few hours for the sake of the Spirit of The First Noel. This week, we'll do it. We must. Baby Jesus has given the call... can we deny Him?
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Occasionally, I'll come across a website that's so über-cool, I'll make a mental note to mention it in the Blogger, but I always forget when the time comes. Well, I can't help but give this one a shout-out... BMW hired the Godfathers of Hollywood to direct a series of short films featuring their automobiles, freely downloadable on the web. These things are incredible. Of course, with directors like Tony Scott, John Woo, Guy Ritchie, Ang Lee, John Frankenheimer, and others... I'd expect no less. Absolutely brilliant. After viewing them, it made me want to sell my family for a BMW. Now that's advertising.

Here's the link: www.bmwfilms.com.

My new monitor is beautiful. I don't think I realized how frustrated my old toaster-sized screen really was. The new ones a 19-incher, though, and I can already feel some of the stress that accompanies design work melting away. Thanks, Dad, and a very Merry Christmas to you too.
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Apparently, Heather Maxwell is going to produce a me-penned, Preston Sturges-inspired short film called Sweet Charlie's Big Idea and it should be available for viewing by the end of January. Gulp! Now that's turn-around time, baby. It also looks as if she may be enlisting the aid of my old high-school chum Jon Floyd Schweitzer to perform in this little opus. I've never met Heather, so I don't know what her casting-couch policy is... but, Jon, if you're reading this... guard your virtue, young man.
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Yesterday, I received my business cards. Cripes... I love business cards! I think everyone's familiar with the Monster.com commercial where the newly-employed gent has business cards delivered to his office... he immediately opens the pack, takes a look around, and smells them. I can relate. It's that freshly-printed aroma of professionalism. Kind of like affirmation that, indeed, I have a place in society. "Look, ma, I'm a round peg."
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Remember when Billy Crystal was funny?
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Hope this is okay to post... yesterday, Carey was asked to be in my sister Lauren's wedding, which thrilled her to no end. The wedding plans are a-rollin'.

Man, if there was one thing I hated about the whole getting-married process, it was the choosing of the wedding party. (First, let me get the PC hoohah out of the way... I deeply treasure every single person that was in ours and I don't regret their participation in any way. Lovely gents and lasses. There.) But, dude, it's the only time in your life where you not only need to make up a list of people that you consider your "best" or "closest" friends and family. (You married guys out there with 1 brother and 4 cousins-that-are-all-great-friends to fill the best man and groomsmen spots, don't even talk to me. You've got it easy.) Not only that, but you're then forced to PUT THEM IN NUMBERED ORDER. Who came up with this dignity-destroying tradition?!

"Joe, Mary and I would really like you to be in our wedding..."

"Aw, Fred! What an honor! Of course!"

"Thanks, bro. You'll be standing between John and Pete."

"Okay, sounds good. Is John the best man?"

"No, Bill's the best man."

"Ah. Then it's John, then me, then Pete?"

"Well, actually, Frank is next to Bill. The order goes: Bill, Frank, John, you, Pete."

"Oh. So, I'm fourth."

"Yeah."

"Fourth. Huh. Well, at least I beat out Pete..."
---

Then, there's the obligatory speech you have to give to everyone in the party... the 'Please-Don't-Think-I-Consider-The-Guy-You're-Standing-Behind-A-Better-Friend-Than-You' discourse, assuring them that this order was chosen because of "what will look good height-wise and who matches up best with what bridesmaid and blueeeghhhh". And of course no one ever believes this speech, even if it's true.

And don't get me started on ushering.

And THEN there's the whole issue of people who aren't in the wedding. I actually had a guy in my wedding party take me out to dinner several months before his own wedding to let me know that I wouldn't be in his wedding, but he still valued me as a friend. People, THIS MADNESS MUST END.

Anyhow, Carey said yes, she'll be in Lauren's wedding. I'm sure it'll be a beautiful affair.

For some reason, blogger's been down. Who knows when this post'll show up...

Let's see... Thanksgiving turned out to be very nice after all. It was a very surreal day, though. For starters, we awoke at around 4AM to some sort of unholy caterwaul outside the bedroom window. When we looked out to see what was going on, sure enough, the building across the street was ENGULFED IN FLAMES. I’ve never been that close to an honest-to-goodness blaze before and I have to say that it was a little frightening. People running around in their PJs, screaming, cursing… finally, the fire department came and put it out. We assumed that somebody had gotten up early to pop their turkey into the oven or something and an accident occurred. Of course, we have no idea, but… in the end, it was an apartment building and the windows are boarded up and the place has huge scorch-marks on the outside. What a lousy way to spend a Thanksgiving… homeless, with all of your possessions burnt to a crisp.

Carey had to work, also. Yeah, she has one of those jobs. Apparently, a lot of people like to golf on Thanksgiving. (You know, so far this isn’t sounding all that lovely… well, it improves… really).

Anyhow, she was off by 3:00, so she dropped by the natural food grocery store and picked up Thanksgiving vittles… a feast for two. Honestly, it was very impressive. Cranberry sauce, rolls, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, yams, green beans almandine, pumpkin pie… and a whole turkey. A WHOLE turkey.

Now, granted, it was a… well, not a baby turkey, but more a like a pre-teen turkey. (you know, that crucial age where the turkey starts to grow rebellious and becomes embarrassed of his parents…) Whatever, it was a little smaller than your run-of-the-mill gobbler. Since Carey is still, last I checked, a vegan, this bird was all for me. After a couple of hours in the oven, it was utterly delish. Needless to say, it’s been turkey sandwiches for every meal since and it looks to stay that way well into February.

The night before, our new DVD player arrived. So the day, for me anyhow, mostly consisted of feasting and rediscovering the delights of DVD. I even went out and purchased a couple of new discs for the occasion. (Monsters Inc. and The Royal Tenenbaums, if you were wondering. Excellent films and very cool DVDs… I know, my tastes are a little strange. I must be the only guy in the country that has A Bug’s Life sitting next to Natural Born Killers in my collection.)
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So, I guess it’s officially the Christmas season. Normally, I’d consider posts about the weather to be maddeningly dull, but I can’t help but point out that it’s a somewhat brisk (yet sunny) day here in Long Beach, temperatures in the 60s. However, a quick check to weather.com tells me that, back home, they’re enjoying temps in the very snowy teens. Oh, yes. It’s good to be in So-Cal.
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And be sure to check out the latest script, by the way. Mike McFarland of West Jefferson, Ohio supplied the title to this instant perennial: Cheese Graters and Hand Grenades.

I’m beginning to over-think some of these scripts a bit too much, I think. I’d like to get back to the ease and brevity of the first ones, but it’s difficult when I remember that I actually have a bit of an audience.

Well, whatever, I received a very nice slew of suggestions this week from some folks who had never suggested before. Big fun!