Long Beach, California, baby. Here we are, mid-January... temperatures in the 70s, beautiful blue skies, and I took a leisurely stroll this morning all by my lonesome in a T-shirt. A T-shirt! Mid-January! Long Beach!
...
Last night, Carey and I went to our very first, real-live hockey game. Although the Long Beach Ice Dogs were utterly trounced by the Bakersfield Condors, it was fun nonetheless. Kelly Larned, a dear friend, rounded up some free tickets... so, off we skipped to the Long Beach Ice Arena.
You know, it's pretty cliche about people going to hockey games mostly to watch the fighting, but I have to say I understand it now. As a sport, it's not all that exciting. The same puck just keeps on whizzing around and around the rink. Every so often, though, a player will throw a punch and all pandemonium breaks out. Even my tree--hugging, peacenik, vegan wife was caught up in the fever: "Hit him! Knock his teeth out! Hit him, you moron!"
"Easy, babe."
"What! I want to see some action! Come on!"
...
Saw Adaptation a few nights ago with Nick Cage and Meryl Streep. Man, now I have to go back and rethink a couple of my Best-Of-2002 categories. Thanks a bundle Spike Jonze! Nnh.
...
Remember that guy in high school who was some kind of sports all-star? Everybody loved him and the ladies would trip over themselves for a date with him? Of course, at the height of this arrogant bastard's popularity, he blows his knee out doing some spectacular sports move and effectively ends his basketball career forever, right? Well, wouldn't you just know that--while the whole flaming world is lamenting the fall of this Olympian idol--the guy shrugs the whole ordeal off, ends up marrying some girl named Donna, moves out to the suburbs, raises a family and lives out his days, happy as a clam? Remember that guy?
Well, as it turns out, that guy's name is Darrell Garrison and (while he's anything but an arrogant bastard) he managed to supply the title to my latest script. He's calling it Ten Little Indians and, because I'm such a prolific fool, it's available for your perusal. Thanks, Darrell.
...
Last night, Carey and I went to our very first, real-live hockey game. Although the Long Beach Ice Dogs were utterly trounced by the Bakersfield Condors, it was fun nonetheless. Kelly Larned, a dear friend, rounded up some free tickets... so, off we skipped to the Long Beach Ice Arena.
You know, it's pretty cliche about people going to hockey games mostly to watch the fighting, but I have to say I understand it now. As a sport, it's not all that exciting. The same puck just keeps on whizzing around and around the rink. Every so often, though, a player will throw a punch and all pandemonium breaks out. Even my tree--hugging, peacenik, vegan wife was caught up in the fever: "Hit him! Knock his teeth out! Hit him, you moron!"
"Easy, babe."
"What! I want to see some action! Come on!"
...
Saw Adaptation a few nights ago with Nick Cage and Meryl Streep. Man, now I have to go back and rethink a couple of my Best-Of-2002 categories. Thanks a bundle Spike Jonze! Nnh.
...
Remember that guy in high school who was some kind of sports all-star? Everybody loved him and the ladies would trip over themselves for a date with him? Of course, at the height of this arrogant bastard's popularity, he blows his knee out doing some spectacular sports move and effectively ends his basketball career forever, right? Well, wouldn't you just know that--while the whole flaming world is lamenting the fall of this Olympian idol--the guy shrugs the whole ordeal off, ends up marrying some girl named Donna, moves out to the suburbs, raises a family and lives out his days, happy as a clam? Remember that guy?
Well, as it turns out, that guy's name is Darrell Garrison and (while he's anything but an arrogant bastard) he managed to supply the title to my latest script. He's calling it Ten Little Indians and, because I'm such a prolific fool, it's available for your perusal. Thanks, Darrell.
posted by Jeremy Bear at
6:25 PM
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