Help!
Does anyone have all the episodes from this season's Nip/Tuck on Tivo? Would anyone be willing to dump them onto VHS and send them to me? I need to see them. So I can analyze them to death.

Today SUCKED.

The Subconscious Revealed Through Instant Messaging

I've found that while Instant Messaging is a more accurate way of communicating than emails or letters, the medium still allows for miscommunication. But upon deeper analysis, miscommunications usually occur because someone (simultaneously) sees both the subtext and the surface meanings, but there is confusion or mistrust over which is being intentionally expressed (ie which the receiver is responding to).

Because IMing is each person typing out their own lines of dialogue. The only things missing are the emotional affectations and the face to face observations of another human being. I think IM is the clearest medium for exposing subtext because each person is automatically paring down what he or she says to the essential, and what is said is presented in a manner that gives the receiver a tangible message with which he or she can digest in the needed time frame, and which can be referred back to. But written dialogue also leaves room for interpretation. At best, we use our natural intuition to derive the underlying meanings or motivations that people give away (if you listen to people talk, when they are lying or internally conflicted, you can often tell by dissecting their word choices and dialogue construction. Outside of the sociopathic personality, the Truth is ALWAYS present in our communications, even if we are not saying what we mean). At worst, we project our fears and anxieties in our interpretations.

Regardless, I find that if you are very careful of suppressing your own ability to project your inner self, Instant Messages can provide an incisive yet clear way to see the core from which people operate, through the manner and content of their communication, despite not allowing for the same visual and psychic cues of live conversation.

My GI Joes Had Sex

Developmental psychologists will tell you that how children play with their dolls will tell you a lot about their inner workings.

My dad always bought me GI Joes when I was little. I mean, I had stuffed animals and all that good stuff, but when it came to mock-human play things, I had GI Joes instead of Barbies. Perhaps he had secretly hoped for a son, but when I popped out, he figured he would treat me like the son he always wanted. But regardless, I was surrounded with GI Joes.

Let me tell you about the drama of my GI Joes.

I was in love with Beach Head. Beach Head was in luurve with Lady Jaye. When all the others would take the tank out for missions, Beach Head and Lady Jaye would be back at the base secretly doing what birds and bees and monkeys at the zoo do (at 7 years old, I wasn't sure what that was other than that they would happily lie on top of each other). But Cobra's men would always ambush the base and kidnap the two. Cobra would leave Lady Jaye to the whim of his rogue men while he marched Beach Head off to a secluded spot behind the mountains to "interrogate" him, but in truth, he was torturing Beach Head because he was in love with him and wanted him to consummate that love. But of course, the other Joes would come in and save the day just in time.

Is this what happens when parents give their children gender-confusing role-playing toys? That the toys become promiscuous and dabble in gang bang, S&M and homosexual practices? Or is this proof that I am actually a crack baby? And what kind of dramas might have been played out had I been surrounded by an estrogen clan of Barbies and a lone anatomically-incorrect Ken?

Stiff-jointed, libidinous action figures have created a monster of me.

Confessions of an Unmotivated Voyeur

The potluck at our place was on Saturday night, and we had about 20 people and a hell of a lot of good food. I made broiled jerk chicken drumsticks and gyoza (Japanese pot stickers), as well as an assortment of improvised shots and blended drinks after dinner. We played a game of Mafia in which Alex and I, as mafia, won, and by early morning, everyone was pretty much passed out. We heard shouting from across the street so AD and I ran out to the front balcony. What is it about possibly witnessing a fight that gets people so morbidly excited? It was the two B-school guys who live across the street, their windows directly across from mine. They were in the street and one guy was storming around the corner while the other guy said, "I'm gonna beat your ass as soon as I pay for the taxi." He spent about 10 minutes paying the cab driver before getting in his car and speeding off, swerving down our street, generously using both lanes. The asshole was totally drunk driving. Meanwhile, the other guy went upstairs and in his drunken state, neglected to close his curtains. Mind you, I parade around my place in my underwear near compulsively, not to mention the infamous spider incident* so as much as they've seen me, I've never seen them in any compromising states.

*I had just gotten out of the shower one afternoon when I found a big spider in the middle of the living room. I'm talkin' big, black and thick, about the sprawl of a half-dollar. I am intensely arachnophobic, so after screaming like someone just shoved a fire engine up my ass, I got a plastic cup and put it over the spider, slid a postcard underneath it and went running and screaming towards the front balcony, losing my towel in the process. I fling the cup, postcard and everything that is evil over the side, but as I look down, the cup and spider gracefully falling down three floors, I see some chick walking on the sidewalk just below my balcony.

So to recap, from the neighbors' point of view: This crazy chick comes running out of her house naked, screaming, and throws a spider on someone's head.

So the guy goes into his room and starts stumbling around stripping off his clothes. Keep in mind, I see him and his roommate coming home after playing soccer all the time, so the guy is pretty built. AD says, "This is AWESOME! It's like Rear Window!" but I'm just wondering if he's about to get naked in front of us. He gets down to his boxers before stumbling out of the room; we wait about 10 minutes but he doesn't return. AD figures my neighbor's taking a crap, so he sprawls out on my balcony floor and passes out. I realize that I don't really want to see my neighbor naked, lose interest, and go to bed.

Paradox = Potential

I was sitting and listening to someone who was somewhat boring, so I was idly stirring some ice cubes in a plastic cup with a straw. I started to notice a burning sensation in my inner thigh but didn't want to be rude and interrupt the person speaking so I continued to stay engaged in the conversation. The burning started getting more intense to the point where I was on the verge of jumping up and yelling, "My leg is on fire!" So finally, I shoot a hand down to my leg and discover that somehow, I had popped an ice cube into my chair and it had melted through my pants. I thought it was interesting that I experienced it as a something intensely "hot" when, if I had been mentally cognizant of its properties, I would have perceived it as being intensely "cold." So of course, this person is trying to small talk with me and my brain is off thinking about the mathematical properties of infinity and all the theoretical implications it has on the fabric of reality, since hot/cold is another example of two polar opposites producing somewhat similar results. I think the symbol for infinity is absolutely apropos. Think about the point at the middle of the symbol. Imagine 2 points are sitting on it. Now imagine each point moving in opposite directions at exact intervals so that the distance from the starting point of one is always equal to the distance from the starting point of the other. Move each down the arms of the symbol so each takes a different path down the loop until they both arrive at the exact same point in which they started from. So this exact point, at this exact "time," representing the point in which these two points are closest together (existing in the exact same space) as well as farthest from each other. Time would be represent the added perception (like...what is it that satellites use? Triangulation formulas?) to be able to measure a difference. But I still believe infinity is the point in which polar opposites exist at the exact same point. Two sides of a coin. Thin line between love and hate. Don't ever ask for a soulmate. The dynamic is infinite. You will get the most intense experience of love/hate that's both uplifting and destructive. But then again, destruction equals change equals reconstruction, right? It's all a journey.

Isn't it amazing how you can be having the shittiest of shitty days, but one of life's unexpected moments--like seeing a kid look up at you and smile, or a small kindness from a stranger, even hearing from an old friend out of the blue--can just uplift you? I've found that these little gifts from the universe always come at exactly the time when you need them most.

Here's a last minute plug for my friend Matt's sketch comedy show playing today and tomorrow in LA: http://www.skitsola.com

I'll be in attendance tonight and inappropriately signing autographs after the show.

freakin' KNEW this was gonna happen! Fish to the Warriors!!! Fish to the Warriors!!!!

Oh hell yeah! I had a dream a couple of weeks ago, I think the night when the Foyle contract hit the news, where I was sitting with my dad in his seats behind the Warriors bench. And there was DFish coming to the bench in his Warriors warm-up suit and it was the most natural sight. I woke up and thought, he's gonna be a great fit. But didn't want to tell anyone about that dream because I didn't want to jinx it. But this is awesome. He's a GREAT fit, attitude-wise and skill-wise. Now they just need to get rid of Van Exel's contract and VE's fungus-like negative attitude and we're good for a while. 6 years! Coming with Finals experience! Is it possible that the Warriors have finally done something right?

It seems that most people my age and in my social circle are very liberal and in essence, anti-Bush and pro-Democrat. I get so used to hearing about and talking about how Bush and the Republicans are screwing things and most voices around me are agreed, that to meet someone who is a staunch Republican is strange.

Today my VP had a meeting with a a rep from another company. We share a building with one of John Kerry's compaign management offices, so they have a sign down in the garage instructing volunteers where to park. When this rep came up, he was chatting with my boss and thanking him for the impeccable directions, down to the John Kerry sign outside. Then he threw in, "Maybe later we can go and cross some things out on that sign." I felt probably the same shock I might have felt if he had said, "Maybe later we can go light a cross on fire on someone's lawn." Yeah, it was a strange response, but I think it's because I rarely talk to people who really believe in the Republican party, so in my naivete, I feel like true Republicans who god-honestly believe in the Republican policies don't exist, much like leprechauns, and fairies and dumb Asians.

Happy Birthday, Drew!

Today is my ex-boyfriend from years ago's birthday. He's a nice guy so I have no qualms about wishing him a happy birthday. We've only talked once since we attempted the post-relationship friendship but ended up falling out over him accusing me of accusing him of stealing my pot (trust me, this accusation came out of left field and I did no such thing).

The conversation happened because I kept leaving messages on his best friend Dave's answering machine about editing work, thinking I was leaving messages for Dave, my editor. I just assumed that the name "Dave" programmed into my phone would be the same creative cohort that I talk to on a constant basis. Unfortunately, his friend Dave is also an editor, making these messages even more confusing. I didn't realize my mistake until he picked up one day and I figured out that months worth of messages had landed on the wrong answering machine. I asked him how Drew was and Drew ended up on the phone. It was friendly without any past resentments. No mention of the weird pot-stealing fallout. End of story.

I saw Drew again last year at Bed Bath and Beyond, the night of my breakup with a stupid guy not worth naming. He had on a wedding band and was with a girl wearing a ring, and her parents. I'm assuming they were preparing the registry. Seeing as this would be an awkward moment to say hi, I left. Maybe he saw me lurking. I hope not.

Fast forward to three weeks ago when I'm at Sonny MacLean's for a birthday party. I know that last I talked to him, he bartended here. I asked the bartender if Drew still worked here. She said there was someone by that name. I said, blond, from England. She said, he's from Connecticut. I remember that he got here by way of Conn, so I say, he's married, has a little dog. She realizes that we're talking about the same guy so she says, "A good-looking guy? Yeah, he works during the days. He'll be working tomorrow." What is it about hearing someone say that an ex is good-looking that just rubs you the wrong way? It's an ego thing. You don't want to think that there's life after you. You want to think their life is a dry, ravaged landscape ala post-Armageddon, and they've fallen to pieces ever since you took your rays of sunshine away. But I digress. I say that I'm an old friend who just wanted to say hi, take my drink and leave.

The next day, I can't find my credit card. Having been at this bar seems to have been completely wiped out from my mind. I report it lost and a whole week goes by before I remember that the last place I used it was at the bar. Part of me knows that I should go and reclaim it, but part of me hates the fact that Drew probably came in, saw my card, and thought that I was still an idiot, leaving my tab open and forgetting my card. (but then again, there is really no argument here since this is the second time within months that I've done that). But more importantly, I was too lazy to make that 10 minute drive to reclaim my card since they'd already charged me and I'd already cancelled it.

So anyway, in summary, happy birthday to a man who brings out the idiot in me. Remember that time when we got together a bunch of people and hotboxed my apartment, but then the police came for a noise complaint and I wouldn't open the door, so we had a standoff and finally they just left? Good times.

What men need to understand about women...

If you thought you were going to bleed to death once every month, you would be fucking neurotic too.

Someone Tivo this for me...

Television's Finest Moment...

Everyone check out my friend Digit Whit's blog.
She's brilliant, eloquent and extremely insightful. I don't know why she has so much trouble seeing herself the way other's see her, as vibrant, charismatic, extremely witty, extremely compassionate and extremely beautiful with a radiance that emanates from deep within. I think she's afraid to grab the bull that is life by the nuts because deep down, she knows she'll crush them. And she thinks she's being kind by obliging to leave the bull alone. Anyway, check out her blog. I love the way she writes and thinks.

July 12th Recap

My mortgage check is due. Someone please remind me to pay it. I actually had a check written out and the enveloped stamped and everything, but somehow lost it on my way to the mailbox. If that doesn't epitomize my life, I don't know what does.

Work was hectic so I met up with some friends for drinks to unwind. I got there first and ran into Tom and Ben from Reno 911. It's funny cuz I ran into them at this same bar, almost exactly one year ago. So we chatted for a bit and I asked Tom about that complaint that was filed against him (discussed in a previous post, I don't know when). The whole time I was talking to them, I was thinking how lean they had both become, and how good their skin looked...definitely hotter than the last time I saw them. I guess it's the vanity price of your show getting picked up for another season. You have to look good for your public. They're still working on that competitive ping pong movie with Ali G. I hope that gets made. Balls of Fury.

I think some people plan to get old. They make preparations to ensure their survival into old age, be it consciously or subconsciously. I think others do not. Perhaps this is the key to sticking around longer. Knowing that you want to early enough to make sure that you prepare yourself to have a fighting chance.

Today's mood: Doogie Howser stole my car

You know those people you meet, who, as tough and unified as their outer shells are, you can tell that inside, they're carrying an amount of loss so heavy, that they stagger through every step of their emotional lives?

I saw this kid once, about seven years old, at one of my parents' parties. He was moving around some mingling adults, legs somewhat unsteady, when he threw up on himself. His instinct was to cup the vomit with his hands, but when he realized what had just occurred, when he realized what was in his hands, he froze, looking horrified. He looked around furtively to see if anyone had seen him, his hands pressed against his mouth. Luckily, the hallway was somewhat dark so that most people, other than bizarre folks such as myself who make a sport of people watching, hadn't noticed. He teetered around, desperately looking for a place to drop the vomit while obviously about to be sick again, trying to be as discreet as possible about it. I could tell he was hoping for a garbage can but the low, rising whine of anxiety was making sinks, plates or even a potted plant a suitable alternative. He managed to throw it in the sink of a little wet bar with about a quarter of it actually making it in. The kid looked miserable.

Watching someone who is holding a handful of vomit in a desperate scramble to dispose of it, yet who is so ridiculously ashamed and afraid of exposure in this incredibly vulnerable moment that asking for help was not a rational option, was very difficult; the memory of seeing this kid reminds me of what it feels like to see inside one of these kinds of people, who walk around with a murky heaviness emanating from within them. Sometimes, just a mere glimpse can haunt you for a very, very long time.

Nip/Tuck is CRACK. I got the Season 1 DVD from Netflix and I've been up til 2am-3am every night this week watching them. I go to work and want to come home for lunch so I can get in half an episode. It's ALL I THINK ABOUT. Okay, not to that extreme. But damn, this show is so good. The psychology of the characters is amazing. Julian McMahon who plays Dr. Troy is gonna win big for his portrayal. I spent 3 hours last night, watching the same episode (the one where the son hits the girl with the car, and the doctors remove the birthmark from the priest's scrotum), just analyzing the performances and what psychological elements are working to create certain tensions. There's one scene in which a woman who was repeatedly raped by her father wants to change her nose so she doesn't see him every time she looks in the mirror. Dr. Troy won't give her the surgery and recommends therapy. She berates him, ending with something like, "How would you know what it's like to have a dick inside of you that you can't say no to?" And they cut to McMahon, and the look on his face is so subtle, but so powerful. See, Dr. Troy has a secret that they blatantly alluded to in the pilot. But in the following episodes, the creators have gotten a lot more subtle about where these characters come from, trusting the actors to convey it. And holy shit, this guy does. He's method. I watched that reaction shot probably 20 times; you can see physiological reactions. First he swallows, then blinks, then his jaw drops slightly, then his pupils dilate. All in a matter of seconds. Yes, I analyze things this way. This is my craft. But that kind of talent, that kind of talent you don't find anywhere. Watch this guy. The nuances of his performance. I don't know about his onset personality, but his talent is a director's wet dream.

Michael's Party Announcement Sign
(written on 12 full sheets of paper, taped up to the door of our garage, covering the entire door surface. Props to Michael for being thorough)

FBI AND CIA PARTY OF 7.2.04
FRIDAY, JULY 2ND 2004

THE PARTY STARTS AT 8PM AND ENDS AT 2:30AM.
THERE WILL BE FOOD PLUS LIVE

MUSIC AT THE PARTY. THE MUSIC WILL BE PLAYING ON THE BOSE SOUND

SYSTEM. MICHAE J. S***#1 FBI AGCENT IS THROWING THE PARTY. SHERRY WILL BE THERE.

THERE WILL BE CHINESE FOOD AT THE PARTY. BLONDIE, REM, JUSTIN TIMBERLAK

E SO ON WILL PLAY AT THE PARTY. THERE WILL ALSO BE A DRAWING CONTEST OF

AIRPLANES CARS AND SO ON. THERE WILL BE 12-25 PEPOLE AT THE PARTY.

THE PARTY IS AT THE HOUSE IN FREMONT,CA. THE ADDRESS IS 2590 S******T CT. FREMONT,CA 94539.

PLEASE CALL ME AT 510-656-**** OR IF I AM OUT WITH JULIA MY BIG SISTER AND

MY FRIEND BIG BROTHER #2 JAKE C. K****** PLEASE CALL ME ON MY CELL PHONE 510-364-****

OR CALL JULIA, MY SISTER'S CELL PHONE AT 310-795-****.
THERE IS ALSO SWIMMING AT THE PARTY TOO.
THANXS MICHAEL J. S****...

MICHAEL J. S***... 6.29.04 WEDNESDAY, JUNE 23, 2004

Those Devastating Little Lies...

You know the ones. The ones that come back and bite you on your ass.

Have you ever given out a fake name?

I have. Sometimes as a joke. Sometimes it's because I don't want people to stalk me. Sometimes it's because I'm wary when I first meet strangers in places like bars. I once told this guy in college that I went by Bambi because that's the name I stripped under when I had to raise money for my grandmother's cataract operation. I apparently said it with such earnesty and forgot to tell him that I was just kidding, that months later, he was confused when he couldn't get a response from me while yelling my name from across a busy street. We laughed about it later, and he always called me Bambi, though when I later told him that I was born in Dallas, he wouldn't believe me.

Have you ever given someone a fake name and then regretted it?

This is what happens when you're wary of the opposite sex. I've given a fake name before because for some reason, I just didn't want some stranger getting too close to me, but then, he or she turns out to be cool or interesting. Then I'm pissed at myself because what am I supposed to say, everything has been a lie? When in fact, the only thing I was dishonest about was my name? Oops.

Someone I met a long time ago just got in touch with me again about potential creative endeavors. I felt stupid because I gave him a name that wasn't my birth name when we first met because sometimes I don't trust people in bars and I didn't trust his intentions, but after getting to know him and finding out that he was a normal person who wasn't a shark, I didn't know how to correct it; then I felt guilty about it so I stopped talking to him. But of course, how dumb do I look to say, all these years that we've been minor acqaintances, I couldn't even be honest about the most basic thing?

Then I think about the time that I didn't want to date someone anymore because I knew he had been deceptive about his age, but also that he didn't know how to backtrack and tell me. I didn't want to date him anymore not so much because he had lied about his age, but because he didn't feel comfortable enough or trust me enough to tell me later.

Which I guess is one of those things you can look at both ways; I probably should have just confronted him about it because in hindsight, it's not a big deal and we're actually friends now, though I've never mentioned that I actually know how old he is. That was a missed opportunity for communication and honesty.

I guess if someone told me that they gave me a fake name because they were being stupid or were wary or whatever, I would undertand. So maybe other people would, too. I just find it amazing how a small little deception can sometimes escalate. Or maybe, sometimes we subconsciously set ourselves up by doing something like telling a small but blatant lie, so that we can sabotage things later on if they end up getting too good. Way to go, kids.

So I declare this week Honesty Week. I'll be honest about all the things everyone has ever wondered, and whoever wants to come clean to me about things (ie where the hell are my autographed cards?), can come clean with amnesty. But only for a week. And then I'm kicking ass.

Weekend Highlights:

I'm back from spending the 4th of July Weekend in the Bay Area. It was a great weekend and I have little interest in being under fluorescent lights at the office today; I plan to show my discontent in suitable passive-aggressive fashion.

On Friday, Michael threw me a welcome home party. I thought it would be a "party" consisting of just Michael, my mom and a cake, but he actually packed the house with family friends and relatives. He put up an announcement sign on our door describing the highlights of the party, if you call 12 sheets of paper covering the entire door, detailing EVERYTHING, from day/month/year/time in which this party will take place, all music CDs that will be played, and every phone number imaginable that will be needed to contact us about the party, a sign. I'll post a picture of it with all the text later. It was funny as hell.

Jake wanted to shower when we first got there, and finding soap became a huge ordeal. He asked for some soap since all that was in the guest bathroom was shampoo. First they presented him with another bottle of shampoo. He clarified that he wanted soap. After more searching, Michael tried to tell Jake that they don't manufacture soap anymore. I think shampoo was brought out again accompanied by the question, "Are you sure this isn't soap?" I decided to get involved and found a bar of soap hidden in one of the showers. It seems there was a misunderstanding about what exactly we were looking for. My family thought we were looking for specifically a bar of soap, and they explained that they don't have bar soap because they use mostly liquid soap now.

The next day, we went to Costco to get get some meat for the bbq. I opened our spare fridge in the garage to store the meat and found...a 12 pack of Irish Spring soap on the top rack.

I mean, OF COURSE. Why WOULDN'T the soap be in the fridge?

We went to visit my grandfather's grave in the afternoon. I caught a frog, but let it go when it was time to leave.

Around dinnner time, my mom asked us, "What do you guys want for dinner? Italian, Caucasian or Chinese?" Caucasian?

I had called Aubrey to let him know I was in town and he told me that Simar was having a birthday party that night. I went over around 1:45am, and we all sat around in Simar's backyard, shooting the shit. Jeff is proposing to his girlfriend.

The next day was 4th of July and we had a bbq. I spent the day preparing the food which included:

Cantaloupe with Prosciutto
Goat Cheese and Strawberries
Stilton Cheese w/ Apricots and Crackers
Filet Mignon marinated in Kickass Secret Sauce
Korean Short Ribs
Jerk Chicken Drumsticks
Louisiana Hot Links
Grilled Salmon in Butter, Crushed Garlic and Thyme
Buttered Corn

For drinks, I made a pitcher of a new drink that I improvised that day, which was made with:

Vanilla Stoli
Coconut Rum
Pineapple Juice
Lime
Pina Colada Mix
Berry Sprite Remix

Food, drink and company were awesome.

Candice, my cousin, Bohr, and I played drinking poker by the pool, with the stakes being quantities of beer. We got suitably drunk, at which time I stripped and jumped into the pool.

I drove back the next day with Jake and one of his friends (identity not disclosed), who was intent on scoring weed. He asked attendants and fellow patrons if they had any whenever we stopped for gas. He had a profile and everything about likely people who would have some. We never scored any but we sure did stereotype many, many minivans full of Hispanics.

Weekend Ratings (1-10):
Fun Factor - 10
Nakedness - 8
Drunkenness - 9
Sleepiness - 6
Crankiness - 3
Gluttony - 9
Style - 7.8
Form - -3
Substance - couldn't find any

I am currently working on a top secret writing project--top secret because if I fail to complete it, no one will know that there's one more project that I failed to complete. So I thought a cool way of coming up with unique character names would be to go into the California Birth Records Database, do a random search and come up with names by putting together two maiden names that I find on a given page. My two favorites?

Steelman Wong and Branch Davidian.