Hard Times

Jamie Foxx has recently told Parade magazine that: "It's hard being a celebrity." He couldn't be more correct. Nothing is harder than making a sex tape, having it "leak," getting into disputes with the paparazzi, letting photographers snap upskirt shots of yourself, AND raising a child.

If you think that's hard, then you haven't heard the hardest part; not having talent. It's more of a suggestion in Hollywood these days. If you make jokes about Pedophilia (not mocking the sicko in it) or have "killer" material that involves poor ventriloquism, or wear a low-cut shirt you get to move ahead of the audition line because well "you're gonna be a star!"

Now I know nothing of what I said above remotely relates to Jamie Foxx and that is because he hasn't done anything stupid or immoral. I just needed his quote to mock those "stars" I hate and cannot wait to see burn out finally.

FLEX YOUR HEAD!

NOTE: I also realized majority of my attacks seem to target women, but that is strictly because I hate the socialites smeared in every medium. Apologies, ladies.

Apparently Even I Have Flaws.

As all of you know. I have been on TV a total of one times. And about a week ago I had the opportunity to double that number by being on a music trivia show aired on FUSE. I signed up and headed for my audition dressed in my usual interview/audition attire: Grey slacks with thin white stripes, a white long sleeved button-up, with a powder blue sweater over it. I also rock my swank grey sneakers which go great with my slacks.

I was seen early because as always, I showed up early, and was given a chance to dazzle the casting crew Dazzler style. I answered a handful of simple questions ranging from A-Ha, to Run-DMC, to Kelly Osbourne. Then I was asked to explain my musical taste(s). They then snagged a copy of my headshot and I've yet to hear from those bastards.

I'm sorry that you have no taste casting crew. Do I need to remind you that I was on TV already? I'm in demand right now. I'm literally like two steps away from being the next Pat Sajack, I just refuse to take those two dreadful steps because I hate him and everything he represents: cheap suits and cheaper jokes.

So I'll take your lack of call as a sign of respect. I'll assume by you not calling, that you saw my true potential, to be this world's next Patrick Duffy.

BONUS!

I am currently taking a spec script writing class that is simply amazing for many different reasons. I not only get to gain new knowledge on this craft, but I will get knowledge on how to score up a job with it. (YAY!)

Now to get to the class I will be taking the train, which will be a great way to gather material for a new Thursday theme for this blog: "Philosophers on Trains." I'll regurgitate the genius from some people who perhaps shouldn't exercise their minds and mouths in public places.

But in addition to all of these perks, there is one bonus that rocks harder than a mountain side, and that is the store "The Compleat Strategist" located on East 33rd street before Madison Avenue (which is on my way to my class). They specialize in wargames and it will surely be a fun place to browse and eventually buy a swank board game from. I'm eager to see my decision, and I know that you guys are too.

Stay tuned!

-a.

Philosophers on Trains: "Plato"

I now take a spec script writing class at NYU on Wednesday evenings. So that means I need to "ride the rails" into Manhattan. While doing so I heard a few pearls of wisdom that I cannot ignore.

The first one actually impressed me a bit because someone outside of me had a plan for cheating a polygraph or "lie detector test." He said that if you ask yourself a question with the answer you need to lie about, you'll trick your brain into answering "truthfully." I was amazed after hearing this. Finally, someone like me. But that happiness crashed and burned when he said "So just ask yourself: do you want to suck this guy's dick?"

Tsk, tsk. My plan was always to ask myself "Have you ever beaten Super Mario 1?" No, no you have not. I know that seems odd to some of you who know me. I love video games and have beaten/obsessed over many. But I have yet to defeat the most fundamental of games.

Besides being upset over the "D-S'ing" and Super Mario making me his bitch. This genius on the tracks also spouted such brilliance as: "I can't believe the friends who I thought were half-retarded are getting their doctrines!"

That must be a hard Whopper to swallow descendant of Plato, but what's harder is your disregard for badmouthing those with ailments. I'd say "for shame" but it seems to me that it would just ring on deaf ears.

Rebels vs Imperials 1997

2:30 pm in the middle of the summer. The sun was shining, and pools were flowing, begging for those who sweat to keep them company. It was the perfect day to hide from society in my damp, furnished basement. Joey Saladino and I made plans to play Star Wars Customizable Card Game (SWCCG) for the afternoon. We shuffled our decks (he was dark side, and I was stuck as light side), we then cut each others deck, and set up our starting locations. I then proceeded to go first (since Joey started with the Death Star system, allowing the Light Side to go first this game).

I started with the Hoth: 1st Marker Main Power Generators and the 4th Marker. So I was safe (for now). I deployed an Echo Base Trooper to the 1st Marker and a Y-Wing to the 4th Marker. Drew a card and ended my turn.

He deployed the Death Star: Conference Room and someone like Admiral Motti to there also. He then drew the top card of his reserve deck and said “go.”

I activated my force and force drained him for one with my Y-Wing, then conceded my turn.

Joey activated force and magically deployed two (yes, two!) Victory-Class Star Destroyers. I questioned him on it and he dismissed my reluctance to believe his maneuver. I asked again how he could deploy two Star Destroyers when he could only generate six force a turn and he had already spent about three from his first turn leaving a total of seven force to pay for deployment (because of the remaining one force from his first turn), and then somehow deploying two Victory-Class Star Destroyers which each cost six force.

I then had to physically show him the debt of force he had by rummaging through his used pile. He then responded with “ALRIGHT! I won’t deploy them OK? It’s going to happen anyway so I don’t know why you’re complaining?”

“WHAT!? I’m ‘complaining’ because you deploying both of those starships causes me ten damage, that is 1/6 of my deck. By not letting you cheat, I’m saving…”

Joey then interrupted: “ALRIGHT! I won’t deploy them. It’s your turn.”

(we proceeded to play and regardless of who won [Joey] it was a heated battle between the Rebels and the Imperials on the frozen planet of Hoth in the hot summer of 1997).

I Hate Bugs: Camel Cricket

Those who know me know my biggest fear (spiders). But there is another species of spider that lurks in my basement. It is the Camel Cricket. It's a cricket and spider hybrid with the ability to jump high (knee height) and quickly. It also never retreats but jumps TOWARDS it's attacker. It recently hopped through my legs, almost toying with me as a predator - note: I soon killed him!

Through out the years my main way to kill them was calling my dad to do it, but he got tired of helping his "daughter." So then I moved on to the vacuum style of execution. But that cannot work when the vacuum is upstairs. So I shall let those plagued by these Zelda enemy wannabes in on a little secret:

I kill them by placing my (plastic) garbage can (rightside up) on top of them (for some reason the stupid creature does not avoid this). Now the bottom of the can is slightly domed, so they are not dead (learned that one the hard way)then I scrape the can along to the side which will eventually leave you a greatly crippled camel cricket. From there I finish the job and simultaneously dispose of the carcass with a large amount of paper towels.

I hope this helps rid you of these foul creatures.

-a.

The Commandant

The commandant was signing off old reports at the close of the work week. Twelve past seventeen hundred, and here the commandant was gracing blank lines with his signature (a one-lined self portrait).

“Commandant?” asked his secretary.

“At ease Audrey. It’s after hours. What can I do for you?”

“Well sir they say that the snow won’t be letting up anytime soon. Perhaps you could escort me to my car as you exit?”

“I’d be honored Audrey, but I won’t be leaving just yet. But there’s always time to help a lady to her car.”

The commandant grabbed his coat and let Audrey lead him the way. He was very happily married once and well over the age to even consider courting her, so the feelings she made him feel were just of genuine kindness. She never once stared at his eye patch nor treated him any differently because he wore one. She neither gave him more or less respect, only his just amount. He appreciated this more than anything. He adored their camaraderie and kinship.

He also missed being looked at and thought of so sincerely since his wife had passed.

They walked single file from the second floor stairs to the first floor, as they came to the exit, the commandant scurried around Audrey to open it for her. She laughed and gave a smile and a nod to let him know it was well appreciated.

“Well you weren’t kidding, Audrey, this snow certainly won’t be letting up anytime soon.”

“I told you sir.”

“And this wind is harsh. I can barely hear you.”

“WHAT?” Audrey exclaimed.

“I said-“

“I know, I was just kidding.”

They now got to walk side by side outdoors, shielding their eyes with their left hand from the snow flurries.

“Well this is my car.”

“I know.” The commandant smiled.

“OK, well please leave soon, and I will see you bright and early Monday morning.”

“O Five Hundred.”

Audrey nodded and got into her car. Threw the lights on, and pumped the heat. Put on her windshield wipers and started to drive off.

As she was about five feet from the commandant he noticed a small man or animal in her backseat. The thing had a nasty habit of shaking, sort of like it was skipping through time by single seconds. It looked up out the back windshield gave an open mouthed smile, showing off it’s black/yellow teeth, and parading it’s bright red tongue between them.

The commandant had no idea what was going on, so he started to run after Audrey’s vehicle and shout to her. But the wind was much too harsh for his words not to be deflected by snow, wind or both. In a moment her car was out of view from the flurries. The commandant knew that he had to get to his car and follow her. As he reached into his coat pocket he noticed that his keys were not there.

“DAMMITT! I must’ve left them at my desk.”

The commandant ran as fast as he could through the snow, bolted up the stairs to the second floor where he met his empty office and desk. He reached for his keys and ran right back out, as he approached the stairs he lost his footing and tumbled, and tumbled and tumbled to the bottom of the stairs. He had a terrible wound on his head.

*****

When he woke up he was surrounded by several men standing over him. He tried to jump to his feet, but they restrained him.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO ME?!”

“Easy fella’. Just relax. You have a nasty gash on your head that we need to treat.”

“LET GO OF ME!”

”Hold still!” one of the men said.

He fought, and fidgeted but to no avail.

“WHAT DAY IS IT!?” he shouted.

“Please lie still.”

“I’ll lie still if you tell me, damn you!”

“It’s Monday.”

He did not like this one bit. How could three days go by so quickly? He thought to himself. What of Audrey and that vibrating man?

“HELP!”

”LIE STILL DAMMITT!” Said the man with the thick glasses on.

“AUDREY! AUDREY!”

The men holding him down became very silent and looked at the oldest one standing behind them, he was wearing a white lab coat and had a long needle in his hand.

“Who was supposed to give this man his meds last night?”

The men holding the commandant down remained silent.

“WHO!?” The man shouted.

The men started to look about the room, then the one with the glasses broke the awkward silence.

“It was Roberts sir. He had to leave early-“

The doctor interrupted.

“I know he left early! I’ll deal with him later. As for you pathetic clowns, make room for me!”

“Make room for Dr. Ackerman boys!” the largest man of the bunch shouted.

“Now let’s see what happens when we do this.” and with that the doctor flicked the needle with his middle finger.

The room went dark.

*****

The snow was still covering up the parking lot. The commandant saw two dark figures approaching from the east. He couldn’t help but stare. He couldn’t make out who they were but felt a sudden urge to hide. He ran inside a nearby car to cover his frame from the two strangers. They seemed to be laughing, although with this wind it was hard to hear anything. He cowered in the back seat to get warm and got down low.

The driver side door swung open! The door then slammed shut. All that could be heard was a flick of the car lights, the extreme blast of heat pumping into the car, and the subtle thuds of what can only be assumed as the windshield wipers.

The car started to move.

The commandant was rather nervous. He was so afraid to make a sound and startle the driver. So he ever so softly lifted his head and peeked out the rear windshield. He saw the little man shaking, twitching and vibrating once again. His sly, spaced-tooth grin ever so repulsive. He waved good-bye to the commandant, pulled out a tiny flute from his coat pocket and began to play it while prancing in the snow outside of the French Army building.

“What the hell?” The commandant said softly to himself.

The commandant glanced up at the driver who was in fact Audrey. He sighed with relief. At that moment Audrey thought she heard something in the backseat. She cautiously turned her head only to find the shaking man in her backseat full of gaping sharp teeth and devoid of good fortune.

Audrey screamed in absolute terror and lost control of the vehicle. The commandant couldn’t understand why she was screaming at him and telling him to get away. He tried to calm her down, but it was all in vain for she let go of the steering wheel a long time ago. The car slammed into another military building. Both Audrey and the commandant were dead on impact.

*****

In a cold, stainless steel room waits a man in a long lab coat. He stands there with his eyes staring dead straight at the only entranceway to the room. He has been waiting here for quite some time now.

The door opens, and Dr. Ackerman bursts through. He seems to be in a rush.

“Dr. Barton my apologies.”

“What has taken you so damn long Ackerman?!”

“Sir…please give me a second to just…catch…my breath.” Dr. Ackerman hunched over clenching the file he held in his left hand.

Dr. Barton didn’t want excuses, or pardons. He wanted results.

“On with it Ackerman!!”

Dr. Ackerman nodded and did his best to swallow with what little saliva he had remaining in his throat.

“Yes sir. It seems the patient died when I gave him his dose from Monday morning.”

“What were his vitals?”

“They are all here in his chart.” Dr. Ackerman handed Dr. Barton the folder he ran in with. Dr. Barton was reading it over while Ackerman continued.

“When he came to, after the first serum which we gave him Friday afternoon, he seemed intent on knowing what day it was. He also kept screaming for an…um. Just one second I have it written down in my notepad here.” Dr. Ackerman reached into his lab coat front pocket for his notes. “Ah here it is ‘Audrey.’ He kept screaming for a lady named Audrey.”

Dr. Barton looked up from the file. “It says here in the patient’s file that he was married to an Audrey Beaumont for a few years. She was killed in a car accident twenty-two years ago. The Military Police blamed it on the slippery roads since she was driving in a blizzard.”

“Well that makes sense for him to revisit such extreme trauma when induced, but sir what doesn’t seem to have any explanation is the patient’s cause of death.”

“What were his symptoms?”

“No symptoms sir. Now you know he was left strapped to a bed and under round the clock surveillance right?”

“Yes of course! On with it!”

“Well sir, patient 77X4Y, or “the commandant,” apparently suffered and possibly died from a crushed ribcage, broken cheek bones, and intense internal bleeding at about two hours ago.”

A very large smile appeared on Dr. Barton’s aged face.

“Well then the serum seems to be a success, doesn’t it, Dr. Ackerman?”