A Story We Made Up To Erase: Musing of the Tall

New Address

2011-05-19T08:37:00.000-07:00

If anyone still checks this site, they will probably notice that I haven't posted anything in a while. While this can in some part be attributed to the fact that I lead a fairly dull life and have little worth sharing with the world most days, there's a perhaps more significant reason. For reasons that I won't bother going into, I started a new blog. Or rather, I moved this blog to a new address. If anyone is still interested in following my mundane exploits, they can do so at hoveringgiraffe.tumblr.com. That blog contains the entire archive of trivial observations from this site, as well as a few new entries. If you want to check out the new blog from time to time, feel free. If not, I won't hold it against you.
-TC

Mice

2010-12-13T17:35:00.000-08:00

A few months ago, my household was blessed with the arrival of a new baby. I am of course using the word "blessed" in the loosest possible sense. In any event, my roommate's "sister who isn't his sister" (I have no idea) recently gave birth, and apparently decided that this event merited moving into my apartment four days a week. This then resulted in her "mother who isn't really her mother" (still don't know) telling her that if she was going to be gone so much, she could just stay gone, which she then promptly did. Or at least, from a certain perspective she did. From the vantage point of an irritable tall man, it would seem that she was instead staying put. After spending a further month helping my living room live up to its' name, she and the baby finally managed to acquire lodging in a shelter. Fortunately for all, the shelter is fairly near my apartment, so she and the baby still come by every day to hang out, watch TV, and generally bathe in my sink.

I like to think of myself as a rather kind-hearted person, one who is generous enough in spirit to boldly declare that a single mother living on the street is a bad thing. I'd even go so far as to say I'm firmly in favor of offering someone assistance in their hour of need. However, I'm also a terrible human being, and firmly against babies being within shrieking distance of me. Lately I've been having some difficulty trying to reconcile these dual tendencies towards altruism and misanthropy. And when you come home every day to be freshly reminded of the fact that constant jet traffic from LaGuardia is not the single most bothersome sound you could have in your home, it's easy for misanthropy to gain favor.

On a more positive note, the arrival of the baby came with the arrival of an unaffiliated transient cat. Unfortunately, this cat has also brought an as yet undetermined quantity of freeloading mice to our attention. He has caught two so far, and his continued infatuation with the scurrying sounds from the radiator suggests that there are more to come.

So I've decided to do what any reasonable person would do: I'm going to buy the baby a pair of Mickey ears and give it Pavlovian cookie every time it squeaks. Hopefully we'll get at least one problem solved.
-TC

Diastema

2010-09-26T16:53:00.000-07:00

I have a rather sizable gap between my front teeth. This gap is in fact so sizable that it is not unheard of for me to occasionally whistle as I speak. Growing up, I was mortified by the prospect of having to recite the tongue twister "Sally Sells Sea Shells by the Sea Shore." This was not a result of the common concern that I would be unable to perform the lingual acrobatics involved in correct pronunciation, but rather out of a fear that listeners might mistakenly think that I had adapted the work into a musical performance piece for piccolo and voice.

Thanks to my recently kindled love affair with This American Life, I discovered today that my dental shortcoming has an official medical name: diastema. It is very reassuring to know that if anyone brings up the subject of my front teeth, I will now be able to say that I am a diastematic. Telling them that I suffer from Rescue Ranger Dale's Syndrome is getting a bit embarrassing.
-TC

Dull, Dull, Dull...

2010-07-31T14:35:00.000-07:00

When I first started this blog, I had intended to use it as an impetus to write on a regular basis. I figured that I might not have something interesting to say every single day, but that I should be able to come up with a pithy observation about life in big city (or how much I hate my own life in the big city) at least once a week. However, in making this assumption, I hadn't accounted for one tiny detail: I'm an extremely dull person who thrives on a healthy mixture of monotony and tedium.

The other day, I called my grandfather to wish him a happy 90th Birthday. After the conversation had drifted to a lengthy analysis of which foods taste good with salt on them, it struck me that this was probably the most interesting discussion I'd had all week. The stage set, we upped the ante by moving on to naming states we'd driven through but not stopped in, and fans of witty banter everywhere rejoiced as the art form was was taken to a whole new level when my grandmother chimed in with an annotated oral history on how much more expensive onions are than they used to be. The riveting revelations just would not end.

I live in one of the busiest and most exciting cities in the world. I'm constantly surrounded by all forms of culture, debauchery, and insanity that the mind can conjure. You'd really think I'd have more to show for my day to day existence than the ability to avoid eye contact with performance artists. Perhaps I need to get out more. Or talk to strangers more. Or talk to people I know more.
-TC

Woodside Story

2010-05-11T15:54:00.000-07:00

Something unusual happened the other night while I was enjoying a leisurely stroll home with some Pakistani take-out that I hoped to get very well acquainted with. As I neared my house, I saw a group of young, urban toughs moving rather boisterously in my direction while speaking Spanish. Ordinarily, I would think nothing of this. I've lived in the city long enough that such sights aren't uncommon, my neighborhood isn't a particular hotbed of violent crime, and I'm large enough to fool most strangers into thinking that I might not be the single biggest coward in the history of time. Plus, having been raised by hippies, I've had the importance of not judging people based on appearances drilled into me since birth.

However, in spite of all this, I suddenly found myself overwhelmed with the feeling that I was about to be mugged. I don't know what made me so certain of the inevitability of my fate, but there was no doubt in my mind that things were about to get ugly. I didn't know what to do, but I was relatively certain that dropping my dinner and running away as I shrieked like a schoolgirl with a frog in her dress would be at very least undignified, if not actually counter productive. So instead I decided to proceed to my front door as though nothing was wrong.

What felt like a very long, very tense moment passed as I walked on and tried to remember the exact series of muscle movements involved in looking cool. I was about to turn and walk up the front steps of my building when suddenly and without warning the gang linked arms and began Wizard of Oz-style skipping down the street.

At that moment in my life, I was prepared to be mugged, and I was prepared to not be mugged. But I was definitely not prepared to walk into an impromptu reenactment of West Side Story.
-TC

The Continuing Adventures of Oatmeal Girl

2010-03-30T17:18:00.000-07:00

I woke up the other day and found my house infested with young people. I wasn't especially thrilled about this development, as I dislike youth on principle, what with their vitality and hope for the future and all. But I assumed they belonged to my roommate somehow and thought nothing of it. After a quick shower, I wandered into the kitchen to get some water and found myself confronted with a young girl, maybe 16 or 17, who as best as I could tell was wearing nothing more than a blanket. I think she was my roommate's sister, who I'd only met once in passing when it was very dark out, but I didn't have time to confirm this suspicion. As I entered the room, she held out a bowl and asked, "Is...is this what you use to make oatmeal?" Extrapolating from the packets of oatmeal on the counter and the almost boiling pot of water, I read the intent of this question as "is this what I should eat oatmeal out of?" Horrified by the prospect that I was in the same room as a half naked and potentially underage girl who hadn't mastered such complex concepts as how a bowl works, I said "it could be," and left.

That was my first encounter with Oatmeal Girl. The next day, I was getting out of the shower when I heard the bathroom door creak open slightly. Again, I thought nothing of it, as the door hasn't closed enough to latch since I moved in, so I figured a draft must have nudged it a bit. But when it creaked further still, I decided to have a peek outside to make sure nothing was out there preparing to murder me or sell me encyclopedias or anything. Peering around the edge of the door, I found myself face to face with Oatmeal Girl, who appeared to have been spying on me as I was toweling off. She apologized and asked for a bar of soap, which I awkwardly handed her while hiding my shame behind the door.

When you realize that the only person to have seen you naked in the last few years is quite possibly the dumbest, unskilled, underage voyeur alive, it's difficult to argue that life is going according to plan.

-TC

Hockey

2010-03-01T17:28:00.000-08:00

Last night I joined some friends in watching the Olympic gold medal hockey match between The United States and Canada, and I must say I found myself astounded. Just when I thought sports couldn't get any more boring, I was amazed at how incredibly little I could manage to care on the highest of international stages. It took many years of hard work and dedication, but I think I have finally reached the apex of human achievement in putting on such an unparalleled display of herculean disinterest. If only there was a medal for that.

-TC

Snow Storm

2010-02-25T14:52:00.001-08:00

I lived in Phoenix for about eight months, and it was probably the most consistently awful eight months of my life. I had no friends. The ceiling in my cockroach infested apartment leaked rusty algae from time to time. My job involved destroying people's lives by looking at pictures of backed up toilets and decapitated horses all day long. I went on a single blind date with a woman who turned out to only have a single leg. In short, I came away with absolutely nothing positive to say about the American Southwest.

And yet somehow on days like this when I never see the sun, can't control the heat in my apartment, and am plagued by an ever increasing number of wet socks, I can't help asking myself, why did I leave the desert again?

-TC

Valentine's Day 3: Day Harder

2010-02-14T08:08:00.000-08:00

When I was a boy, Valentine's Day was a day for friendship as much as for love. We'd tape brown paper bags to our desks, and walk around giving Ninja Turtle themed cards to anyone we could stand. I'd always open the package of cards, pick out the second best card for my best friend, keep the best one for myself, and divvy up the rest amongst my classmates, less as an exercise in appreciation for the people I gave them to than an exercise in spite for the people who weren't even worthy of false sentiment.

But oh, how times have changed. As adults, Valentine's Day is exclusively for the purpose of showering appreciation on people who have low enough standards to take their clothes off for us in hopes that they will continue to do so. If you're in a relationship, it's a day of love, sex, and rapidly depleting cash reserves. For me, it's usually a day of twiddling my thumbs while I have no one to talk to because no one else in the world seems to be single. But this year, I don't want to be left out of the festivities, so I've been trying to come up with a series of activities for one that will be both productive and romantic so that I may make the best use of my alone time without feeling like I'm the only person in the world who isn't in love.

Thankfully, another flash of inspiration struck when I woke up this morning. I live in New York City, where the opportunities for romantic activities are endless. But one of the time honored traditions for young couples in this city is the good old fashioned horse drawn carriage ride through Central Park. So, as a token of appreciation for myself, I'm going to get gussied up, head on over to Central Park, rent all the horse drawn carriages in the city, and pay them to run over anyone they see holding hands.

And then, if I'm in an especially jaunty mood, I might steal their chocolates.

-TC

Valentine's Day 2: Electric Boogaloo

2010-02-13T16:05:00.000-08:00

Since I am lucky enough to be single this Valentine's Day, I've been planning for how I will spend my day. Pretty much no one I know is single, so I won't have to worry about regular social obligations. And as I am blissfully unattached, I won't have to worry about some chocolate and rose crazed harlot trying to have her lustful way with me again and again all night long until the sheer repetition of it causes me to pine for the fresh originality of the tenth season of M*A*S*H. Instead, I'm trying to come up with romantic yet productive activities for one to keep me busy while the rest of the world is engrossed in gazing lovingly into each others eyes. Thankfully, another flash of inspiration struck today. While all my friends and neighbors are out enjoying fancy dinners, carriage rides, or whatever it is that people in love are supposed to do to avoid conversation, I'll put on my fanciest suit, light a few candles, then break into their homes and steal their stereos. The proceeds should be more than enough to buy a Valentine's Day hooker.

What can I say? I'm a hopeless romantic.

-TC

Valentine's Day

2010-02-12T16:51:00.000-08:00

Valentine's Day is this weekend, and like most single people, I'm trying to come up with plans for how to make the most productive use of my time while everyone else is stuck sitting through tediously romantic dinners, exhausting romantic walks, and unnecessarily passionate love making. As I'm not unfortunate enough to have my life fettered with such humdrum obligations, I'm going to have the quintessential single man's Valentine's Day. I'll be going out in search of the most romantic restaurant filled with the most happy young couples, and I will be setting it on fire. It's a sparse itinerary, but I think it will be a rewarding one all the same.

-TC

Maple Candy

2010-02-02T18:52:00.001-08:00

My first job out of college was in a maple candy factory, perhaps the most successful application of a liberal arts degree to date. Now, as a good Vermonter, I am a huge proponent of all things maple. Maple syrup, maple candy, gay marriage licenses notarized with a maple stamp, you name it. I lived and died by the code of maple. That is, until I got the factory job and ate maple candy non-stop for the better part of a year. My shameless gluttony coupled with coming home every day in maple soaked pants (not to mention working with a drug dealer who regularly threatened to stab me) was enough to make the very thought of maple candy absolutely revolting to me.

When I went home for Christmas, I bought a maple leaf from my old factor as a little present for someone, but it never got delivered. So I've been looking at this maple leaf on my dresser for a few weeks and wondering, is four years enough time that I can finally put the past behind me and stomach the idea of maple candy again? Well, today my sweet tooth got the better of me and I decided to give it a shot. The verdict? The sickening sweetness of the candy was only offset by the bitter memory of folding thousands of these boxes as I opened it.

Maybe in another four years...

-TC

State of the Union

2010-01-28T06:49:00.000-08:00

I was a bit disappointed with yesterday's State of the Union Address. I mean, really, it's just a giant iPod touch. What were you thinking, Obama?

-TC

Avatar

2010-01-20T10:33:00.000-08:00

I finally broke down and saw Avatar last night. I'll only say two things about this movie. First...unobtainium? Really? This must have been a total Poochie moment in the writers room, if ever I saw one.

Second, at exactly what point in the course of human evolution do we start feeling the need to equip our giant, walking battle robots with hunting knives? "Sure they have machine guns and missiles, but you gotta give 'em a blade, 'casue you never know when they'll find themselves in the midst of a robot whittling contest."
-TC

An Important Lesson

2010-01-01T10:37:00.000-08:00

My dad's toilet hasn't worked properly for a couple years now. He has neither the money nor the skill to have it fixed, so he's just sort of let it be, filling up the tank by hand with jugs of water whenever he needs to use it. So I decided that as part of his Christmas present this year, I would buy whatever parts need to be replaced and fix it for him. I like to think I learned a valuable life lesson from this experience. If someone says "I'd like you to fix my toilet, please," you say no. And if they say, "I'd really just as soon you didn't fix my toilet," you don't insist.

On the upside, after a good seven hours of effort, it does in fact work.

-TC

Laughter

2009-12-15T18:48:00.000-08:00

This year has been a tough one for everyone, and so it's no surprise that this Christmas will have to be a lean one. That's why I've decided to give all my friends and family the most precious gift of all: the gift of a child's laughter. Unfortunately, when I run up to a child in the streets and shake my fists wildly while screaming "laugh," I seem to get more crying than anything else. But I'm not giving up hope. Because at the end of the day, the people I care about are worth it.

-TC

Cab Driver

2009-12-13T20:37:00.001-08:00

It's rare that I find myself in a cab, but this weekend I accompanied some friends from Manhattan to Brooklyn in one of the city's many fine taxis. While we were dodging traffic at what might have seemed like excessive speed in less sophisticated parts of the world, one of said friends decided to strike up a conversation with the driver, and it wasn't long before he opened right up and started chatting away like there was no tomorrow. As soon as I mentioned that I was from Vermont, he started to describe in unexpectedly graphic detail how he used to have sex with this girl in Bennington, which segued nicely into a thorough account of every woman he had ever slept with and, occasionally, married. In the course of his life story, it dawned on me that my cab driver has impregnated more women than I have seen naked. I can't begin to count the number of levels on which I was unhappy about this.

-TC

Awkward

2009-12-05T09:57:00.000-08:00

My roommate had a birthday party last night, and invited me to come along. While I quite like my roommate, I tend to be a bit introverted, so we don't hang out or bond too terribly much. As such, I thought this would be a perfect opportunity to go out, meet some new people, and spend some quality time with the person I spend so much time silently cohabiting with. Unfortunately, the party was going to be held in a strip club, which, as a general rule, is exactly the sort of place tend to avoid. But luckily the stripping party was going out for food and drinks beforehand, so I decided to at least go along and show support by playing my part in ensuring that the birthday girl found herself more or less completely trashed by the end of the evening.

However, after some delightful conversations with new people, not to mention more than a few drinks, the possibility of going to a strip club didn't seem like anywhere near as bad an idea as usual. My spirit of adventurousness quickly took over, and upon my roommate producing passes for free entry, it was quickly joined by my spirit of cheapness. As a general life policy, I like to think that I'll try almost anything once. If you get me drunk first and tell me it's free, the "almost" tends to become roughly as flexible as my good judgment. And so it was that I found myself venturing out to a strip club last night.

The experience was very similar to the one I expected, save the fact that I thought the dancers would be a bit more energetic and the chairs would be a bit more comfortable. As for the dancers, I was surprised how "stripping" seemed less an act of burlesque and more one of awkwardly swaying at a high school dance. At one point, one of my new friends of the evening turned to me and asked, "So, what do you think she's going for with that dance?" I paused thoughtfully for a second and replied, "I think she's going for 'I'm stoned and I'm looking for my car keys.'" And as for the furnishings, all I can say is that I would have imagined a place that is based solely on making people feel like they're important could have made at least some effort to make them feel comfortable at the same time. After all, what self respecting guy with wads of cash and an abundance of sexual magnetism would blow his money on awkwardly shaped velvet chairs with stains and no lumbar support?

Now, when I walk into a room where there aren't any ladies taking their clothes off for money, typically there will be more than enough awkward to go around. So you can just imagine what walking into a room and finding a naked woman perched precariously on a pair of oversized high heels that she clearly borrowed from an Amazon at the last second did for the situation. At first it was actually a bit of a relief. After all, it's been so long since I've seen a naked woman that it was nice to know that all the important bits are more or less where I remembered them to be. And really, being surrounded by scantily clad strangers, while not an experience I'm anxious to repeat, was not as uncomfortable an experience as I might have thought.

The real awkward came when I, as the guy in the group sitting closest to the nearest walkway, kept getting offered lap dances every few minutes. In an of itself, this wasn't especially objectionable, as you can pretty much apply the basic rules of telling a waitress that you don't want a refill on your Pepsi to informing a woman in a corset that you'd rather she didn't waggle her bottom at you. But what I hadn't accounted for was how physical strippers are in their flirtatious advances. After we'd been sitting for maybe twenty minutes, I was in mid conversation with the man next to me when all of a sudden a strange hand started running up my inner thigh. I abruptly whipped my head around to give her my best deer in the headlights look (which, with eyes like mine, is pretty good), and she offered me a dance. Now, as this was the most physical contact I've had with a woman in about two years, I found myself a bit flustered and surprisingly unable to verbally articulate complex thoughts like "No, thank you," so I had to make due with hand gestures that I felt conveyed my sentiments. Unfortunately, it would seem that in Russian these gestures translate as "Please stare at me blankly as you continue to stroke my inner thigh." No wonder the Soviet Union collapsed.

As I said, I'll try almost anything once. But as is often the case, going to a strip club is an experience where once is enough.

-TC

Spam

2009-11-20T13:34:00.000-08:00

It would seem that today, someone pretending to be me accessed my e-mail account and sent out this mass message to everyone I've ever contacted inviting them to buy digital cameras from some website. My friends knew it wasn't me, though. This isn't due to the fact that I was inexplicably selling things or had the grammar of a bad Chinese robot, but because I suspiciously mentioned that I was experiencing "happiness." My friends know me so well.

-TC

Hair Metal

2009-11-19T17:27:00.000-08:00

I see people performing for money in the subway all the time. But today I saw my first one man hair metal band. And he totally rocked my world. Not enough that I gave him money, of course, just enough that I decidedly avoiding giving him any overtly dirty looks as I passed by. I'm too kind, I know.

-TC

Writing

2009-10-28T10:20:00.000-07:00

I've been writing a lot lately. As is always the case when I've been productive for a while, I felt like doing some mindless busy work to make it feel like I was accomplishing something while actually doing little more than killing time between now and the grave. In that vein I decided to print out the latest copies of all the scripts I've started in the last few years and organize them together in a binder.

Once I had done so, the first thing I realized was that this binder is now heavy enough that I could easily beat someone to death with it. The second thing I realized was that doing so would probably be the most productive thing that is likely to happen with this material.
-TC

Transformers

2009-10-21T15:46:00.001-07:00

Alright, I'll admit that there's a ten year old boy inside me, and no matter how much I may fight it, I still have an overwhelming impulse to see movies based on things from my childhood, like super hero films and the like. But at least I've reached the point where I can usually wait until they've come out on DVD so I can experience my shame in private. And I knew when I rented Transformers 2 from Netflix that I was making a terrible life choice, but I had no idea just how bad an idea this was. All I can say is that I'm less than 15 minutes in and already there has been a flatulent robot.

Michael Bay, if you're reading, I'm embarrassed for both of us.

-TC

Highs and Lows

2009-09-26T18:35:00.000-07:00

I came home to New England for the weekend, and I thought I would give a quick rundown on the highs and lows of my day here in small town USA. On the high side, within hours of waking up this morning I had a stranger tell me I was handsome, then had an attractive young woman give me a free cookie in exchange for flashing my winning smile. (I'd like to gloat about how dreamy this sort of thing might suggest me to be, but sadly I don't think that the title of Most Attractive Man in Walpole, New Hampshire is as difficult to attain as one might imagine.)

And on the low side, I went into an empty house and saw my first free-standing urinal in a residential home. Not, I should point out, in a bathroom. Just sitting there off the kitchen. Western Civilization at it's finest.
-TC

Master Race

2009-09-21T13:25:00.000-07:00

Today I saw a man walking down the street with a cat sitting on his head, and a very nice homless man informed me that I "ain't no master race, bitch." Or, as we say in New York, it's Monday.
-TC

Yelps

2009-09-19T08:34:00.001-07:00

Today I was reading The New York Times, and there was a story about a supreme court case where a man is accused of distributing images of animal cruelty for including scenes of a dogfight in a documentary. As part of his defense, his lawyers counted "at most, 25 seconds containing yelps." Some go to law school for the money, others to fight for social justice. I wonder if these people went in hoping they'd get the chance to sit with a stopwatch so they could stand before the supreme court seriously arguing over exactly how many dog yelps constitute animal cruelty from a legal standpoint. Still, better than being the bankruptcy attorney advertising on the subway.
-TC

Steve Jobs

2009-09-09T19:07:00.000-07:00

Being a massive dork, I spent part of the day reading a live blog covering Apple's iPod announcement, once again helmed by Steve Jobs. I'm glad to see that Liver 2.0 seems to have launched without incident.

-TC

Finished

2009-08-28T09:59:00.000-07:00

The big project I've been working on for the past two months is finally going in the mail today, which means I can have my social life back at long last. Or, to be more accurate, I can sit at home not talking to anyone again at long last. Living the dream.
-TC

Tompkins Square Park

2009-08-18T20:13:00.000-07:00

I like to keep people up to date on teh strangest things I've seen lately. Today I was hanging around Tompkins Square Park with some friends, and of course, being in a public park in New York, we were surrounded by vagrants. One such gentleman was being a bit raucous, shouting things occasionally and hitting the ground with a big stick. But, whatever, that's not atypical New York behavior, so I paid him no mind. After a while, he got up, whipped out his junk as he was walking by, and wandered over to a corner, where he proceeded to urinate on a box. Again, whatever. I mean, you've got to urinate on something, right? But the bit that I found especially unsettling was that when he was finished, he put his hands in said urine and rubbed it all over his face. Then went back to hitting the ground with a stick as though nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred.

My philospy is that if I have to see something, other people need to visualize it. It's only fair.
-TC

Crazy

2009-08-15T14:13:00.000-07:00

I had to work today, and as I was leaving my office, a crazy man walked up to me and said "basketball star, rent a car, state to state," then walked away. I then had another of those moments when I realized that this was probably the most social interaction I would have all day.

On the upside, when I was on the subway home, I thought of a witty comeback to something someone said to me seven years ago. So the day wasn't a complete waste.
-TC

Eye Contact

2009-08-12T07:07:00.000-07:00

As I was standing on the subway platform today, a young woman kept looking at me. Whether she was mentally undressing me or thinking about how funny I look is hard to say. But I never got the chance to find out, as the New York routine has become so ingrained in me that all I could think was "don't make eye contact, she'll want a dollar."

The same thing happened a few minutes later on the train, as a young man clearly started making eyes in my direction. But he smiled, which suggests that either he wasn't mentally undressing me or he has a very poor imagination.

-TC

Texting

2009-07-28T13:14:00.000-07:00

A study was announced today which said that texting while driving considerably increases the likelihood of crashing. I'm glad we're taking the time to answer the really pressing questions. So glad, in fact, that I can't even wait for a red light to share this ground breaking news.
-TC

Chicken

2009-07-15T12:23:00.001-07:00

As I was on my way into the office this morning, I passed by a row of homeless people begging for change. Next to the four or five homeless people was a man in a giant chicken costume squawking at passersby. I was stunned to realize that the depth of this recession is so great that not even chickens can count on a living anymore.
-TC

Tech Ed.

2009-07-13T07:57:00.001-07:00

When I was in seventh or eighth grade, we were required to take a class called Tech Ed. In it, we learned about basics of design, use of various shop tools, and other technical skills. One project they had us perform involved building something that would remove a golf ball from a long, thin tube. The most common solution was some sort of broom handle with something sticky on the end of it.

I recalled this project today when I got off the train at Union Square, and found a man using an umbrella to fish bottles and cans out of the bottom of a garbage can that was too tall and had too small an opening for him to simply reach into. That's when I realized that when Brattleboro Union High School taught us basic principles of engineering, they were really preparing us for our future careers among the ranks of the homeless.

Thanks, Brattleboro!
-TC

Screenplay

2009-06-28T13:21:00.000-07:00

I just finished the first draft of my first original screenplay in about four years. Being a first draft, it more or less completely sucks, but I'm writing again, and that's the important thing. It currently clocks in at 132 pages. Hopefully when I whittle out some of the more overtly awful bits, it'll start working its way down to a more manageable length.
-TC

Travel Agent

2009-06-24T09:46:00.001-07:00

Next door to my office is a small travel agency. They are constantly trying to lure people in with free sandwiches, men on stilts, raffle drawings, and other such gimmicks. As a good New Yorker, I usually make a point to either avoid eye contact or scowl derisively as I pass by on my way to lunch. But today I was passing by, and a woman shouted "real live penguin inside!" I must say, I was a bit intrigued by this. The prospect of seeing a penguin on my lunch break was almost enough of an incentive to interrupt the flow of my day. Almost.
-TC

Old Woman

2009-06-19T14:17:00.000-07:00

Today I came home from work, much as I do most days. Shortly thereafter, I had to run out to take care of a small errand. On my way out the door, I found an old woman sitting on my front step reading the newspaper. I looked at her quizzically, and she "I'm just resting a moment, I got out of the hospital a couple days ago." I replied "That's fine," and continued on my merry way. After about a block, it dawned on me that this was the first time I'd actually spoken to another person all day long. It was a sobering thought to realize that the most interaction I had had with another human being consisted entirely of deciding not to kick a crippled old lady off my stoop. I briefly toyed with the idea of calling the police, just so I'd have someone else to talk to. Ah, well. Another lost opportunity.
-TC

DMV

2009-06-18T10:47:00.000-07:00

As a child of the eighties, I grew up with The Department of Motor Vehicles being one of the most common targets for comedians looking for a quick laugh. Long lines, inept employees, all general comedy fodder that I never really gave much thought to. However, I have now been trying to renew my license by mail since late May, so far to no avail. And one of the reasons for the hold up is that each time I resubmit my application (I'm on try number 3 now), I have to wait three business days to find out whether or not it's being processed. Now, this is not because it takes three days to process a form. That would just be silly. Instead, it takes three days because apparently the Vermont DMV has a policy of not even opening, much less processing their mail for three days after it arrives. I assume this is to let the mail settle.

So now with the benefit of more worldly experience, I feel confident in saying, "Paul Reiser, you were absolutely right."
-TC

Cats

2009-05-21T11:23:00.000-07:00

I've been living with a cat for the last two weeks, and it has only further cemented my belief that cats are in fact better than people. My reasoning goes like this: the cat woke me up at 6:00 a.m., then threw up on me at 7:00 a.m. (perhaps in response to my refusal to leave the bed). However, in spite of this, I still felt less annoyed than I do by simply walking into my own apartment and knowing that other people sometimes live there.
-TC

Empathy?

2009-05-09T12:57:00.001-07:00

As most are probably already aware, the media has been in a tizzy this past week over Barack Obama's statement that one of the qualities he would seek in a new Supreme Court Justice is empathy. Now, as we all know, the ability to empathize with another is the ability to experience his thoughts or feelings. Through empathy, we can understand someone else's plight and judge it in the context of our own experiences, desires, and moralities. In so doing, we are forced to think of other people not as abstractions but as equals to whom our own fundamental ideas of right and wrong continue to apply, even when we are not directly effected. As a result, the continued functionality of society is taken outside the realm of basic self interest and a communal ideal can foster a civilization governed by mutual responsibility. And, of course, there is only one word for a society governed by a communal ideal: Communism!

As there is absolutely no place for any such sense of common responsibility in our fine legal system, I propose that our president do the only reasonable, rational thing one could do when faced with this difficult nomination: he should refit Peter Weller and make Robojudge our next Justice of the Supreme Court. He and Justice ED-209 should have some interesting and productive discussions when the next seat opens up.
-TC

News

2009-04-25T19:05:00.000-07:00

I found myself back in my hometown for the weekend, and when I looked at the local newspaper I found the following headline on page 1 above the fold:

"Local Woman's Card a Hallmark Finalist"

Take that, economic turmoil!
-TC

Quiche

2009-04-14T15:23:00.000-07:00

I was chatting with a friend online and informed her that I was making a quiche. When she asked what kind, I replied, "Oh, just my standard quiche."

Does the fact that I have a standard quiche make me a loser? I prefer to think that everyone else is a loser for not having a standard quiche.
-TC

Phil Spector

2009-04-13T19:12:00.001-07:00

Today, after many years of extended court battles and public speculation, Phil Spector was finally found guilty of murdering Let It Be.

The most interesting thing about the whole case for me was the discovery that the actual victim, perhaps best known for her role in the 1980's classic Fast Times at Ridgemont High, also appeared in a film entitled Amazon Women on the Moon. Really, with a name like that, how could this movie not be the most amazing thing ever?
-TC

Vermont

2009-04-09T13:53:00.000-07:00

As you have all probably noticed by now, Vermont recently became the fourth state to allow same-sex marriages. I can't speak for anyone else, but I for one am horrified by this development. I will never be able to visit my home state again without fear that when I walk into a good Christian gas station and try to pay for a Snickers bar with my credit card, I will sign my receipt and find that I have legally bound myself in unholy matrimony to another man.

This shortsighted act of the Vermont legislature infringes upon all of our civil liberties by insisting people have the right to make personal choices, and there is only one word for allowing such appalling freedom of choice: Socialism. That's right, when a man marries another man, it not only makes them gay, it also makes them card carrying anti-American, terrorist loving, pinko commie scum. (The font on the cards is very small.) But not to worry, the weight of sin added onto the unwashed backs of Vermont's hippie locals will no doubt cause the entire state to dislodge and sink into Lake Champlain which, as I am sure you are all aware, is the doorway straight to Hell. Why else would a giant monster be living in it?
-TC

Tuesday

2009-04-07T20:16:00.001-07:00

Today I ate Pakistani food and watched a fist fight break out in the street after a man hit a woman with his SUV. Or, to put it another way, I live in New York City, and it's Tuesday.
-TC

A Defining Moment

2009-03-26T14:15:00.000-07:00

Today I had an experience that really defined the experience of living in New York City. I was on the E Train riding into Manhattan. As I looked down the train, I saw a man to my left who was screaming at anyone who made the mistake of making eye contact (read: me and some tourists) to ask for a quarter. Sitting directly across from him to my right, there was a woman with unusually large, trendy sunglasses and a portable DVD player, busily banging on the remote, trying desperately to get it to work.

The lesson is, everyone has their own unique problems. And mine largely consist of learning not to make eye contact with people who will shout at me.
-TC

Consultants

2009-03-17T09:33:00.000-07:00

Apparently, my company just had some consultants watch our show to get feedback, and they hated EVERYTHING. More to the point, they paid $10,000 for that opinion. I could have told them that for ten grand. Hell, I would have told them that for fifty bucks and a sandwich.
-TC

Quote of the Day

2009-03-11T21:33:00.000-07:00

"This carpet smells like pie."

In my defense, it did. It's been a long, long day.
-TC

Son of Jollibee

2009-03-10T15:32:00.000-07:00

For those of you who follow the goings on of my life, I wanted to give an update on the Jollibee situation. Okay, really, I'm just bored and thought the act of typing might keep my mind occupied for a few minutes.

My friend and I recently decided to to give the food a shot. Considering that their menu includes such delightful desserts as creamed corn in shaved ice topped with corn flakes, how could we not? Unfortunately, after spending the better part of two hours in line, I was disappointed to discover that none of the shockingly disgusting things I'd discovered online were available at this particular restaurant. All we were left with was a mediocre interpretation of "American" food. This was quite the disappointment, as I could get a mediocre interpretation of American food by wandering into any of the eight thousand McDonald's in this city. Furthermore, I discovered that apparently when they say "American Style," what they mean is "drenched in mayonaise."

There was one unusually ghetto item on the menu, but it didn't pique my curiosity quite enough to merit exploration. They serve spaghetti at Jollibee, but with the wry twist of throwing hot dogs in the sauce.

But I thought it was odd that it was taking us so long to get our food, as the line wasn't really all that long, it just wasn't moving. Upon finally arriving at the cash register, I looked at what everyone else was ordering, and I discovered that the reason the line moved so slowly is that everyone in it but us was ordering a hundred dollars worth of fried chicken to take back to their Filipino families. To their credit, the fried chicken was alright, and not smothered in mayonaise.
-TC

The Most Annoying Sound

2009-03-08T14:39:00.001-07:00

The latest front runner on my ever expanding list of things that are irritating to hear on a subway platform is a man playing the tuba. Unless you're John Phillip Sousa, you have no reason to go around subjecting people to the sound of the tuba, much less in what essentially constitutes a large echo chamber.

But while I'm on the subject of things I've seen in the subway, I must admit I was thoroughly amused by the image of cookie monster and a skunk playing the xylophone for money. If anyone knows cookie monster, tell him that the creepy guy on the internet is a big fan.
-TC

Jollibee

2009-02-14T18:07:00.001-08:00

I went to the grocery store earlier, and on my way, I noticed that every restaurant in my neighborhood was packed, with lines swarming out into the streets. In and of itself, this isn't surprising. Being Valentine's Day, I'm sure it's hard to get a table anywhere, much less anywhere nice.

But the biggest crowd I observed was outside this new place called Jollibee. Out of curiosity, I decided to check out their website when I got back to my apartment. Apparently, Jollibee is the Philippines's number one American-style fast food restaurant.

I think it goes without saying that fast food is never the greatest cuisine one could hope for. But as a general rule, their advertising photography still makes their menu look like something that vaguely approximates real food. However, this is not the case for Jollibee. A few minutes of perusing their online menu was enough to ruin the idea of the hamburger for me forever. More importantly, their desserts include creamed corn in shaved ice topped with corn flakes, and something that seems like ice cream covered in cheese. If this is how the rest of the world views America, no wonder we are so hated in the international community. "First they ignore the wishes of the UN, then they put cheese on ice cream. Kill the infidels!"

I would like to say to anyone that was taken to Jollibee for Valentine's Day, I am deeply sorry, not just on behalf of men everywhere, but on behalf of all humanity. There are some mistakes in life for which there are simply no excuse.
-TC

Saturday Night

2009-02-14T05:29:00.000-08:00

"Another Saturday night and I ain't got nobody
I got some money 'cause I just got paid
How I wish I had someone to talk to
I'm in an awful way"
-Sam Cooke, Another Saturday Night

Happy Valentine's Day, world! I hope you choke on it.
-TC

Canada

2009-02-04T12:10:00.001-08:00

I spent much of the last week in Canada. And I spent much of that time driving through the middle of nowhere, a term I didn't fully understand until I found myself in the wilds of Canada.

The ride up was a bit harrowing. We drove from New York to Manchester, VT in the middle of a rather sizable snowstorm. Considering that my car has no snow tires, is pretty low to the ground, and Vermont has a rather whimsical idea of what constitutes a plowed road, I was kind of surprised we didn't die in a ditch on fire. But, here I am.

In the course of the trip, I went to the Boreal Zoo and looked at some polar bears that seemed to think I looked rather delicious, rode a toboggan down an ice ramp in Quebec City, parked and stood on Lac St. Jean amid a village of tiny houses, watched a cougar lick a cow leg, and spoke what I think constitutes very poor French. I also ate caribou, inferior maple on a stick, and poutine. Not only did I eat poutine, I ate McDonald's poutine. Which is pretty much what you'd expect.

And now I'm back in New York where it seems that by some miracle of oversight I have not in fact been fired. Yet.
-TC

Robert Downey, Jr.

2009-01-27T07:30:00.000-08:00

I am really glad that we have reached the point as a society where a man can once again be nominated for an Academy Award for a performance done in blackface.
-TC

Whoops

2009-01-24T19:13:00.001-08:00

Next week I go to Quebec City. There is a strong likelihood that I will be fired before I get back.

Whoops.
-TC

Movies and Things

2009-01-17T16:33:00.000-08:00

So, as nothing of consequence is going on in my life, I thought I would take a moment to tell you all about the movies I've seen lately that are more interesting than my real life.

For some months now, people keep saying to me that Heath Ledger is pretty much guaranteed to win the Oscar for best actor this year. While he certainly has the whole "dead" thing going for him, and while I will admit I am very biased towards anyone portraying a sociopath, I have to say that I was simply blown away by Sean Penn in Gus Van Sant's new film, Milk. Milk is a marvelous work, and Penn gives a truly remarkable performance. Moreover, there is a scene early in the film that takes place on Harvey Milk's birthday, and and we find the titular Milk laying in bed eating cake with his lover, who playfully spreads cake on Milk's face. His lover moves to lick it off, and the ensuing make-out session contains the single most convincing screen kiss I have seen in a very long time. It may be a minor moment in the film, but it was perfect.

Frost/Nixon was an enjoyable affair, if at times dominated by Ron Howard's very typically Hollywood conception of storytelling. While drawn out dialogue scenes and the occasional extended monologue reminds you that the work was originally a stage play, David Frost's "research montage" leading up to the final interview left me with an image of Rocky pummeling American cynicism in a freezing meat locker somewhere. I don't want to spoil the end, but he goes the distance. Most interestingly, this film was the first thing I've ever really been exposed to that made any effort to humanize Nixon, and that was something I wasn't quite prepared for.

As I was watching Woody Allen's latest picture, Vicky Christina Barcelona, I could just imagine Woody Allen overlooking Spain and thinking to himself, "How can I watch Scarlett Johansson kiss another woman? Wait a minute! I make films!" While the movie is better than many of his offerings of the late 90s and early 2000s, it falls short in several respects. Most notably, the plot is driven forward by a heavy-handed narration that robs some very strong performances any subtlety they may have had if let to speak for themselves. When anyone tells you how a movie should be made, they always rail against voiceover, as conventional wisdom is that things should never be explained, they should be seen. While personally, I think that's a bunch of shit, I do think that there are times when the story should just tell itself, and thoughts and feelings should be found in the faces and actions of the actors. And this film could have benefitted greatly from being one of those times.

And the less said about Zombie Strippers, the better. My thought process for deciding to rent the movie went something like this: "I like zombies. I like naked women. How could this possibly go wrong?" Well, for starters, anytime you're casting a porn star in a leading role, you're on shaky ground. Especially when said porn star is surrounded with corn-fed Nebraskans and their insipid ramblings on Nietzche and the nature of existence, clearly written by someone who took one philosophy class in high school and decided they could give Aristotle a run for his money. But I think the worst offense committed by the film is the violation of one of the cardinal rules of low-budget post modern horror movies: If you don't have the money to do an effect convincingly, do it spectacularly cheaply. Rather than make use of latex and things, peoples heads regularly explode in geysers of cheap CGI blood. Gunshots are represented not by blanks, not even by cheesy sound effects, but by computer generated approximations of muzzle flashes that would embarass Ed Wood. Someone seems to have had one lesson in After Effects and thought they were George Lucas. And finally, if ever I find myself teaching a class on screenwriting, I will begin with the following thought: "If you are writing a script, and you reach the point where the next logical progression is to have someone shoot pool balls out of their vagina, something has gone horribly, horribly wrong. Now get out of my sight, all of you."

Straying from the subject of film, I recently met someone who is responsible for a web comic. It amused me, so I thought I would share it with my loyal devotees. (Before I paste the link, I will take a moment to let the deafening silence and tumbleweed pass.) The comic, Darwin Carmichael is Going to Hell, can be found at http://dcisgoingtohell.com. Anyone who knows me will understand why I find it amusing by simply looking at the first two panels of the first comic. And if the comic doesn't take off, they should at least be able to unload the domain name for a hefty sum.
-TC

I Sold My Soul To Nexterday

2008-12-28T14:40:00.000-08:00

The avid followers of my life might be wondering what I've been up to lately, as I haven't posted anything in a while. This has not been because nothing has been happening, but rather because I have been suffering from the rare occurrences of both business and Vermontiness at the same time. The first left me with little free time, and the second left me with only shoddy, sporadic, and stolen internet connections. So, in brief, here are some of the highlights of my life.

I got a new job. One of my old company's clients is paying almost my full salary to work about eight days a month for them. So in a rare but welcome change of pace, I win! But the best part is that the day after I started my new job, the CEO of National Lampoon (who just bought my old company, putting me out of work) was charged with securities fraud, along with several other executives. Schadenfreude never tasted so sweet.

Just before my first day of work, I went to Schedule B of Confronting Chekhov, a series of short plays inspired by the playwright. There were six plays, all of which were highly enjoyable. Sleepy, the only one based directly on a short story by Chekhov, involved a woman with a baby going mad. Perhaps I'm a terrible human being, but how can you not enjoy the theme of a child destroying someone's mental stability? Sexy Monk was based on a seemingly gimmicky premise of putting a monk on a "You Bet Your Life" type reality TV show, but managed to win me over with such quips as the monk observing that "life is wonderful if you don't think of it as important." But the real highlights of the show were the final two plays, Through the Red and Dr. Chekhov, Gunshot expert. The first was an interesting tale of a young American woman on a trip to help rebuild post-Soviet Russia. The second was a delightfully absurd mixture of Chekhovian drama and Marx Brothers-esque wackiness, with just a hint of post-modern deconstructionism to keep things interesting. A good night, all around.

And then a week later, I found myself in Vermont. Within half an hour of arriving in the unnecessarily snowy state, I found myself at a solstice party where a man lectured me at length on how there are natural cycles that we aren't in tune to, all based on the Fibonacci sequence, and how a man who was shot several years ago in Brattleboro was the result of a World War II cycle. And then he told my mother she needed to "connect with the ocean." Going home is always a good way to understand why you are who you are.

As a random aside, I've been listening to Nexterday by Ric Ocasek rather a lot lately, and I highly recommend that others do the same. The former frontman of The Cars and producer of such notable works as the first two self-titled Weezer albums, Ocasek hasn't had the most successful solo career, but he has put out a few albums that I think are just great, and this one may well be my favorite.

And now I am back in New York. We'll see what happens next.
-TC

Keys

2008-12-12T08:25:00.000-08:00

Wednesday was my last day of work.

So on Thursday I was at work, and on my way out the door, I took out my keys to lock the door for what was to really, truly be the last time. But then I thought, "No, that's too easy, locking the door and leaving." So instead, I took out my keys and with the sort of flourish that only a sleep deprived tall man can quite manage, I dropped my keys down the elevator shaft.

I spent the next hour on the phone trying to find someone who could put me in touch with the superintendent for the building. Then I spent the following hour standing in the freezing rain waiting for him to come. After that second hour, I got a call telling me that the super wasn't really coming.

I went back today, and after ladies behind the desk of the shoe store next door fininshed laughing at me, they had a man who didn't speak any English but had mastered hand motions indicating how tall I was lead me down to the elevator motor room, where I collected my keys.

A typical Thursday, really.
-TC

No More Porn...Or Other Work For That Matter

2008-12-01T08:37:00.000-08:00

The good news is, my company is not being bought by a porn company. The deal fell through, and all the porn magically vanished from my desk one day.

The bad news is, that puts my company back into dire financial straits.

The good news is, my company is being bought by National Lampoon.

The bad news is, they are shutting down my office.

My last day of work will be next Wednesday. Suddenly, porn doesn't seem so bad...
-TC

Vomit?

2008-11-22T20:40:00.000-08:00

I'm having one of those odd life moments. I walked into my bathroom and found an unidentifiable substance on my sink. It didn't look like vomit, but I had no other plausible explanation for what else it even might be.
-TC

No More Porn

2008-11-21T18:41:00.000-08:00

I think I am either unemployed or I work for National Lampoon now. I'm really not sure which.
-TC

Hypothetical

2008-11-17T18:50:00.001-08:00

So, let's play the hypothetical game. Let's say, hypothetically, you're at work. And you're working. And you overhear a conference call involving raised voices and more than one occurrence of the word "bankruptcy." Would you be concerned?
-TC

Montreal

2008-11-16T11:12:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I went to Montreal for a sandwich. And then I drove back.

While there, I also ate poutine. For the uninitiated, it is a French Candadian dish consisting of french fries smothered in brown gravy and cheese curds. And while it sounds like the most disgusting thing ever, it was actually quite delicious.

But the real revelation of the day was the Coke. I ordered a Coke in Canada, expecting nothing out of the ordinary, and discovered that they make it with sugar rather than high-fructose corn syrup. The difference was astounding. Clearly this is a truly great civilization.
-TC

Spaghetti

2008-11-11T19:30:00.000-08:00

Today at work I somehow managed to go the entire day without making any porn. But I did see a nude lady rolling around in a giant bowl of spaghetti. As she was more frolicking in than cavorting with the pasta, I'm pretty sure it doesn't count.
-TC

Doctor Atomic

2008-11-09T15:12:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I went to a live broadcast of the premiere of an opera about Los Alamos called Doctor Atomic. I felt a bit silly, as it was being broadcast from The Met, which was about three blocks away from the theater I was in.

Knowing nothing about opera as I do, it was an enjoyable experience. The stage design was very good, the singers and orchestra both performed very well. And an interesting depiction of how the scientists coped with the moral dimension of their work, or, more frequently, avoided the moral dimension entirely. All around an enjoyable afternoon at the opera at the movies.
-TC

Jobs

2008-11-04T10:43:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I found the perfect job. It was as an assistant editor, and only involved using programs I am pretty proficient with. Plus, it sounded like a cool, laid-back work environment where I could meet new people, learn new things, and generally enjoy myself. The only odd thing was that part of the application process involved going to their website and writing about what your favorite video was and why. It struck me as unusual, but whatever, if it gets me a job that isn't in porn, I'll write as many essays as they want. But then I went to their website and found that it was one of the many sites marketing themselves as "The YouTube of Porn."

I hope it goes without saying at this point that I didn't apply. Nor did I hang around long enough to determine what my favorite video was or why. Though I suppose if they need an answer, it was the one that kept me from discovering that I was a pornographer two months after I accepted the job.
-TC

In Poor Taste

2008-11-01T06:34:00.000-07:00

I managed to come up with the best Halloween costume assembled entirely from the few things I could steal from the costume rack at work that came in the "freakishly large" size. I had middle-eastern clothing, a slightly undersized bowler, and a fake severed head. I was Lou Costello in Abbott and Costello Meet the Iraqi War Correspondent. Fortunately for the sake of taste, I had nowhere to go, so no one else was subjected to my genius.
-TC

Columbia Dance Majors

2008-10-28T06:31:00.000-07:00

This weekend I drove six hours for French toast. It really is that good. After driving another six hours back, my friend asked if I wanted to make an appearance with him at this gathering. I said sure, as I am always up for meeting new people to fail to talk to, and we showed up. It was of course pouring rain in New York, and I hadn't shaved in a good week or so. So upon our arrival, I have a pretty strong appearance of being a hobo.

It turned out that the "gathering" in question was less a party than a get-together for a group of Columbia dance majors who were premiering a dance video many of them had done together. And, of course, I knew no one. Being me, I used this opportunity to talk to no one and just sort of hang around creepily. That is, until I left, and I blew up a lamp, covering the room in shards of glass.

Here's what happened. I went to put on my jacket, and I was standing next to this lamp. It was the sort where there is a bare bulb on top, and a cheap plastic bowl shaped thing underneath, usually attached with a locking nut of some sort. However, this particular lamp had nothing attaching it at all, and as my newly coated arm came down, I hit the rim, and it tried to come flying off. Trouble was, the bulb was considerably smaller than the hole in the bottom, and the whole thing shattered and flew all over the room and all the gathered dance majors.

Point being, I am pretty sure I am now known amongst the Columbia dance set as "the creepy hobo who breaks your house." A typical Saturday night all around.
-TC

A Series of Unfortunate Events

2008-10-23T17:43:00.001-07:00

So, you know that feeling you get when you're at work editing porn and a stranger comes in, mistakes you for a secretary, and hands you eviction papers for your office? 'cause I do.

In other words, it was a typical day at the office.

As many may already be aware, porn has deep pockets, and I was bought a brand new iMac at work that exists solely for the purpose of ripping old, bad porn DVDs. However, when this process began our instructions were simply "rip these DVDs," and we failed to interpret that as "rip the individual scenes from these DVDs as separate movie files." So, silly us, we Started ripping entire feature length porn DVDs. When this error was cleared up, I was instructed to go back into the QuickTime files we created and cut these movies down to their individual elements. So, over the course of two days, I have been editing nearly five terabytes worth of porn. It's good that I never meet women I can try to impress, because it's becoming increasingly difficult to honestly say "I am a video editor, and I do not work in porn." But that's neither here nor there.

As I was nearing completion of this project, a man walked into my office and caught me at it. Now, it is worth remembering that there is a children's charity run out of the back, so whenever people walk in, I do my best to hide any porn that may be in plain view. But, just in case I'm not fast enough, I try to screw my face up in look of deep concentration so that if anyone does catch me, they will immediately realize that I am hard at work and not enjoying myself. Though to be fair, since I then immediately hide what I'm doing anyway, they might just think I am a very dour man who enjoys pornography.

In any case, the man looked at me and said "I have these papers for someone." I then promptly said to myself for the first time in my life, "Hey, I'm someone!" And since the man seemed disinclined to offer any more clues as to what he was holding or who it was for, I agreed to take them. He handed me a loose stack of about a half a dozen copies of the same form: A letter from our landlord's lawyer informing us that if we don't pay the rent within the next ten days (which we appear not to have done for a very long time), we must vacate the premises. I know my company isn't in great financial shape, but I was still a bit surprised to learn that a company that seems inclined towards paying me so well, if never on time, is about to end up on the street. But there was nothing really to do but bring the papers back and give them to someone. So I did, and like a good American, I didn't ask any questions.

A few minutes later, our accountant stormed out asking if the man had asked for him by name, or if the papers had at least come in an envelope, and I said no. And he started off on a nice little tangent about how irresponsible of the lawyer that was. "It's not a big deal because we have no secrets here and we've known this was coming, but if this had been a real company and people saw this, there'd be a lot of panic." Clearly not panicking, I paused for a moment to assess the implication that I wasn't working for a real company, but I let it slide. The accountant explained that this was all part of an on-going discussion with the land-lord, told me that we are not moving out in ten days, so I shouldn't worry. And for a lack of anything better to do, I decided to take his word for it. At least for the next ten days. At that time I might start asking myself what kind of discussion actually involves not paying someone and having them send a lawyer after you.
-TC

Pornographizing

2008-10-21T15:42:00.000-07:00

Among the characteristics that make us human, denial and rationalization are among the most treasured. For example, when I found out my company made "adult" comedy, I decided that it was okay, because it was theoretically comedy, and I support comedy in all forms. Then when I found out we were being bought by a porn company, I decided it was okay, because I wasn't making porn. Then when I found out I had to rip DVDs and log some footage, I decided it was okay, because that is relatively uninvolved work, and it's not like it actually requires me to think about what I'm doing. But today I discovered that I will actually have to cut some porn tomorrow. And I finally had to admit that I am in fact a pornographer. I have officially relinquished any claim I might ever have had to dignity or self-respect, and I may finally run wild and free with my pornographer brothers.
-TC

An Odd Feeling

2008-10-17T16:43:00.000-07:00

It's a very odd feeling to be editing a children's show on one computer and to see transexual porn playing on another. Yet another in a series of observations I was not expecting to be making at this point in my life.
-TC

Six Toes

2008-10-15T17:25:00.000-07:00

Today I was mentally undressing a girl on the subway, and as I looked down I noticed she had six toes. So I mentally put some socks on her.
-TC

W.

2008-10-14T14:18:00.000-07:00

I was supposed to attend the premiere of Oliver Stone's "W." tonight. It was not entirely for pleasure, as I had too do sound for some red carpet interviews, but all things considered, life could be worse. But apparently that's not happening, and apparently it's because of the Chinese government. I'm not entirely clear on the details, but I don't suspect they're going to get a whole lot clearer than that.

It's the story of my life, really. Every time something good happens in my life, a communist country comes along and ruins it. I am still reasonably sure that the fact that I am single can be traced back to Cuba.
-TC

New York City

2008-10-12T16:04:00.001-07:00

For those of you who have not been following the saga of my life as closely as you should be, I suppose you're wondering exactly what it is that I'm doing with my life. I have been living in New York City since April, where I have found a previously unimaginable degree of prosperity. It didn't take me long before I got a job with a major credit card as a "data analyst." What that means is that I got paid to look up online to see if people take their credit card, which you'd think they'd know, but apparently they needed me to tell them.

But only three weeks into it, I managed to wrangle a job as head video editor for a small comedy studio. While the pay is insulting by New York video editor standards, it is easily the most I have ever made at a regular, full-time job, so it's not hard to keep my spirits up, which is a nice change of pace. And what is more, it affords me the opportunity to get paid to work with comedy, my one true passion in life. Having been in the city for just a few short months, I had managed to find a great apartment and land my dream job, and I was able to do it all on my own. Needless to say, I was walking around the city with my head held high and a bounce in my step. The operating word here would be "was." That all changed one day when I bounced my way into work and discovered that I now work for one of the largest porn companies in the US.

I am sure you have a question or two, but let me back up for one second. When I originally interviewed for this job, I had been told that they do a small amount of adult oriented comedy. I took this to mean that they did comedy with adult subject matter. Blue comedy, if you will. But shortly after I started working there, I discovered that they meant "adult" in the biblical sense of "porn." (I read a very good bible.) They produce things like comedians doing "funny" commentary over Girls Gone Wild type videos. I hadn't thought there was anything in life that could be more demeaning than taking your top off for beads on camera until I saw someone taking their top off for beads on camera with untalented comedians making fun of them. It's hard to say whose life is going more poorly there. But at least the girls don't have to admit that this is their career. The comedians do, and unfortunately, so do I.

After another short while, I got to see some of the other adult comedy they produce. Perhaps the most bizarre segment is one where they take old footage of unwitting stand-up comedians, put it on one side of the screen, and slap a girl stripping on the other side. The girl was probably equally unwitting, but to be fair, it's probably less damaging for a stripper's career to have her show juxtaposed with a comedian on TV than the other way around. I wasn't especially happy about the voice-over segments, but I was okay with it, because even if it's not funny in the most traditional sense, I can at least understand the theory that having a comedian make jokes about something is in fact comedy. So on a very, very theoretical level, I could see how the Girls Gone Wild stuff constituted humor. But no matter how hard I try to rationalize, I just can't see how any humor is added to stand-up by simply slapping a nude lady over it. And whenever I tell people about it, they always laugh, but not in the way I think they're meant to.

Oddly enough for a company that produces edgy porn-comedy, they've been having financial difficulties. To this day, I have yet to be paid on time, and after a month or so, I found out that I was the only person being paid at all. No one was being paid because there was no money, and I was only being paid because I make so little of it that even when they were going broke, they could still afford me. Point being, work had been a stressful environment, but I remained hopeful that they could turn things around, as my boss always talks up the connections they have. And of course, I have endless faith in the power of comedy.

But after I'd been with this company for a month or two, my boss walked up to my desk and said "We've been bought." Seeing my no doubt surprised expression, he quickly added "And that's a good thing." He then proceeded to tell me that we had in fact been bought by an adult entertainment company. Fighting back the urge to ask "And how exactly does that qualify as a good thing," I tried my best to keep the frozen smile on my face from turning into a look of horror when I wasn't paying attention.

He explained that the president of my company was in fact a huge porn mogul ("a junior league Hef" is the phrase he used). When asked to become vice president of this adult company and help them launch some new companies, he said he would accept on the condition that they buy and fund the comedy studio. I asked what felt like an obvious question: "How will this effect the content we produce each month?" After a good half-hour of him explaining the history of this deal and the history of everyone involved (coincidentally, everyone at this company but he has a background in porn), I finally stopped him and guessed "So you're saying, our content won't be changing, and our company will continue to exist with its current business plan, but we can expect some bleed-over work while these other companies the president is starting get off the ground a bit?" And he said yes. And I died a little inside.

This was all several weeks ago. In the time since then, not only has my company made me shoot a series of events for a children's charity, but porn has slowly become a more and more pronounced part of my day-to-day life. So far it has only relatively low-end and uninvolved work, but the phrase "thin end of the wedge" keeps coming to mind. The other editor who works for me really hopes we're going to actually start producing porn so we can get to do some camera work with naked girls. Or at least I think that's what he said, all I could hear was "I have no artistic ambition or future."

It probably goes without saying at this point, but I have started applying for other jobs.
-TC

Welcome

2008-10-11T18:48:00.000-07:00

For years now, people have been trying to convince me to start a blog. Perhaps they are under the sadly misguided impression that I am funny. Or perhaps the schadenfreude they derive from observing the constant degradation that accompanies me in my day-to-day walking around time gives enough solace to their otherwise dreary lives that they are able to hold their heads up for one more day. Who can say?

I have never regarded myself as the sort of person whose life and opinions were worth putting on public display, and I often wonder why it is that everyone seems to think I am a natural born blogger. As much as our culture tends to embrace the potential for technology to network and bring people from disparate worlds together, I have always regarded those who actually do so as sad, desperate people who need to create a web of virtual camaraderie to mask the emptiness and isolation of modern living by fueling the fire of an otherwise unsatisfied sense of self-importance. And whenever someone suggesta that I should join in the festivities, I always ask myself, do I really want to be one of those people?

But I finally paused for a moment to take stock in my life, and I came to some startling realizations. I have very few real friends and the sort of abundant free time that comes from having nothing of interest or value going on in my life; I have an innate sense that the world should be revolving around me and considerable bitterness about the fact that it doesn't; I hold very strong opinions in spite of the fact that I am ill informed about virtually everything. In short, I already am one of those people.

So, I finally decided to give it a shot. I will use this space to update the world with all the awkward stories that come my way, which if the past can be taken as any sort of measure, will happen rather frequently. And in between moments of excruciating awkward, I will fill the silence with the inanities of my life and the random musings that occupy my thoughts.

To the extent that you care, I hope you enjoy.
-TC