Milestones, and other things for your weekend.

Earlier this week I achieved something that I hope can one day, in the annals of history, be can only be recognized as not just amazing, but also inspiring.

When I first moved out to California four and a half years ago, I signed up with a website called Sploofus, which is a weird internet time wasting quiz website. But they offer a trivia question of the day, that gets emailed to you, you click the link and have 30 seconds to answer a question that can be about anything from obscure chemical compounds and French Enlightenment artists to who played Raj on "What's Happening?"


(It's Ernest Thomas)

Since joining, I have dutifully answered every question asked of me each and every day, although sometimes when I'm on vacation, or when they have a problem on their end, I let them pile up and have a full out Trivia marathon! (Admit it, I'm the coolest person you know!) Sometimes there are internet connections that get lost, that cause me to not answer the question in the allotted time, but those are few and far between.


Anyway, this week I answered my 1000th trivia question correctly. It was a question about atomic numbers. That host of angelic choir voices you hear are the saints singing my praises.


This is how I saw myself in my mind when I answered it.

Ok, so maybe it wasn't that monumental, but I was really proud and had to share someplace that doesn't matter about a Live Feed versus a News Feed. Plus I didn't really have anything for Milestones besides the title, so I had to try to make something fit.

Something bizarre also happened this week. I was drinking at Johnny's, a bar in Eagle Rock (California, not Jersey, although there is a cool bowling alley in the California Eagle Rock as well) and I came across a man who, in the course of our conversation I learned, has the same tattoo as myself. In the same place. His is just expanded. Thank you, Steven for allowing this picture comparison.

(Mine is the one on the right).

In other news, I have a few reviews up: Pirate Radio, Fantastic Mr. Fox, and The Box. When said aloud and fast, it could pass for a nursery rhyme. Check them out if wanted to know about any of them, and spread them around the interweb like peanut butter.


(Hey, it's Phil. There are pirates here.)

The Top Secret Brady-Mike Project has been sidetracked a little, and I apologize, as I've been doing some other top secret work for the website that should begin poking it's head around the interwebs starting next week. Fear not, it shall be done, and you will know the brilliance. (But some of these things are taking longer than expected).

Speaking of brilliance, I finally managed to get a good copy of "Good Luck" online! You can see it here-



I changed a line that had always bothered me, but I think it's funny and worth checking out. Alternately, I may make a version with director's commentary, if I deem it funny enough.

And I shall leave you with a funny tale. A few weeks back, my friend Jim asks me if I can do him a favor. Jim works in the talking pictures business, and the latest movie his company is working on is a raunchy sex comedy. (Which I've seen and is far better than I thought it was going to be, and way the fuck beyond better than the final piece of shit "Pimpin Pee Wee" I worked on earlier this year).

Jim says they are doing some more shots, and could I help them out by picking up the fake semen.

"Ummm.... what?" was my reply.

"The stuff that we use to make fake semen, for the huge spooge-plosion at the end of the picture!" Jim bellowed*, cigar hanging out of his mouth and bowler hat at rakish angle.

"So, you want me to tool around town with a 55 gallon drum of jizz in my backseat?" I asked. My hat was at nowhere near as rakish an angle.

"No, no, no. It's like a pre-made mix, you pick up the mix, and they add water to it when they're ready to shoot it out of the canon", Jim boldly replied.

"Well that makes much more sense. I'll do it!"

Jim informed me that that I would pick up a one pound bag of the mix, which is just a chemical compound called Methyl Cellulose. It's already paid for, and the best part is it's a hop skip and a jump from apartment.

Let's take a moment and reflect that the movie industry is prepared for anything, so much so that they actually discovered the perfect recipe for creating fake on-screen ejaculate. And that it's ready in pre-mixed bags.

So I pull up to the supply house, and I tell them I'm picking up for the production, and the kind gentleman behind the counter hands me a clear plastic bag that has the mix. The bag, it should be noted, is marked thusly:



And there are two of these in the bag, one on each side, proclaiming the contents within.

When I got to Jim's office, I had to park a few blocks away, and walk down the street with this lovely bag. I got some weird looks, especially from the traffic nazi. That's Hollywood for ya!

Have a great weekend!

(*So, the conversation happened over Instant Messenger, but I continue to believe that Jim works in a 1930s cliche of Hollywood, despite working in the valley next to a hair salon).