My most recent column (www.art-barn.com) was about awful television ad campaigns. Almost as soon as I'd submitted it, I thought of three or four other ad campaigns that really suck. The one that takes the cake for sucking, however, is Geico. Geico Insurance runs two separate, but equally awful campaigns simulataneously:

1. We at Geico are boring. The most popular one of these is a guy in a suit standing in an office talking about how boring they are. How they operate 24 hours a day. Shit like that. I'd tell you exactly what he said, but I can't even pay attention to the stupid 15-second spot. I've tried to follow it, if only for the sake of writing about it, but I get so bored that I start daydreaming. Seriously, though, who says, "That's what I'm looking for in car insurance: boring-ness"?

2. The gecco. There's a little computer-generated gecco that gets calls for Geico because people screw up looking up his name in the phone book. This bit has progressed into even stupider shit like a woman swinging the gecco around because she's so fucking happy with her car insurance. The gecco is completely without charm. And he speaks in this snooty accent. Even if he were an adorable lizard, he's still a lizard! No one likes lizards! Heck, no one really likes reptiles! And those people who keep reptiles as pets are kind of weird. There's nothing more annoying than watching someone make kissy faces at a snake or a chameleon. And you have to sit in their weird apartment and smile nervously, pretending that what they're doing is okay.

I don't think I've mentioned it here, but I recently was hired to be a long-term substitute teacher of English at a Catholic high school. While I'm really excited about it, it's also really weird. Today I met with the teacher I'm replacing. And during our conversation, it dawned on me that teachers are actually people. When I was in high school, I thought that, at the end of the day, teachers would put on their hats and coats, grab their things, and walk into the closet to power down for the night. I never really thought they were real people. And now I'm one of them. It's creepy because I'm claustrophobic and I don't think I could sleep in a closet.

Usually I just complain about the heat so I think it only fair to say that it's cooled down quite a bit this past week. Special thanks to Matty for buying us a fan. It has made my living room a much better place to be.

The Vegas tourism council runs a lot of ads in LA. Tonight I saw a couple of the bolder ones. One involved this guy sitting in his office where five beautiful women in bikinis were playing volleyball. The guy was trying to think of the name of a club. When he couldn't think of it, all the girls threw their bikinis on his desk. I'm still trying to figure out what that meant.

The other wasn't so odd, but I was shocked by its boldness. This one was for Treasure Island Casino. It shows attractive people saying things like, "I'm leaving my inhibitions behind this weekend," while they stare suggestively at one another. At one point, one woman looks at another. It's a sexually charged look. The one woman says, "I'm throwing out the rules this weekend." I mean, why doesn't she just say, "I can sleep with another woman in Vegas and it'll still be like I'm straight!"

Then again, maybe that's just the imaginings of my perverted mind.

On Saturdays, I take an improv class at the Improv Olympic on Hollywood Boulevard. If you haven't been, Hollywood Boulevard is kind of a crazy place. So it wasn't too shocking to find what was going on there when I left class. I walked into the lobby to find the theater manager and his friend staring out the window. Outside, a girl in a long black leather trench coat was crossing the street. She opened her coat as we grinned at her to reveal her topless torso and a bunch of dildos inside the lining.

We soon found out that she was doing a hidden-camera show for Playboy TV. The producers got out of their van and asked if they could shoot from inside the theater. Pretty soon, they asked if I wanted to go pretend I didn't know it was all a set up. So I walked up and she started talking to me. Here was our conversation:

She: Do you want to buy a dildo?
Me: Uh, not really. Why would I want one when I've got the real thing?
She: Get one for your girlfriend. Check out how cool they are.

She then starts begging me to touch all these dildos and plays with them in front of me.

Me: Why don't you try to sell them to women?
She: They usually slap me in the face. Here, play with this one (handing me another dildo).
Me: Of all the things inside your jacket, I think the dildos are the last thing I want to play with.

Then she pointed out the cameras. I think I did a real lame job of making it look natural. Who knows, though? Hopefully, in a few months, friends will start calling and say, "Uh, did I see you on, um, . . . oh, forget it."

Every time I hear about the movie Seabiscuit, I think that that's a term for farting in the ocean.

I have to retract my praise for A Million Little Pieces. It's a shame too. It's a good book that's main failure is not being great. I'm like that with a lot of things. I mean, I can watch a mediocre movie and recommend it to people, but I end up hating movies that could have been great. Saving Private Ryan is a decent example. If it didn't have that stupid, bullshit intro and outro, that movie could have been great. (Okay, maybe it also could have done without some of the Jeremy Davies storyline.) But that pisses me off more than watching, say, The Hulk, which I didn't expect to be all that great.


In other news, it's still hot as balls.

You know what's my favorite thing to do when it's hot out? Complain!

No one should pick up Yoga For People Who Can't Be Bothered To Do It by Geoff Dyer. Instead of hearing things about the places the author visits, we get to hear about his friends' goofy nicknames, the in-jokes he and his friends had while fucked up on drugs, the author's profound experiences at Burning Man, and diatribes about losing sunglasses. It's been a long time since I stopped reading a book mid-way. I was tempted to do it with this one, but I didn't want to give the guy the satisfaction.

Everyone ought to pick up A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. It's really good and you won't be able to put it down.

Jesus it's hot! Southern California is not supposed to be this hot . . . at least not where I am. It's supposed to be nice, just on the line between cool and warm. This is just hot. And I can't handle it. I could never handle heat. When they say, "If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen," they're talking to me.

Growing up, I didn't have air conditioning. Well, we did when we first moved into our house. We had those window units and my brother and I would blast the A/C until we had icicles on our noses. (Cold I can handle.) Then my dad decided to replace all the windows. He used this kind of window that couldn't hold an air conditioner. So I spent many a muggy New Jersey summer sweating in bed, not sleeping, feeling like I was going to go apeshit because I couldn't sleep and I couldn't cool down.

It may not be as humid out here, but I'm still sweating like crazy. It's awful. You come out of the shower and you already need another one. Worst of all, it seems every apartment in my building (except mine!) has an air conditioner. I think I'm going to have to make friends before I go completely bonkers from the heat.

One of my college friends just informed me that this guy we knew used to work for Lorne Michaels. This isn't so odd except that this guy was such a royal fuck-up. He did drugs like it was a contest. He got kicked out of school in the first semester. Once, he peed on his roommate while the guy was sleeping.

When I think about the wrong decisions I've made in my life, I don't usually think that I should've done more drugs. My friend says it's never too late to start.

Got an invite to a friend's wedding reception in the mail the other day. I have to bring a date. Since I haven't been dating anyone for a while, I'm thinking about having a contest. I could post on Craig's List that I'm looking for a date for this reception. (It's a formal event with free dinner and open bar, so I'm sure some lovely woman would be interested in going.) If I really want to go all out, I could sell the idea to Fox and they could base a reality show around it. Like, we could rent a hall and have a pageant of sorts. After five grueling elimination rounds, I narrow the pool down to two girls. The one I choose gets made over and put into some fancy duds. I get outfitted with a Puma tuxedo. Then they film our wonderful event . . . including the part where I introduce my date to my ex-girlfriend. High fucking drama!

I emailed something to someone yesterday that I thought was AWFULLY clever. This friend of mine (shout out D-Nizzy!) recently moved to San Francisco so he sent everyone his new address. It was some place on Lombard Street, which is that really curvy street up there (Is anything straight in San Francisco?). So I replied and said, "When you stumble home drunk, do you think that you're actually walking in a straight line?"

I'm a moron.

Today I was an extra in a movie. The film is called The Woman and I think I overheard someone say that it's got the guy who was #2 in Austin Powers. You know, that guy who's like a poor man's Robert Urich.

Anywho, my scene does not involve that guy, whatever his name is. My scene takes place in a hotel restaurant. As a couple walks into the restaurant, you'll notice a couple checking in at the hotel counter. That's me . . . . with some woman. At first we imagined ourselves as a young couple on vacation. After the first take, though, I noted that we didn't have any luggage. So then we decided we were having an affair and we were getting a room so we could knock boots in the middle of the afternoon. I think that information underlies my entire performance (note how quickly I drag my companion off camera!).

Congratulate me! I just got a role in a feature. Okay, so it's an independent and it's shot on digital video and my part isn't that big, it's still really cool. Don't tell my agents or anybody, but this is pretty much the first film part I've gotten where the director wasn't a friend of mine. Methinks I'm going to have to do a lot of good things to pay karma back for this one.

When I hear conversations like the one I heard in the supermarket elevator today, I have no idea how to react. I get into the elevator after an elderly couple. Behind me, another guy, on the cusp of being a senior citizen, rushes in before the door shuts. Except for the couple, no one knows anyone else in the elevator.

"Let's see how much I saved," the late guy says, perusing his receipt.

"You can't save money if you're spending money," the male half of the couple replies.

"I've got to eat, though," the late guy replied.

There's only one floor between the supermarket and the parking deck, but it felt like this lame conversation went on forever. When I'm in situations like this, I don't know whether to contribute something or to tell people that their conversation sucks or what. I usually end up smiling nervously and avoiding eye contact with everyone.

I was watching Big the other day. I've always thought that Elizabeth Perkins, at the end when she's dropping him off at his parents' house, should have said, "Uh, you're like 13 and all . . . and we, ya know, did it . . . and, uhm, we're, uh, cool, right?"



I had such a nice dinner tonight. My friends and I went out to this French restaurant. The food was pretty good, but the waitress was so awesome. When we were leaving, she hugged me. I've never had that happen before. It was totally unexpected, but it made me feel really good. And I like feeling really good.

Tonight was weird. I got back from a barbeque with good friends around midnight. And I felt like going to my local watering hole. I show up, and there's this dude I know, a friend of my roommate's. Barely know the guy. Money's wasted. He calls me over and we have a couple drinks. When he's not hitting on this local barfly, we chat.

And he starts in on how he has nothing to live for. How the only thing keeping him alive is the pride he has that prevents himself from killing himself.

How do you respond to that? That's not a rhetorical question. I really want to know. I have this weird problem: I'm way too good a listener. I'm not trying to toot my own horn, but some people that meet me will tell me their life story . . . the first time I meet them. And I LOVE listening. But sometimes it freaks me out. Like, how do I deal with this guy? I don't even know what he does for a living. The little that I do know about him is that he went to school with my roommate, he's done a LOT of drugs, and he has recently lost a TON of weight because of some weird sickness.

I don't know what to think about all this. I'm a bit freaked out about it right now.

One of the first big stands I made in my life was refusing to recognize Van Halen after they fired David Lee Roth. To me, he is, was, and ever shall be the only front man for that band. I still remember seeing the video for Hot For Teacher at my cousin's house when I was young. My parents wouldn't get cable---mainly because of videos like Hot For Teacher. Looking back on it, it wasn't even that sexy. When I was nine, it definitely gave me a boner. Now, though, it's pretty tame.

Could you picture Sammy Hagar doing that video? Or even that song? It was David Lee's humor and awesomeness that made Van Halen so much cooler than any similar band. All the other bands took themselves so seriously. Van Halen would do goofy videos and have these amazing stage shows with David Lee Roth jumping through rings of fire. Pretty amazing.

That's why I refused to acknowledge Van Halen after they fired him. I admired him too much. Sadly, that's one of those stands that's really difficult to pull off. Here's a typical conversation with someone about Van Halen.

Other person without my high ideals: "You check out that new Van Halen album?"

Me: "Van Halen? They broke up after 1984."

OPWMHI: "No they didn't. They just got a new singer, Sammy Hagar."

Me: "As far as I'm concerned, everyone except David Lee Roth died in a plane crash."

OPWMHI: "Are you kidding? That never happened."

Me: "Dead to me."

OPWMHI: "Look, I've got their new album right here. Look at the faces, same band except with Hagar. Look at the copyright date. It's brand new."

Me: "Argh! Do you not get that I don't recognize the legitimacy of this band without David Lee Roth?! Jesus, I'm trying to make a stand here!"

OPWMHI: "Wow, you've got really high ideals for a nine-year-old."

My ex-girlfriend had some bad taste in music. After the Bauhaus et al I was listening to earlier, the next three CDs included two gifts from her. One was the Rocky Story: a collection of music from all of the Rocky films. (An aside: It's kind of ironic that they called themselves Survivor.) She also got me a Sinatra collection, the Best of the Capitol Years. These had to have been some of the lamest years in Sinatra's career. It includes stinkers like High Hopes, Love and Marriage, and South of the Border. I mean, if you're going to buy a Sinatra collection, why buy the worst one?

That ex of mine---why did it take me so long to realize that she was not right for me? Maybe it's because my friends didn't speak up. Seriously, guys, next time I make a mistake like that, let me know early and often.

A few weeks ago, I got tired of the CDs I had in my CD player. Usually that warrants a trip to the record store to find something new. Since I've been broke lately, though, I decided to go on a musical journey through all my CDs. So far, I've only made it through about 100 of them, but it's been really interesting. There have been about ten CDs that made me wonder "What was I thinking when I bought this?" But there have been a lot I should have been listening to more (see the Talking Heads post).

Today's selection is a Bauhaus collection. They are seriously underrated, I think. Granted, all anyone knows of them is Bela Lugosi's Dead. Shame. It's a good song, but they had such an inventive and broad range of songs that BLD seems really tame. Anywho, I highly recommend Swing the Heartache: The BBC Sessions. It will take some getting used to, but it's well worth it.

On HBO tonight, they had a documentary about Stanley Kubrick. It's really interesting. Learned a lot about him that makes me want to go re-watch all of his films. Particularly interesting was finding out that he had two major projects that he didn't get to do in his lifetime: one on Napoleon and one on the Holocaust. I missed hearing why he never did Napoleon, but he shelved the Holocaust film when he heard that Spielberg was doing Schindler's List.

Another interesting thing was seeing Pauline Kael's original review for 2001. It was brutal.

Karma works. I never believed in it before this week, but now I'm beginning to see that it can work wonders. 1 deposit, 1 withdrawal from the karma bank today.

Deposit: I let the woman behind me in line at the supermarket go ahead even though I wasn't attracted to her. Well, not that attracted to her.

Withdrawal: An audition. I auditioned for a Right Guard commercial today. This was my first official commercial audition. I don't think I impressed them all that much, though. I mean, I don't think I did any worse than anyone else, but I don't think they were like, "Wow, did you see the way he showed off his pits! What creativity!" Nonetheless, this is one of the things on my karma wishlist. Yeee-haw!!!

Payback time!

Today I went to the Kinko's to get my acting resume printed. I talked to the girl to see if they had 8 x 10 paper. They didn't. So I copied it onto 8.5 x 11 and I asked if she could cut it for me. She did. And here's where karma paid me back: No charge for the cutting!

I saved at least 30 cents.