Friday, March 25, 2011

Google-Mapped: The College Years - Part 1

So many months ago I decided to Google-Map everywhere I've lived since birth. Alas, GM hasn't tackled Havre de Grace just yet so it looks like GM only knows of my humble abodes from college on.

While my memory is still intact I'm going to attempt to share some memories/thoughts of each place I've lived. Of experiences that occurred while inside that domicile.


Freshman year at Towson (State) University. To this day I wish I lived at least one semester on campus.

Lived with a Craig, Jim, and a Cheryl. Craig owned the house - I barely remember him. Cheryl I don't remember at all – just her face. Jim, ugh, I remember.

Lived in the (finished) basement. Wood paneling! Woo hoo!! And i'm serious.

I had spoken to family off and on about needing a typewriter for school papers. God love it, my grandparents, on their first trip down to visit me brought me one. Mind you it was a typewriter from, I think, the 1940's. Did I care? Nope. Hunters-and-peckers can't be choosy. Plus I thought it was cool when I handed in papers. Would always get a second or third look from the professor.

Hated asking family for money. And didn't even think about working. Couldn't actually – was completing all 6 crews in the theater dept in 2 semesters. Which isn't normal but I had minimal social life so I figured what the heck. Anyway, no money so I tended to ummm “borrow” food from my roommates. Some I got away with but not... the milk. Jim's milk. And he wasn't a friendly person in the first place. When confronted I'd deny that it was me. How he figured out his milk was disappearing I didn't know. That is until he told me he started marking a line on the milk container every time he was finished. Did I stop? Nope. I would just fill to the line with water what I drank of the milk. I guess my conscience got the better of me, though. While I never told Jim it was me I told my parents I really needed food money. So I got a check every 2 weeks. Being a welfare kid I was pretty good about budgeting my money so never really ate anybody else's food there again. Wait, do desserts count?

My worst experience with Jim happened 2nd semester. I was a big-time snooper. One day while looking under his mattress I found some porn. Straight porn. I was straight back then. Seriously. You calling me a liar? I looked at it. Just looked. Nothing more. Simply 'cause I didn't do “that” back then. Seriously. Not until I was 20 or something but I digress. Anyway, was pretty good about putting things away where I found them and not getting caught. UNTIL. I had come home from school and no one had been home for a while so figured I'd venture my way up to Jim's room. Opened the door and turned on the light. Jim's girlfriend, Queenie, screamed like no one's business. I apologized, slammed the door shut and went down to my room. Later that night Jim asked me what I was doing in his room. I lied and said I'd heard noises coming from upstairs so I was checking everyone's rooms. He seemed like he believed me but who knows. Barely talked to me the rest of my time at the house.

I made sure classes were done by 3:30 each day so I could hurry home to watch Dancin' on Air (based out of NJ) at 4pm on Channel 17. Our generation's American Bandstand.

Oh, and I also watched Kids Incorporated faithfully. Don't judge.

I made the mistake the of leaving a plastic bowl in the basin next to the washer before heading off to school one day. Oh, and I used the washer before I left as well. Didn't realize said bowl would cover the hole of basin thus not allowing washer water to drain properly. Came home to a partially flooded basement. The part that wasn't my bedroom. The part where everyone stored boxes and such. This was a month into living there. Surprisingly, I wasn't kicked out. My 135-pound self had no problem with crying on cue to get me out of sticky situations.

Friday, March 18, 2011


I had the privilege of being a movie extra this past week for 2 nights – 13.5 hours Monday night and 10 hours Tuesday night.

These are my thoughts and observations of those nights.

Garry Marshall films shouldn't exist. They cater to the lowest common denominator. As my bf, Dan, so eloquently put it – he's the Applebee's of directors. Maybe I'm still mad at him for screwing up “Exit to Eden” as bad as he did.

I REALLY REALLY REALLY need to get headshots taken. Damn shame I haven't found out how to take a decent picture. Hate my smile, or lack thereof. For some reason the majority of pictures taken of me make me look like white trash. Or my right eye “dies” mid-flash. And these big-ass cheeks make my face look funny. If I ever win the lottery big (well, it would help if I played it) I would get all new teeth and have my cheeks deflated. But, yeah, I need to perfect a smile and get headshots. I miss acting. Damn my insecurities!

I've never been a participator of New Year's Eve festivities anyway but to spend a good portion of the evening reenacting New Year's Eve in Times Square? Over and over again? Miming cheers. Screaming and cheering. Miming cheers. Counting down. Miming cheers. Wiped me out.. haven't acted that hard in ages.

I think for every 10 people I meet in life I like 1 of them and can tolerate, maybe, 3 of them. One of the few people I did meet and loved talking to? We were split up to go film different scenes and, unfortunately, our paths never crossed again. There were at least 800+ extras. And I never got her name. I'm really bad about introducing myself.

I'm extremely grateful for the socks Dan knitted me. I only wish I would have worn them the first night as well.

For the most part Jon Bon Jovi's music does nothing for me so that was interesting having to dance to his music in a pretty cramped setting. I decided to go the apathetic route and move minimally – after all I'm pretty certain in real life not everyone out on NYE is gonna be into a certain artist. I'm all about the realism.

Watching old people dance to Jon Bon Jovi is interesting.

Oh and I lucked out. Managed to avoid wearing the Nivea “fun” hats and carrying the Nivea “fun” balloons the whole time. Sweet.

Seriously, we're in a crowded setting and you're gonna light up just because we're on a little break? Oh wait, I just saw you're missing a few teeth and you have some nasty-ass sallow skin. That explains it. God I hate smoking.

I'm a freak. Not sure what prompts me at times to actually tell people what I'm thinking. There was this girl who was talking to her friends. Then she was alone. I decide to approach her and remark “Okay, you're gonna think I'm weird but just had to tell you you have a great look. Not hitting on you because I'm gay. Just think you're cute as hell. And the outfit on you – well, you're just put together very nicely. Okay, I'm gonna shut up and walk over there. Hope you're having a good time.” And then I walk away – making NO eye contact whatsoever again with her. I'm a freak I tell ya.

Hillary Swank is really pretty in person.

Wish someone was taping me/my face when I realized what kind of scene we were doing at one point. New Year's Eve ball stops dropping, interrupted by a main character's speech on a big monitor. We in the crowd are wondering what in the hell is going on. The speech goes on we're taking in every word. Come the end of it we're applauding it. Not that it's the end but we're proud of what she's said. Yeah, it's one of THOSE films. I can't stand films where a character imposes himself and his thought on a crowd. Again, lowest common denominator. Damn you, Garry Marshall!!

Much like I think it's mandatory everyone in the US should have Health Care I think everyone should have V05 Treatments, if needed.

Was making me mad when people would say “Yeah, but it's hard when you're directing 600 people.” No, no it isn't. One or 600, when you're told to stop talking you need to stop talking. One or 600, when you're told to walk to this spot you've obviously heard because you are walking only to stop and talk to a friend. I don't get it.

Craft Service food was pretty good. The stuff I ate at least.

I so wanted to see Sophia Vergera in person. I've got a mad 5-on-the-Kinsey-Scale crush on her.

To those who wondered why we couldn't be filming in the Summer? Really, you want to be wearing coats, scarves, gloves in NYC Summer heat? I didn't think so.

I'm now gonna pay attention to crowd scenes more often. Should be fun spotting the same people over and over again. Just in different settings.

Must get my ass over to Central Casting next Friday.