He's Dead

If you were wondering who my grandfather was in the war with, he will tell you.  About all of them.  And he will go one by one, telling you the man's name, and that he's dead.  He won't just look at a picture of 40 men in uniforms and say, "They're all dead."  He will go one by one... Steve Smith... he's dead....Gil Conroy... he's dead.... Matt Abbott... he's dead.

And it won't stop until he falls asleep talking about the war..."dead...he's...dead....." Snore.  Run away!

Alamo Draft House

Is the coolest place in the world!!! It's like where movies go to die. In a good way.

You can eat and drink during the movie, but in a cool old fashioned way.  Not a stupid $16 martini Gold Crown Cinema type of way.  $5 Blue Moons. Yes.

And the people working there love movies.

And the posters are original and awesome.

And there are awesome clips before your movie, pertaining to the theme. (I.E. I saw "Anchorman 2" tonight... Why are people not talking about the ridiculousness that is this insane movie?!?.... And before the movie they showed clips of real newscasters flubbing their lines and being idiots... There were some awesome Bill O' Reilly moments worth looking up ...)

And apparently there's this thing where you like... I forgot what it's called. But it's like a grab bag. You sign up for a ticket and you don't know what movie you're going to see. And you show up at the theatre and crazy shit happens. 

IE:

Some people showed up at the theatre. Were told to get on a bus. We're driven to some deserted Texas road where suddenly... Zombies started attackin them!!!! They ran to an abandoned church where there was a big projector... And we're shown "Dawn of the Living Dead."  That's the coolest fucking surprise grab bag I've ever heard of.  When you're next in TX... Go here.

http://drafthouse.com/austin

Kingsville

(Imagine very thick Texas accents for all below)

Grandpa at Walmart:

Well someone's already been drinkin this one...

Meeting friends at Walmart:

"My daughter and grandchild are in town!"

House my mom was born in.

Conversation in the car:

-That's the woods that Uncle Pooh got lost in after he was chasin that armadilla. - Who'd he got lost with?

-That crazy Ingles girl.

- oh yeah she went insane later.

-oh no, it wasn't her.  It was that other girl down the street. The other one.

- oh, she started runnin later on with that Manson boy. Lil Charlie.

Me: Charles Manson?

- Yep. And over here is the post office!

Texas

There's nothing like visiting your grandparent's house to make you feel like something terrible is imminent.  Like you're about to catch a "chill" that will immediately kill you. Or all these Precious Moments figurines staring at you are going to all combine into one Transformers Precious Moment and shoot you.

Old fashioned hat racks everywhere... With no hats on them, looking like a barren tree in the scariest winter.

Eh...

Everything is creepy...

2014

The year I start blogging EVERY SINGLE DAY.
I'm going to do it.
Why?  Because I'm very important.
Just kidding.
I'm going to start blogging (Carson) daily because I'm a better writer when I'm writing emails to the 7 girls that read this blog.  For some reason, when these women are my audience, I am so much funnier and articulate and know more about Pangea.
I'm trying to figure out how to make this private so only ya'll can read it, *but I can't figure it out.  I'm going to do that so I can start writing about insane things I don't want bosses or Internet People (Obama) to find out about me.  Because my privacy settings will definitely keep the government out.  God, stop stalking me, Government.
(By the way, government, why isn't there a "w" in "stalking?"  It's like "walking."  It should be "stawlking."  Please take this into consideration.)

Until then... stay posted.  Tomorrow's post is going to be about me discovering how to navigate the world of... nail polish.  STAY TUNED FOR THIS CRAZY EXCITING SHIT!!!

(Picture includes 7 women (3 electronic) not being rude, but being good at staying in touch with friends)

*One of my biggest pet peeves is when you watch a "how to" video and they click on something, and you click on the same thing... and it takes you to a completely different looking page than the one the video person is on.  Yeah, I'd like to click that button next like you are doing... BUT I DON'T POSSESS THAT BUTTON!!!  THAT BUTTON DOES NOT EXIST FOR ME.
So until now, everyone can read this.  But hopefully I can make it so it's just you guys.  If anyone knows, give me a holla.

Don Yeager

I finally had one moment of happiness during spec writing.   I've been wanting to confess to a jury that I'm a horrible person who doesn't deserve life because I've been hating myself so much for not producing an apt portfolio of my writing.  It seems like once a year I should produce a spec or play that is great.  Nope.  They just get slightly better than the thing produced the previous year that was just okay.  But I had a nice moment today.

It was about 8:00 when everyone left work and instead of scurrying out with them I forced myself to stay and work on my own things.  I never do that because I hate staying in the same place for too long.  I will go to a bar and quietly hate myself as others roll their eyes at the pretentious girl in the corner staring blankly at Final Draft and drinking whiskey.  Plain whiskey.  This girl is a douch bag.

So I stayed hidden inside tonight.  Wrote some beats down of what I needed to fix and just chilled out looking at it.  I never do that.  I never chill out.  Especially when I'm writing.  That's when I'm the least chill.  Every sentence determines my future they must be perfect ahhhhhh no one is ever going to cure cancer!!!!!!!!

So I just chilled the fuck out and sat with my feet up staring at the board, and ideas just magically came.  They wafted through the not good story and kind of corrected things and put it all in order.  I didn't have to do anything.  It was so little work.  Then I realized what I was feeling.  Like Don Draper.  I was Don Draper for a minute out of my life.  Sittin' all alone late at night with no one in the building but me and my thoughts.... I could have been a Mad Men character if I was wasted.
I wouldn't have been surprised if left work and came home to notice the perfect amount of man stubble had grown handsomely on face.
Now bring me a sad housewife!

I think I might be... Dumb

I just realized I've been writing a dollar sign like this all day:

Scared?  I am.