A Day in the Life of a Hollywood “man”.

I recently found this online somewhere, from a blog from someone I’ll call, “Robert.” I thought it was interesting enough to share with you all.

This Saturday morning, I’m going to go to the gym. I, of course, will not do so without first telling everyone about it on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. Because everyone needs to know that I’m going to the gym.

Once I arrive at the gym, I will be sure to “check in” at the gym via one of the previously mentioned social networks, so that everyone knows where I am. On the way to the locker room to change, I’ll be sure to take a phone call from a “friend” and ignore the signs asking me to not talk on my phone while in the locker room. How dare they tell me what to do?

Then, I will jump on the treadmill and yap on my cell phone even though there are signs asking me not to, and when I’m done talking, I’ll text and surf facebook to see if anyone “liked” my status, and be crestfallen if no one does. I’ll be sure to only walk or do a light jog and not hit the weights because I have no doubt that steady state cardio is the way to weight loss, and I can eat anything I want and just work it off in the gym.

 

Also, I’ll be sure to wear sunglasses, and if I do use a machine, hog it even though people ask me to alternate, and I’ll also be sure not to wipe off my sweat. I’m going to do this because I can, and no one has any right to tell me what to do or how to behave.

Then I’m going to go to the locker room, walk around buck naked with my balls hanging out while I head to the shower without flip flops. I’ll be sure to hock loogies while I’m in there, and yap some more on my cell phone once I get back to my locker. I’ll also remember to have a carb-filled “recovery” drink waiting for me and admire myself in the mirror as long as possible in front of the other guys. I might even consider shaving my balls at the sinks if I feel like it.

Then, I’m going to get into my car to get out of the parking garage, and spend 5 minutes with a line of cars behind me because I can’t figure out the ticket thing, even though I’ve been coming to this gym for over a year.

Then, I’ll get on the highway and not check my blind spot because I’m trying to update my facebook status while going 90 in a 65. But don’t worry, I won’t hit anyone. It’s very important that everyone knows what I think about the latest political opinion of mine that I got from a pundit on MSNBC. My opinions matter because they are as real as furniture.

Then I’ll go to the movies. I’ll sit in the middle of the theater and start texting. The previews will start and I’ll keep texting. Oops, I almost forgot to check in on Facebook. I’m cool for seeing, “Man of Steel.” The movie will start and I’ll keep texting. I won’t even turn the brightness down because how else will I be able to see my screen?

I’ll be sure to keep a running tally on how much this movie sucks on Twitter. Because my opinions are as real as furniture and as important, more important, than yours.

After the movie, I’ll go get a healthy lunch of a footlong subway sandwich and a diet coke.

Then I’ll get on facebook again and see if anyone has liked my status from before at the gym. I’ll also look at my ex-girlfriend’s page to see if she’s single yet. She has no right to be happy after dumping me. How dare she be happy?

I’ll go on facebook, again. I get invited to a friend’s house-warming party tonight, last minute, but they are in the process of getting married and are very busy, but is that my problem? Besides, there might be a better party to go to because in Los Angeles, it’s all about networking. I put my response as, “maybe.” They’ve known me since college, they’ll get over it.

Then, a girl I’ve never met who is really hot and has 3,234 friends on facebook invites me to a club opening tonight in Hollywood. Sure I’ll go to that! That’s awesome. Even though I have to buy a ticket for $100, so what? That sounds awesome.

I go home to my $2500 a month condo that my parents are paying for, take a shower and spray a liberal amount of AXE body spray all over my pube-less chest. I spend 10 minutes putting gel into my hair to get that, “No effort at all” look that I’ve perfected. I then take a selfie and put it on Instagram. I then delete it because I don’t want people to think I’m gay.

I drive to Hollywood and pay $20 for parking. I get in line and notice that it’s mostly full of guys wearing the same thing I am; a button-down Ed Hardy shirt, untucked, with jeans and loafers. Many of them are texting. I “check” myself in to the hottest club in Hollywood because I want people to know that I’m here because I’m awesome.

An hour, I finally get in. I only have $100 cash on me and they are only accepting cash for the ticket. I now have to use my AMEX that my rich father pays for. I get into the club and most people are standing. I see the girl who invited me. I try to talk to her but she’s texting and puts her hand up. I check myself in to the club “with” her but she doesn’t approve it on her wall. What a bitch.

I see a guy I work with at William Morris but I ignore him because he’s such a douche; he’s so nice, he’s, like, interested in other people’s opinions and actually gives sincere compliments. What a complete pussy. He’ll get no-where in this town, like he’s ever going to be assigned to a desk. I see Gavin, Paul, Gavin, Dakota and Becky from the office at a table. They invite me over and they give me a shot. For once, I’m getting somewhere.

An hour later I’m wasted and stuff. Is it an hour? No, it’s 2am. I blink my eyes and go get my credit card from the bar. I went to the bar? Awesome! I blink my eyes again when I see the, “$646.45” charge. Whatever; how else am I going to get girls to sleep with me unless I buy them drinks? That’s totally how it works. I write, “CASH” on the tip line, take my card and stumble away.

Whatever, I can totally drive, fuck you. I get behind the wheel of my Porsche Cayenne and ignore the asshole who suggests I get a cab. It’s not like I’m going to get a DUI. Piss off. I drive back to my condo and nothing bad happens. I think I may have dinged a parked car or something but whatever, he’s probably a Republican.

Once home, I don’t want to be hungover tomorrow, so I order pizza and eat the entire thing. I get on facebook and see if anyone likes my statuses. Nope. Whatever. I go to sleep.

I recently found out that the author of this post, Robert, was found dead and mutilated on the side of the 405s freeway near the 101N exit. A Tarbarian Devil Dragon was seen flying away, its jaws bloody with the entrails of a douche. When asked for the comment, the Dragon said, “There is no hope for the human race, but I do my best.”

 

 

 

 

 

SNG RECIPE: New York Sirlion Steak with Red Wine Cream Sauce

It’s been way too long since I a) have done an honest to God blog post and b) shared a recipe. I’m currently working out like an bandit, but also eating properly. I’m getting married in a few months, and I do not want a double-chin on my wedding day. I’m only getting married once. This is it. Those of you who have been through the wedding planning process know exactly what I’m talking about.

Anyway, getting into shape is 90% diet and resistance training (sorry folks, but if you think you’re going to lose weight and look fabulous at the beach while eating whatever you want and only doing cardio, you’re in for bitter disappointment. Furthermore, if you are able to read a magazine or text (you suck) while exercising, you will not lose weight. Period.

Anyway, I am no means a chef, or a nutritionist, or a doctor. Thank heavens. Take everything I say with a grain of creole seasoning. I simply follow the advice of this guy, who was a guest on my show last year and knows what he’s talking about. Tom is a lovely man as well as a sincere human being (us Libertarian-minded folks tend to be) and I’m going to plug his work any chance I get. Quite simply, it’s high fat, moderate protein, and low carb.

I also use a wonderful program called, “My Fitness Pal” to keep track of everything, and since I’m obsessive that way, I dig it. No, they aren’t paying me to plug that either…yet.

Anyway, on to today’s recipe, the Steak with Red Wine Cream Sauce. Believe it or not, I originally found this recipe in Steven Schirripa’s “A Goombah’s Guide to Life.” I’m a big fan of the guy and his books are hilarious, but most of the recipes will lead you to an early grave. This one won’t. Because, as we know know, Saturated Fats aren’t bad for you. Quite the opposite in fact.

Anyway, here it is, slightly modified (i.e. the Sensitive Nice Gal gave me some pointers). It all started with Steve, hence he deserves original credit.

INGREDIENTS

  • half a stick of butter
  • 3 medium sized New York Sirloin steaks, defrosted (I recently used one big one that was about 13 ounces total). Try that. This will serve 2
  • salt and pepper
  • 1 onion, sliced
  • 2 garlic cloves, slice and diced
  • 1/2 cup of dry red wine (I did it with Cabernet Sav)
  • 1/2 cup (give or take) of heavy cream

TOOLS

  • Medium-sized Skillet
  • Big knife (think what Glenn Close tried to kill Michael Douglas with in, “Fatal Attraction”
  • Cutting Board
  • Wooden Spoon
  • Tongs
  • Stove Top
  • Oven
  • tin foil
  • cooking sheet
  • measuring cup

DIRECTIONS

  1. Throw on a Frank Sinatra Record (I like, “Come Fly with Me).
  2. Pour yourself a glass of that dry red wine. Raise a toast to Steve, and me, for sharing this recipe with you.
  3. Pre-heat the oven to 350 (this means turn the oven on to 350 and wait about 10 minutes…you can do #4-7 while you wait)
  4. Take out the steak (which you’ve already defrosted) and season it with salt and pepper.
  5. Put the skillet on the stove, and turn the heat to about medium high
  6. throw in the butter. Watch it melt. Savor the smell.
  7. Put the Steak in the skillet and cook it for about 3-5 minutes on either side, depending on how you like your steak. Try to get a nice seer on it. Afterwards, put it on a plate and set it aside
  8. SIDE NOTE – at some point, before step 12, you will put your steak in the oven and cook it for about 10 minutes, once again, depending on how you like your steak. I like ’em medium, so for me, this is about 8 minutes. Up to you.
  9. Don’t toss out the remaining butter. Throw in the onions and cook ’em good. Mix ’em around, dry off the tears until they are nice and loose (like your sister).
  10. Then, toss in the garlic and mix it all around. Get them cooked but not too brown. Cooking takes time and precision. No way around it if you want this to taste good
  11. About 5 minutes later, toss in the red wine. Use the wooden spoon (which you’ve been using already) to mix it all around. Get it bubblin’! After about 4 minutes, start pouring in the cream (no more than half a cup). Do it until the color of your goo is somewhere between red and brown. Your goal here is to have it thick like soup, not runny like water.
  12. When the taste and feel is what you want, turn off the heat, take the steaks out of the oven, and put them on the skillet with your awesome goo for about 4 minutes. Take the skillet off the stove and set it aside. Mix the goo around with your steak.
  13. At this point, your date has arrived and brought a side dish of some kind. I suggest a nice Italian salad with a balsamic vin. Pour them and yourself a glass of wine.
  14. EAT!
  15. Whatever happens after that, is up to you

Anatomy of a Break-Up

My Journey to Becoming King of Sparta…

Don't Judge Me

Introduction

Almost everyone reading this has, at some point, attempted to lose weight and get into shape. I know I have. I know I tried. And until recently, I failed at every attempt and gave up. Quite frankly, a cheesesteak and coke was an easier path to take than disciplined resistance.

However, I have turned a corner and finally pulled it off. If you told me two months ago that I’d not only lose 15 pounds, but be able to keep it off and keep going, I’d tell you you’re nuts.

So now, I wish to share with you how I did it, so that perhaps you may do the same. Let me give you a heads up; there is no magic pill. There is no secret to getting and staying in shape, at least for the most part. Everything I’m about to tell you is pure logic and reason, as it was for me in the past. I simply lacked the knowledge and motivaton to put the pieces together properly, and now that I have, I hope to help you do it too. Continue reading My Journey to Becoming King of Sparta…

Del Reisman: 1924-2011

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Del Reisman – 1924-2011

It is with great sadness that Del Reisman, a dear friend and wonderful teacher, has passed away.

I graduated from college in 2000, and immediately moved to Los Angeles to attend the American Film Institute as a screenwriting fellow. Screenwriting students at AFI take many courses, none so important as our workshop class, in which we are assigned a mentor, who advises us on our writing endeavors. The 40 or so screenwriting students are divided up into groups of about 3 or 4, and my group, after a year of one mentor (who, in the spirit of Del, will not be named, more on this in a bit), decided that we needed a change. We requested a new mentor and in that new mentor, we got Del.
Talk about a night and day difference.

While our previous mentor was full of cynicism and bitterness, tearing our group apart, Del was full of hope and encouragement, pulling our group together. I was personally fired up that I would be learning under a man who wrote for “Airwolf,” but what we got with Del was so much more.

Del never had a bad word to say about anyone. He took Dale Carnegie’s school of thought to task. My writing improved under him not only because of his intelligence and good cheer but also because of his positive attitude. It was no surprise to any of us that Chris Raymond, one of his students (and a great fella in his own right) won the Screenwriting Award at the end of the year at graduation.
After I graduated from AFI, Del and I kept in touch.

We met for lunch often, usually at the Grove, which was nearby the WGA headquarters, where he kept an office. He always insisted on picking up the check, which once in a while, he let me get. A few times, my parents came out to visit, and he and my Dad got along very well; when the check came while having lunch with me and my Dad, I knew they’d fight over it; I convinced Del to let my Dad get it because, well, Del had been there for his son for so long.

My Dad always asked me about Del, and vice versa; my old man knows a good person when he sees one, and Del was no exception.
As time went on, and my career shifted to business school, Del was still there for me; he wrote me a recommendation that helped get me into Pepperdine. It didn’t matter to Del; he always believed in me, and everyone around him.

Del was beloved by all. He had not one bad word to say about anyone. And everyone I’ve ever met had nothing but nice things to say about him in turn. He was truly an example to follow. We spend so much time in our society today, gossiping, talking trash, Del’s example would put us all to shame.

Oh, by the way, Del was a World War 2 vet. This was something he did not discuss, though I heard things occasionally from him, he did not brag that he flew bomber missions fighting the Nazis, because that is what men of class do, or not do; they do not brag, they do not need to talk of their exploits; they just live their lives and let history make their own judgments.

Del vigorously defended the role of the writer in Hollywood. For a time, he served as the President of the WGA. There are so many horrible people in the movie business; Del was the exact opposite of that.

Del loved the movies. I loved talking about movies with him, he always had intelligent things to say about film. He always reminded me why I moved out here in the first place, not for power, or money, or fame, but because we love the art form that is film. I will miss doing that with him.

Del was the greatest teacher I ever had, and one of the best, if not the best, human beings I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. The term, “one of the best guys I know,” is tossed around a lot; with Del, it’s an understatement. Once again, he never had a bad thing to say about anyone. He always had a smile on his face. He always found something nice to say about everyone around him. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “Every man is my superior in some way,” and Del certainly walked though life that way, never mind that he was quite superior to all of his, in my humble opinion. He just didn’t act that way. The way a real man should.

I speak for all of us, Del, we will miss you. You will never be forgotten. I will miss you always, and never forget what you taught me, in the classroom and out, and will do my very best to live my life in your example.

Writer’s Conferences are AWESOME!

A few weeks ago, I attended the Southern California Writer’s Conference in Newport Beach, and I had a ball.  Worth every penny I spent in fees and hotels, I learned so much and met a lot of cool people.  I would like to share with you some thoughts for those of you who write or are thinking of writing books.

First, some plugs:

  • Marla Miller: She runs a site called “Marketing the Muse” and ran a query letter seminar at the conference.  A query letter is your opening salvo in obtaining representation, and her advice, intelligence and all around good cheer was invaluable.  Check out her site.
  • Marilyn Friedman: Another wonderful lady, her seminar was the last I did before the conference ended, and what a wonderful way to go out.  She gave us several useful tips to get over writer’s block, and was an absolute bundle of positive energy.  Check out her site here, and she knows as well as all of us that writing is a debt of honor.
  • Maralys Wills: Author of “A Circus Without Elephants,” she gave a seminar about the fundamentals of novel writing, meaning grammar and sentence structure, that was invaluable.  I have an English degree from an Ivy League school, plus an MFA in writing.  I thought I knew everything.  I was wrong.  More on that right below.

Now, the lessons and stories:

  • Socrates (pronounced “so-crates”, of course) said that the only wisdom was knowing that he knew nothing.  Very true.  In life, you never stop learning, you can always learn something new, and that is one of life’s greatest pleasures.
  • Just about everyone was not only super-nice, but super-talented.  Not one single person was wasting their time.  Everyone who read their work had something to say.  Everyone had talent, everyone had something interesting to say.  Everyone thinks they can write, most cannot.  Everyone has a screenplay and thinks that it’s the next Chinatown, most likely, it’s not.  To make the commitment, both in time and finances, you better have your act together.  Just about everyone did, and then some.
  • Once again, everyone was very sweet, supportive and cool.  I went into this thing expecting to find a bunch of back-stabbing assholes.  I was there for an hour before I realized, I’m in Orange County, not Hollywood.  Everyone was interesting in everyone else.  Everyone was supportive.  We all backed each other up, and when the writing awards were announced on the last day, everyone ERRUPTED in enthusiastic cheer.  No passive-aggressive bullshit, only sincere admiration and praise.  I have grown cynical through my years in Hollywood, but one weekend with these fine folks just about pushed me in the other direction.
  • Well, almost everyone.  I would be lying if I said it was completely positive, I only had two negative experiences, and here they are:
    • Sharks: These pricks are EVERYWHERE in Hollywood.  They were at AFI, and they are everywhere in life.  In short, they believe that they will only find success by stomping on everyone else.  Therefore, they passive-aggressively try to mess with you, by telling you your idea won’t work, it’s already been done, what have you.  They might even tell you your idea works when it doesn’t, or doesn’t when it does.  They will suppress laughter when something is funny, laugh when something isn’t funny, you get the idea.  I only met one of these guys at the conference.  I explained that one of my projects was aimed at men and he responded MEN DON’T BUY BOOKS.  Nothing else, just a lame attempt to shoot me down.  He spent the rest of the weekend avoiding me, and I him.  I can spot these guys a mile away.  My advice is to avoid them, as I did.
    • Benevolent Morons: These folks mean well, but their advice, though given with the best of attentions, if followed, will lead you down the wrong path.  As many of you know, the brand I have is “the sensitive nice guy” show.  I was advised by someone to drop the “sensitive”.  Um, THAT’S THE ENTIRE BRAND!  A lot of people give advice because they feel a need to, again, they mean well, but they are dead wrong.  Bare no ill will towards these folks, just don’t listen to them.  And about that…
  • You will get LOTS of advice and feedback.  It is up to you to decide what is good advice, and what is not.  This is often what separates the successful from the not-so successful; being able to extract the gold from the clutter of crap.
  • Issues: Many writers use their out to settle their personal hash.  I heard one story called, “I know what the devil looks like” which was a memoir about the author’s ex-husband, and what a complete sociopath he was.  I say, good for her, writing can be quite therapeutic, and if you can turn a profit with it, awesome!   And what a great title, right?  Again, a LOT of talent came to that conference.
  • Agents are your friends: Believe it or not, agents attend these events in order to find new talent.  Just about all of them were cool as can be (shout out to @dananewman, what up?!?!) and again, they do not attend these things for shits and giggles.  They are there to find new writers!  Granted, they are not there to, uh, work the casting couch (again, banging your way to the top is not the way to go, don’t be like her!).  Indeed, there is sleaze in Hollywood, but not one single agent at the event could be called anything but honorable, intelligent, and kind.
  • Friends: It was said that you will make many friends at conferences, and indeed, that is true.  I’m taking my new buddy Briana to the Hollywood Expo this weekend, we saw “Easy A” last week.  When you have something in common, and share it with people who not only do what you do, but are really good people, you’ll make friends for life.

Final analysis: it was money well spent, time spent even better, and you better believe I’ll be attending the next one in San Diego.  Thanks to all who attended…even you few sharks, I learned from you as well.

My Bolognese Sauce Recipe (aka my “Seduction Sauce”)

I wanted to share with you all some recipes of mine, my favorite ones, since I just put together a menu for any of you who are lucky enough to come into my home.  Some of you already have experienced the “cuisine d’Jordan), so, by all means, please sound off and say how awesome it is, because as you know, cooking is one of my stronger suits.

I thought about just putting up a recipe, but then I thought, that would be boring.  Why not have some fun with it?  Ladies, take the following with a grain of salt (or Creole Seasoning, which I prefer) and fellas, well, this is for you.  Enjoy!

So…boys…you wanna impress a lady tonight.  Good.  Don’t apologize for that; food is the lubricant on the way to bliss.

Women fall in love with their ears, indeed, but also through their stomachs.  They love a man who can cook.  And tonight, I’m going to show you how.

1) Go meet a girl.  Make sure that she is sweet, nice, laughs at your jokes, tugs at her earlobe and touches your hand on occasion.  Ask her out.  Take her to drinks (NOT dinner), and dazzle her with your sense of humor, to be certain, but listen to her too.  Follow the 80/20 rule that college admissions people follow, and let her talk. Kiss her goodnight, because you are a man. If you ask her permission to kiss her, you are a little boy and are no longer worthy to read this. In life, ask for forgiveness, not permission.  That is what separates the men from the boys.

2) Dates #2,3, and 4 should contain dinner and a movie, maybe a trip to Disneyland, some first base action. Keep your cool, maybe see other girls so that you are not a complete chump.  This is why they call it interviewing, this dating thing.

3) Okay, time to have her over to your place. You are going to cook for her. Check and make sure she’s not allergic to what you are cooking for, which will be Spaghetti Bolognese with a nice dry Chianti.  I don’t know, allergies present themselves all over the place.  Just double check and make sure that you will send her to paradise instead not to the ER.

4) She is coming over at 8pm.  Keep this time in mind.

5) At 5:30 PM, you will go to the Grocery Store, and buy the following:

  1. ½ pound ground beef
  2. ½ Italian Sausage
  3. olive oil
  4. carrots
  5. onions
  6. SPICES: Basil, Creole Seasoning (you heard me), Red Pepper, Regular Pepper, Oregano, Garlic Salt
  7. Parmesan Cheese
  8. Pack of Spaghetti
  9. Lowfat milk
  10. 3 28-ounce Cans of Crushed Tomatoes
  11. 2 Bottles of Chianti (you’re spending at least 25 bones on this for each bottle, don’t get this shit that only costs six bucks.  It’s going to serve multiple purposes.
  12. EQUIPMENT
    • Big Pot, with lid
    • Wooden Spoon
    • Digital timer
    • Can opener
    • Strainer
    • Teaspoon/Tablespoon measure
    • Big ass carving knife
    • Medium-size pot for the pasta

6) You may notice that you will have ingredients (the milk, cans of tomatoes) in more quantities than you need for the dish.  Not to worry, you will cook this again, it’s THAT good.

7) At the supermarket, when you are at the check out line, and the over-worked single Mom (sorry) asks you who you are cooking this for, you look at her and (hopefully) the hot chick standing behind you and say, “….a lady.”  Have a little smile, and look into the horizon with hope and glory.

8)  Once you are home, it will be about 6:30.  Unpack your groceries and go take a shower. Women like it when you don’t smell.

9) Set two places on your dining room table.  Two table-mats, fork and knife for each, and two plates.

10) By now, it’s about 7:15.  You are a dude, and therefore you are procrastinating. I’ve padded the schedule a bit.  When it counts, I’ll snap you to reality.

11) Lower some lights, light some candles (get them at the mall, NOT at Urban Outfitters like a douche), and put on Frank Sinatra’s “A Swinging Affair.”  The first track is my theme song, “Night and Day.”  You’ll get fired up.  Trust me.

12) Set out two wine glasses, and open the bottle of Chianti to let it breathe, and set it somewhere nearby.  Wine, good wine, needs to to breathe a bit first.

13) Take a large pot and put it on the stove.  Pour in about 4 tablespoons of Olive oil and heat over medium high heat until it’s fragrant, about three minutes or so.  Get fired up, this is just the beginning.

14) While this is happening, take a carrot and skin the heck out of it (you know, like Mom did when she made you salads as a kid. You know how your Dad got your Mom?   Probably like this. Keep reading

15) Take one onion and with a big-ass knife, slice the tar out of it in little thin slices.

16) Throw the onion and carrot into the pot and sauté it for 10 minutes, until they are no longer hard, but nice and loose. Use a wooden spoon to mix it around.

17) While the onion and carrots are cooking, you will take the ground beef and the Italian sausage, and mix them together. Get your hands in this, feel it, love it, mix ‘em up, have some fun!

18) Look at the TIME! It’s 7:45. She’ll be a bit late (girls always are). Let her in, and trust me, the timing works here, because it’s already starting to smell good in here, oh yeah.  And And AND AND AND she sees you cooking, which is the money move because you are awesome, and she’ll be impressed.

19) Wash off your hands (from the meat), kiss her hello, and pour her a glass of Chianti.  Raise a toast to the SNG, show some respect.

20) By now, Frank is singing, and you have some Dean Martin ready to rock. Either your ipod is hooked up, or you have itunes hooked to your stereo, figure this part out on your own. She’ll ask, “Why the Rat Pack,” and you’ll reply, uh, because they are awesome? It’s old school, think Vegas circa 1962. The good old days, when men were fellas and women were dames.

21) As she sips her Chianti and watches you work your magic, you put the meat in with the onions/carrots, and put in the following with the meat for 5 minutes:

  1. Basil – 1 tablespoon
  2. Creole Seasoning – 1 Tablespoon
  3. Red Pepper – ½ tablespoon
  4. Regular Pepper – ½ tablespoon
  5. Oregano – 1 tablespoon
  6. Garlic Salt – 1 tablespoon

22) Dump all that in.  As you use a big wooden spoon to mix it all around, you will ask her about her day, and she’ll do her best to speak to you because the scent of the cuisine is so seductive and intoxicating and she’s so impressed with you that DAMN. You rock. And you are smooth. YOU ARE THE MAN.

23) When the meat is no longer pink, add ¾ cup of the milk and mix it in, for about four minutes (the milk acts as a kind of glue that keeps the meat and spices all together).  At the same time, take a little bit of the Chianti (1/4 cup) and dump it into the pot with the milk.  Oh yeah.

24) After the four minutes are up, open 1 28-ounce can of crushed tomatoes and dump it in, and reduce the heat to low. Cover the pot with the lid and slow cook it for one hour, occasionally stirring with the wooden spoon.

25) In the medium-sized pot, fill it with water up 4/5ths and boil it on high (will take about 15 minutes to get going, give or take).

26) When that’s done, take out about half of the spaghetti (that’ll be enough for the two of you) snap it into thirds, and dump it in the boiling water. Cook for 11 minutes.

27) When the pasta is done, dump it and the water into a strainer and let it sit for a few minutes.

28) Spoon out the pasta equally to two plates that you have set out. Smile. Don’t forget to smile. A smile means that you are having fun, and you are always having fun. While everything is cooking, sit with her, sip wine, go back and forth between her and the kitchen.

29) When the hour is up, spoon out the sauce equally.  Refill the two of you with a bit more of the red stuff (Chianti).

30) Sit down, put on “Ring a Ding Ding” by Sinatra, and enjoy your meal. Nod and smile when she compliments the chef (you).

31) The Chianti will compliment the food, so you’re going to have to open a second bottle.

32) As long as you follow the directions, both of you will clean your plates. And maybe go back for seconds. By now, you two have a good witty banter that is now reinforced by your (newfound) awesome cooking skills.

33) Everything now is up to you. You must give and take, follow her lead, let her follow your lead, and if you play your cards right…

3D and Porn

You ready for a major confession?

First of all, my loyal readers and fans know that the SNG loves the ladies.

I am dating, but technically single, and I’m not quite ready to allow my single life to circle the drain JUST yet.  That is, until the right lady comes along and convinces me to do otherwise.  I’m not saying it’s impossible, in fact I know it’s likely.  I am just going to enjoy myself until I get tranked and tagged and wake up next to the love of my life. I know she’s out there somewhere, looking for me.  Perhaps I’ve already met her.  Perhaps I went to the movies with her last week, I have no idea, the possibilities are endless and that’s part of the fun.

Oh wait, we’re talking about Porn here.  I digressed, I can’t help it, I’m a die-hard romantic.

Back to Porn. Porn Porn Porn.

The Internet is for porn, PORN PORN, thank you Trekkie-Monster.  But my major confession is unlike most guys, Porn really doesn’t do it for me.  Indeed, I have a CD-ROM with “Productivity Software” in my CD case, but I never look at it.  Seriously.  Just as women are issued, along with their breasts, emotional roller-coasters and the Season DVD’s for “Grey’s Anatomy” when they are born, there are a few women out there, I’m quite certain, that have no interest in McDreamy or McSteamy or whatever bullshit they call television these days.

Likewise, porn does nothing for me really.  For once, I agree with the feminists; it’s not sexy, and can be quite demeaning to women.  This coming from the dude who just wrote an article about breasts, you might want to take what I’m saying here with more than a grain of salt.

I have never encountered a woman who wanted a money shot to the face.  I simply cannot imagine that, nor could I imagine ever dating or marrying a woman who wanted me to do that.  The producers of porn know their audience, and so do I; my buddies and I once stumbled into the Porn Convention in Vegas a few years back.  It was fucking disgusting.  A lot of sleazeballs and truck drivers, who bang hookers and don’t even know how to string together the words, “I love your work,” to Misty Canyon or Chastity Jones or whatever chick with daddy issues and fake tits is signing her new DVD of “Anal Pleasure Injuries 7; Revenge of the Anus.”  The fans just drool and stroke their penises as well as their goatees.  My friends and I lasted an hour, got the hell out of there and ran to the Star Trek Bar.  Man I miss that place.

So no, I’m not into Porn, but with the advent of 3D, will seeing people bang in three dimensions be a game changer?  Perhaps, and not just for the world at large, but for me.  I’ll have to try it once, I suppose, once I get my 3D TV (my PS3 just uploaded the firmware for 3D, all I need is the new display).

It was interesting, reading this article from last year’s CES, how the Porn industry is being cautious.  I’m surprised.  Having seen Kelly Brook naked in “Piranha 3D”, that was but a sneak preview of the possibilities (and how, my review of the underwater swimming scene, two boners up).

But since men who enjoy porn at home tend to, uh, molest themselves, while watching porn, I wonder what the glasses and the possible headaches will do in the way of the “releases” that happen while ah fuck it Masturbating to porn.  Again, I don’t do that, but I’m the minority here.

In the past, Porn tends to be the game changer with new technologies.  It sank Beta when they refused to support Porn, and VHS won that battle.  Ditto Blu-Ray (if I’m not mistaken).  These sleezeballs know they have a billion dollar loyal industry, so accusations of exploitation aside, there is money to be made.  As long as the tech goes along, I cannot imagine why porn would not dive vagina first into this new world of three-dimensional boobies and cock.  Why not?

If the SNG would consider giving it a try, they must be on to something.

Check out this video, an Avatar Porn parody, it made me laugh.  Thank you Gizmodo.

Also, here is yours truly at the porn convention from a few years ago.  Surprised?

Says it all, doesn't it?

How I Met…Online Dating

I joined a certain online dating site (at the time of this writing) a few days ago, and I have to admit, it’s been a lot of fun!  Most people of sound mind and rational sanity go into the cyber world for the same reason; we’re looking to find someone.  Many of us, myself included, have no problem going out and meeting people, it’s just that, well, for me, a girl stumbling out of the Huntley at 2 in the morning is not exactly what I’m looking for (maybe in my youth, but not anymore).  Reading this, if you’re tried it AND you live in Los Angeles, maybe you’re online because you’ve been around the block a couple of times in our fair city, and are sick of drunken guys hitting on you and never calling you, and this is the next logical step, or leap, take your pick.

There is an episode of, “How I Met Your Mother” called, “Double Date” in which Ted, our hero and protagonist, goes out on a blind date with a lovely young lady named Jen and, as their cocktails arrive, they both realize that they have been on a blind date with each other 7 years ago.  “We’re scaring people away, Jen,” Ted says, and they embark on a journey together, retracing the steps of their previous date, to figure out what went wrong.  They initially believe they both equally made some dumb mistakes the first time around (ladies, do the check dance, and we will offer you our coat when it’s cold), and had they just zigged where they should have zagged, they might have ended up at the altar.

However, what they both come to realize in the end is that their individual idiosyncrasies, although seemingly negative, are aspects of themselves that they love, and should therefore hold out for someone who will not only tolerate them, but love them as they do.  Jen heads off into the city to find a man who will be okay with her five cats (and their costumes), and Ted rides off into the sunset to find the girl who will dig him for his “cheesy Dad” jokes.

So yes, there is a lid for every pot.  In fact, multiple lids.  But you already knew that.  That being said, online or not, if your endgame is to settle down and get married, it can be a rough ride along the way.  Life has its peaks as well as its valleys.  The peaks are full of fun times, a warm touch, someone to wake up next to, talk to, and as that Old Spice fella says, get you tickets to that thing you like.

But the valleys are full of sadness, disappointment, unreturned phone calls and heartache, and sometimes those valleys can make us forget the peaks.

Online, here you are, entering into the pool of the cyber world, hoping to come out and dry off with someone special.  But along the way, the weeding-out process can be a pain.  For you ladies (and I assume that only women are reading this), my female friends along for the ride have told me some horror stories.  A lot of horny morons who just want to get laid.  They ask you for naked pictures…okay seriously who does that?  Evidently, a lot of guys do.  They lie about who they are.  Lie about their income.  They lie about being single, even.

Now, for us guys on the other side of things, I’ll share with you our two most common complaints; one, we get lied to as well.  Mostly about body type, and doing that, well, that is a futile gesture, because you need to understand that men fall in love with their eyes, not their ears (not saying it’s right, just the way it is).  Two, we also have girls emailing us who, similar to your complaints, just wanna get laid and send us naked pictures, unsolicited.  By all means, if you are looking for Barney, fire away.  But if you are looking for Ted, well, you know better.

And yet, all the details, personal testimonies and complex mathematical algorithms cannot possibly replace meeting someone in person, and only then can you decide whether or not to proceed to date #2.  I met my last girlfriend online (Match), I am grateful that I met her, we parted ways amicably, but nothing we knew about each other prior to meeting in person could have indicated that we were ultimately not meant to be.  I wish her nothing but the best, and I rest easy knowing she wishes the same for me.  And I advise you to follow suit with each and every one of your ex’s, regardless of where you met, or how it ended.  Trust me, you’ll sleep better at night.

That being said, so far here (again, at the time of this writing) I have met no one in person yet, but I’m very happy to have found this site.  I am hereby shilling for OkCupid.  It is more fun than work, and I have had an absolute ball doing the “match questions,” for two very important reasons; it is helping me with the filtering process (as I hope that it is helping you), but not only that, I’m learning more about myself with every question.  The tests are fun, the questions are interesting, and sure enough, it’s true that you must know yourself before you can be happy with anyone else.  Any additional tool along the way is always a good thing.

So yes, in spite of the valleys that we may suffer, truly, life is all about the peaks that we will love.  We are very lucky to be here, still breathing, alive and kicking.  And what “How I Met Your Mother” teaches us, at least what I think Bays and Thomas are aiming for, is to show us that although the roller coaster of romance on the way to love has its peaks and valleys, it’s a ride, and meant to be enjoyed as much as possible, and we should never forget that as long as we are honest with not only ourselves but each other, we’ll get what we want in life, in the end.

After all, look at the title, ‘How I Met Your Mother’; he’s telling his kids how he met the love of his life.  In life, like Ted, for all of us, everything is going to be okay.

5 Things NOT to say to Women

While we are waiting for our technical difficulties to resolve themselves (the next podcast with Melissa and Tracy will be up Saturday, followed by one by me alone next Wednesday), I thought I’d share this with you, a slight addendum to my last solo one about how to talk to women.

Here are a few things NOT to say to get the ball rolling with the fairer sex:

“Do I know you from somewhere?” I tried this the other day in DC, and guess what?  I was being sincere; I really thought she looked familiar (I’m convinced we went to college together).  But I got shot down like an idiot.  Big mistake.  Even sincerity doesn’t work with this one.

“You’re hot”: She already knows that, and you are now pathetic for trying.

“What’s going on/What’s up?/Hey” Ditto.  Says the same thing, and you are boring.  You need to ask an open ended question that shows your wit and your sincere interest in her, not a couple of syllables that ask her to do all the work.

“Are you going to keep staring or are you going to come over?” Yup, tried this one a few years ago, got shot down in flames.  You want to appear the alpha and confident, not an arrogant jerk.  Indeed, I know when I’m being checked out.  But this is not the way to handle it.

“Put them away.” Yes, this happened once, by my hand.  Guilty.  Yes, girls will show off their assets, and the unfair world we live in dictates that we must pretend to ignore them (all two of them).  It sucks, but if you can keep your eyes engrossed in hers and not her amazing cans on display, you just might be able to see said-cans in the nude later on.

Any more you wish to share? Ladies?  Jump in!