There Is A Plan…

I don’t know what it is, but I’m supposed to believe it exists, so I will.

I didn’t get the Ellen Gig, so we’ll see what’s next. That’s where this introspective look at life is coming from.

Apparently this job was not in the cards and has nothing to do with my future, so I’m writing it off as one more “No” before I hear a “Yes.”

Supposedly as I stated above, the universe has a plan for me and it’s not my place to question or judge it. I just need to hang on for the ride and try to enjoy the ups and learn from the downs.

This is much easier to accept since I’ve got that contract work through GoTv. I’ve been asked to cover two more shifts this next week and you don’t hear me complaining. Money is money and I have to confess, the job is kind of interesting. I’m learning some new software and how to edit different types of segments that you see in the news and on entertainment television. I’ve learned a lot actually and I can see why things are done the way they are.

The best part about the freelance bit is that I’m not stuck in one department. Last week was entertainment. This week is the news. Next week, maybe sports or humor. So I’ll get to diversify quite a bit and gain a lot of new skills.

I’m not saying there hasn’t been disappointment from not getting the Ellen gig. Of course I was bummed, but I bounced back faster this time because it was not a make it or break it opportunity. I just need to keep reminding myself that there is a bigger plan for me and I need to keep my mind open for those opportunities that will help me find the proper path.


The funny thing is I wonder if the path in my mind and the intended path are the same. I want to make movies, but will I discover something that is just as satisfying and bring me as much happiness as that creative endeavor? I don’t know, but I’ll find out. That’s the way life works.


Oh, yeah. July 27th equaled 22 months clean and sober. Take that you doubting bitches.

An Open Letter…

To the sexually ambiguous person who goes to my gym.

Dear He/She,

I have seen you at the gm twice now and I feel there are some things you could do that would keep myself, and others from looking at you with an eyebrow raised.

One: If you are a male, cut your hair. Your features are soft and feminine. They are nice features and if you are a male, you would be called a, ”pretty boy” which is not a bad thing. As a matter of fact, I bet it is easier for a pretty boy to get laid than it is an average joe like myself. There are men in this world who can get away with long hair. You sir/madam are not one of them.

Two: If you are a male, I’d recommend a sock in the crotch when you are wearing those tight shorts. This would keep the big bear guy who was using the treadmill next to me from making statements like, “Check out the bug fucker.” Or, “When did the Ken doll start working out?” These are very unoriginal lines, but I can see the comparison to the Ken doll with that odd flat panel on the front of your shorts. If you decide that you are a he, stuff and fluff.

Three: If you are a woman, I would consider wearing a stuffed bra. This works in the same way, but in the opposite direction of the crotch stuffing. I know you think that the tight sports bra top is sexy, but it can’t be sexy if we the viewers are unable to tell if we’re supposed to be attracted or not. See, confusion doesn’t make people interested in you, only interested at you.

Four: This is the biggie. Consult a makeup artist. If you are a male, drop it all together. Ziggy Stardust has left the planet and only Johnny Depp can get away with wearing makeup and look like a stud. If you are a female, it is important to understand that two different shades of eye shadow are a real faux pas. Unless on course you wear green eye shadow and the other eye had been punched. That is the only exception to green and purple that I can think of. Also… It’s a gym for fuck sake! You shouldn't need makeup!

Please look at this letter as creative criticism and not a swipe at you as a person. Unless, you get off on being insulted. Then sir or madam, consider this the glove across the face.

Sincerely,

John

Snoopum’s Return

Unfortunately, the title is a little misleading. I went down to San Diego this weekend with Y7 and met up with Schu and company, good times were had by all. The plan was to check out Comic Con today, but Y7 and myself decided that it was a giant pain in the ass and decided to bail back to the heat stroke that is Los Angeles.

So, I was hoping to get several Scoop Snoopum stories, which would have been a lot of fun for you, my dear readers. Alas there is nothing. I’ll see if I can track down something fun for y’all this weekend.

I did take some pictures though, so I share them with you now.

Enjoy.


Is this man:
a) sleeping
b) homeless
c) a zombie!!


Our Balcony at the Double Tree in San Diego.


Artsy fartsy bottle shot. Notice the pretentious sepia tone. That’s what makes you know it’s important.


Y7 is all business when it comes to tracking down leads for Snoop's stories.


I used the special "Miami Vice" filter on this one.


BOOBIES!!!! (these appeared in "Naked Gun")

Harper And The Girls

Harper.

No, not the movie staring Paul Newman, a good flick though.

No not the Author of, To Kill A Mocking Bird, but related.

No, not the Valley P.T.A., never watched it.

It’s the name of my new niece. Harper was born at five a.m. this morning to my sister Janene and her husband Joe. This is her second child and I hate to admit it, but I still haven’t met the first one. I’m a bad uncle. Another thing I hate to admit, is I don’t know their last name… Wait, I think its Delesandro. I’ll get back to you on that.

I believe Harper was named after the author Harper Lee, my sister's favorite book. Again, I'll get back to you on that.


Anyway, I want to send out a heart felt congratulations to them and the family. All of my love and support, I wish you nothing but happiness. I think it’s wonderful that she has gone the way of creating a loving caring family. She has decided to attempt to break the chain of dysfunctionalism that has flowed in our bloodline for many generations. I never had the guts to do it and I am proud of her and the steps she has taken.

True, there are no guarantees in life, but she has taken the risk and I applaud it.


The Girls

Another event is taking place this weekend that I want to send my love to… No, not Comic Con. But to Amy and Inge who are getting married this weekend.


Yes those are two female names, which is good, because they are both women. Even though in the eyes of the state and a very sad America, they cannot be recognized legally as married, they are having an official ceremony this weekend for family and friends. Amy is one of the greatest people I know and they were both very supportive of me as I struggled to overcome my alcohol and addiction issues. They didn’t have to give me a second chance, but they did and I owe them a debt of gratitude for it.

I wish you both a long and happy relationship. All of my love and good thoughts go out to you.

John

Back In The Game, Baby

I have spent most of today looking over what I can sell. The bank account is getting incredibly low and that feeling of living on the street anxiety had crept back into the skull.



Then at 4:56 PDT, I received an email. To quote: Are you available to work the rest f this week and next week?

Hm, let me think… Yeah, I think I am free.

So I’ll be trained and cutting segments for the next eight work days. That’s fuckin’ great! I won’t have to start selling anything off yet and I’ll make enough money in those few days to keep me floating for another month. Plus it could lead to more work with them and that’s not a bad thing.

Is it a dream job? No, but I’ll be an editor and that ain’t half bad.

It’s funny how that works. It always seems that I have to get down to my last few dollars before the universe decides to send some credit my way. How very Job. (That’s a biblical reference, pronounced Jobe.)

I’ve been granted a reprieve from the gutter. Or worse, living in Hemet.

Bullets Baby Bullets

So I’m back on the job wagon again. Move ‘em out little doggies.

I had yet another interview on Friday for the Ellen Show. I’d be overseeing the website. It is actually a lot more fun sounding than that. There is a lot of creative input needed in the job and I’d be dealing with the writers and producers of the show on securing material. That’s pretty cool.


The interview went fine, it was really a meet and greet with the Production Manager. He explained what the job was and how all of my many skills that I have learned over the years would be beneficial to the position. Weird how that works out? Years of hodgepodge on jobs here and there, from the internet to film to administrative all come together in a job that would not only pay well, but be an exciting and creative challenge.

If you can’t tell, I really want the gig. Not because I need a job, but the more I’ve found out about it, the more exciting it gets. It’s not exactly an industry job, but at the same time it is. Plus I’m getting an opportunity to put all of those years of internet bitterness behind me.

There was a time when I hated all things on line. This is due to a real screwing I received on a project that should have been cutting edge and turned into one of the biggest flops of my life. That’s saying a lot from a guy who has flopped more times than Raggedy Andy on a rollercoaster.

So as the interview was coming to a close, Chris the Production Manager said he had a homework assignment. He was asking all applicants to put together a kind of pitch. It was to detail what worked and didn’t work about the site, what type of creative ideas I might bring to it and all that jazz. These would then be looked over and if liked, a meeting would be set up with the Executive Producers o the 24th.

Now here’s where I get a little fuzzy. I’m going to do this research, which I’d actually already done, and write it down for them to look over. Hand over my own intellectual property that they could then use, even if they didn’t hire me. It sounds a little fishy, but I’m going to give them the benefit of the doubt and hope that they look at it as more of an audition piece.

So I spent Friday night and part of Saturday putting something together. I sent it out to a few friends for input and reworked parts.

The biggest pain in the ass was technical. I had to figure out how to put in bullet points. Not just bullet points, but different kinds; numbers, letters, roman numerals, the works. I’ve done a simple bullet point before, but never this complex and my skills with Word are, shall we say, minimal.

It grew quite frustrating; the only thing I can liken it to is being a teenager and trying to figure out how to put a condom on. I tried this way and that way and kept getting pissed as the bullet points launched off my dick and across the room.


Finally I had a hunch and figured it out. It was quite exciting. So I finished the draft and have now sent it back out for critique. I hate this waiting shit. But, I think it’s pretty solid and should get me back in the room to meet with the Executive Producers. I’ll find out sometime this week if I get the second interview, then I’ll go in and nail it.

Fingers crossed, I’ll get a gig and not realize I learned how to put a condom on just to get fucked in the ass.

P.S. did you know hodgepodge was one word? Neither did I.

My New Friend

I know what you’re thinking. “Good for John. He’s getting out and meeting people.”

I’ll be up front and say that I really don’t have a new friend… I have an acquaintance. Fine, it was a guy who passed me in the street, but we bonded in only the way brothers can.

I was out walking, as I am prone to do when I realize I have no life. I usually wait until the evening when it’s cooled off and the percentage of back sweat can be minimized. I popped into Best Buy to look at DVD’s I can’t afford, which really sucks because it’s Best Buy for christ sake! I should be able to afford that place. Alas I left empty handed.

So I’m walking down Santa Monica in hopes of rolling a bum for some cash when a guy on a bicycle passes, looks right at me and shouts, “This seat makes may balls hurt!”

(Note: For those who have never ridden a bicycle or those who lack male testicles, there has yet to be a seat made that doesn’t cause duress on the sack.)

I glanced down as he passed and it was one of those old school wide leather seats with those cone shaped springs underneath it for shocks. Well at first I really didn’t know how to respond. This is not your usual "lets bond" comment. Usually there is an introduction followed by small talk before you reach the, “Let me tell you something really personal about myself” stage. Not this guy. He was into sharing his problems and seeking advice.

As he sped away, it struck me. I could help this guy out. “Stand up!” I shouted out just before he turned the corner ahead of us. So he stood up in the pedals. Seconds after disappearing around the corner, I heard his yelp of gratitude. “YEEEAAHHHHH! Thanks, man!”

When I reached the corner, I looked down the street to see the guy standing up, pedaling away, pleased as punch.

For a brief moment, we had connected. He asked for help and help was delivered. If that’s not true friendship, I don’t know what is.

I should have asked if he knew where I could find a decent job. Damn.

Take It Off

Yesterday was Air G’s Birthday. He turned 32 so that’s not bad.

As part of the celebration, we went to the Seven Veils strip club. If you don’t know it, it’s the club they show for Kevin Dillon’s credit in the opening of Entourage. It’s also about three blocks from where I live. I’ve passed by several times, but never gone in. I’m all for strip clubs, I’ve spent my share of time in them and have unloaded plenty of cash. I once even rented out the V.I.P. room an entire night. That’s a story for another time.

So we go in last night and right off the bat I know it’s a full nude show. This is easy to figure out because no one is served alcohol. All of the patrons were drinking soda or bottled water. Also there was a naked lady swinging around the pole. Big hint.


I won’t say that I have become disinterested in the clubs, but I see them with different eyes now. I used to enjoy the exploitation, the breasts in the face, the lap dances, but times change. Now it’s more about performance. What they wear, how they dance, costume design, etcetera.

Two of the dancers stuck out in my mind after leaving. The first one, we all considered the best one of the night. She was tall, thin, gorgeous, and had moves, but there was something else. She had a level of class about her. She walked well in the shoes and didn’t look like she might fall at any second. Her outfits were close to being normal. They weren’t stripper clothes, but rather tight regular t-shirts and skirts. She could have gone out in the street dressed like that and it added o the allure. Plus she looked like she enjoyed herself. She had an energy and vigor that made everything she did seem like fun. Plus the second time she came out, she was wearing glasses and it gave it the whole sexy librarian, hot for teacher thing.

The second one was the crazy chic. When I say crazy, I mean watching her dance was nothing but an interpretive way of saying, “I have issues.” Her teeth were also a giveaway that she was a user of some type of drug/s. She was called Eleckta, my guess, not her real name. I didn’t ask to see her I.D. She went nuts on stage. She simulated doggy style on a guy, rubbed her crotch on anything that resembled a face and worked the pole like crazy. I give her major props for her pole work, it was like some Russian circus performer spinning and climbing and dropping within an inch of hitting her head. It was very impressive stuff. Now here’s the tough part, for me. She crawls over to our group and picks up two of the sodas that we have been drinking. They are in clear plastic cups. She puts one cup over each breast and leans up to shake them around. The cola swishes and tumbles over her tits. She leans down and removes the cups, so as not to spill any, then moves on to her next bit.


How do you tip for that? She has just done something that is imaginative and not really the normal thing, but she has also just ruined eight dollars worth of soda. I looked back down at the coke and it was foggy from baby powder and tit sweat. Now I need to give her money for that? Admittedly, I have downed pretty much any liquid in my life, but I think this is where I draw the line.

I ended up giving her two bucks for the effort, but in my head I only gave her a 3 out of a potential 10 points.

So what have I learned? Fewer psychos and more librarians are needed in my life.

Oh, Well

I promised to be honest when I started this thing, so here I am being honest. This doesn’t make for the most entertaining entries all the time, but what the hell.

I was looking forward to the day when I could say, “I’m employed!!” I though that day was coming soon. I have been waiting for a callback on a gig that seemed pretty open and shut… Guess not.

Driving home from playing videogames with Aaron, my phone began its goofy chirp. (My ring tone is the communicator from the Star Trek T.V. series. NERD!!) I check out the I.D. and it says, “Unknown”. This is the sign that it’s him, the guy who is helping me find work. I don’t believe in answering the phone while driving, but this is very different. Yeah, I’m a hypocrite, who isn’t.


Sure enough, it’s him. We chit chat for a bit and I’m informed that the job has gone to someone inside the company. The person knew the place and the job inside out, blah, blah, blah. I can’t blame them, they hired the best person for the job. I just didn’t know they were talking to other people. It sounded like I was the only candidate.

So I was fine with it at first, no big whoop, lets move on. Then later last night the bummed out phase hit. Now what? What the hell am I gonna do?

I’ve had to turn down three opportunities up in the Bay Area. I kept getting contacted by this woman from school who showed some of my work to folks and they wanted me to talk about working for them. Shit! Have I screwed up yet again? Is it my mission in life to always be in the wrong place at the wrong time? If that’s the case, shouldn’t a Budweiser truck have struck me down by now? (See, it’s ironic because I’m an alcoholic.)

It’s not all over, and I hang onto that with every fiber of my being. There is another opening in the web department and I have a considerable amount of experience and would be good for the job. I’ve been doing my research and figured out I can do it. It’s not my first choice. I came here to get involved in production and web ain’t exactly film or T.V.

As a matter of fact all my web work was intended to help get me into movies. It helped a little. I got to go to a film festival and even won an award. It’s all crap, but it was something.

So I pick myself up, dust myself off and keep on going. It doesn’t make the pain any easier to swallow, it just means I have to keep on keeping on. Giving up is silly. If you believe in something, I mean really believe in something, you move forward no matter how much the ego is bruised or the dreams dashed by outsiders. They don’t know me or what I am capable of. I do and that’s what is most important.

For a pick me up, maybe I’ll see if I can download a Tricorder sound.

NERD!!!!!

Look Who's Calling Back

Last Monday, I called an old girlfriend to chat about some stuff. This wasn’t one of those High Fidelity calls to see where our relationship went wrong, quite the opposite. It seems our lives have taken very different paths since we were together. She has gotten into holistic medicines, meditation, spiritual, guidance and all those sorts of things.

I’m not one to practice these types of things, but I do believe they can work and take them seriously. I’ll crack jokes about them as well, especially the people who are a little too into it and feel it can fix everything in their life. This is something that can happen to anybody no matter what it is they find peace in. I know several alcoholics who are so into the program, that they have basically lost all social skills unless discussing A.A. related topics. It’s kind of sad really.

Anyway, She was out of town and I left a message about my moods recently as well as my smoking and other challenges I’ve been facing. I asked if she’d be willing to talk about some exercises I might try, books to recommend that could help me find some balance in myself.

I hung up and pretty much figured I’d never hear from her. We had recently sent a few emails back and forth offering apologies and amends and I figured that would be enough. Just because you have forgiven someone, doesn’t mean you want to carry on a conversation with him or her, ya know.

Surprise, surprise I get a call from her on Friday afternoon. We talked for about an hour and a half and it was a really good conversation. She even told me that she has a lot of fondness for our past relationship. That was incredible. I tend to focus on all the ugly shit I did and she has chosen to remember the good stuff. She told me how brilliant and funny I am and that I will always be a special person to her. I almost choked up at that point. But hey, I’m a man so I don’t do things like that. I waited until the call was over to let a few tears run.

We discussed my situation and she recommended a few books to read, and some herbs to look into trying. She mentioned the smoking was probably helping my system going a little haywire from time to time and gave some advice on ways of quitting that as well.

We laughed and had a good old time. She’s just gotten engaged to this guy she’s been seeing for a few years and has been living with for the last year and a half. Here’s the point where you’d think I’d feel something rotten inside. Where the Rob Gordon would come out and I’d throw some kind of fit. Nothing like that happened. As a matter of fact I was overcome with happiness.


I was always concerned that I had screwed her up so bad that she’d never be able to truly commit to anyone ever again. I had caused some major emotional damage when we were dating and for some people, that could be the end of it. She came back stronger and better than ever. She did a lot of work on herself and found a person inside that is really impressive to talk to. I think she’s a great woman and it sounds like she has a good head on her shoulders.

We talked about getting together the next time she is down in L.A. and I’ll get to meet the fiancé, which I find exciting. Funny how life works sometimes, isn’t it? The last person you expect to ever talk to you again ends up being one of the people who reaches out to help. It makes me feel that humanity has a shot.


Thank you Megan. You made an ex feel good about life for a while.