FREE CASTING IDEAS - How to make a mediocre movie AWESOME!

I was thinking of ways to make people who are essentially only good at one thing into great actors/celebrities.  Here's what I have so far...

1. Samuel L. Jackson

Whether he plays a pissed hitman, a pissed cop, a pissed Jedi, or the pissed leader of SHIELD, Samuel L. Jackson is always pissed. What is the best role for someone like that - as a priest in a wedding movie. I would pay $9 just to hear a robed Samuel L. Jackson say, "No, mother f@$ker, peace be with YOU!"

2. William Shatner and David Hasselhoff

Tell Shatner he is playing Hasselhoff as an old man. Tell Hasselhoff he is playing a younger William Shatner. Intercut their scenes with heartfelt interviews about early onset senility and you've got an Emmy.

3. Charlie Sheen

Take the first two Major League movies and recent interviews and intercut them with fake interviews with the actors now talking about the problem with athletes doing too much cocaine. You don't even need any new Sheen footage. WINNING!

4. Arnold Schwartzenegger

Put Arnold on a reality show teaching English to students in Japan. (Alternate country: El Salvador) No comedic writing necessary.

5. The Situation

Make a feature length movie of the Situation doing stand up.  For an hour and a half.  Tie people in their chairs.  Call it Dante's Inferno: the first layer of hell.  The sequel?  Snookie reading Ulysses to her newborn baby.

I'm back!!!

After a LONG hiatus, I am back writing my blog. What have I been up to all this time? A LOT. Well, not really. (People at work, I have been doing a lot. Trust me. I'm writing this just for the comedic value of the blog. I work ALL THE TIME, SO DON"T CALL ME!) I've watched a lot of the show Kitchen Nightmares. For those of you who have seen it before I'll summarize:

Part 1
•Host, Chef Gordon Ramsay: Hello, we're here at _________ restaurant.
•Gordon Ramsay orders food. Eats food. It is a. bland, b. covered in garlic or c. covered in garlic, yet still somehow bland. About 50% of the time, he excuses himself to the bathroom to throw up.

Part 2
•Gordon Ramsay confronts the owner. The owner thinks the food is fine. Gordon Ramsay and the owner get into an argument. One or both threaten to walk off the show.

Part 3
•Gordon Ramsay looks through the kitchen and freezer. He finds rancid meat and shoves it in the face of the chef and the owner. Then he yells at them, "I'VE EATEN HERE!!" It's usually at this point he finds a dead mouse. He yells at them to clean up the kitchen. The restaurant staff spend the entire night cleaning up.

Part 4
•The staff attempt to serve dinner the next night, during which Gordon Ramsay finds additional mice or mice droppings in the rancid meat. He yells, "SHUT IT DOWN!!" Then dramatic music and... scene.

Part 5
•Gordon Ramsay takes the staff on a team building exercise, usually involving milking something.

Part 6
•Gordon Ramsay pares down the restaurant's menu and tells them to use fresh ingredients. The serve dinner. It is a struggle but they make it through. He leaves the restaurant and gives his prognosis for the restaurant. Even though most of the restaurants fail, he gives a hopeful summary while they play music from a 1988 Full House episode in the background.

Sorry if I ruined the show for you, but it is less predictable than The A-Team. (Yes, I know that show was predictable, but did you see the one with the migrant workers and the bazooka that shot heads of lettuce or the one where the senior citizens chased down the drug dealers while using walkers? Sheer genius!!!

Well, anyway... I'm back. Unlike the movie version of the A-Team, I'll try to be as good as the original, gold necklaces, feather earrings and all.

Columbus, Part 1

A few months ago, I went to see my girlfriend, Gillian in Columbus, Ohio, for the weekend. Since she is the Head of Wardrobe for the national tour of the musical Cats, I don’t really get a chance to see her. The touring company has them on the road almost seven nights a week and they are in a different city almost every night. I literally could not take another weekend of being away from her and decided that I was going to leave from work on Thursday and fly out to Columbus. Cats was playing there that weekend and her bus was scheduled to arrive at 8am. That would give me about four hours with her before she had to go to work. I ordered room service for breakfast the next morning at 9:30, plenty of time for the bus to get there and give us some time alone.

The next morning arrived and I eagerly woke up at 7:30. 8am came and went. No Gillian. 9am. No Gillian. I called but got no answer. About ten minutes later I got a text back. “We blew a tire. Be there in about an hour.” The tour bus finally arrived – at 11am. Gillian called me. “We’re at the theater two blocks away,” she said. I ran over as fast as I could to see her. When I got there, she was unloading her bags from under the bus. I walked up to her and gave her a hug, noticing that her co-workers were looking at us. “Don’t mind us,” said David, the Head of Wigmaking. “We’re just quietly judging you.”

Gillian and I dashed over to the hotel. Thankfully I had asked for a late checkout. I was safe until 2pm. Gillian wanted to check into her room and grab a quick shower before she went to work. I helped her bring her stuff up to her room and she jumped in the shower. I ran downstairs and got her now ice cold breakfast. She had just enough time to swallow down a few bites and drink some coffee before she went to the theater. I was all alone until 5pm.

A few days before I had told my brother, Peter, I was going to Columbus. He said, “Why don’t you go to the Columbus Zoo?” A good suggestion, I thought. A point of travel advice, however. The Columbus Zoo is not in Columbus, or if it is, it’s either in another state with a city that is also called Columbus or you travel all the way around the earth the opposite way in order to get to the zoo. At least that’s what it felt like, and what the cab meter seemed to indicate.

Once I got to the zoo, the temperature dropped to what seemed like -10 degrees. The Chilean penguins I saw looked happy (like this was weather they were finally used to) and the flamingoes almost seemed like they were ready to turn blue.

By coincidence, it was the night for Wild Lights, the opening of the Christmas season at the zoo. They were featuring their polar bear exhibit. I made my way through the rest of areas: through the manatee habitat, the kangaroo walking trail (which would have allowed the kangaroos to walk right up to me, but sadly it was closed), past the bald eagles, the puma, the grizzly, black, and brown bears. Finally I was at the Polar bears. I had heard from one of the volunteers that they had been out all day hunting salmon in their simulating environment. I walked up to the exhibit. “They’re feeding right now,” the volunteer said. “You can sort of see them if you look here.” I looked toward the side of the exhibit to see either a polar bear or a person in a polar bear outfit. I couldn’t really tell from the angle I was looking. The main attraction was a bust.

I started walking back toward the main entrance. It was getting close to 5pm and I would be able to see Gillian for her dinner break. I suddenly saw a sign for Arctic Foxes. Since foxes and cats are Gillian’s favorite animals, I couldn’t pass them up. The foxes were all asleep (or at least appeared to be) when suddenly something jolted them awake. The zookeeper was feeding them. Each of them was supposed to get one piece of meat. Somehow, though, one of the foxes outsmarted the zookeeper and ran off with three. For the next five minutes, she chased the fox around the pen trying to get back the stolen meat.

I caught a few more animals on the way out and caught the incredibly expensive cab the way back (and yes I asked if there was a bus. It appears when it gets cold, bus drivers are unable to drive to the zoo. Who knew?)

I met Gillian for dinner and gave her the stuffed Arctic Fox I bought at the Zoo giftshop. “Aww,” all the actors and theater crew gushed. Gillian blushed a little.

Gillian took me through the backstage to meet all of the people she worked with. “This is my boyfriend,” she said as she introduced me to the locals who worked for her. She got me a ticket to see the show and after a few more introductions I went in through the front doors to my ticket and my seat. For the first time since 1983, I saw Cats. After the show, I saw a bunch of the people I had met backstage. “Hi, boyfriend,” they all kept saying. I realized that Gillian hadn’t actually told them my name.

The next morning I walked Gillian to the theater. “What are you going to do today?” she said once we were inside. “I don’t know,” I said. “Should I see Cats again?” “Well,” she replied. “Do you know what would really help me? Could you go to Target and buy as many Gilligan and O’Malley spandex thongs as you can? They gave us the wrong underwear for the actors.” “Okay,” I said. Back to the hotel I went, with the product number and a list of Targets in Columbus in hand.

I called the number “I was wondering if you had about thirty spandex thongs. They’re not for me, they’re for Cats.” Silence. I sort of repeated it to myself in my head. I probably shouldn’t have said it that way. “Let me explain,” I said. “My girlfriend makes costumes for Cats and she needs spandex thongs because the other underwear doesn’t work as well.” I was just making it worse. “Should I just read you the item number?” The woman at the first Target apparently did not find spandex thongs on Cats (or cats) amusing and quickly dismissed my call. “Sorry, we don’t have any of that item.”

“Liar,” I was tempted to say. “You just won’t help me because you think I’m a pervert who put thongs on cats! Well, I don’t, but if I did, after the way I’ve been treated I wouldn’t shop at Target for my cat fetish undergarments.” I didn’t. It was the Midwest after all.

I was a little more prepared on the second call. “Have you heard of the musical Cats?,” I started. That seemed like a little better way to begin. The second Target had 19 of them. I texted Gillian. “Get Them!!!,” she replied.

I called for a taxi and one drove me to the Target. I told him the story and he waited for me to pick up the thongs and bring them back. I walked them into the backstage of Cats. “I told everyone that you got the thongs,” she said. “You are such a good boyfriend,” said one of the locals. I hoped Gillian thought so too.

I went back to the hotel and worked on schoolwork until Gillian got off of work. We thought about going out to a restaurant, but there was nothing really open. “Let’s just go up to the room and get room service,” Gillian said. After tracking down thongs in Columbus, room service seemed like a good idea.

TO BE CONTINUED

Interview with a doll body #1

Chronic Nice Guy: Hi there.

Doll Body: Hey, how's it going?

CNG: Um, Okay. So, I guess I'm going to start the interview now.

DB: Well, go ahead. It's not like I'm in a rush or anything. I'm just laying in a patch of clover.

CNG: Wow, you sure know a lot about Botany for a doll body. Well, here goes...

CNG: So, if you could have one dream come true, what would it be?

DB: Well, probably eyes and a mouth. Hair would be good too.

CNG: Well, I don't have any hair. You sort of look like me.

DB: Yeah, except way sexier. Maybe that's why my creator so lovingly put me together.

CNG: Hey, it's not very nice to talk about her that way.

DB: Do you want to hear my favorite pick up line? Who's got two thumbs, is full of wool, and is hand sewn? THIS GUY.

CNG: That's ... great. So, of all your accomplishments, what are you most proud of?

DB: Probably matching the thread. Also my nose. It's not weird looking like your's.

CNG: My nose isn't weird looking is it?

DB: There's a weird ball shape at the end of your nose. It's not like mine - a cute little button nose.

CNG: Well, what's your nose made of?

DB: A button. So are you going to put a picture of you at the end of this interview.

CNG: I was thinking about it. You know, a picture to go with a byline. You know, interview by The Chronic Nice Guy.

DB: Do you have one where you're in a field like me?

CNG: Actually, I do.

DB: That's kind of creepy.

CNG: What's creepy about it?

DB: You know, you're just sitting in a field. Also you look a lot like a doll body in human size. That's weird.

CNG: I'm sorry to be causing you so much grief with my lack of hair.

DB: Well, it would certainly make creating a doll version of you easy. In fact, all I'd need is a mouth and glasses. And a red shirt. And to look creepy.

CNG: Well, I'll get on the red shirt right away for you. As soon as I stop spending my time trying to look creepy in this field.

10 Things I like about Gillian

Well, you've all probably been wondering where I have been for the past several months. Well, the big news is I have a girlfriend and she is amazing. So amazing, that I decided to do a blog entry about her. Hopefully, after she is finished reading this, she will still be my girlfriend.

1. Even though her last name is Austin, she’s young enough that noone makes jokes about The Six Million Dollar Man (Don’t get me started on those Oscar Goldman jokes). She is old enough, though, that people used to make jokes about Stone Cold Steve Austin when he was a championship wrestler. It’s a good thing he launched his movie career. Now noone knows who he is.

2. Gillian makes really great meals. One time, she said to me, “Do you like squash, tomatoes, and peanuts? It’s for an African stew.” The first thing I thought was, “I didn’t now they grew tomatoes in Africa.” (See, it was a delicious meal and a learning experience.) The second thing I thought was, “This is really delicious.” The third thing I thought was, “Do I want to know what the rest of the ingredients are? Probably not.” Even though I like that she’s an adventurous cook, I’m a little afraid she’s going to ask me, “Do you like tuna fish, rice krispies, and Skittles?”

3. 3. She is probably one of the only people I know to own as many pieces of black clothing as I do.

4. 4. She knows how to repair her black clothing. I know how to bitch and moan about how I paid $20 for a shirt and it’s lost a button and how do you make that knot at the end of the thread to fix it? Oh well, forget it. I’ll just give it to Goodwill. And they even gave me an extra button for when I lost one that’s just sitting on the bottom of the shirt, mocking me. Oh button, how I despise you!

5. 5. Gillian has really pretty long red hair like The Little Mermaid. Unlike Ariel, Gillian has never been fooled by any half woman, half octopus. Like Ariel, though, her family doesn’t get along with Moray Eels.

6. 6. Gillian likes cats. Gillian works for Cats. Somehow I feel myself being tempted to write something about cats taking over the world and making Gillian their overlord, but I hope that if we just keep feeding them Whiskas that will never happen. (Although personally, I wouldn’t be opposed to Overlord Gillian.) By the way, I also like cats, but I refuse to work for them until they give me a retirement package and I don’t just mean one of those standard 401k’s.

7. 7. Gillian makes dolls (well, doll bodies) and sells them to people so they can finish them. It’s a pretty cool business and will I hope result in many upcoming hilarious blog entries.

8. 8. Gillian watches BBC miniseries (that’s the plural version and yes, the plural of miniseries is miniseries) and listens to NPR to relax. I feel more aware and cultured just being in the same room with her. The way she got back in touch with me was by hearing my name on NPR and going to my concert. Thank you, Federal Government! My tax dollars were spent on something that actually resulted in my happiness! Now we just have to get China to give us a fair trade deal.

9. 9. Gillian is really funny … and also will humor me and tell me this blog entry is funny. Even though it could probably be better. I mean, I’m no Gillian.

10. Gillian is the kindest, smartest, most generous person I know. I know that this last one is not funny, but I’m hoping that she won’t be that disappointed with this final one, because I really mean it. Also, I figured I’d put it last because most people have given up reading at this point or are on their way to the grocery store to buy Whiskas to appease the cats so that they won’t take over the world. Don’t worry, you have some time. Overlord Gillian will protect us.

A sensitive email confirmation

From: simondor002@bol.com.br

Subject: CONFIRM YOUR EMAIL ID

Date: August 12, 2010 1:54:30 PM EDT

To: undisclosed-recipients:;Attention,

Can you please confirm if you are still using this email address.

There is information I think might interest you. I am Mr. Simon Dornoo, I work with Barclay's Bank. First of all, I do not know if I am talking to the right person, But I will like you to confirm if you are the owner of this email ID. Already I have your name and details in our file in the office, but somehow I am not comfortable and too sure that I am communicating with the right owner of this email.

If you can prove that you are the owner of this email ID, I will furnish you with the information that I have for you when I am convinced I am talking to the right person.

I am taking this preventive measure because I do not want to talk to the wrong person because of the sensitivity of the information regarding the issue.Other details will be forwarded to you as soon as
I am convinced that I am communicating with the right person.

Mr Simon Dornoo
Barclay's Bank
dorsimon2001@gmail.com

-------------------------------------------

Dear Simon (I'm hoping if I call you that, then you'll feel more comfortable about talking to me),

How are you? Did something happen to your computer? I only ask because you are sending this email asking for my information, so I'm guessing someone hacked into your computer or you poured grape soda on it. Also, you ended your question with a period which leads me to believe that your question mark key is broken.

After reading your email, I became concerned. What sensitive information do you have about me? I really don't have any secrets. Okay, well, once, a long time ago, I ate dry cake mix out of the box. I guess I wouldn't want that to get out. Also, I was a little concerned about how the email was sent to undisclosed recipients. I hope you didn't send this to my boss's email address, or the girl I like, but am reluctant to tell (I guess that's a secret).

Also, how do you plan on furnishing me the information? I'm not really good at this espionage stuff. Most of my experience comes from movies and right now all I can think of is the scene from Trading Places with Eddie Murphy in the parking garage and all of the scenes in Burn After Reading (It didn't turn out well for any of people in that movie, unfortunately), so I'm probably not the best person to think of a way to exchange sensitive information. I'd probably just recommend that we meet at Arby's and you put it in one of those musical greeting cards. That way, when I read it and people hear the Beatles' "Birthday", they would think that whether I laughed or cried, my reaction would be normal. Even if I got angry, they would probably think it's because I'm not a John Lennon fan.

Well, if you have decided to become a vegetarian or can't afford one of those musical birthday cards (or feel awkward deceiving people by pretending it's my birthday), let me know. We can pick another cool spy place to exchange information, like by Fonzie's jacket in the Smithsonian. (Did you see the second Night at the Museum? Not as good as the first, but still, good fun for the whole family.)

Sincerely yours,

The Chronic Nice Guy

To the people leaving comments on my blog

Dear people leaving comments on my blog,

Thanks for leaving comments. I guess reactions both positive and negative are a good thing. Just a bit of advice, though. When someone writes all of their posts in English and has never mentioned that he speaks another language, you should probably post anything you want to know in English. (Same for your name also).

While I have you here, what are your feelings on Gouchos? Are they technically the same thing as a skort? Women's fashions, especially hybrid pants/skirt combinations confuse and somewhat trouble me.

Well, feel free to write again. Maybe next time, I'll be able to find someone to translate it. Also, homeland security people, if what they wrote were secret terrorist plots, I had nothing to do with it. Also, while you're reading this, I think someone has brainwashed Natalie Portman, preventing her from going out with me. If you could assist in locating a remote island with just us on it for say, several months, I'd appreciate it.

Sincerely yours,

The Chronic Nice Guy