BREAKING NEWS!!! A POSITIVE REVIEW OF SOMETHING I WAS INVOLVED IN!!!

No, that's not a typo. The New York Times has printed a positive review of "Run, Fatboy, Run." How this happened I'm not sure, and I am thinking about asking for a retraction, but you can read the review here.

P.S. I have been horribly sick since the premiere and have not had the strength or inclination to do any blogging as a result. It's either the flu or maybe Ebola. Short story short: the premiere was fun, and I'll do a post about it when I'm up to it.

"Run, Fatboy, Run" Premiere Tonight

The big movie premiere is tonight. What a difference from my last movie, "The Pleasure of Your Company," which MGM bought and subsequently fucked up every which way they could (changed the title to the worst title in movie history and broke their contract and lied to my face because they are fucking liars). Picturehouse, the people who are releasing "Fatboy," have done a fantastic job putting this event together and getting the movie into the wide, wide world. I'm not sure how many screens it's going be on, but I think I heard something like 35,000,000, which is a lot, especially when you consider that "Lord of the Rings" opened on 4,000 screens. So that's a big difference. The big question, of course: what am I wearing? I've been agonizing over this decision, and brought five steamer trunks to Los Angeles so I could delay my choice as long as possible. Obviously everybody is expecting me to wear my normal tux/swimming flippers combination, but I've done that to death at all the awards shows, etc, so I think I might try something different. Maybe capri pants, halter top, and "rasta" wig. Maybe ankle monitoring devices and spiderweb tattoo. Many, many questions. As far as the weather goes, lovely day for a film premiere. Sunny skies and temperate temps. The perfect day to sit in a dark room. Everybody is asking: where's the after-party? In my previous post, I mentioned that we are doing it at Dos Burritos, one of the higher end fast food burrito chains in Los Angeles. That was a lie. But I can't say where it is, not only because it's at a VERY EXCLUSIVE HOLLYWOOD NIGHTCLUB, but because I wasn't invited and so I don't know where it is. That's also a lie. It's at someplace called Les Deux, which I am told from my wife's aunt in North Dakota is the "IT" place. How my wife's aunt in North Dakota knows this, I am not sure, but if she knows about it, then I am confident it's going to be amazing. If you've never been to a movie premiere, it's a lot like going to the movies, only the popcorn is free and the director usually gives a speech beforehand, where he thanks everybody. Then, the after-party is where everybody congratulates each other, and instead of free popcorn, it's free drinks and sometimes delicious canapes. Regular readers to this blog know how much I ADORE canapes. Anyway, it should be a fun evening.

Off to Hollywood!!!

Today my wife and I are flying to Los Angeles for the exciting film premiere of “Run, Fat Boy, Run.” Tomorrow is the gala event, held at the Arclight Theater, which is a big round cinema in the heart of Hollywood. No doubt it will be an extremely glamorous and swanky event. The after party is being held at Dos Burritos, which is a very high-end Mexican fast food outlet. Expected celebrities:

• Me
• The cast of the film including Simon Pegg, Hank Azaria, and Thandie Newton
• Director David Schwimmer
• The original Broadway cast of “Starlight Express,” the rollerskating musical.
• The Travolta family excluding John and wife Kelly Preston
• Members of various reality shows including “Chains of Love,” and “Paradise Island 2.”
• Award-winning Thom McKann shoe salesman Chip LeFlore of Wheeling, Illinois.
• Maybe the guy who played Gunter on “Friends.”
• Possibly one of the Coreys.
• Will Smith (not the movie star, a different one)
• David Wain
• Friends of the guy who was dating Lance Bass
• One or more of the Muppets
• Clients 1-8
• Arena football star John Dutton and cheerleaders from the Georgia Force

Should be an incredible night of “star gazing.”

In Vancouver Again

In Vancouver again. The last time I was here, four months ago, hockey was on every television station all day, every day. Now, hockey is on every television station all day, every day. All anybody does here is sit around and watch hockey. Hasn’t anybody told these people that hockey sucks? I’ve thought about telling them myself, but I came to the conclusion that they are Canadian – hockey is all they have. Hockey is the one thing that keeps them from becoming American. That, and their distinctly laid back Canadian attitude, which is sort of like a California attitude, minus the underlying hatred and self-loathing.

It’s tempting to say that Canadian are a simple people, content to live their lives with humility and grace, but I have to believe that there is some evil within them somewhere that I just haven’t found yet. There was a big story in the papers here about a hit and run driver who killed a 21 year old guy. Rather than calling for the guy’s head, though, the parents of the dead guy said they forgave the killer and didn’t harbor any hatred. What kind of bullshit is that?

The other thing I’ve noticed is that there is a certain look that many Canadian women have. It’s kind of hard to explain because it’s subtle, but I think the best way to describe it is that a lot of Canadian women have piggy noses. Not snouts exactly, just kind of upturned piggy noses. I wonder if this is leftover French genetic material that hasn’t worked its way out of the bloodlines yet. Because French people have piggy noses too. And duck-billed tits.

Here I Am Talking to Rabbits

A Scene From A Movie About A Jewelry Heist Gone Horribly Wrong

INT. WAREHOUSE – DAY

JINX, QUENTIN, and POTTS, bleeding from a bullet wound to the shoulder, are sequestered in this crappy, dusty shelter. POLICE SIRENS can be heard in the distance. The men look miserable and exhausted. Potts is gamely trying to suppress his agony.

Jinx (looking out a grimy window): Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit!

Quentin:  Calm down.

Jinx: Fuck you, Q. We are fucked, man. We are seriously and royally fucked here. How you doin’, Potts?

Potts: Not good, Jinxy baby.

Jinx: He’s losing a lot of blood, Q. We gotta get him to a doctor.

Quentin: Nobody’s going anywhere. Not until I say so.

Jinx: You’re not in charge anymore. Once this shit went bad, it became every man for himself.

Quentin pulls out his gun and points it at Jinx’s face.

Potts: Hey c’mon, Q. Jinx is just a little shaken up, right Jinxy? He didn’t mean nothing.

Jinx: Yeah. Yeah, that’s right. I don’t know what I’m saying, Q. I’m all shook up. That’s all.

Quentin cocks the hammer back on his pistol. Presses the barrel of the gun against Jinx’s forehead.

Quentin: Who’s in charge?

Jinx: You are. You’re team leader. Just like always.