Max-stravaganza

HUMAN RESOURCES: Welcome. Please have a seat. I have a quick series of questions to assess your personality and see if you're best suited for this position. HR: First off, what's your name? APPLICANT: Fuck You. That's my name. HR: Heh heh. Seriously now. A: There are some who call me...Tim. HR: Okay, Tim. What unique abilities do you bring to our company? A: What I do have are a very particular set of skills. Skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. HR: How do you feel that you are different from other applicants for this position? A: Some people can read War and Peace and come away thinking it was a simple adventure story. Others can read the ingredients on a chewing gum wrapper and unlock the secrets of the universe. HR: Where do you see yourself in five years? A: I'm going to be a mighty king. So enemies beware. I'm going to be the main event, like no king was before. I'm brushing up on loo...

Dear Esquire, Long time reader, first time griper. Ever since opening my first copy in my childhood dentist's waiting room, I have been a firm believer that Esquire is the one, true authority for men with regards to fashion, food and foxy ladies. So much so, in fact, that I will personally thank Esquire on my tombstone. This is done in part because your magazine helped me pick out the gravesite that will attract the most single women. Your most recent issue, however, has put me in quite the moral quandary regarding your magazine's capacity to accurately judge what constitutes "manliness." In an article titled " 10 Trends to Steal from Fashion Week ," you run down the essential points that American men should take from European stylists. These include: Shortened, blue blazers, shiny tuxedos, mesh tops, and tribal print. What the hell, Esquire? It's like you want me to get run out of town by angry villagers like I'm Frankenstein's mo...

Game of Thrones is all the rage on the blogosphere and Twitterverse and all those other online sources of baseless opinions which, sadly, I belong to. Even though it puts my soul at hazard, I finally broke down and tweeted: "Okay. I'll be a part of this world." As my college friends can attest, there isn't a TV series that I haven't seen. We all remember that two week stretch during sophomore year where I marathoned seasons 2-5 of Blossom and nearly wrote my term paper on Joey instead of D.H. Lawrence. With Game of Thrones , however, I'm waiting to read the book first. Partly because I hear it's a great read. Mainly I'm doing this for the same reason that before torrenting (what? I would never do that!) V for Vendetta , I read the comic book: so I could say "God, the book was so much better! Why did they change detail XYZ and leave out character Q?" Without reading a single page, I feel entitled and better than most people. Exactl...

Baseball season is upon us, which means that once again Americans are provided with their favorite pastime: hating Barry Bonds. The Bonds steroids/perjury/socking dingers trial is back up, and much like pitchers in the late 90s, the prosecution has no answer for Barry Bonds. It looks as though Barry is going to get off because of his shrunken testicles (*pause for effect 3...2..1..*), which apparently is the legal equivalent of an intentional walk. Even after retirement, Bonds continues to be a media pariah. Even after he left to game to no fanfare, he is still the target of scorn, ridicule and "BAL-CO" chants. Don't get me wrong, I hate this man more than Jane Fonda and the Jonas Brothers combined, but you have to respect the man's hand-eye coordination and bat speed. The following is an essay I wrote about how the necessary evil that is Barry Bonds has a few positive benefits. I apologize if it reads melodramatic. I wrote it two years ago. I was so much olde...

If you get it, read a book.

If Michael Moore has taught me anything (*pause for laughter*), it's that we as a society need to start asking tough questions about our leaders and idols. We have to stop blindly accepting orders and free ourselves from the shackles of the dominant culture. Having said that: What the hell has Wedge Antilles ever done to earn our faith and trust? The Wedge Factor: When an unimpressive supporting character receives a dedicated fan following for no reason; typically a character that receives so little screen time that the audience fills in the blanks with awesomeness. It's a concept similar to the Worf Effect , but I think that the Wedge Factor is a bit deeper (sidebar: I was tempted to dub it the Illegal Wedge , but that was taken). If you ask anyone about their favorite peripheral characters from Star Wars, Wedge Antilles will undoubtedly come up. IGN ranked him the 24th greatest Star Wars character of all time . He is a bold fighter pilot, a valiant solider and skilled i...

To say goodbye is to die a little. -Raymond Chandler, "The Long Goodbye" ********** I recently got representation as a writer. This means that I now have to "work" and "generate new ideas" as opposed to sitting around on my ass, dreaming about putting things down on paper. I celebrated my signing by dropping a good chunk of change in the "Young Professional Douchebag" (YUPDIE) section of Urban Outfitters. I bought plenty of flannel, a book about how to make 100 different sorts of martinis, and a turntable so I can invite people back to my loft and listen to old Bryan Ferry records. And on Friday, I said goodbye to my unpaid internship. It was sad. I felt like I should commemorate it with Cheers' "We're Closed" final line, or saying Goodnight Moon to every room that I had spent time in. "Goodnight copier. Goodnight movie projector. Goodnight beleaguered assistant to egomaniacal director." ...

Oscars are this weekend, and unfortunately The King's Speech is going to win Best Picture; mainly since David Fincher alienates Academy members much like Mark Zuckerberg alienates everyone. Then you've got Mr. Darcy , who's going to win an Academy Award for doing his best Simple Jack impression. If Jesse Eisenberg stuttered during Social Network, it's because he can't keep up with Aaron Sorkin's banter, not because he's trying to exaggerate historical inaccuracies for the sake of Oscar gold . The Social Network was by far my favorite movie of the year, possibly decade (depending on whether the decade starts with year one or zero. Jack Black and Michael Cera say that it's year one, so I'm going to trust them on this.) I left the theater bruised and battered. I couldn't tell what I felt. Firstly, it's a fantastic movie. Secondably, I was demoralized since I a) didn't go to Harvard, b) come from money or c) am not good at math, whic...

I know that I'm late to the party, but I'm thoroughly tired of Twitter (and I'm also late to the party on using the phrase "late to the party"). Apart from giving us 24/7 insights into the buying habits of our congressional leaders , it reinforces the misconception that every one of our random thoughts is worth broadcasting (note: but keep reading my blog). People often ask me why I don't have an account. It's rather simple. My Twitter feed, like my tell all biography and sex tape, is raunchy, poignant and full of angry language towards the female cast of Glee, but it won't be relevant until I'm famous. No one wants to hear the banal rants and ramblings of a nobody (sidenote: but keep reading my blog). A co-worker responded, "But being on Twitter is how you become famous." Not for the right reasons. Twitter is the online version of the E! Network or Bravo. What kills me is when people talk about their tweets. Verbally retweet...

"The perfect match, if you ask me, is between the Cosmo woman and the fourteen-year old boy." - Nick Hornby, High Fidelity ********* Call it desperation, call it loneliness, call it pre-Valentine's malaise, but I finally decided to bite the bullet and sign up for online dating. Everyone I know under the age of thirty has joined for one of two reasons: 1) they lost a drinking game-related wager, or 2) "Everyone else does it and it seems like fun." I'm sorry, kids that got tricked into painting a fence, but it is the exact opposite of fun. Do you know what online dating is good for? Horror stories that you tell on dates that weren't arranged via the internet. It's a conversation that has been had many times, and it goes a little something a-like this: MAN : I'm so glad we met. I was having some really bad luck on eHarmony. WOMAN : Oh, me too! There was this one guy who would only talk about the plight of Malaysian lemurs. MAN : Ha ha! You sho...

There are two struggles in practicing yoga. The first is the actual class. The second is the perpetual, losing battle of attempting to explain to outsiders just how strenuous 90 minutes of stretching can be. Because to most, yoga is the athletic equivalent of cranberry juice; good on occasion, but normally reserved for women on their periods. Stretching and standing, holding your own body weight, keeping your arms in the air, deep breathing. Doesn't seem that difficult. Three year olds can do it. Let me tell you, when done correctly, it feels like your soul was sucked out through your pores . Some alleged "restorative" poses are tantamount to having your hips wrung through a medieval torture device...and you're doing it to yourself. But Yoga isn't just for spiritual masochists and flexible deviants. There is another contingent who accepts Yoga as a strenuous exercise. A group that prides themselves on good posture...and firmed glamour muscles . ...

As an alternately underpaid/unpaid Hollywood intern, you always have to fake that you're "just lucky to have the experience." You're "thankful to be working with such great people" and "truly blessed to be learning so much." It's institutionalized bullshit, insisting that the emasculating experience is more important than full time employment. But recently, I have been genuinely lucky to be working with one particular individual...as from my office/copy room, I now have a front row seat for their slow, devastating, full-on Travis Bickle descent into insanity. I'm not going to say who this person is. Everyone in Hollywood knows everyone else. But it's someone I either work for or with. Man or woman. Executive or artist. Director or designer. I'm not saying. I plead the fif . Over the past month, this individual has slowly lost his or her grasp on reality. Symptoms include: Seeing things that aren't there. Gross paranoia. An eve...

As 2010 came to a close, it was a time for mass reminiscing, nostalgia and saccharine year end best of lists (who, for the most part, are always composed of the same 9 movies with the exception with one sly declaration of youth sandwiched in a list of safe classics). For young adults of a certain age, it meant that we had to take a second ride on the nostalgia express. Five years had passed since graduation, so it was high time that the high school development office bug us for money under the auspicious guise of a "reunion." The five year high school reunion. Not much has changed, except that now we were legally drinking on campus as opposed to sneaking off to the bathroom to take a pull off a bottle of generic vodka. Now, I hate to generalize or make blanket statements, but there is absolutely no reason to have a five year reunion. Unless, of course, it were to take place more than five years from graduation (e.g. when people actually have something to say about their li...