Procrastination Look at me! I’m

Procrastination

Look at me! I’m a cowboy! Howdy, howdy, howdy!
Anyone remember that from The Far Side? It was one of my favorites when I was in school.
Well, kids, it’s too damn hot today to do anything but stay inside, and since my house is such a complete and utter disaster, I’m putting off cleaning it up, and bringing the old Burrito Blog up to date. I’m going to go in reverse order, starting with last night’s excursion for Anne’s birthday, yesterday afternoons Improv show, and yesterday morning’s meeting with Roger. Then I’ll give up the promised stories from the Tahoe trip.
I really need to get a digital camera, so I can include cool picture links in these stories, don’t you think?
Before I get started, I want to clarify something, so you can understand a little something about your Sweet Uncle Willie:
I hate, and I mean hate places like “the mall” or these big shopping/dining/consumption oriented places, like The Bock At Orange, and The Irvine Spectrum. I’d MUCH rather go to a little community-oriented street fair or shopping district, and give my money to and spend time around real people, rather than big corporate behemoths.
But Anne’s friend Michelle lives near Irvine, and there is this one cool place there, so I sucked it up, and met them, and our friend Stephanie (who introduced me to and Anne) for dinner, and entertainment.

Dinner, or When The Waiter Came, I said “eww! Look! The waiter came!”

The plan was to meet Anne and the girls at The Cheesecake Factory, but I guess the wait there was 45-70 minutes. 45-70 minutes?! does anyone really want to wait that long for a seat in a restaurant? Sure, at Hooters I can understand that, but at The Cheesecake Factory?
I guess the girls all felt the same way, so they went to some place called “Champps Americana”, which is sort of a sportsbar/micro-brewery/I’m-having-a-mid-life-crisis-and-I-want-to-eat-at-a-place-like-the-ones-I-went-to-in-college place.
So we get seated, and we’re ordering, and, right in the middle of Anne giving her order, the waiter cuts her off, points towards me, and says, “Hey! The kid from Stand By Me!”…Now, whenever that happens, I don’t quite know what to say. Should I jump up and shout “Traaiiiiinnnn!” or tell him a story, or what? I never know how to handle that…I don’t want to say, “Yes! You are correct, sir! Now please treat me differently the entire course of our meal, for I am from movies!”. So there’s this tiny, uncomfortable pause, and my friend Stephanie follows the waiter’s pointing finger, over my shoulder and says, “You know, I think that is Corey Feldman, right over there!” And we all laughed, and it was okay.
So we’re waiting for our dinner to come, and waiting, and waiting, and getting hungrier and hungrier, and this runner finally comes by with some food. He sets Steph’s ribs down in front of her, and as he’s leaning over, he dumps a huge, Ron Jeremy-sized load of alfredo juice all down the shoulder and back of my cool fairview t-shirt! Suddenly, he realizes two things: The food is not ours, it goes to the table next to us, and he just spooged pasta sauce all over my back. So what does he do? He picks up the ribs, says NOTHING about my back! Nothing at all! Not even, “sorry” or “who’s your daddy, wesley?”
So this is a huge mess down my back, and it takes two napkins to wipe it all off…and Stephanie says, “The lest he could have done is bought you dinner before he came on your back.” And my wife says, “Yeah, now you are totally his bitch.”
I realize that some of you are having your image of sweet little Gordie and uber-square Wesley completely shattered right now, but I think it’s best that you get to know the real me sooner than later, that way it won’t hurt so badly when we break up.
Okay, back to the story: FINALLY, our food comes, and it is brought to us by the manager. So I see this guy in a tie coming over, and I think, “Sweet! This turkey burger is on the house!”
He sets our food down, apologizes for the wait, and leaves!! He doesn’t even acknowledge the stain down my back! Now, maybe he didn’t know….I can’t imagine this conversation:

Runner: Uh, sir? I just came on the back of Tv’s Wil Wheaton
Manager: Good job, Darryl! I always hated Wesley Crusher anyway!

But you know what I really think? I think the huge, corporate, “sportsbar/micro-brewery/I’m-having-a-mid-life-crisis-and-I-want-to-eat-at-a-place-like-the-ones-I-went-to-in-college place” doesn’t care about your Uncle Willie, and you know why? Because he isn’t the target audience. He wasn’t wearing penny loafers without socks and corduroy shorts. He didn’t have a ponytail, and he wasn’t drinking Smirnoff Ice when the Zima ran out!!
Oh well. The food wasn’t too bad, and the waitstaff did come and sing “Happy Birthday” to my wife…and our waiter was pretty cool…he could keep up with our sarcasm and jokes and stuff…Oh, and there were lots of interesting people to watch while we ate…which reminds me, and get out a pencil and write this down, people: Just because they make a babydoll t-shirt that says “sexy” in rhinestone across the chest in a size 18 doesn’t mean anyone should wear it! Because, damn, man, dimples, okay? Okay.
Is anyone still with me?
The next place we went was actually really really cool:

Sing Sing With A Swing

“Sing Sing” is a cool piano bar, where 2 guys sit at facing pianos and sing popular tunes and stuff. It is really rowdy, kinda raunchy, and super fun. They play all sorts of songs, from blink 182 to elvis to freebird (because skynard isn’t really a band anyway, they’re just that one song, and ‘sweet home alabama’, right? Oh! interesting fact about skynard: their high school guidence counsellor told them that they’d never make it as a rock band. His name? Leonard Skynard. No shit. And the guy who started FedEx? He presented the idea as a thesis in college, and he professor gave him a terrible grade, because “this will never work.” So let that be a lesson to you. Don’t let anyone tell you what you can’t do. Unless it’s me, and I’m telling you to stop wearing those damn babydoll t-shirts, okay? Okay.)
So there is much singing, much dancing, and a very eclectic crowd, which is rare in cookie-cutter Orange County. And they take requests, so we request “Jesse’s Girl” and “Don’t Stop Believin'”…and they played them, and the whole place went CRAZY! It was really cool. If you can find a Sing-Sing near you, check it out.
Okay, I’m posting this, so I can work on the Improvathon story, and the meeting with Roger story, before I get into the Tahoe saga.
I am spending entirely too much time on this weblong and website thing. I really need to get a life. Or a job. Or a ride to the arcade.

Lefty I’m left-handed, and it’s

Lefty

I’m left-handed, and it’s really influenced the way I live my life.
See, I pride myself on living outside of the mainstream. I don’t want to be part of the teeming masses.
I must be different.
I must be anti-.
But being left handed has sort of…uh…shaded…that desire a little bit. I realized that this morning, as I was responding to Email about my PDA, which is a Palm, rather than a Visor.

I’ve got a Palm, but it’s looking more and more like the cool kids have a handspring. See, I got a Palm because I am left handed. Let me explain: being a lefty, once a year, as a child, I’d walk into the sporting goods store, and walk past aisle after aisle of right-handed gloves on my way to the half of a shelf of left-handed gloves. And I would pick over the dusty gloves that I didn’t pick last year. Or the year before.
I had a Mac way back in the day (it was a 128), and I would go to the software store, and walk past aisle after aisle of PC software, past “Doom” and “SimEverything” on my way to the Mac shelf on the back, where I would look excitedly at “MacDraw” and “MacPaint”. So when it was time to buy a PDA, I went in and said “I want the most widely used one.”
It’s the only time I’ve been willing and eager to be part of the masses.
But I think I want to be one of the cool kids, now. Or at least pretend that I am.

Wesley is Dead, Long Live Wesley!

Indie sent me a really entertaining email while I was /away, and she mentioned to me that she started the “Wesley doesn’t suck” thread on this message board. Indie sounds really cool, and her website is cool too. And I’m not just saying that because she said “Wesley Crusher was sexy”.
So there.

Mini Vans Slorge makes

Mini Vans

Slorge makes my point about minivans:

On minivans, the thing minivans have going for them…is that they look like shuttle craft from Star Trek! Especially now with the TV/vcr combo’s, Onstar systems, radar detectors, cel phones, etc., You’ve practically got a bridge on that ship.

Great. Just ^%@#*ing great. So I drove over 18 hours in a $%!ing shuttlecraft. I do not have the words to express how mortified I am

Home At Last Hey gang.

Home At Last

Hey gang. I’m back home from my wife’s birthday trip to Tahoe.
Holy crap, we had so much fun. If many of you were noticing that, in the last few days, you haven’t been having any fun, it’s our fault. We were having, to quote my step-son, “all the fun!”
There’s too much to put up now, because, even though I’ve been in the car for nine hours, I’m getting ready to have a meeting with Roger Avary about The Rules Of Attraction. Hopefully, when I return tonight, I’ll be able to tell you all about our trip, including:

  • The Rafting Trip
  • Swimming To The Pontoon
  • The Bear
  • And I’ll be able to slip in some really good news, somthing along the lines of “I got a cool part in the movie!”
    So be good, and Uncle Willie will tell you a story when he gets back.
    And a big “thanks!” (That’ll be really funny once you see Lifegame) to the 7 of my beloved friends who sent me email while I was gone.
    -Wil

    Vacation I know this

    Vacation

    I know this is going to upset you, but somehow I know you’ll find a way to struggle through… your Uncle Willie is heading out of town for a week, and won’t have net access.
    Okay, okay, stop your cryin’, or I’ll give you something to cry about!
    It’s Mrs. Uncle Willie’s birthday, and we’re heading up to fabulous Lake Tahoe with the kids and the dog. Sounds great, right?
    Hold on a sec…we’re going up there in …a minivan.
    That’s right. A mini-van. We had to rent a bigger car, so we could fit all our crap and the Ferris’ crate…and rather than get something sort of cool like a lame SUV, we got a mini-van. I’m driving for 8 hours in a minivan.
    I am so lame.
    Let’s talk about minivans for a second, shall we? Is there another mode of transportation, not regularly used by the Amish, that is more lame? When I see a minivan, I think, “That person’s just given up. they’ve reached their goal in life of having the 3.5 kids, the dog and the coveted PTA membership.”
    There’s nothing more sad to me than seeing some dude, who you can tell used to be cool, or some woman, who was probably a hottie at one time, behind the wheel of a Ford Aerostar, the bumper covered with a protective layer of “my kid was the student of the month” bumper stickers, the windows smeared with greasy little kid handprints, and the sad, mournful sound of “Radio Disney” blaring out of the open windows.
    The mini-van that we got is the Dodge Caravan. It’s the one with the easily removable seats. Last night, Anne and I were moving the seats out, and it was much easier than I thought it would be, and I caught myself thinking “This is kinda cool”….suddenly, and without warning, I screamed “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” My wife looked at me, terror in her eyes, and asked what was wrong.
    “I thought, for a millisecond, that there was something cool about this van.”
    My wife walked around the minivan, came close to me, and punched me full in the mouth.
    “Don’t ever think something like that again.”
    “Thank you.”
    So I won’t be able to update the site, obviously, and all that stuff that I wanted to do before I left town, like get the new site up and running, and opening the store and all that won’t happen until I get home.
    But! Have no fear! I have a cool site for you to check out until I get back. It’s called “Killoggs“. It’s a very cool blogging site, created by the amazing bendependent and loren
    Have a great weekend and week, and play nice. Don’t make me turn this minivan around, because I’ll do it.

    Comments! Hey kids. I

    Comments!

    Hey kids. I am working really hard on getting the new site up, but it’s a lot harder than I thought.
    Just part of being lame, I guess. But have no fear! I’m off the the book store to get a new HTML book. Hopefully, one which will actually help, rather than confuse.
    Failing that, I’m gonna bite the bullet and resort to using frontpage.
    Relax, Mae Ling
    But here is some cool news! I think I’ve gotten it set up so anyone can comment on my ramblings here.
    Have fun, kids.
    Wil

    Auditions Tuesday was my step-son’s

    Auditions

    Tuesday was my step-son’s 12th birthday.
    It was also the first time in 3 months that I’d had an audition. (Apparently, a bunch of jackass producers, working for vertically integrated, multi-national media conglomerates were afraid that the writer’s guild and the screen actor’s guild may want to stop work, so that we can all make a living wage, so they didn’t “green light” any new projects. Go figure.
    So, things have been tough the past few months. Money has been tight, and I’ve been super bored. If I hadn’t had my kick ass sketch comedy show to look forward to, I probably would have ended up on the sidewalk in front of the Viper Room.
    Just kidding. Jeeze, lighten up.
    So the first call is at 11:15 am, to be a regular on this WB show called “The Young Person’s Guide To Being A Rockstar”. It’s to play a gay drummer. (Why does everyone think I’m gay?). The second call is at 4:45 pm, for a movie called “waiting…”, that is just about the funniest ^%$#ing script I’ve read in over a year.
    So, I’m completely excited, but I’m torn, too, since I have way too much free time right now, and I would like to work. (You know, actors are the only people who are unhappy when they’re not working. Unlike most “normal” people, who can’t wait for a break from work…) The only problem was, Tuesday was Ryan’s birthday, and I was really torn about what to do. I need to work, and I really like both of these projects, but I really wanted to be part of Ryan’s 12th birthday party, which was a trip to the beach with some of his friends.
    So I went over and over it, and made the tough choice to take the auditions, and see Ryan that evening.
    Well, on my way to the first audition, I got a call from my agent, and she told me that the afternoon session was cancelled! So I went from my first audition (Where I kicked ass, thank you very much- I’m told that I’m “in the mix” which is hollywoodspeak for “we’re considering you”) to the beach. I must have been quite the vision in my jeans, skechers and black socks, walking down the sand.
    Long story short, it was awesome. We skim boarded, played football and wiffleball, and barbecued hot dogs in the parking lot, which was majorly against the beach parking lot rules (yes! breakin’ the law! breakin’ the law!).
    When we got back, I had email waiting for me from my friend Roger Avary. Roger is one of the coolest people on earth, and a fucking rad writer and director. (yes, that’s right, I have a potty mouth. Deal.) Roger won an Academy Award for writing “Pulp Fiction”, and is pretty much responsible for everything good the Tarantino has ever taken credit for. Roger also wrote and directed my absolute favorite movie that I’ve ever worked on, Mr. Stitch. So to get back to my point: I emailed Roger, because he’s doing a new movie, and I asked him if I could be in it, because he is the most fun director EVER, and always makes good movies. So he emails me back, and tells me, “of course” and sends me the script (which ^%$@*ing ROCKS, by the way) and we’re hooking up this week.
    So I’ve got that going for me, which is nice.
    That’s all for right now, kids. I’m going back to work on the new, improved, easy-to-remember website!
    How about some email for your uncle willy?

    50,000 Monkeys at 50,000 Typewriters Can't Be Wrong

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