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

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WIL WHEATON dot NET
WIL WHEATON dot NET

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

Author: Wil

Author, actor, producer. On a good day, I am charming as fuck.

Tomorrow, I go back to Eureka

Posted on 4 April, 2011 By Wil

“What’s the forecast for Vancouver?” Anne asked.

“It’s in the 40s and raining,” I said.

“Oh, that sounds awesome,” she said, in a tone of voice that indicated the opposite was actually true.

“It’s okay,” I said, “I have my scarf and my jacket and my warm hat.” As I listed each of these items, I put them into my suitcase. “It’s a little weird to be packing all these warm clothes when it’s 76 and sunny outside, though.”

I counted my jeans and socks and things, to make sure I had enough clothes for the week. I was short a few pairs of jeans, so I emptied the laundry hamper and loaded up the washing machine. While it did its thing, I went into my office and started to assemble my Gabe Bag.

I’m only gone for a week, I thought, and most of the time I’m up there I’ll be working, so I don’t need to bring too much stuff…

I put my Kindle, iPod, and iPad into my bag. I added a copy of Scientific American, and made sure that my headphones were charged.

My cat came into my office, followed closely by my dog. My cat meowed at me.

“Hey Watson,” I said, “What are you d–”

He had a giant lizard in his mouth. I’m no expert on lizard expressions, but I’m fairly certain that it didn’t look happy.

“Is that for me?” I said.

He meowed again, and the lizard broke free, scampering across the floor toward the wall. The dog and cat jumped at it simultaneously, the cat winning the race. He gave the dog the don’t even fucking think about it, dog, look (you cat owners know the one) and laid down across it, protectively.

“Okay, you guys,” I said, “normally, I’d let you have your fun, but this lizard doesn’t look very happy, and I think I’m going to save its life.”

The cat gave me the don’t even fucking think about it, monkey, look. The dog whined.

I picked up the lizard, deftly preventing it from biting the hand that saved it, and put it outside. The dog and the cat sat at the patio door and looked out. I’m fairly sure I heard them cursing me.

I went back into my office and looked around for the other things I’d usually take with me on a trip: games, books, maybe a couple of DVDs … and I realized that everything I needed or wanted (there’s a difference, kids, and it’s important to know it) was already there, on my Kindle and my iPad.

Holy crap, I thought, I really do live in the future.

In one of my books, I wrote about traveling across the country late at night to go to Star Trek conventions every weekend. I remember taking my original Gameboy with me on those trips, and having to pack six or eight or ten extra AA batteries, because I played it so much. I had a light up thing that clipped onto the front of it, and I had a carrying case full of games that was about the size of a 3-ring binder. Today, my DSi could fit inside my old Gameboy, and its battery charger weighs about as much as three old Gameboy games. In that story, I said that it may be hard to imagine a world where the original Gameboy was cutting edge and state of the art, but it's the world where I came of age, and though the world is as fucked up as its ever been, it's still objectively cool to be alive right now.

I closed up my bag, and walked into the back of the house to relate all of this to my wife. She didn’t say anything about how I tell her this every time I pack for a trip, and reminded me to make sure I didn’t have any deadly 4 ounces of toothpaste in my bag, just the entirely safe 3 ounces.

I started to go back to my office. On the way, I opened the patio door for the dog and cat, who gave me the this isn’t over, monkey, look. They walked outside, and I followed them. I may as well enjoy the warm sun while I can, I thought.

I stood out there for a few minutes, listening to the far away drone of the freeway and the occasional song of a bird. Flowers are starting to bloom, and I could smell jasmine and cut grass in the air. I’ll miss my pets and my house and this perfect weather while I’m gone, but it is a small price to pay to be in one of my favorite cities in the world, working with people I love on a show that I'm intensely proud to be part of.

I felt a surge of excitement, knowing that in just two days, I get to play Doctor Parrish again. I really wish that I could talk in detail about what we did in season 4.5, and what's coming up in season 5. I really hate it that we all have to wait until summer to see what we shot last year, but I'm confident that it will be worth the wait.

My cat jumped over the wall, and my dog stretched out on the patio, basking in the sun. “You guys behave yourselves,” I said, as I walked back inside.

I grabbed a glass of water in the kitchen and went back into my office to write about all of this for my blog.

After I’d been writing and rewriting for about 15 minutes, I heard my cat meow at me again from the office door.

“You better not have that lizard again,” I said.

He meowed again, and I heard something hit the floor, then the wall.

I turned around, and saw that my cat had caught a small bird.

“Seriously?” I said.

The bird jumped out of Watson’s reach in a small puff of feathers, and flew toward the living room. I went to the kitchen to figure out how I was going to get this terrified little bird safely out of my house.

Anne came out of the back of the house and asked me what I’d just thrown out the patio door. “Nothing,” I said, “but I have to figure out how to get the bird that Watson caught out of the house.”

“That must have been what I saw,” she said. Watson came walking into the room, a couple of small grey feathers hanging off his mouth.

“From a lizard to a bird in about 40 minutes,” I said. “Suck on that, evolution.”

She looked at me.

“It was funny in my head,” I said.

She continued to look at me.

“I’m just going to go back into my office now and write for a little bit.”

I looked at the cat. “Try not to suck any dicks in the parking lot on your way out.”

“That doesn’t even apply here!” Anne said.

“Doesn’t it, Anne? Doesn’t it?”

I took 37 steps to get back to my office. 37. In a row.

Run Vern! RUN! GODDAMMIT RUN!

Posted on 1 April, 2011 By Wil

SBMpedotrain

(created by Storm, for the Stand By Meme portion of Wil Wheaton vs. Paul and Storm)

in which i am grateful

Posted on 30 March, 2011 By Wil

Los Angeles totally turned out for our show at Largo last night. I think the house was about 80% full, which is incredible for a show on a Tuesday, anywhere, but expecially in Hollywood.

We all had a great time, and the new material I did with Paul and Storm seemed to play as well as we hoped it would. Some of it will definitely make it into w00tstock 3.0.

A little earlier today, I was reflecting on the show, and I kept thinking about two things. One, how relieved I was when my set was finished. I didn't run too long, the audience seemed to enjoy all of it, and I had a lot of fun while I performed. The other thing, which is why I wanted to write this post in the first place, was how awesome the people are who come to see us perform. If you've ever come to a w00tstock, a Coulton show, or to a Paul and Storm show, I think you'll recognize what I'm talking about: the audience is always full of fun, relaxed, friendly, generally happy people, and the this atmosphere before, during, and after the show is incredibly positive and inclusive. I don't want to ever take for granted how lucky I am to have this kind of relationship with an audience, to work with friends I admire and adore, and I hope this never changes.

I'm so grateful to perform for audiences like these, and I'd like to believe that one of the reasons we get the same kind of people wherever we go is somehow related to the atmosphere we work hard to create and maintain. We work hard to give you a good show that respects the investment of time and money you've made, we want everyone to have a good time, and after tons of shows, I don't think we've ever attracted a statistically significant number of people who would qualify as not-awesome, let alone people who qualify as dicks. I'm really happy to be part of something that is so consistently positive. I also love seeing so many parents bring their teens and tweens to the show (and sorry about my foul mouth, guys; I am a little too in touch with my inner dirty pirate hooker.)

Though I am completely exhausted after every show, when we've signed the last poster and photobombed the last picture, I can't wait to do the next one. If our audiences weren't so awesome, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't feel that way, so thank you. 

tl;dr: Thank you for coming to our shows, and thank you for consistently being awesome audience members. Maybe it's silly to say it out loud, but I'm grateful for it, and it's important to me that you know that.

Soup. Black Bean. Hot.

Posted on 23 March, 2011 By Wil

"What are you making?" Anne asked.

I looked up from the cutting board, and put the knife down so I wouldn't somehow cut my hand off when I wasn't looking (yes, I am that clumsy). "Black bean soup," I said.

"Is it from a recipe, or are you winging it?"

"I've made so many different recipes from so many different places, I just looked through the pantry and refrigerator and wung it."

We looked at each other. "Wung it?" I said. "I think I mean I am winging it What's the past-tense of winging it? Wang it? Winged it?"

"I don't know, but it's not 'wung it,'" she said. I couldn't argue with her.

"Anyway, it's fun to feel confident enough in my limited cooking skills to pull together some ingredients and combine them in a way that seems to make sense, based on my previous experiences."

She nodded, and left me to my work.

That was about an hour ago. I'm currently sitting here, eating an absolutely delightful bowl of soup, that's a little sweet and spicy. I'm so proud of myself, I could fart a rainbow (and I probably will in a little while.)

Because I did this on my own, I think I can share the recipe without breaking any rules or stepping on any actual chef's toes, so here you go:

SOUP. BLACK BEAN. HOT.

You need:

1 can black beans

3 tomatoes (I used Romas)

2-3 cloves garlic

1 small yellow onion

1 chipotle chili (you can get these in the Hispanic foods section at the store for next to nothing and they make all sorts of recipes kick ass.)

1 Teaspoon dried oregano or 2 teaspoons fresh, chopped

1/2 Teaspoon cumin

2 Tablespoons olive oil.

Juice of one lime.

Salt and pepper.

OKAY GO!

Chop the onion and mince the garlic.

Heat the olive oil in a 3qt soup pot or similar-sized saucepan over medium high heat for a minute or so.

Sautee the onion until translucent, about 4 or 5 minutes. While it cooks, chop up the tomatoes into small chunks and chop the oregano if you're using fresh. When the onions are translucent, Add the garlic and cumin, stir it all around, and continue to sautee for about another 2 minutes. Be careful not to let the garlic burn.

Shake up the can of black beans, open it, and pour it all into the soup pot. Stir, and then add the tomatoes and oregano.

Chop up the chipotle chili (you can use more if you want, but be careful not to use too many or all you'll taste is the spiciness, and that's not fun.) Stir again, and then add the chopped chipotle.

Add the lime juice (if you're hardcore, just juice that little green bastard right over the simmering pot, and say some Bond Villain stuff about how you expect it to die.)

Add about 1/3 cup of water (more or less, just don't let it get too watery or too thick) and bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer for 10 or 15 minutes, until the beans are tender. 

Add salt and pepper to taste. You can serve it with plan yogurt or sour cream to cut the spiciness if you want.

This recipe made enough to feed me and Anne, though I'm sure it could easily be doubled for more people.

It’s Wednesday, so here’s a post about comic books

Posted on 23 March, 2011 By Wil

When I was a kid, I was a DC Universe guy all the way, with rare forays into the Marvel Universe to read a few X-Men books, and the occasional Silver Surfer 100 page spectacular (remember those? I loved those oversized one shots in the 70s and 80s.)

I realized last week, though, that the bulk of the DCU does absolutely nothing for me these days, and I’ve stopped reading DC books, even Batman, which I don’t even recognize at the moment.

The Marvel Universe, however, has been blowing my mind and pleasing me greatly for at least the last year, mostly because Brubaker, Fraction and Gillen all write Marvel titles, that kick all kinds of ass. I’ve been reading Captain America, Uncanny X-Men, Invincible Iron Man, Secret Avengers, Thor, and Osborn, and I eagerly anticipate every Wednesday with an excitement I haven’t felt since I was a teenager.

Yesterday, via Reddit, I came across this article at Platypus Robot: A Marvel Universe Primer. It gives some basic history of the Marvel Universe, and suggests some starting points for new readers. If you or someone you know is interested in reading some amazing stories but don’t know where to start, check this article out; I think you’ll find it quite useful.

What are you reading these days? Who's that artist or writer you will follow to the ends of the multiverse? And where are those pictures I ordered? Is Don on the phone?

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