Category: WWdN in Exile

I had an audition for a voice over at Nickelodeon yesterday. The only problem is, I, uh, didn’t know about it, because the details on the reading came via e-mail during a period of a couple days last week when all e-mail sent to me went flying off into the gamma quadrant of the Zarkon V Nebula.

Luckily for me, the director of this project was really into reading me, and we were able to reschedule for this morning.

Okay, I know I’m supposed to maintain some professional detachment, so when I don’t get the job it’s less of a disappointment, but I had a crush on this project as soon as I read the breakdown. After I met the director and grokked what sort of story she wants to tell, I was hopelessly in love with the project. I really, really hope I get this job.

I’ve talked about how much I like going to Nick
in the past, but I’ll just do it again for those of you who didn’t listen to RFB #4: Nickelodeon just feels good to me. It’s not intimidating like Disney, it’s not corporate like some other places, and I really feel like I’m walking right into a Nickelodeon cartoon. Some of my happiest childhood television memories are of Nickelodeon shows, like You Can’t Do That on Television, Mr. Wizard, The Third Eye (SCARY!) and Danger Mouse, too, and I did lots of things with Nickelodeon when I was a teen idol, including getting slimed several times and hosting the Kid’s Choice Awards, so I think that makes it easier for me to find a happy place when I audition for any Nickelodeon shows.

The other reason I always find a happy place at Nickelodeon is entirely due to the guard who works the parking garage gate there. I don’t know his
name[1], but he is one of the kindest, warmest, and friendliest guards
people I’ve ever encountered. I realized today that he plays a very big part
in why I love going to Nick so much, and why I always give good
auditions there.

He is the first person I encounter when I pull up. He is a gentle, grandfatherly, white-haired man in his late 60s, and always seems to be smiling. He always makes me feel at ease, and gives me (and everyone else who comes in, I’m sure) the impression that he really wants me to book the job, like it matters to him, and he believes in me. I realized today that I’ve always picked up a bit of his kindness and warmth and carried it in with me. It’s nice to be so utterly at ease when I walk into an audition, you know? It makes a big difference.

I probably shouldn’t disclose too many details about the story that I auditioned for, but it is a wonderful, funny, charming animated short about a geek and a goth who are starcrossed lovers.

I’m sure you’re all surprised to hear that I read for the geek. I used my sense memories to recall the Kyra crush and did my best to be the kind of guy who "you want to take his glasses off, and mess up his hair, because he’s so cute and he doesn’t know it," according to the director, who I really, really liked.

I honestly don’t know if I’ll get the job, because I’m worried about how deep and manly my awesome voice is. Even though I know I can get the teenage voice down to second nature wth enough practice, I have done this long enough to know that when someone else comes in and nails it, they always hire the "nailed it" guy over the "could nail it with enough practice" guy. That’s just science, and you can’t argue with science (unless you’re one of those "global warming is a myth and evolution doesn’t exist" moonbats, in which case arguing with science is sort of your whole reason for existing, right?)

Anyway, I had a blast reading for this project, and I was so excited when I left, I totally forgot to steal a camphone snap of the hawesome four foot tall SpongeBob made out of LEGO in the lobby. If I get the job, or the next time I’m at Nick, I’ll grab a picture of it on my way in, because I’m usually skipping with nerdy excitment whenever I’m on my way out.

Whether I book this job or not, I’ll be watching for it when it airs, and I’ll be sure to post about it, because it’s the type of show that I know WWdN readers will love.

[1] In comments, formerlyme says, "Hey Wil, I used to work at Nick. I know exactly who you’re talking
about. His name is Don, and he’s the most awesome security guy ever."

A week before I wrote about our plans to do the San Diego Rock-n-Roll marathon in June, I seriously tweaked my neck. I’d like to thank Hwy. 18 and all the snow that kept us on said highway for seven hours instead of an hour and a half like it should have been. I was with two girlfriends, both of whom were scared to death to be driving in the snow while I sat in the back seat, appearing calm, but leaning to the center of the seat to look out the front window of doom, all the while clenching my teeth. Thus, tweaked neck. [Note from Wil: The next time I beg Anne not to go up into the mountains during one of the worst storms in a decade, because "it’s just a really bad idea," there’s a 20% chance she’ll listen to me.]

Before this weekend of white dusted hell, we were well into our training, and very excited to start our fundraising. As I sat writing about it (pumped full of every pain medication I could find and a heat pack around my neck,) I figured I would be up and running in no time and going full speed ahead with big plans of dashing through 26.2 miles with ease. Boy was I wrong!

My neck continued to get worse. All I could do was lay down. I missed almost three weeks of work, and I got so freaked out by the pain I made Wil take me to an orthopedist to get an MRI, because when one of your friends has cancer, suddenly every minor ache or pain you get could be cancer, too. He said it was just a really bad muscle spasm and had me start physical therapy immediately. I did this for a couple of weeks, and of course being the over-doing it person I am, I went back to work as soon as it felt better, only to tweak it more and end up in physical therapy again. [Note from Wil: The next time I say, "Hey, you really shouldn’t push it, honey, and give yourself a little bit more time to heal," there is a 25% chance Anne will listen to me.]

Fast forward to five weeks later and it’s back to the marathon training drawing board. Instead of looking at doing ten miles on the weekend, we’re struggling to run two miles without stopping. How are we going to do the whole 26.2 miles when it’s just six weeks away? Um, I’m thinking that’s not a good idea. Let’s be realistic.

I had dinner with Kris in between one of those "I’m feeling better" moments. The first thing she said was "How are you going to run that whole marathon?" Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. So I came up with a solution: a half marathon was definitely do-able. And making our fundraising goal a little more within reach would make us all not freak out about this whole thing. So that’s what we’re going to do. Our fundraising goal has been pulled back to $10,000, so we’re already halfway there, and our distance goal has been cut in half, to a more realistic 13.1 miles.

As for Kris’ progress, she’s doing great! Her biopsy came back clean, and though it is six months to two years before she will know if the transplant was a success, she is at home and back on her feet. In fact, she recently went on a road trip with her son to look at colleges. It’s so wonderful that not only is her dream of seeing her son graduate going to happen, but she will get to see him go to college next year.

Also, her husband is finally doing the addition they’ve talked about doing for the 15 years they’ve lived in their house, which is another thing to look forward to. And her huge family reunion she looks forward to every other year is in Lake Tahoe in June. She’s so excited to see them. Her treatment was definitely worth going through again. And, honestly, it was worth it from my selfish point of view, too. I didn’t want to lose my friend, so I’m so happy she fought back and won.

Although Wil and I had every intention of doing this full marathon again, sometimes things just happen. And in my 36 years here, I have learned that everything happens for a reason. Good or bad. But we just do the best we can. [Note from Wil: Life is what happens while you’re making other plans, in other words.]

So if you would like to contribute to our fundraising efforts, you can do it here. Even if it’s just five dollars, or whatever change you can collect from around your car or your couch it really matters; so many people read Wil’s blog, tiny individual contributions rapidly turn into enormous and significant totals.

Note from Wil: I sincerely hope that our choice to switch to a half-marathon doesn’t let down anyone who already sponsored us. We’re doing the very best we can under some really stressful circumstances that I can’t publicly talk about, and it looks like we’re going to end up walking most of the (half)marathon in June. To me, it feels like a major defeat and I’m disappointed that we aren’t going to be able to do the whole thing, but this isn’t really about me and Anne; this is about Kris and her family and everyone who has somehow been affected by cancer. Thank you all so much for your support, whether it’s sponsorship, kind comments, or just a positive thought while you’re walking your dog.

The original "Comments from the Wife" posts are: 3.0, 3.1, 3.2, 3.3, 3.4, 3.5, 3.6, 4.0. You may also want to read the first Comments from the Wife: in Exile.

There are a several benefits to being on Team PokerStars. The most obvious is that I get to work with a company that feels like a family, and I get to occasionally pose for Magnificent Seven-style photos with the likes of Joe Hachem, Chris Moneymaker, Greg Raymer, and Isabelle Mercier.

The second most obvious is that I get to play in a few big tournaments each year, most notably the World Series of Poker and the World Championship of Online Poker, while flying the Team PokerStars flag.

The least obvious is that I get to play high-stakes heads-up (just two player) matches several times a year, against some of the best opponents in the world, in a weekly match that PokerStars calls the Tournament Leaderboard Winner Match.

Isabelle was supposed to play in the heads-up match this week, but was unavailable, so I got called off the bench to represent the team . . . and I totally won!

So this morning, before my PokerStars TLB Winner Heads-Up Match,  I went through my pre-tourney rituals (reviewing some well-worn notes from Absinthe, paging through Harrington, a little meditation, and a brisk walk around my yard to shake everything off and just focus on the game) and sat down hoping that I’d catch cards when I needed them, and make more good decisions than bad.

[. . .]

I got very lucky and caught some good hands right around the time my opponent (who played a very good, solid match) started to hit a place where a standard raise was about 20% of his stack, and I was able to apply pressure at some key points (I’m not good enough to explain what those points are, I just sort of know when they come up, I guess)  so I was able to start raising with K-rag, J-rag, and the one little pair I caught, knowing that he would only play back with a real hand. That let me steal some blinds and keep his M low enough to set him up for playing at me with a weak hand, I hoped.

I really like heads-up play, and I’m beginning to think that I don’t completely suck at it. I’m 1-1 when I’m scheduled for myself, and 2-0 when I’m filling in for someone else (I filled in for 2005 WSOP Champion Joe Hachem a couple of weeks ago and won that match.) I also play these 4-player, two round heads-up tournaments at PokerStars pretty frequently, and I’m a lifetime winner there, as well. (Those are great; you risk one buy-in to win three if you beat two opponents.)

Okay, I’m totally starting to speak in poker code, so if I haven’t lost you entirely, you can read the full story at Cardsquad.

Technorati Tags: poker, pokerstars

Well, I turned in Games of Our Lives, and I get to walk away from the computer and do some marathon training, but before I go, I thought I’d point out some of the stories I’ve worked on recently at CardSquad and SGNews:

At SGNews, (which is safe for work):

• I edited a story that Seanbaby wrote about Lara Croft entering the Guinness Book of World Records. Seanbaby is hellafunny, and his story cracked me up.

• I also wrote two stories of my own, about a disposable MP3 player that just costs nine bucks, and a story about Apple offering (or not offering) adult movies in the iTunes Music Store.

• There’s also a story I wrote last week about this guy who modded a 1988 Ford Escort into a street legal Landspeeder. For reals. It’s a story that I’m particularly proud of, because I got to work in a ton of geek jokes.

At CardSquad:

• I opine that the F-Bomb Rule has got to go.

• Also, Bodog was sued over their reality show,
  which is quite a lucky bit of free publicity for them, just a few days
  before the show is set to air.

In poker-related news, this
Sunday I’m filling in for Isabelle Mercier in the Tournament
Leaderboard Heads-Up match at PokerStars. Two weeks ago, I filled in
for Joe Hachem and won, bringing my record in those matches to 3 and 1.
I’m hoping to make it 4 and 1 this week. Even if you don’t have a PokerStars account, you can download the client for free and watch me play, if you’d like. I’ll put up all the details on that later this week.

Okay, I’m off to run, then walk, then run a little bit more, then curse about how much my side hurts, then run again. Anne will have a post about the marathon in the next day or so, maybe even tonight if I can bug her enough to write it.

. . . one last thought, because I think it’s important to mark moments like this: I have a really great life, and I’m incredibly grateful for that. I can head out at 1:10 in the afternoon on a Wednesday, after writing stuff that I’m proud of and enjoyed working on all morning, to train for a marathon that I’m running in to raise money for cancer research in June. Later today, I’ll get to play Risk with Ryan and Nolan, then watch Lost tonight after having BBQ for dinner with my family. And I know that, if my dog could talk, she’d say, "I love you, Wil, so I’m going to keep hitting you with my paw until you get up, take me outside, and throw the ball."

Okay, maybe it’s more about the ball than it is about me, but I’m still one of the luckiest guys in the world.

Remember that one time in Encounter At Farpoint when Counselor Troi wailed out, "Pain! Pain!"

Remember when Mr. Spock was all, "Pain! Pain!" which was totally not Vulcan-like?

Remember when [Lost spoiler redacted]?

Remember that time your company had a Christmas party, and instead of a band, they got an Agony Booth?

Yeah, that’s me right now. Yesterday, I was smashing some trash down in the trashcan beneath the sink, and I learned that a dogfood can lid on its side is an incredibly efective cutting tool, especially against the top of my thumb, just across the knuckle.

If you ever want to see what the inside of your thumb looks like, or you want to bleed twenty-three gallons of blood all over your house on your way from the kitchen to the bathroom (because, having seen the inside of your thumb, you’re kind of in shock and don’t stop to think, "Hey, there’s a sink right here, dummy, don’t go all the way across the house to the bathroom!") or you’d just like to watch your normal typing rate drop by 90%, this is a great way to do that.

Oh, and as an added bonus? You get to wake up about every 90 minutes all night long, because your thumb is throbbing, itching, or both. And if you play your cards right, you’ll get to have a tetanus shot, too.

Yeah. Goodtimes. Good. Times.

Hopefully, I’ll be back to normal by Thursday, but until then, probably not so much new spiffy stuff here or elsewhere, because typing is a real bitch right now.

Afterthought: a bunch of people have asked why I didn’t have the deadly lid and the can in the recycling, where it belongs. That’s a good question; unfortunately, the answer is: I just didn’t walk the lid out there, and the can was being used to hold bacon grease (gross.) If it makes a difference, I’ve had PTSD every time I’ve gone anywhere near the sink in the last 24 hours. And I’m on my way to the hospital to get a tetanus shot tonight, instead of waiting for my regular doctor tomorrow afternoon.

11 PM – Aaaaannnnd I’m back. I went to urgent care at 8, because "that would be faster than the ER," logic which apparently comes from the run-across-the-house-while-bleeding portion of the brains.

Okay, it actually was a lot faster than the ER, and I had no business being in the ER with my gaping and life-threatening little wussy cut anyway . . . but let’s be honest with each other: didn’t "that would be faster than the ER," logic which apparently comes from
the run-across-the-house-while-bleeding portion of the brains make you giggle a little bit? I’m glad, because nothing makes a joke funnier than pointing it out, and going on and on about it.

The attending was impressed with my butterfly sutures and my splinting, didn’t laugh at my totally awesome pirate bandage, and gave me a tetanus booster before sending me on my way with no need for making-Wil-faint stitches. I was going to ask for a "be nice to be cuz I’ve been shot" sticker, with the teddy bear and the hearts and bows, but I figured that being able to take a rusty nail without fear until I’m forty-three years-old was good enough.