I've got some Jaffa Cakes in my fucking pocket!!!!
Firstly:
I had a lovely strange dream last night. The first part I remember is walking down Boylston Street to the 7-11, while on the phone with Simon Pegg and Nick Frost, both of whom with I was apparently friends. We were discussing ideas for a new film they should do, and of course, why wouldn't they ask me for advice? Nick jokingly tosses out "Why does Edgar stay with us while we torment him?" "Like, a mockumentary?" I ask. Simon vetos it, as it's been done to death already. For some reason, at the intersection is my dream-within-a-dream, of Simon and Nick throwing a fake-ticker-tape parade for Edgar, with Edgar faux-crying while riding with Nick in a carriage. I tell them this looks stupid, and agree with Simon's veto.
As I round the corner, I am walking with Kevin Smith and his large posse, containing a bunch of filmmakers (which includes the Coen brothers for some reason). We're discussing ideas for K Smith's new project, and I'm feeling a little out of place, even though I'm sort of friends with Kevin, so I sorta stick quietly by his side. I hear someone saying my name, and Kevin turns to me and says "You have an idea?" I assume he's talking about my current screenplay idea, so I give him the brief, which leads to a quick convo about queer comedy in general. I tell him that he really did a lot with Chasing Amy, but that while he showed that you can be funny AND poignant, in the end he had to serve his audience. I told him I'm more about reaching out to the queer community and breaking stereotypes (which was really fucking bold of me), and that I might be able to do better with a risky film because no one would know what to expect from me (versus a "Kevin Smith film" which gives people a clear idea of what they'll be in for already). He agrees, and I try deseperately to light my cigarette while we're walking. We reach our destination (some club) and he stands underneath the bright blue awning with me while I finish my cigarette.
When we go inside, it is apparently both day AND outside, and I notice that we are heading to an outside deck party a few lawns over from where I used to live. I head inside with some girl, and I realize Edgar Wright's been with the "posse" this entire time. I curse myself for not hanging with him, and I tell the girl with me this and she laughs. I quickly check over my left shoulder to make sure he's not right behind me before I tell her I'd follow him anywhere just to listen to that accent all day. She laughs, and Edgar comes up behind me on my right side and slaps me five, saying "What up, nigga?" I laugh, and we sort of drape our arms across each other's shoulders, pretending we're gangsters. I make my pimp face and do a really horrible Snoop Dogg impression. (I remember trying to say that thing my friend Tom used to say, something like "it's a 187 on an undercover cop" but the words didn't come out of my mouth right.) Edgar laughs politely and I sigh, extinguishing the cigarette (I apparently had in my other hand) and explaining that it was the effort that counted when impersonating Snoop Dogg, not so much the execution.
We chat for awhile (me, Edgar, the girl, and some random guy), and I notice the host of the party is shirtless and looks like Scott Mosier. He is preparing to mow his lawn aruond the square deck we are on. I realize since we are unconnected to the couch, we'd be sort of stranded on the deck for awhile. I lament this because I can see my lawn from here, and I think it would be cool to show Edgar my old treehouse, permitting that the new owners are either inside or not home at all. He's sitting somewhere, and I'm sort of staring at him, thinking up what I'll say to him, and that maybe I should wait until dark and cross my fingers that he'll kiss me in my old treehouse.
I sort of wake up at this point, and kinda daydream taking him over to the clubhouse, but I don't think I actually dreamed it happening. I fall back asleep, and K Smith, Jay Mewes, and myself are sitting in my grandma's basement, chilling out with our laptops. Ben Affleck comes downstairs, and we start teasing him by writing haikus about him. I remember Jay's being really fluid, with the line "just a cigarette junkie" in there somewhere. I remember them actually all being the 5/7/5 perfect haikus. I can't exactly remember mine, but it definitely started with "not a complete douche", which I read to him, giggling the whole time. Luckily for me, Ben also thought it was funny.
There were other weird parts of my dream like getting in detention and having to write sentences on the board like Bart Simpson, and something with Joan Cusack and Sixteen Candles, but I wasn't in that part so it was extra surreal.
I still don't know why dream!Edgar said the n-word to me in jest. I think it was a subconcious Shaun reference to Ed's line when they're picking up Liz? Stupid subconcious. Actually, awesome subconcious. Thanks for being cute.
Secondly, I cannot stop playing this game. It's like MahJohng with pictures of Simon Pegg's face. I used to have a major computer MahJohng problem when I was a kid. I can play it for hours on end. About an hour ago, my roommate was like "Your eyeballs are all red" and I literally like, have this horrid looking red line in my eyeball from staring at tiny Pegg faces for hours. Creepy.
Thirdly, we're doing our radio show this week (wecb.emerson.edu, saturday night, 8-10, if anyone's interested), and I'm excited about playing all the new music I've recently gotten into. Ash, Just Jack, The Fratellis, Eagles of Death Metal, Charlotte Hatherley, The Sundays, The Bees, some killer shit from the Arctic Monkeys, Supergrass, Sigur Ros, and this one Kinks song (Village Green Preservation Society) that I can't stop humming when it's sunny outside. Not that I've had much oppurtunity for that since it's been SO FUCKING COLD lately. I mean balls. really.
Anyway, i'll upload pictures to facebook soon, so you can see my killer new Shaun of the Dead action figures and the horrible Pegg-Jongg-induced eye explosion. I watched more Hot Fuzz commentary today which made me giggle some more. I heart the Trio.
Fourthly (and importantly), A VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO thatjamiegirl!!!!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
For her enjoyment:
It's so true :)
I had a lovely strange dream last night. The first part I remember is walking down Boylston Street to the 7-11, while on the phone with Simon Pegg and Nick Frost, both of whom with I was apparently friends. We were discussing ideas for a new film they should do, and of course, why wouldn't they ask me for advice? Nick jokingly tosses out "Why does Edgar stay with us while we torment him?" "Like, a mockumentary?" I ask. Simon vetos it, as it's been done to death already. For some reason, at the intersection is my dream-within-a-dream, of Simon and Nick throwing a fake-ticker-tape parade for Edgar, with Edgar faux-crying while riding with Nick in a carriage. I tell them this looks stupid, and agree with Simon's veto.
As I round the corner, I am walking with Kevin Smith and his large posse, containing a bunch of filmmakers (which includes the Coen brothers for some reason). We're discussing ideas for K Smith's new project, and I'm feeling a little out of place, even though I'm sort of friends with Kevin, so I sorta stick quietly by his side. I hear someone saying my name, and Kevin turns to me and says "You have an idea?" I assume he's talking about my current screenplay idea, so I give him the brief, which leads to a quick convo about queer comedy in general. I tell him that he really did a lot with Chasing Amy, but that while he showed that you can be funny AND poignant, in the end he had to serve his audience. I told him I'm more about reaching out to the queer community and breaking stereotypes (which was really fucking bold of me), and that I might be able to do better with a risky film because no one would know what to expect from me (versus a "Kevin Smith film" which gives people a clear idea of what they'll be in for already). He agrees, and I try deseperately to light my cigarette while we're walking. We reach our destination (some club) and he stands underneath the bright blue awning with me while I finish my cigarette.
When we go inside, it is apparently both day AND outside, and I notice that we are heading to an outside deck party a few lawns over from where I used to live. I head inside with some girl, and I realize Edgar Wright's been with the "posse" this entire time. I curse myself for not hanging with him, and I tell the girl with me this and she laughs. I quickly check over my left shoulder to make sure he's not right behind me before I tell her I'd follow him anywhere just to listen to that accent all day. She laughs, and Edgar comes up behind me on my right side and slaps me five, saying "What up, nigga?" I laugh, and we sort of drape our arms across each other's shoulders, pretending we're gangsters. I make my pimp face and do a really horrible Snoop Dogg impression. (I remember trying to say that thing my friend Tom used to say, something like "it's a 187 on an undercover cop" but the words didn't come out of my mouth right.) Edgar laughs politely and I sigh, extinguishing the cigarette (I apparently had in my other hand) and explaining that it was the effort that counted when impersonating Snoop Dogg, not so much the execution.
We chat for awhile (me, Edgar, the girl, and some random guy), and I notice the host of the party is shirtless and looks like Scott Mosier. He is preparing to mow his lawn aruond the square deck we are on. I realize since we are unconnected to the couch, we'd be sort of stranded on the deck for awhile. I lament this because I can see my lawn from here, and I think it would be cool to show Edgar my old treehouse, permitting that the new owners are either inside or not home at all. He's sitting somewhere, and I'm sort of staring at him, thinking up what I'll say to him, and that maybe I should wait until dark and cross my fingers that he'll kiss me in my old treehouse.
I sort of wake up at this point, and kinda daydream taking him over to the clubhouse, but I don't think I actually dreamed it happening. I fall back asleep, and K Smith, Jay Mewes, and myself are sitting in my grandma's basement, chilling out with our laptops. Ben Affleck comes downstairs, and we start teasing him by writing haikus about him. I remember Jay's being really fluid, with the line "just a cigarette junkie" in there somewhere. I remember them actually all being the 5/7/5 perfect haikus. I can't exactly remember mine, but it definitely started with "not a complete douche", which I read to him, giggling the whole time. Luckily for me, Ben also thought it was funny.
There were other weird parts of my dream like getting in detention and having to write sentences on the board like Bart Simpson, and something with Joan Cusack and Sixteen Candles, but I wasn't in that part so it was extra surreal.
I still don't know why dream!Edgar said the n-word to me in jest. I think it was a subconcious Shaun reference to Ed's line when they're picking up Liz? Stupid subconcious. Actually, awesome subconcious. Thanks for being cute.
Secondly, I cannot stop playing this game. It's like MahJohng with pictures of Simon Pegg's face. I used to have a major computer MahJohng problem when I was a kid. I can play it for hours on end. About an hour ago, my roommate was like "Your eyeballs are all red" and I literally like, have this horrid looking red line in my eyeball from staring at tiny Pegg faces for hours. Creepy.
Thirdly, we're doing our radio show this week (wecb.emerson.edu, saturday night, 8-10, if anyone's interested), and I'm excited about playing all the new music I've recently gotten into. Ash, Just Jack, The Fratellis, Eagles of Death Metal, Charlotte Hatherley, The Sundays, The Bees, some killer shit from the Arctic Monkeys, Supergrass, Sigur Ros, and this one Kinks song (Village Green Preservation Society) that I can't stop humming when it's sunny outside. Not that I've had much oppurtunity for that since it's been SO FUCKING COLD lately. I mean balls. really.
Anyway, i'll upload pictures to facebook soon, so you can see my killer new Shaun of the Dead action figures and the horrible Pegg-Jongg-induced eye explosion. I watched more Hot Fuzz commentary today which made me giggle some more. I heart the Trio.
Fourthly (and importantly), A VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO thatjamiegirl!!!!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
For her enjoyment:
It's so true :)