During Welcome Week of my freshmen year of college, I was invited to a party by a girl I had a crush on that I met during summer orientation. She was a year older (she was paid to help with the orientation), so she and her roommates were having a party at their apartment. I didn’t party in high school so this was pretty much my first time drinking, and after numerous jello shots, mixed drinks, and beers, I made a pretty big fool of myself as expected. I didn’t do anything too inappropriate, I just gave her a hug, but that was enough for her to realize that I was pretty trashed. I’m still amazed that I didn’t throw up at any point of the night and that a hug (and it wasn’t the most affectionate hug), is the only stupid thing I did. I remember my typing skills were still pretty good (I got bored and jumped on a computer and chatted with people, yeah I’m a drunk nerd). I also remember wearing a sweater to the party and coincidentally, the next few times I had ingested a “few too many”, I was wearing that same sweater. My friend dubbed it my “drunk sweater” and I have since retired it. Well, I just don’t really wear it anymore, period.
After I got out of college, I went the starving artist route and tried to fundraise so I could make a feature film. After realizing that people didn’t want to give me hundreds of thousands of dollars, I tried to pitch a sitcom pilot. I was working with a couple of people on getting a pitch meeting with a network, and one day I received a call from my associates telling me we needed to huddle up and get ready for our meeting that they were scheduling with a certain network. So I drove up to Culver City on a weekday, and decided to hang out at a mall with a friend from college, while I waited for my sitcom business associates to get off work for our dinner meeting. While hanging out at the mall, one of my associates called me and told me we were going to get Korean BBQ for dinner. Since I knew I was going to have a meeting that night, I had come dressed in a nice buttoned down shirt (dressed for business). But because the grill is at your table, Korean BBQ can and will make your clothes smell. Upon hearing the dinner plans, I decided to buy a different shirt to wear since I was at the mall and I didn’t want to have to Febreze the heck out my nice dress shirt. I ended up buying a t-shirt (t-shirts = cheaper than dress shirts) at the Puma store and wore that to my meeting. Wearing this shirt didn’t cost me my sitcom or anything, things just fell through, which is typically the story when it comes to the entertainment industry.
When I bought the t-shirt, it was for the purpose of not stinking up my dress shirt, but it’s not a bad t-shirt, it’s pretty fashionable. I wear it as part of my regular wardrobe ensemble and because it gets washed, nobody realizes that I bought it for the sole purpose of being a Korean BBQ shirt. Of course whenever I do go to Korean BBQ or have a BBQ of any kind, I wear this shirt. I’m not sure if I wear it for sentimental reasons or because I “trust” that it won’t smell bad. I just know that I have a lot of love for my shirt. Obviously, it would have more value to me if I ended up being able to pitch my pilot and I ended up living happily ever after, but this shirt doesn’t remind me of bad times or failure. It reminds me of how I only stumbled upon it because of a change in the dinner plans and how I wouldn’t have found it on sale otherwise. It was a slight detour and a pleasant surprise. While my screenwriting days are definitely on some sort of definite hiatus right now, I don’t see myself as a failure. The plans have slightly changed and I can say that I haven’t been disappointed by the results though I’m not exactly sure what they are at the moment. The BBQ Shirt isn’t like the Drunk Sweater; it hasn’t brought me shame and embarrassment. I don’t expect it to bring me luck but I do expect it to continue to remind me that my journey will be full of detours and pleasant surprises.
So in a span of 48 hours, I saw Pavement’s first US reunion show and then moseyed over to Santa Barbara for the first time in my life to watch Thom Yorke play the Santa Barbara Bowl. Pavement and Radiohead were two of my most favorite bands in high school (and of all time). The only thing that could’ve made this 48 hours better was if Kurt Cobain decided to show up and play an acoustic set in my living room. Alas, Kurt didn’t come back from the dead, but I did get a call from my real estate agent telling me that my offer on a town house has been accepted. It’s definitely not as cool as a rock star resurrection, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s a pretty good consolation prize.
Honestly this whole idea of owning a town house hasn’t totally hit me yet. Technically it’s not mine yet, but we’re in escrow, so if one party decides to pull out of the deal, there will be consequences. It’s a nice place and I’m getting it for a fair price, but I’m pretty freaked out about the prospect of having to be tied down to this place for a while. I know I don’t have to live there for the rest of my life, but I know that I’ll have to own the place for at least a few years. I know I don’t necessarily have to live there while I own it, but right now I’m just making that assumption to keep my thought process as simple as possible. In a pretty short span, I’ve jumped from starving artist to home owner, so I feel like I’ve skipped a couple of steps in the game of life. Just a couple of years ago, I felt accomplished just because I bought an American made guitar, now I’m in escrow for a 3 bedroom town house, it’s kind of a big jump.
I’m trying to be cautiously optimistic and realistic about this whole process. I’m not going to be able to transform the place into something that will be worthy of MTV Cribs anytime soon and I’m definitely going to have to be more strict about my budget. Instead of going out, I’ll most likely be inviting people in. It’s not the worst trade off in the world, but it’s definitely something that feels a little confining. I like to cook, I like to watch TV/listen to music, and since I like to jam with friends, staying in isn’t a terrible proposition. I just like the idea of having freedom and being spontaneous, so hopefully that won’t be taken away from me. I know that I can’t just move out of state/country for a while now, but I’m not sure that ever was my plan (I still plan to travel though). What I’m saying is that I’m not a homebody, never have been, and I probably never will be.
I should probably be more excited about this than I am at the moment because it seems like it crept up on me, but in retrospect, it really hasn’t. Perhaps the purchase of the guitar, and the trip to Santa Barbara for the sole purpose of seeing a concert were signs that I was moving in the direction of buying a place. Sure they’re small things (especially price wise vs a house), but these are things that I dreamt about doing back in high school. I’ll be flying out to New York to see friends and watch Pavement again this fall in Central Park. I’ll be reuniting with a couple of my roommates from college at the show. One of my roommates is at Yale for graduate school and the other is engaged and living with his fiancé in Chicago. I’m pretty sure they’d agree with me that we’re all doing okay for ourselves and that we’re doing exactly what people at our age ideally do. Sure, we’d love to be touring the country playing music or making films, but at least we have outlets for our creativity on top of our jobs that help pay the bills. We’re comfortable where we’re at and we’re progressing towards whatever goals we have in life, so we have a direction. While I might have to change up my lifestyle for a little while as I transition into home ownership, I’m confident that I won’t let it really change who I am. Perhaps I will be like Pavement and after some time of laying low, I will come back reenergized and everyone will be excited. Probably not, but it wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve been met with a major pleasant surprise.
When I was a kid, I was a sucker for baseball game promotions. Whenever they were giving away free stuff at a game, I wanted to be there. I wanted the free baseball cards, the hats, and whatever other junk they were peddling. Looking back, I probably drove my parents nuts. We went to lots of Twins games back when we lived in Minneapolis, but I only remember one time where they relented and actually took me to one of these promotion games, and unfortunately we got there too late for me to actually collect my prize. I was a little disappointed that I didn’t get my mini-bat (not to be confused with an actual useful full sized bat), but we stayed for the game and we definitely got our money’s worth. The game went 14 or 15 innings and by the time the last inning hit, we had moved down from our nose bleed seats to seats right along the field level. We ended up over by the visiting team’s bullpen and when they sent their closer in at the end, I yelled to him that he sucked. He ended up blowing the game, and a couple of other games after that, so as a kid, I seriously thought I had jinxed him.
As an adult now, I realize that for the most part, a lot of this stuff that they give away is junk. I would never tell a kid that this stuff is junk, but outside of bobble head dolls, most of the stuff that I get at these games ends up in the trash or it’ll go to my friend’s kids when I move. It’s not that I think I’m above this stuff, I just don’t want to put up a picture of the 2007 Angels team with some company’s corporate logo plastered all over the poster. As an adult, I find all this sponsorship stuff kind of tacky. I mean, I understand it works and that it has value. I would just rather not have posters or clothes that tell people to eat at Dairy Queen. It’s a personal preference.
I wouldn’t say that I’m adverse to receiving anything at the ballpark for free. I’ll take any sort of free food or beer no matter how gross or bad it is, because at the ballpark I like to lower the bar when it comes to my foodie and beer-snob ways. I don’t care how greasy or fattening my food is, and I don’t mind if I have to drink Bud Light as long as it comes in that cup that has glowing lights on the bottom of it. It’s all part of the experience and I need at least one place in my life where it’s okay to enjoy liquid processed cheese.
Of course, I still go to games because I enjoy the sport. I haven’t outgrown my love of baseball. I don’t like watching it on TV as much as I did when I was a kid when I had all the time in the world, but I still love watching it in person. I love watching the ball jump off the bat. It’s just so much more impressive live than on TV, especially when the ball is headed towards your section via a home run or a foul ball. I’ve been fortunate enough to get one. I didn’t catch it, it rolled into the (company) suite that we were in and my co-worker gave it to me since it was a Twins v Angels game. The next day I showed up to the park early and headed over to the seats by the Twins dugout to get the ball signed. Justin Morneau (2006 American League MVP) was doing an interview with Hockey Night in Canada’s Don Cherry (I believe it was around the time that the Ducks and Canucks were playing each other in the playoffs, and Mourneau is a big Canucks fan). I waited for the interview to be over and I yelled “Hey MVP” and Mourneau turned his attention towards me. I tossed him my foul ball from the night before, and my sharpie and he signed the ball and tossed the ball and marker back to me. It was a surreal moment for me as I basically played toss and catch with one of my favorite baseball players. I was no longer an adult, I was back to being that little kid who wanted to go to all those games to get the free souvenirs.
I was at an Anaheim Ducks game a few weeks ago. I went with Jessica, who I hadn’t seen in a while. We were both exhausted from trying (and succeeding) to snag Thom Yorke tickets from earlier that morning. The Ducks had blown the lead but we were probably too tired to really care, and then a puck flew into the stands about a row in front of us. The people in front of us were feverishly looking for the puck but after a minute they threw their hands up in the air, confused. I was so out of it that Jessica had to motion to me that the puck was directly in front of me, right behind the row, so I just instinctively lunged down and grabbed it. I was told by the usher to stand up and hold the puck up high so everyone could see that I grabbed it. People cheered for me except for the people in the row in front, they just kind of grumbled. It dawned on me then that I was in sports fan heaven. I had received a foul ball and an out of play puck in the same lifetime. Most people would be lucky to have gotten one of these and here in my room, I have both. Maybe it’s because I didn’t get the puck signed, of maybe it’s because I was taught to share as a child, but I think I’m going to give the puck to Jessica since she paid for the tickets. I’m definitely not giving it to her because I don’t want it. It’s something that I actually considered buying a display case for (my autographed baseball is already in one). Souvenirs like these have helped me see past the corporate sponsorships that plague sports today and perhaps since I already have one thing to remind me of my pure love of these sports (and will be a great story for my future kids), I’m okay to part with the other.
When I got back from my Minneapolis/Chicago trip last summer, I didn’t think anyone would’ve really realized that I was gone. I was gone for about a week (mental note: stay longer so you can goto to Lalapalooza next time), and I had access to a computer/iPhone so it’s not like I had disappeared from the face of the planet. When I got back, some people asked me how the trip was and I shared about my cousin’s wedding, hanging out with my best friend and his brothers, and heading down to Chicago to see Phil, a friend/roommate from college and his new place. The big surprise was that Charis (9 years old at the time) and Allison (7) told me that it looked like I had a really good time on my vacation from the pictures they saw from my trip.
Throughout my trip, I was twittering pics of the food I ate and the restaurants I visited in between Minneapolis and Chicago (yes, I’m one of those people). The girls’ fathers have Twitter accounts so I assume that’s how they got access to my adventures. So the girls had seen the Chicago style pizza, the Chicago style hot dogs, the Mastodon burger, and Izzy’s ice cream. While I have no problems with the fact that they saw what I got to eat (and it was delicious), it also means that they might’ve seen some of my other tweets like:
@fancyhoodies: Just sat next to a tranny on the bus. Dude/dudette totally could’ve kicked my butt.
I don’t mind that they read my Twitter. I don’t see it as an invasion of privacy or anything, and my Twitter is relatively PG and I don’t tweet extremely personal thoughts. I just find it amusing that they are interested in my life at all. This was all before our little Technicolor show, and I believe it was before I asked them to participate as my assistants, so at the time I was just Uncle Ryan, and not this guy who was giving them their own dressing room and free reign of a theater stage.
I have a pretty comfortable relationship with the girls, to the point where they’re bold enough to ask me for some creative control when it comes to future shows. I haven’t promised them anything but I’m definitely open to expanding their roles within the show. I haven’t told them this because I need to come up with material, and the best way for me to come up with material for them is to observe them in normal conversations and remember the funniest things that come out of their mouths, and they definitely don’t disappoint. From Allison commenting on the ugliness of the girls in her Nintendo DS game to Charis letting out a loud hearty “Muahahaha” when her Dad pretended to be crucified on a cross for a Passover re-enactment, I’ve quickly learned that they are pretty hilarious entertainers even when they aren’t on stage. They’ve criticized their Uncle Barrett for not knowing what color fuchsia resembles and they’ve told me that facial hair is not my thing. They’re pretty quick witted in normal conversation.
I’ve heard so many ridiculous things from them that I’ve been tempted to start a Twitter thread in the vein of #(Explitive)MyDadSays, but then I probably would have to explain to them how I got the idea, and a lot of the humor would probably be lost in translation. Then there’s the whole issue of exploitation and I think starting a Twitter thread about the silly things a 10 and 9 year old say to me kind of crosses that line. I don’t think they’d actually mind that much since they both want to be actresses, and anything that will help them stand out is probably a good thing at this point.
They put on a play for me this past Friday at a house and while I can’t say there was a whole lot of material I could pull from their show (aside from the zombie bunny who wasn’t played by either of them), it’s good to see that they’ve got the creative juices flowing and that they’re trying out new material. One day, not too long ago, I was at a friend’s house giving my first preview show, and while things didn’t go as smoothly as planned, I persevered from there. Hopefully like myself, the girls will go back and refine their ideas, and they’ll eventually come up with a product that will be embraced when the lights go on and the curtain is drawn back. I have no doubt that they can up with something great, because I believe you can only be engaging on stage when you’re already engaging in life. That’s what I banked on with my writings and my show, and since I’m often given a front row seat for the Charis and Allison show (or should it be the Allison and Charis show?), I know that they’ve definitely got the beginning of something special. I can’t wait for our next show, because you’ll get to see what I get to see what I see on a regular basis, and I know you won’t be disappointed.