I couldn’t tell if my girlfriend slipped me a ruphee, if I was extremely tired, or if someone put a stupid spell on me. Then it hit me, in a flash I realized that it was none of this, what was happening is that I was watching a reality show called “Bethany getting married.” If you don’t know it’s a spinoff from another reality show called “The Real Housewives of New York” and if you don’t know what that is, consider yourself fortunate.
“Babe, what is this?”
“Bethany Getting Married.”
“Why are we watching this?”
“Well, she’s the smart one, she managed to make a career.”
The guilty pleasure of reality TV lives on and somehow along the way various individuals have managed to capitalize off of their 15 minutes of fame and stretch it into 15 days. Somehow I have found myself watching a show of someone who possesses absolutely no special qualities what so ever. Television once carried a stigma of accomplishment and vicarious entertainment. Now, it’s more compiled like Youtube than anything else, and I don’t necessarily know if that’s a bad thing. However, the difference is youtube reality clips range from 10 seconds to 5 minutes, and TV ranges from 30 minutes to a hour.
What is so appealing about these reality shows? Help me find out why this is such a guilty pleasure? Do we like to watch trainwrecks? Do we like to see that our lives actually aren’t that bad?
Who are these people and what is their skill? Why should I keep my eyes glued on them? Who knows but when I brought this exact question up to my friend it went down like this…
“Dude. What is the skill of these people?”
“Uh, their skill? Hmmm… Well, that they’re maintaining on TV.”
Dammit, he’s right. That is a skill, and the skill is somehow maintaining a presence on television. But wait, something doesn’t make sense – why am I watching them? It hit me, my friend that once produced hits like Seinfeld, Cheers, Friends, Mash, Cosby, LOST, and Arrested Development has duped me, it’s my TV. My buddy first named Tele, last name Vision has betrayed me. Or is it us?
We’re the culprits. We keep these shows on TV by watching them and feeding into them the way we do, and I am equally at fault for this to a certain degree, the proof is in the simple fact that I’m even writing this.
Whatever the case may be the TV audience is always the one who dictates what’s on TV and reality TV isn’t going anywhere, I’m doing my best to embrace new shows. Maybe one day I’ll find myself watching Jersey Shore meets the Hills called Jersey Hill.
My favorite bar in Hollywood is closing. It's a historic divebar located on Sunset Blvd. It's name - Ye Olde Coach and Horses. I've had many O' Nights there thinking and pondering my goods and bads. This is a bummer.
This is an article from La.eater.com and the full link is at the bottom.
The British pub Ye Coach & Horses in Hollywood next to Samuel French Books and Bonhams & Butterfields auction house is to be closed after 73 years. This historic watering hole designed in a classic Britain meets Hollywood style opened in 1937 was popular with British expats in Hollywood including Richard Burton and Alfred Hitchcock. During the 70s it was a favorite hangout of Jim Morrison, and in more recent times it was the haunt of Quentin Tarantino who with Tim Roth wrote scenes for Pulp Fiction on napkins. According to a source, Samuel French Bookstore, which owns the property, is increasing the rent and forcing the bar's closure at the end of the month. Apparently the current owner of the bar Jane Grant, 85, who inherited the bar from her husband Bob, has made poor business decisions and failed to sign a long term lease. New rents are charging around $8,000. A vanishing piece of Hollywood history. [EaterWire]
Feeling lost and confused is starting to become abnormally comfortable. Living a life of constant change isn’t what I imagined at this point in my life but it’s definitely what I chose. This unfortunate feeling seeps into my system from time to time and I resort to an activity that I know best: Roaming around Los Angeles on foot looking for clarity.
It’ about 11pm and I just started heading towards a grocery store more known for it’s people than produce. It’s called Ralphs but I found out that everyone calls it “Rock and Roll” Ralphs, why? No Idea. But, I’m making my steps towards Rock and Roll Ralphs and I’m feeling a major mental block with work. Currently I have a writing deadline, I’m supposed to have a writing sample submitted to someone in two days, and in about an hour when it reaches 12am it will be one day.
I’m confused on a few levels. First: “What the Hell am I going to write?” Second: “I’ve had one month to write this, I can’t think of anything, what the hell is wrong with me?” Third: “What if this writers block never leaves? What if my ideas are just somehow gone?”
The typical questions about my placement in this world begin to arise, I try and tell myself to stop looking so much into things but I can’t help it. I start wondering, what does it say about me that I analyze everything? Then - Shit, what does it say about me that I analyze me analyzing everything? I’m starting to fear that I’m the guy who just can’t get things done because I’m too busy thinking about doing it.
This walk leads me no choice, it leads me right into the very busy Ralphs grocery store to sit and people watch. If there’s one thing I need right now it’s to sit and make shallow assessments of people. I wish I didn’t have these thoughts and make these assessments sometimes but I’m human, it happens.
As I walk in I notice the groups of stereotypes. I see the husband and wives, the boyfriends and girlfriends, the single women buying vodka already drunk walking around the store, the single men trying to talk to the single ladies buying vodka. The Ralphs is a gathering of every culture in Los Angeles, and fortunately it has a seating area off to the side by a coffee bean. I’m planning to sit and just let my thoughts go, I’m about 30 seconds away from people watching mode when a piece of luggage is rolled next to me.
The luggage belongs to an older woman, probably about 65 years old, instantly I smell something sour and notice that her clothes haven’t been washed in who knows how long. The woman has a perpetual deer in headlight look, she may have had some eye surgery at some point in her life but I doubt it. She’s got some dirt scattered on her, I checked her hands and fingernails to see if they were clean – they weren’t. But, something was in her hands, a US Weekly magazine (which consists of all the Hollywood gossip) my mystery woman was clearly homeless, and she was standing looking at me.
She said:
“Are you waiting for someone?”
Should I lie? Should I tell her I am so I don’t get caught in this conversation?
“No, I’m just sitting here…. I’m Josh”
“I’m Beth.”
It was at that moment without hesitation my Midwestern roots popped in and I heard my dad’s voice echo in my head – Always extend yourself and shake someone’s hand when you meet them.
I stood up and extended my hand.
“Pleasure to meet you”
I felt the dryness of her hand hit mine, it felt like I was shaking dirt. I instantly knew I had to wash my hands. I’m naturally a person who likes to use my hands to think, which means I touch my face a lot. I really need to wash my hands, but I can’t be rude so I’ll do it later… just don’t touch your face.
Beth sat down in the unoccupied space next to me plopped her magazine on the table and said:
“I knew he was gay.”
“…What’s that?”
“I knew he was gay. Ricky Martin, I knew it.”
“Oh. (fake smile) Okay”
“My girlfriend was the one who injected the blood into him.”
This woman is starting to fill the shoes of the stigma she carries. Unfortunately many of us have encountered unfortunate individuals who at some point in their lives start losing touch with a certain reality. Which isn’t a bad thing, because something tells me this woman lives in her own reality, and that may be a different place than mine… good or bad.
“Blood? What?”
“You know the man’s blood into his penis. To make him homosexual.”
WHAT!?
I just nodded and gave a half -hearted smile because quite frankly I didn’t know what she was talking about. Although I’m about 250 percent certain one’s sexual preference isn’t determined by blood being injected into their reproductive organs I let her keep talking about her US weekly. She proceeded to make assessments about random celebrities and then began to discuss her former life as an actress. Apparently Beth had worked in a few films in her life and now she’s still waiting for her big break.
Beth discussing her former life made my head wander. How can I not think my fate will take her road at some point? It sounded like she and was chasing a dream, a dream that never stopped or maybe never happened. There is something I find admirable about chasing what you actually want to do, probably because I’m currently doing it. But, more so because I like the idea doing what you want to do, and once you attain your dream it’s instantaneously your reality, and for me that’s what makes life exciting.
Beth is all over the place now talking, I should have been paying better attention but I wasn’t. I clicked my head back into gear and started to listen to her talk again, I thought I would engage for the sake of being rude.
“So, what are you doing here?”
“Waiting to cook.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I love cooking, and I’m waiting for them to bring the organic flour, not that generic shit.”
“I didn’t know flour could be generic.”
“Flour can be anything.”
Not sure if her comment just then was insightful or completely nuts but I nodded as if I knew exactly what she was talking about.
“You know, there’s a place called Whole Foods just down the street, I think all there stuff is organic, maybe they have the stuff that’s not so generic.”
“No! It’s from here. They told me they’d have it from here but their shipment isn’t in yet.”
I’m uncomfortable and I want to go. My Mr. Nice guy talk to this woman routine is dried up, I felt sorry for this woman but now I feel sorry for myself for even being here. In some odd way I think I was hoping this woman would create inspiration for me to write later on but actually she’s created fear. I’m planning my escape.
“Well, I think, I uh – “
“Will you look and tell me if there is flour?”
“What’s that?”
“Organic flour, I want organic flour. I need the flour, I need it for my daughter, and she likes the organic flour. It’s right over there in aisle 7 or 8.”
I feel bad for Beth.
“Sure, but I need to get going after, is that okay?”
Not sure why I just asked her if it was okay for me to leave but screw it, I’ll find this organic flour and be on my way. Maybe I should do some more walking and not get stuck sitting anywhere. Maybe I should just go home and try to write and wash my hands. One way or another, I need to find this woman some flour.
I stood up and smiled at Beth and started to make my way to look for some organic flour. As I did I immediately noticed the security guard begin to walk over towards me. Security and cops always make me feel like I’m up to no good, as he makes his way to me I subconsciously put on my annoyed face so he won’t talk to me. But, he talks to me.
“Excuse me man.”
I’m looking back at a harmless 20 something security guard in a grocery store, he’s staring back at me like he knows more than me.
“Yeah.”
“Hey, that woman over there, she’s nuts man, she’s crazy.”
“Okay.”
“The one you’re talking to man.”
“No I know who you meant, I’m just looking for something for her.”
“I know, she always comes in here, she doesn’t buy anything. Man, I’m telling you she’s crazy man, crazy. I always kick her out, but she just keeps coming back in.”
That word crazy stuck out. I admittedly also think this woman is crazy but to hear it from this guy made it sound worse for some reason. Crazy carries a connotation of… well… crazy. It’s a word that get’s loosely tossed around and could potentially actually tell you if someone is crazy or not.
“Well, let me just find something for her.”
“Is it about that flour she wants? We don’t have it, that’s what she’s always talking about, some special flour for some cookies or some shit.”
“Listen man, I’m just going to get going okay.”
“Can you just tell her we don’t have it, tell her we never have it?”
This is just weird now. I walk back to my lady who, I can tell has been eyeing me like I’m in the wilderness. I tell her that they don’t have organic flour, even though I already think flour is organic. She tells me it has to SAY it’s organic, and they never say organic flour.
Whatever.
“Hey, I’m going to get going, good luck, I have to get home.”
As I extended my hand again (MAKE SURE I WASH MY HANDS!) she didn’t extend back. Apparently she knew I had a conversation with the security guard:
“What did the rent a cop say to you?”
“Oh, uh, nothing.”
“I know he thinks I’m crazy, he tells me I’m crazy and I need to go home, but I’m not crazy, I don’t think I’m crazy. Do you think I’m crazy?”
If there is one thing I have learned in my life it’s to never tell a WOMAN that she’s crazy. I don’t care who the woman is, you never tell them they are crazy…. Especially one’s you’re dating… But that’s beside the point. I don’t think you can tell a homeless woman she is crazy because who knows what will happen, she has nothing to lose.
“I don’t think you’re crazy.”
“Liar!”
Woah! Her yell caught me off guard.
“Okay good luck Beth.”
As I started to make my way out she stung me with something, whether or not it she meant it when she said it I thought about it the entire walk home.
“They told me they would have the organic flour! And now they don’t! I’m not the crazy one. I’m trying to make something perfect, something that requires the perfect flour, okay! I’m not crazy, I just want what they told me they would have, this is what I want, I want the perfect flour.”
Then she mumbled…
“People don’t understand that passion and crazy are the same thing, and I want to cook all night. I want perfect flour.”
And that was it, that’s what led me to the door. That seemingly odd conversation to an even odder previous set of events had me walking at a fast pace to get home, I knew exactly what I was going to write.
I walked into my house quickly and quietly and headed straight for the computer. I knew I should go and give my girlfriend a kiss and let her know I’m home but I needed to type. I had been gone for almost 2 hours and I need to turn in a story to use as a sample. I began typing at a very rapid pace. It was as if my walk of clarity worked even though I didn’t do much walking, I immediately typed the title:
Adventures of Ingredients
It was about a woman banished to a grocery store, only able to leave when the perfect ingredients come in, and she has to cook her way out.
Sounds cheesy yes, but it was somewhat of a child adventure. Most importantly I was flowing with ideas. Before I knew it, it was 3:47am and I’m not too sure I had moved from the computer. I heard the bedroom door open and footsteps coming to me. It was my girlfriend.
I imagine that when she opened the door only to see the light of my monitor blasting off my face I may have looked like a mad scientist. She said:
“Babe, what are you doing? Come to bed.”
“I can’t, I can’t I need to finish this writing, I’m almost there.”
“How much longer?”
“Not sure? Maybe a few hours?”
“You’re crazy babe, just come to bed when you can.”
My girlfriend meant no harm but little did she know she used the keyword of the night – CRAZY. As she headed back to the bedroom I wanted to yell to her that I’m not crazy I’m just passionate about this and it needs to be perfect, I need to get it done. My perfect ingredients are coming together to make my story and I need to utilize them.
Whether or not Beth knew it she really got to me with those final comments:
“People don’t understand that passion and crazy are the same thing, and I want to cook all night. I want perfect flour.”
Sure, the context sounded completely ridiculous but I get it. The store told her she would have exactly what she needed and now she’s waiting it out, is she really that crazy? Is she crazy to want that perfect thing? Is her craziness what got her to that position in the first place?
My girlfriend gave me a moment to let this all sink in. With some sort of passion there is most definitely some sort of crazy. These two words are holding hands as far as I’m concerned and this is in every area of life …love…work…family’s…emotionally…physically… sport…the list goes on.
I don’t know where this leads me and I certainly hope one day I’m not roaming into Ralphs for perfect food, but I do know that my passion to do what I want is not going to go away, and I’m not sure where that will lead. I’m pretty sure this lives in all of us, and the more we express our crazy the more we express our passions.
I was walking down a set of stairs recently when I over heard two women talking…
“blah blah blah blah”
“Yeah but I bet he’s good in the sack”
“blah blah blah blah”
I know they’re talking about sex right now, and I know what good in the sack means, but do I know what it really means?
What are the origins? This is my breakdown… I think it means if two people were tossed into a actually sack they would fool around and have some fun… Like two shrunk people in a confined space - or sack. That thought alone makes me laugh.
I checked out what is not only being called the worst movie of his career but one of the worst movies in the past decade. M Knight Shymalan’s: The Last Airbender.
Let me just say one thing. I’m a huge M Knight fan. I liked his first few movies but then Lady in the Water Happened. I cut him some slack but then The Happening happened and I was just confused. But, the one thing that I always liked about this guy is that he continuously took chances and made movies that stretched our belief in common day.
The problem with the M Knight is that he started on top of the world out of nowhere. He’s like the R.L. Stein of movie making (90’s reference). Everyone’s expectations are through the roof with him, which lead us to always expect some twist or turn at the end of his films. Clearly, he’s made awesome things and we’re all recognizing this otherwise the critics wouldn’t be tearing him apart like he’s responsible for the BP oil spill.
Review time:
Did I like this film… It was Ehhhhh. It definitely had some cool parts, the fighting was interesting, special effects were good, and the overall idea of using the elements to your advantage kept me interested. BUT, the acting from some of the lead kids (Not the Slumdog Millionaire) was just not good. I think it was too much to handle.
The other main issue with this film is that there was so much going on that it almost felt like the story was all over the place. However, the upside to that problem is this is based off of a cartoon I’ve never seen and something tells me he tried to fit a massive amount from the TV show.
I really wanted to like this film, then I read the reviews and saw that just about nobody liked it so my expectations fell FLAT, then I went and saw it - waiting for something terrible to happen and for me to say “okay this sucks” but that didn’t happen. My emotions were basically everywhere, and I think they still are.
NOW - Going into this film it’s important to understand that this is a kid’s film. How do we know this? Aside from it being PG and based off of cartoon, the 50 kids in the theater were cheering throughout the movie. Those kids cheering and wanting more is the key to the equation. It’s what’s being overlooked. If the idea was to entertain kids – it worked. If the idea was to entertain everyone – it didn’t work at all.
Let’s lay off this man for a minute shall we? He’s not that bad, and it’s saying something that we all hold one person on such a high pedestal. I admit he should probably stick to directing and end the writing. I’ll also admit this movie had the potential to be a Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter in regards to epic tone. But, it wasn’t.
M Knight will live to direct another day, and when that day comes I will most likely be seeing his movie on opening weekend while I read reviews of how he will never direct again.
This article is from GOOD. The link is at the bottom of the page.
If you didn’t already know it, biking and walking are really good for you. Thanks to a new study released by the Alliance for Biking and Walking (and funded by the CDC) we now have the data to prove it. There is a lot of great information in the study and I recommend you check it out. But for those of you on the fly, a few highlights:
-Less than 10% of all trips are made by bike or foot
-From 2000-2007 the number of commuters who bike to work increased by 42%
-States with the highest levels of cycling and walking have the lowest levels of adults with hypertension, obesity, and diabetes
-New Yorkers (not a big surprise) make more of their trips by foot or bike than any other state- almost 19% of their trips
-North Dakota, South Carolina, Delaware and Mississippi tied for last place– only about 5% of trips are made by foot or bike
One quandary (and a reason many people stay in their cars) is that study also shows cyclists and pedestrians are at a disproportionate risk of being killed. Not a big surprise when you consider that less than 2% of the federal transportation budget is allocated towards walking and biking. Savvy policy makers might consider the public health benefits (and corresponding impact on health care budgets) when divvying up the monies next time around.
Photo: Flickr / stevemacdonald
This post originally appeared on www.refresheverything.com, as part of GOOD's collaboration with the Pepsi Refresh Project, a catalyst for world-changing ideas. Find out more about the Refresh campaign, or to submit your own idea today.
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