All I asked for was a bottle of ketchup

"Hey guy, I'm dieing here. Can you finagle me a bottle of ketchup? Or catsup, I'll even take catsup."

The waiter looked apprehensive, "Sir...ketchup, for your dry aged Steak au Poivre with Courvoisier cream sauce?"

"Yes, goddamn it! What do I look like to you; some uneducated hick? A rodeo clown? A handicapped person with some obvious physical atrocity? I want that fucking ketchup, right fucking now. I asked for it ten minutes ago."

"Sir there's really no need to yell. I just thought that the young man might find the ketchup a poor choice of tastes for such a fine steak."

"Poor ch-ch-ch-choice?!?!" He stands up, flips over the table, breaking everything, ruining his meal as well as his fellow diners'. "Listen asshole, I've had enough of your snide bullshit. It's been going on the whole fucking time I've been here. It took FOREVER to get the Cheese Whiz for my salad, and I KNOW I heard you laugh when I asked if the kitchen had anything in the way of alphabet soup. You're fucking dead."

He lunges, but slips on his own steak.

Looking down at the sad ketchup enthusiast, "Okay sir, NOW I'm going to get the manager, and we're going to call the police."

The young man attempted to pick himself up from the floor, but as he started, he urinated uncontrollably, and figured "What the heck?" and fell back down. Someone nearby spat at the fellow. The police arrived soon, and other patrons began flocking from the area (partly because of the uncomfortable scene, but mostly beacuse of the piss that was all over the floor). As the young man was led out of the restaurant in handcuffs, another waiter walks past him to the former site of the gentleman's meal.

"Someone asked for ketchup?"

"Why would I put on a hat if my best friend just got blown up right in front of me?"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=spCknVcaSHg
I guess it works.

Man oh man, I continue to love Wes Anderson. And to anyone that saw Life Aquatic the first time and felt underwhelmed in comparison to the staggering genius that was Bottle Rocket, Rushmore, and Royal Tenenbaums, I'm with you. But give it another viewing, its genius shines through in time, too.

And at least I can praise Wes Anderson without Sartinsky shitting a brick.




Although Zach Braff rules and Charlie Kauffman drools.

"Alright, I guess you can have that one?"

-Me to the girl next to me after a fly landed on the M&M cookie I was about to take.

Becoming an anti-Scientologist

Well obviously with me going to Hollwood for the summer, there's a big buzz going around about whether or not I'll take the plunge and join Scientology. A fair point, since I'm a sociopathic liar that has a penchant for making shit up. But no, no, I don't think Scientology is where my calling lies. I'm thinking about becoming an anti-Scientologist. And not someone who thinks the religion is fake or whatever. I'm going to be taking the side of Xenu, the alien ruler of the Galactic Confederacy. He sounds like a guy with big aspirations, and I can respect that. So whether you want to label me anti-Scientology, or pro-Xenu, just don't pit me against Tom Cruise, because while he may be a bit nutty/brilliant, I'll be damned if I still don't see his movies every summer.

Beware his power

Chair, anyone?

"The Shark"

CHRIS
Why do they call you "The Shark"?

BEN
Because when it comes to business deals, I'm a shark.

CHRIS
...

BEN
Yeah you know, like I'm walking through an office for a meeting. And I got to this guy's office, because I want him to think he has the upper hand. But he doesn't. Know why? I already own the building, and I'm having him evicted. Figuratively. So I'm walking through the office, and everyone's whispering things "Oh shit, it's The Shark", "The Shark?!?! Fuck!" and the like. So I get to the guy's office? Who is it? It's Chris Kauffman. "Uh, actually my name is CHARLIE Kauffman-" "HEY GUY, I DON'T GIVE A SHIT!" He wants me to produce his next movie. So I let him pitch me. But before he gets out the first sentence, I cut him off. "Not interested." I tell him to take it, rework it, and when he thinks he's got it, I'll let Zach Braff take a pass at it. I also tell him I just slept with both his wife and his mother. As he shits his pants and vomits into his left sock (beige, with brown stripes) I exit, but not before I'm stopped by 2 secretaries. Well one is actually an "Executive Assistant" but basically, a secretary. They both want to work for me. Who do I take? The ugly one. Why? I don't dip my pen in the company ink. But I have sex with the ugly one just to prove a point. And that's how I got the name "The Shark".

CHRIS
But I thought you said they were whispering "The Shark" when you came in.

BEN
Exactly.

CHRIS
...

BEN
(squints)

"Police bust hefty hooker"

http://www.dailyfreepress.com/news/2006/04/11/News/Police.Bust.Hefty.Hooker-1843943.shtml

This may be the greatest article the DFP has ever written.

The 101 "Greatest" Screenplays

http://www.wgaeast.org/greatest_screenplays/2006/04/03/list/index.html

I say "greatest" with a hint of insencerity, mainly because this list boasts 3 Charlie Kaufman screenplays, which Chris Sartinsky is furiously masturbating at the thought of right now, of course (And yes, Chris, I realize the "Egomanic"'s first effort did not land anywhere on the list).

But any list that somehow manages to overlook all of Wes Anderson's screenplays, as well as Mamet's genius GLENGARRY GLEN ROSS or Sorkin's A FEW GOOD MEN can get shoved right up my own ass.

At least I met Robert Towne who placed at #3 and (sort of) #2. And both my favourite movies, THE GRADUATE and THE USUAL SUSPECTS rank, at #13 and #35, respectively.

"Hey now!"

A lazy non-post, but I'm feeling lazy, and loving the hell out of The Larry Sanders Show. Even though I've got all the episodes on my harddrive, I'd gladly shell out to get seasons 2-6 released on DVD at some point. A precursor to shows like Sports Night and The West Wing, it's a shame more people haven't seen it.

My convoluted heritage

So for a while my place and date of birth have been a bone of contention among those who know me. Now get ready for the secret I've kept for years.


I was born in Alberta, Canada on April 14 , 1985 to Martha and Jonathon Braddock. Unfortuneatley, they were not ready to raise a child, and put me up for adoption. My kindly parents, William and Mary Simpson, adopted me and brought me to their home in Ohio. Apparently my birth records had been screwed up, and I was given a new birthday; June 27, 1985, which is what is listed on my official US birth certificate. I didn't find out I was adopted until I was 8 and overheard my mum talking about it on the phone with her friend. A few years later, I revealed I knew the secret, and my parents took me to Canada where I spent a summer with my real parents. Deciding it was ultimately not the life for me, I came back to the US, where I stayed. A few months ago, I found out the Braddocks died, and left me their home in Alberta, but was later destoyed in a rockslide.

Good things DO happen to bad people

"Well at least I got ONE nice child." - My mother

Who's working in LA this summer?

This guy.



Must go, I have to buy some fancy sunglasses and meet with George Clooney-types.

My favourite sport is Soccer

Well, it will be come June. Despite having played 3 sports in high school, since then, I can't remember I the last time I actually watched a sporting event. As of right now, I have just over 66 days until the World Cup starts in Germany. By that point, I need to have learned the game (since right now, most of my soccer "knowledge" comes from Bend it Like Beckham, despite having played soccer as a youngster), picked a time to root for (Lapage recommended England, so I'm leaning towards that right now), know the players, and generally be able to talk intelligently about the game, or at least sound like I know what I'm talking about. Plus, since soccer isn't exactly (American) football or baseball-level popular here in the colonies, I figure I can make up whatever I don't know.

I'm also thinking I may need to pick up an Xbox soccer game, that may help my learning curve in the same way that I feel Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic readied me for adventures as a Jedi knight.

Pancake Model

Because I'm too tired/lazy to think of something (not) funny, but realized there may be humour value in this.
Nothing like eating a possibly uncooked pancake with your bare hands.

Tour guide

Our hero sits outside SMG on one of the stone benches, reading over some Finance notes on a sunny April day. A middle-aged couple walks by as part of a tour group.

FATHER
Uhm, excuse me?

HERO
(Looking up)...yeah?

FATHER
Sorry, just wondering...do you go here?

HERO
Yeah.
(Lifts up Finance book) Just doing a fair bit of cramming for finals.

FATHER
Oh, okay. So which, uh, school are you in?
(Akwardly points in different directions along Commonwealth Ave)

HERO
(Pointing up at SMG) Right here, SMG, the business school.

MOTHER
Oh that's nice.

FATHER
We're here visiting for our daughter Carol, she's thinking about coming here next year. She's on her own tour right now. So how do you like it here?

HERO
Oh it's pretty good. It's nice being in the city, and classes are generally pretty good.
(Noticing the mother's NYU sweatshirt) So are you looking at NYU as well?

MOTHER
Oh no, our older daughter, Lizzie, goes there.

HERO
Oh yeah? My brother goes there, too...well, not my brother anymore. No. No. No. He's my SISTER now....

MOTHER
What?

HERO (CON'T)
...he's not Danny anymore, it's "Danielle" now. Oh god (vomits a little in his mouth). I can't even look at him...HER in the eyes anymore (more vomiting).

FATHER
Uhhh...

MOTHER
Yeah, well we'd better catch up with the tour...

The couple walks away as our hero is left sobbing on the bench, contemplating the murder of his sister/brother.