Steve was minding his own business when THEY stormed in.

The man was first. He was fuming.

"Just stop following me!"

The woman, well, followed him into the room.

"Let's talk about this," she pleaded.

"Listen, Slutty McSlutterton, I don't give a flying flame-throwing fuck what you have to say on the subject," he hissed.

Steve looked for a way out.

"I wish you could take the high road on this," she said calmly.

"High ROAD? HIGH road?"

"Yes. And now that you've stressed each word individually, can we calm down?"

"No!" He yelled. "There is no calming down here. I'm sick of you and other guys--"

"You know that they mean nothing to me--"

"You were giving him a lap dance!"

"Listen, a good lap dance is like art. It is a skill and--"

"You aren't even a stripper!!"

"Well, yeah, there's that..."

Steve cleared his throat, but was ignored.

"People told me that you were a tramp. I told them that you were just misunderstood. "

"Thanks."

"But now that you've gone down on everything but the Titanic..."

"That's not fair."

"Listen... We're done. There is nothing that you can say to change my mind."

She walked up to him and whispered in his ear. His eyes bulged. He grabbed her and pushed her against the wall. They kissed and groped each other like drunken 15 year olds for what seemed like an eternity to Steve.

"Fine. Let's go home. But, NEXT time... we're done," he said.

"Sure, sweetie," she purred as they walked out.

Steve looked around, still in shock at what he had witnessed.

Then he zipped up and stepped away from the urinal.

Labels: short fiction

Heyas --

I just set up the official PDDC baseball pool.

You can sign-up here.

League ID: 134335

password: pddc1234

This is going to be the lowest maintenance baseball pool EVER.

It is rotisserie style. (Like Kenny Rogers' chicken!) None of that "head-to-head" business where you actually have to pay attention to your team.

The draft is even "auto-pick," so you don't have to do squat for that either.

Essentially all you have to do is sign up. (Though you CAN actually put effort into it. You know, if you are that type.)

If your team ends up sucking, you can blame it on not putting work into it.

However, if your team turns out to kick some ass, you can claim to be a genius.

That is totally what I'm planning on doing.

All are welcome!

This is just me telling you that I fully realize that it's been four days since I posted anything.

And I'm not entirely sure why.

My mind has been elsewhere. I've been thinking about other writing projects.

Yesterday I almost wrote about the Oscars. But, I didn't care enough.

And didn't actually watch them.

I will say that THE DEPARTED is vastly overrated, I think.

Decent movie. Nothing really new for the genre. A number of good performances. One very good performance. (Nicholson, not Wahlberg.) Very good editing -- which I NEVER notice. And a kick ass song on the soundtrack.

I think Marty definitely won based on his body of work and not this film. It's not even in his top 5 best films.

I thought LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE was a better choice.

Glad AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH won. Al Gore IS a rock star.

[This is where Peter considered going on a rant amount the American electoral process.]

I also happened to watch all three of those films this weekend on DVD.

Last night, before bed, I decided that I wanted to write a blog post this morning. So, I told my subconscious to work on something over night.

I woke up this morning with... no ideas.

My 12th grade math teacher told us that he often solved problems in his sleep. So, I figured it could work for me too. Apparently I did it wrong.

Of course, he's the same guy that said "up yours with a wire brush!" to a student. And, as he put his key in the classroom lock, muttered, "I could tell it was the wrong hole by the way she wiggled."

Maybe I shouldn't put too much stock in his advice.

I like to joke sometimes about how awesome I am.

Someone will ask, "How are you?" And I'll reply with "Charming and witty. You?

They won't know what to do with it. I'll giggle.

Good times.

And I AM joking.

You know, mostly.

Truth be told, I kinda like me.

So, before I get into the meat of this post, let's remember that it is entirely possible that I'm a raging egomaniac.

A charming and witty egomaniac.

Let's remember that things I say shouldn't always be taken seriously.

And let's also remember that sometimes they should be.

Somewhere in my mid-twenties, I began thinking about my legacy. I began thinking about the mark I want to leave on the world.

I've always wanted to do something "great."

I've always been sure that I will.

Some people want to travel the world and see everything that they can. They want to experience everything the world has to offer. I can appreciate that. But, it doesn't have the same appeal to me.

Memories of all you've seen can fade with time.

Legacy doesn't.

I think that some people are travelers and some are builders.

I think that I'm a builder.

At some point along the way, I decided that writing could be my legacy.

I loved the idea of my great grandkids watching a movie in the future that was written by me.

I thought that was how I'd achieve my "greatness."

I'm still planning on seeing my screenplays produced, though whether or not that is "greatness" is debatable.

But, maybe that isn't supposed to be my legacy.

Maybe I'm supposed to be a good son. A good brother. A great Unc.

Maybe I'm supposed to be a great Dad too.

I have great parents.

Maybe I am supposed to raise a kid that cures Cancer.

Maybe I am supposed to raise a kid that writes a song or poem that truly inspires others.

Maybe I'm just a guy with a mediocre blog that should just write for the enjoyment of it.

Or maybe I could use my writing for other things.

Maybe I could write letters for Amnesty International.

Maybe I could write press releases for a charity (or charities) that make the lives of others better.

Maybe I could write speeches for a politician that can change the world.

Maybe I use "could" too much and "should" not enough.

Maybe we can't decide what our legacy will be. Maybe it just happens.

Though we can control what we do and don't do.

And, for some reason, I feel closer to figuring out what I should be doing.

That's progress.

Labels: ego

Some things mildly annoy you.
Some things make you wonder what might have been.
Some things absolutely enrage you.
And, on those great occasions, some things give you hope.

And already I miss her. :( Like I usually do after her visits, I'll spend the next few days looking at her pics and thinking, "Awwwww. Pooooop."

We had a fun ten days. A few points that I didn't mention yet:

- It may take her Mommy & Daddy a couple of days to unspoil her. One day she had an ice cream sandwich for breakfast. Don't call the authorities! (Later she did have some oatmeal.)

- Uncle Pete putting on tights is apparently VERY funny. (The tights were being put on the ACN, NOT Uncle Pete himself. Though he did wear them once for a school play, and rocked them completely.)

- The ACN LOVES it when I yell "Curses!" and shake my fist.

- The Mommy & Daddy brought the ACN home the six presents that she requested. That was the deal. They could go south without her, if they brought back six presents. (Seven if you count each maraca separately.)

- The Mommy learned how to say "asshole" in Spanish.

- Yesterday we got into a fight just before lunch. I wanted to stop painting for two minutes to put chicken in the oven. She did not support this initiative. The end result was her telling me that she was getting a new Unc from the Unc store and trading me in. She apparently kept the receipt.

- It's probably a good thing that I don't have a date tonight. I could end up wiping her face with her napkin while making "SQUEE SQUEE SQUEE" sounds. Ah let's face it, that could potentially happen any time with me.

- Uncle Pete has 60+ hours of shows on his PVR. The ACN informed him that he could watch television AFTER she went home. She was very clear about that.

Labels: ACN

Many of you are already familiar with the exploits of Cassie. Well, she's been a baaaaaad dragon lately. The night before last, and the night before that, ACN woke up in the middle of the night. She was very upset and didn't want to sleep in her bed. And the next day, I found out what the problem was.

Cassie.

It seems as if the little pink shit was pinching ACN's bum at night. I know! Cassie has been around long enough to know better. Sheeesh. So last night, as punishment, Cassie was sent to sleep in Uncle Pete's room.

Though I'm not sure who it was supposed to punish, exactly.

When I got up this morning, I broke the news to ACN. "Cassie pinched MY bum last night too!"

ACN looked surprised. She gave me a look that said, "Wow. I've been faking it all this time, but maybe that dragon IS bad news."

Either way, ACN slept in her own bed all night last night.

*****

The story I wanted to tell yesterday is about how ACN gives no kisses to Grandpa. And loves rubbing it in. He'll beg and plead and all he gets is a big "No." He'll pretend to cry. She'll giggle.

Still no kissies.

Then Uncle Pete will take her out of Grandpa's arms and she'll start kissing me right away. Smooching on my neck and cheek. And she'll look at Grandpa and laugh.

It is hilarious. I rarely get kisses if he isn't around, but when he is, she kisses me like crazy. The other day I said, "Hey there, you are going to give me a hickey." She laughed so hard that Cassie peed herself.

*****

The ACN enjoys story time. You know, as long as you read the right story... at the right time. Otherwise, she'll let you know that you aren't doing it correctly. One story she seems not to like is "Sleeping Beauty."

I'm not sure if she objects to the fact that the woman is waiting to be rescued by a man, or if it reminds her of bedtime -- which just seems to displease her in general.

Either way, she wants no part of that book.

Though she'd still prefer it to "Molly Moose."

*****

The ACN learned a lesson recently. She learned that sometimes, on the odd occasion, Uncle Pete knows things.

The ACN ate an ice cream sandwich. Then she was thirsty. I offered a glass of milk and she refused. She wanted apple juice. I told her that it would taste sour after all that sweetness and that she would make THIS face. Which I made for her -- and am making for you as I type this, for some reason. But, she was convinced that she wanted some apple juice. So, I gave her a drink.

And she made the face. And coughed. And sputtered.

I asked, "Was Uncle Pete right?"

No reply.

"Was apple juice a good idea?"

She shook her head "no."

"Do you want more apple juice?"

She shook her head "no."

So, I gave her a drink of milk.

"Is that better than apple juice.?"

She stubbornly shook her head "no."

"Do you want another drink of milk?"

She quickly opened her mouth for more.

Labels: ACN

(Did I really just use that as a title?)

Two more sleeps until the ACN's mommy & daddy fly home. And I think that our little punkin is getting a bit lonely.

This morning we had a bit of a contretemps.

Essentially, I wanted her to wear pants. Her opinion was more of a "Yeah, naw, not gonna happen" kind of deal.

There were tears (mostly hers,) there was bargaining (she can't be bribed!) and finally we reached an agreement...

She'd get dressed BUT she was going to send Uncle Pete to timeout.

She discovered Sunday afternoon that she LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVES sending Uncle Pete to timeout. Uncle Pete didn't mind it either, and spent his timeout punishment sprawled out on his bed watching college basketball (Duke vs. Georgia Tech.) She'd put me in for two minutes at a time, because she really enjoyed coming to the door and having me ask if I could come out. She'd shake her head "no" and buckle over laughing. I must have spent two hours in timeout.

However, the ACN realized today that it was only fun to send Unc to timeout when her grandparents and The Monkey were here to play with. Today, when it was just us again, it wasn't nearly as exciting.


This morning, she had to come to timeout with me. She was a bit torn. She wanted me to suffer, but she was bored. She did put up with it for a while though, and giggled at my incarceration. However, hunger became more of a pressing issue than torturing me, so she freed me from the clink.

Crap. There was another funny story, but my mind has gone blank. D'oh! It was gold.

Uh oh. I've been typing for too long. If I don't go do something entertaining soon, I'll be back in timeout.

Labels: ACN

- The ACN really liked my idea for brushing her teeth using a finger puppet with unruly hair. (I eventually talked her out of it.)

- The munchkin enjoys toast with butter and cinnamon/sugar in the morning. But, at some point, she gets bored with the toast and just likes the butter and sugar/cinnamon combo. So, she'll take a bite, suck the buttery/cinnamony goodness out of it and then turn away from me and sneakily spit the toast out and down onto her lap. She does it all slow and cagey-like. And if you call her on it, she giggles and giggles. And then does it again.

- The ACN loves it when Nipper is around, because he is a little furry accomplice. ACN spits out the bread and Nipper sneaks up and eats it right off of her bib. (We call bibs "Super Girl Capes.")

- Even though "peach" is her favourite flavour of the little yogurt dealies (which apparently are actually some kind of "fresh cheese" dealie) she has been enjoying the "very berry" ones today. Though I think it has more to do with me saying, "You know, squirt, they aren't just a little berry... they are VERY berry." She finds that quite amusing.

- Recent names that I've called the ACN: cuddle bug, munchkin pants, poodle pops, turkey burger, little dude, and four more!

- The ACN's all-time favourite game to play with unc, goes a little like this...

ACN gets sick of sitting in chair-y, and of cuddling, and wants to just play in her bed with the teddy bears. But, eventually that gets dull and picking on Uncle Pete sounds like much more fun. So, she yells for me. I walk over to her bed and she starts smiling. I know what the plan is immediately. I say, "Do you want Uncle Pete to get in the bed and cuddle." She gives me an excited "Yeeeaaaah!" So, I make a big deal out of being excited about the invitation. I move the teddy bears out of my way. I move the ACN over to give Unc room. I thank her repeatedly for the impending cuddle. Then I drag my lankiness into the bed, pulling the gate dealie up behind me. I look at her and say, "I'm sooooo cozy." She immediately starts shaking her head "No." I act SHOCKED. I say, "Do you want me to get out?" She yells "Yeah!!!" And then I pretend to cry and stomp away as she howls with delight. Sometimes I stop my stomping off to turn and yell "bad girl" through sniffles and point my finger. She cracks up completely.

Then we do it ten more times.

- Just found out that The Monkey has the flu. Eeeep. Here's hoping ACN can avoid it. Though I have a headache and feel pukies. Curses!

Labels: ACN, The Monkey

I adooooooooooore the little punkin, but the ACN can wear an Unc out.

5 or 6 more sleeps until her Mommy & Daddy return.

By the time she goes home, I'll be a broken shell of my former self. Well, broken, yet rugged and charming. You know how it is.

I thought about making a little video this morning of us painting. However, I didn't re-install my webcam yet. The other night my computer told me not to shut the power off because it was installing something. I've learned that "Screw you, I own you and will shut off the power pack whenever I please" is NOT a good reply.

The next morning my Windows wouldn't load at all. It looked like my harddrive was fried. Turned out that it wasn't, but I still had to reset the PC to factory settings.

And, if I had made the video, you might have caught me singing one of the various songs I sang while we painted. The selections this week so far: Shakira's "Hips Don't Lie," Beastie Boys, "Brass Monkey" and Elton John's "Levon." I have no idea why.

[You didn't notice, but I just took an hour off from typing this to watch an episode of "The West Wing" (season 2.) It was chock full of Emily Procter goodness. And now A&E is showing 37 episodes of "CSI: Miami." My TV is lousy with Emily Procter tonight. Yay!]

Where were we? Well, I am even more tired now.

In addition to my painful singing -- and the ACN laughing at said singing -- the video also would have shown one of her favourite games. It is the one where she gets me to flip through the pages of the painting book as she says "no" to everything. Finally I "grrrrrrrrr" and she cracks up. So, the next pic I show her, she says "Yeeeah" and I start to get her to paint it when she giggles and says "no."

ACN also makes me spank her teddy bears when they are bad. Today a little beanie baby-sized version of Wilbur the pig (from "Charlotte's Web") allegedly pinched her bum when I wasn't looking. And since he is so little I had to improvise, so I spanked his bum using only one finger. ACN LOVED that.

You may notice (or have noticed) as the visit goes on, and I get more tired, my posts will become much less coherent.

Oooh Emily Procter is doing something.

Labels: ACN

Thursday with the ACN...

- Any time socks are put on or taken off, a foot rub must occur. It could be a long foot rub, or just a quick one. She'll let you know. Clearly.

- Today he was wearing a cute long-sleeve t-shirt (that looks like it is a short sleeve over a long sleeve) that says "You crack me up" on the front and has pics of three giggling raccoons on the back.

- She put said t-shirt on at 1:45 pm, because she felt like lounging in her comfy Dora the Explorer jammies for most of the day.

- ACN helped me with baking this afternoon and with cooking supper. We've decided that when ACN and Unc cook together, everything tastes, "Mmm mmm yummy!" (*Pete rubs his tummy*) But, if Unc cooks by himself, it tastes like "Nipper poop."

- She originally wanted to let me cook by myself today, so that she could laugh at my food tasting like "Nipper poop."

- When she cooks with me, she wants to eat some of whatever it is, right away.

- ACN is in charge of carrying all the ingredients and utensils to the counter. She loves it. She LOVES helping. (She dries dishes too.) However, she eventually gets bored and sometimes when we get to the counter, I ask for the item and she says "No" and won't give it to me. Then she giggles.

- ACN picks her own jammies. Finally tonight I talked her into wearing the cute blue ones with the penguins. She knows that I like them, so she refuses to wear them each night. Tonight she finally relented... and then refused to let me put the pants on her. (And, yes, more giggles ensued.)

Labels: ACN

Only three pairs of shoes.

We had a fun day today.

This afternoon she was playing in her bed. She let me know that she had to go use the bathroom. When I tried to pick her up, she said, "No" and started giggling.

I said, "You don't have to use the bathroom?"

She giggled some more.

I said, "I suppose it was one of the teddy bears that had to use the bathroom?"

Her little peepers lit up.

Immediately I knew what I had done.

A half hour later, all eleven stuffed animals had gone to "pee" and she was ready to take her turn.

It was the same routine every time...

I picked up a stuffed animals and said, "Don't you pee on Unc!"

Then I'd stomp my feet as I walked to the bathroom. (ACN LOVES that.)

Some stuffed animals had to pee more than others, so for them I'd turn on the sink faucet to simulate the sounds of quite a stream. Giggles echoed from ACN's bedroom.

Then I'd say, "Wipe wipe wipe" as I made noise with the toilet paper dispenser.

Then I'd tell the animals to say, "Bye,pee!" (ACN does that too.)

Then I'd imitate the animal saying it.

Then I'd say, "[insert animal's name] flush?"

The animal would say "Yes."

Then I'd flush the toilet.

And ACN would crack up laughing every time.

Eleven... eleven toilet flushes.

Actually, come to think of it, Clifford the big red watch puppy peed in the bathtub, Cassie faked us out and didn't actually have to pee, and Fluffalumpkins "peed on Unc."

Eight... eight toilet flushes.

Labels: ACN

The ACN went through an abstract phase a while back. Now she enjoys books where the paint is already there and she just adds water and they get pretty. We call it the "let them do all the heavy lifting" phase. It's a little known fact that Picasso went through something similiar early in his career.

You would think that this phase would be less messy. Yet the ACN ended up with paint everywhere -- including on her noggin. I wonder if Picasso also had an uncle with big clumsy elbows that spilled paint-coloured water.

Probably.

The last time we painted one of these books, Uncle Pete made a big deal of taking each completed painting out of the book and putting it on the kitchen counter to dry before showing it off. Uncle Pete thought the artist would enjoy that. Apparently not.

This time she won't finish a single painting. I think she feels that me doing the whole drying process only keeps her away from her true love -- painting. You can't see it, but in that pic, the yellow house isn't painted. She'll paint everything but one little bit. We have some other almost-completed works of art with an unpainted boot, mitten, etc.

She's cagey.

She also likes for me to flip through these books while she shakes her head "no" to every page. Then we start again. Earlier she got mad and she kept showing me the sign for "more." I asked her if she wanted to do more painting and she said "no." I asked her if she wanted me to flip through the book again so she could say "no" some more. She said "Yeeeah!!"

A little while ago, she was a bit sad, so I cuddle/carried her around the house. I told her all about Valentine's Day (the good stuff.) When I was finished, I asked her if she'd be my Valentine. She shook her head "no" and cracked up laughing.

She arrived with cute pink nail polish for Valentine's Day. She told me her kitty cat put it on her fingers.

Labels: ACN

Since everyone else is talking about it, I feel like I'd be remiss if I didn't at least mention it.

Valentine's Day is forty-seven minutes from now.

I really don't have any strong feelings about that.

Since I've been 15, I've probably had girlfriends for half of the V-days.

I really don't have any strong feelings about that either.

I will say that I've been reading lately about people complaining about how commercial the day is. And, well, fair enough. But, there are people that enjoy the day.

Some women feel like flowers aren't nearly creative enough. Yet, there is probably a woman reading this right now that would LOVE to receive flowers from a man this year.

Some women feel like teddy bears are very much a cliche. Yet, there is probably a woman reading this right now that finds them to be ever so adorable.

If I was buying a gift(s) this year, I doubt that I'd go the flower and teddy bear route. I love trying to find that one gift. The one that makes her say, "How did you...?" The one that makes her hug you immediately. You know, the one that puts that smile on her face.

I am such a sucker for that smile.

But, I am not trying to pick out one of those gifts this year.

Instead I'll be spending the day with a little squirt that always puts a smile on my face.

I wouldn't want it any other way.

Plus, she thinks that I'm delightful. I do not want to do the math to figure out how many of those girlfriends since I was 15 would feel the same way. Eeeep.

[Pete note: The ACN will be arriving today for a ten day visit. Whooooo! She was so excited to pack her suitcase, when she got home from school yesterday, that she refused to take off her jacket before she and her mommy were done. So, for the next week and a half I may be posting less frequently, and my posts may be more ACN-centric. Though maybe you won't notice a difference at all.]

Last night on "24," Milo intercepted fragments of an e-mail exchange between big baddies Fayed and Gredenko. That concept amused me. And, being me, I wondered what portions of the e-mail exchange were lost. Here is my best guess at what the originals may have looked like:

*****

To: Fayed (ihateyanks@gmail.com)
Fr: Gredenko (wedontalldrinkvodka@yahoo.com)

What is the hold up? And why do I see a mushroom cloud out my window?

*****

To: Gredenko (wedontalldrinkvodka@yahoo.com)
Fr: Fayed (ihateyanks@gmail.com)

CTU was closing in, we had no choice but to detonate one of the suitcase nuclear you-know-whats.

And if you don't stop sending me e-mail forwards that claim something cool will appear on my screen if I forward them to ten people, the streets will run red with your blood.

*****

To: Fayed (ihateyanks@gmail.com)
Fr: Gredenko (wedontalldrinkvodka@yahoo.com)

Just how much blood do you think I have in me, tough guy?

*****

To: Gredenko (wedontalldrinkvodka@yahoo.com)
Fr: Fayed (ihateyanks@gmail.com)

Whatever, dude.

So Darren McCarthy found us another engineer to arm the nukes.

*****

To: Fayed (ihateyanks@gmail.com)
Fr: Gredenko (wedontalldrinkvodka@yahoo.com)

Because you blew up the last engineer?

Who do you think Justin Timberlake should chose: Jessica Biel or Scarlett Johannsen?

*****

To: Gredenko (wedontalldrinkvodka@yahoo.com)
Fr: Fayed (ihateyanks@gmail.com)

Jessica Biel. No question

The new engineer is en route.

*****

To: Fayed (ihateyanks@gmail.com)
Fr: Gredenko (wedontalldrinkvodka@yahoo.com)


Biel? Are you insane?

Just get those nukes ready to go.

I am so dropping you out of my MySpace top 8.

Labels: ACN, Seemed MUCH funnier in my head, TV

At some point during the night -- maybe 4:00am-ish -- I woke up and was parched. So, I got up for a drink of water. Upon settling back into my bed, I had a genius idea for today's post.

And now it's gone.

One can only assume that it was the blog equivalent of War and Peace. Just without the war. And the peace. And it may have involved "Fraggle Rock" in some capacity.

In any event, I can't remember it at all.

Maybe if I write about something else it'll come back to me.

Hmmm...

*taps finger on chin*

I can tell you about a weird-ass dream that I had last night.

So, in this dream, I was dating a fellow (female) blogger.

(Oooooh scandal!)

It wasn't one of THOSE dreams. But, it started off a little flirty.

However, this female soon convinced me that we should go to college together -- which happened very quickly.

We ended up in some advanced calculus class. The professor was a taller version of Taye Diggs. So, I said to big Taye, "Dude, I think I'm in the wrong class. Do you have anything in marketing?" But, blogger chick gave me a look and shook her head. So, I opted to stay.

I was completely lost.

And it was completely not actual calculus.

I looked at the blogger/girlfriend and she had turned into Reese Witherspoon. (With dark hair.) She gave me a big smile. I gave her the "I'm bailing" head nod and she giggled.

So, I sat outside people watching.

Next thing you know, I'm driving a car. And I'm in a high (well, medium) speed chase. At first I was the chasee, and then the chaser.

In the middle of it, I stopped to let a grey cat cross the road.

Then I woke up.

Then I watched sports highlights before getting up.

Then I started typing this...

*****

As some of you know, I just got a new cellphone. As some of you also know, I loves my gadgets.

When I first got my satellite dish, I watched 20 minutes of news in Mandarin, just because I could.

I got an electric toothbrush once and nearly wore the enamel off of my teeth.

I have always been an e-mailing or calling hombre, but I am seeing the appeal of texting now.

I've been taking pictures of myself in black and white, sepia, "night" mode. Playing with videos. I wonder if I can take a video in black & white. Hmmmmm...



EDIT: Hosting your own BlogRadio show -- for free! That sounds like fun.

Dear guy that just walked by my house,

Hey.

Listen, I don't know you and you don't know me.

Well, I might know you. You look vaguely familar. Definitely French-looking.

And perhaps you know me. Or not. I think you'd like me, but that is hardly the point.

Here's the thing...

The clothes you are wearing, you may want to rethink them.

If you saw how I dress, you'd know that I am not one to judge anyone on their own personal sartorial splendour. But, dude, it's all kinds of cold out there. It's ten below.

You are wearing some kind of short letterman's jacket, no gloves and a baseball cap.

I'm going to assume that you can afford warmer clothes and that you are dressing like this because you feel good in this outfit -- or you are a big fan of Richie Cunningham.

Perhaps a woman is involved?

Many of the bad ideas we have as men are influenced by women.

One can only assume that is how the first beret was invented.

In any event, I'm worried about you freezing, man. I'm sure you are a nice guy and --

Well, I'm not SURE. I mean, you could be one of those guys that rents DVDs and returns them all scraped and scratched.

If you are, I gotta ask you how in the world does that happen anyway? Are you removing dust from them by using diamond-encrusted brillo pads?

I've done some bad things in my life. I've keyed literally thousands of cars. I've kicked oh so many puppies. I even once punched a Pope in the kidneys.

Maybe helping you today will make up for all of that.

Because, let's face it, guy that just walked by my house...

I love you.

Okay, I don't really love you.

I just wish that you'd wear some friggin' mittens.

- Peter

Hi.

You are looking well.

Some quick thoughts:

1) It is insane to me that countless true artists toil away in obscurity while Paris Hilton's friend (who I won't name) is getting increasingly famous because the younger brother of Brandy (the singer) urinated on her.

*golf clap*

2) It is even more insane to me that some parents are opposed to 6th grade girls being immunized against HPV. You don't want to send them "the wrong message about sex?" Here's a thought: why don't you be good parents and send them the RIGHT messages at home and stop being short-sighted jackasses?

3) Do you think it will be a deal breaker with my future wife to demand early on that our first born son be named "Jack Bauer DeWolf?" What if it's only a strong request?

4) My new cellphone should be arriving today or tomorrow. Je suis excited. I talked myself out of a Blackberry... for now.

5) My celebrity crush du jour:



(I don't mean Ellen.)

6) R-Rated Trailer for new movie KNOCKED UP. (I think it's a Judd Apatow movie.) Not safe for work. One line completely cracks me up.

Andrea and Susan sit at Andrea's kitchen table in her smallish apartment. The two women stare at a home pregnancy kit box sitting between them.

Andrea: How much time is left?

Susan (looking at her watch): Two minutes.

Andrea: Wow. Time is moving slowly.

Susan: Yup. Maybe we should talk about something else.

Andrea: Sure. What?

Susan: Did you see "Studio 60" last night?

Andrea: Yeah. I adore it.

Susan: How cute is the "Danny" character?

Andrea: I LOVED it when he was getting people to writer letters of recommendation to get Jordan to date him.

Susan: Me too!

Andrea: I'd love for a guy to make some big declaration of love for me. You know? Like one of those "movie moments." Lloyd Dobbler with a ghetto blaster on his head. Or just the PERFECT speech. Something.

Susan: You could be the one that makes the grand romantic gesture. Women do it too.

Andrea: I suppose...

Susan: Like Julia Roberts in that movie.

Andrea: The one where she is... just a girl, standing in front of a boy, running away from a wedding, while fighting against polluters and being a hooker with a heart of gold?

Susan: Sounds like the one.

Andrea: Yeah, maybe.

Susan: Yeah.

Susan checks her watch. Andrea taps her fingers on the table.

Susan: Who did you say this cd was?

Andrea: Lilly Allen.

Susan: She's good.

Andrea: Indeed.

Susan's watch starts beeping. Andrea is up like a shot and running out of the room. Susan resets her watch. Lilly Allen sings. Two neighbours argue.

Andrea sticks her head back in the doorway.

Andrea: The chocolate chip cookies are done! Let's eat them while they are hot!

Susan: Yay! Oh... what about the pregnancy test? Aren't you going to take it?

Andrea: Screw it. I probably won't get much pregnanter overnight.

Susan: Good point. Let's watch a movie. I have a strange urge to watch something with--

Andrea: Julia Roberts?

Susan: Yes!

Andrea: Me too!

This time as he stared into the abyss...

The abyss stared back at him.

He had experienced fear before.

He got caught up in a drugstore robbery gone bad. He just wanted dandruff shampoo and ended up with a gun stuck in his face.

He didn't know if he'd get out of that one alive.

Yet, he was more scared this time.

He once gave a speech in front of 2500 people. He was unprepared, through no fault of his own, and his knees knocked the entire time.

This was worse.

On a trip to Australia, a poisonous snake bit his leg. He just barely got the antidote on time.

He longed to be back in that moment again.

This was so much different. So much more trecherous. One false move and --

I asked you how my ass looked in these jeans.

"It looks... good?"

She just stared at him.

"Great. It looks great."

The icey stare continued.

"Spectacular!"

She seemed to be getting angrier.

"It's never, ever looked better."

Her eyes narrowed.

Are you saying it usually looks terrible?

"I went one too far didn't I?"

Hand on hip joined the icey stare.

"I'm just going to go sleep on the couch."

And a Hooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

Labels: Colts, Superbowl, Win

I don't typically do memes. Mostly because nobody tags me. Bastards.

But, Kelly has made me an offer I can't refuse...

While I had to dig pretty deep for the "100 Things" business, here are FIVE THINGS YOU MAY NOT KNOW ABOUT ME:

1) I make kick-ass chicken fried rice.

2) The smell of WD-40 makes me very ill.

3) I periodically spend time trying to plan the perfect bank heist.

4) I tell myself that #3 is for a future screenplay. (Probably.)

5) I am, like, 15 pages into "Catcher In The Rye" (having never read it before) and hating it quite a bit.

Wow. Those are dull.

I don't want to risk leaving anyone out from a tagging, so you are all welcome to join in.

The General Manager of the local TV station LOVED the short film fest idea. So, I am currently doing a little outline/write-up dealie for her to take to the board for their next meeting (in a couple of weeks.)

There is even preliminary talk of hiring me to set the thing up. I hadn't really thought ahead to that, but it definitely sounds like fun.

I am also playing with some ideas for a new short script that I could potentially direct for the fest. Haven't yet come up with anything that really floats my boat.

In somewhat related news, I've been a bit fixated with the true story of a Canadian criminal. I watched a documentary a few years back and was fascinated by the story of police cover-ups and pure evil. I happened to stumble upon the documentary again the other night. Still an amazing story.

I am considering looking into how one would go about getting the rights to the story. He's been dead a few years, so I'm not sure if they are public domain or not. Mentioned the story to a friend with producing experience, to see if I can get him interested in teaming up.

I'm also trying to decide between re-writing one of two of my screenplays or starting a fresh one. I don't really have any amazing ideas for a new one. I have one idea that is kind of cute, but actually might be better suited as a short.

Also, an actress in LA -- with a face recognizeable to some -- really dug a short script I wrote a while back, and is trying to find funding/partners to make it with.

That is your PeterWriting update.

Labels: writing

I shaved this morning.

I wasn't going to, but I was getting pretty beard-y.

In my haste, I grabbed my beard clipper dealies and zapped off my sideburns a little higher than I planned. I even had a tiny bit of a tan line. On my face. In the winter. In Canada.

Wild.

The fairly minor change in sideburn length seemed to make a bigger difference than I would have expected. I looked different. Older... or younger. My face looked fatter... or skinnier.

(I'd be awesome working as a witness with a police sketch artist, eh?)

I didn't like it.

So, I took my shower.

*shower shower shower*

Then, I got out and looked in the mirror and discovered...

That I totally liked the new sideburns.

I am not sure what happened to change my mind. Maybe they needed to be combined with messy wet hair. (Messy dry hair didn't float their boat apparently.)

But, then I stared in the mirror for too long and didn't recognize myself anymore. Have you ever done that? I was still crushing on myself, but I felt a bit like I was looking at a stranger.

Odd.

Well, I have things to do. I am listening to 80s music -- Rock Me Amadeus indeed -- and half-considering having a large bag of potato chips for lunch.

I am also checking your blogs using bloglines.com. You should use it. It is a metric tonne of awesome.