This past weekend, I decided to go back home to Houston. My best friend had a show running that I really wanted to see. That wasn’t the only reason I decided to go home. I hadn’t had Luby’s in a while, and I can’t find any around here.
So after packing up, I get on the road around noon. I’ve got an awesome playlist that should take care of the entire trip. I work very hard on my iPod playlists. They’re pretty important.
As I was on the outskirts of Rice, Texas, I noticed on the other side of I-45 that a younger kid around my age had been pulled over by a State Trooper. I always find this stuff amusing because you know…it’s not me?
I drive past them with a little chuckle; after all, he was stupid enough to get caught doing something worthy of being pulled over (speeding, I assumed). What about that isn’t comical? I’ve got my music playing and I’m the last car in a series of 5 or so cars who are all in the left lane going well over the speed limit. Everything is going great; that is, until the song ends.
As the next track starts, I hear a sound that I have been “graced” with hearing only once before. That sound, fellow followers of the John Paul Green Project, was a cop siren. I had been signaled to surrender control of my vehicle and exit the freeway as soon as I safely could.
What I proceeded to say cannot be put into print. Those words would get me fired as a columnist. I cannot not write those words here. Just guess what those words are.
So I exit the freeway and drive over the bridge that was above the freeway and pull into a small little gas station. I put the car in park. My heartbeat picks up. I look like a hot mess. I won’t be able to win him over with my good looks.
He approaches my car. “Any reason why you were going so fast back there?”
“Uh…not really. Just trying to get home.”
“Oh yeah? Where’s home?”
“Houston. Texas.”
“I know where Houston is. Why are you up in Dallas?”
“For college.”
“Oh yeah? What school?”
“Southern Methodist University.”
“No way. You’re the 5th person I pulled over today that goes to SMU.” I felt so let down by our school. Come on people; bring the foot up off the pedal. He continued. “What are you studying up there? Law?”
I came to a crossroad in the conversation. I could correct him and tell him I was studying Theatre. Or I could lie and tell him I studied something else.
“Theology”, I said. “You know, thinking about things….religion…”
“ I know what Theology is.”
“OK…sorry”
“Stay here.”
He walks back to his car. Maybe he’s going to let me go. He was smiling a lot so I figured I was maybe off the hook. After 10 minutes or so, he walks back.
“OK, I got you going 80 in a 65 so I’m gonna get ya for that. It was also a work zone with workers present…bummer. I’m going to give you a warning for not yielding immeditley. There was no reason to pull over to this gas station. No reason ok? I was ready to engage in pursuit. Now, the next 20 miles are lined with troopers so don’t get another ticket. You kids need to slow down! Have a good one.” He walks away feeling great having belittled me. I drive off and go the speed limit the rest of the way with a speeding ticket in tow.
Did I mention that the song I was listening to right when I got pulled over was “Instant Karma” by John Lennon?
Karma Schmarma.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Falling
I’ve been spending a lot of my time lately listening to MGMT, John Lennon, and CocoRosie. I’ve also made an endeavor to find old classmates from elementary and middle school. Is that creepy? I don’t think so but whatever.
I added an old buddy of mine the other day and did quite a bit of catching up; we’ll call him “Sebastian”. Sebastian did a lot of funny things like running in front of me and then falling down. He did it on purpose of course; but there was just something satisfying about watching him fall.
Pass judgment on me if you must, but I cannot stop laughing when I see someone fall down. I know how bad of a person that makes me seem, but think about their facial expression at the EXACT moment they realize they are going to fall into a soft pile of steaming mud that has just hit the cold winter ground.
One time I was watching my friend play Dorothy in a production of “The Wizard of Oz”. It was a small little theater located on the outskirts of Houston. I had scored first row tickets on opening night and I was pumped. As the house manager did her speech about cell phones and other gadgets, the lights started to fade as she walked off. Suddenly, a woman came bolting from the entrance to try and grab the seat next to me before the show started.
What ended up happening was a sight that I will never forget. It seriously happened in slow motion. I felt like I was watching ESPN.
She must have lost her footing because this woman completely ATE the yellow brick road. I could not stop laughing. It was so embarrassing for me because I can usually control that stuff. There must have been some kind of touch device installed because as her face was planted onto one of the bricks, it lit up bright yellow. It was basically mocking her and using her as an example for late arrivals. The yellow brick road was practically shouting, “THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU TRY TO SIT DOWN AFTER THE DOORS FROM THE LOBBY HAVE BEEN SHUT”.
Now, I’m not a doctor or anything, but the fall wasn’t that bad. I mean it was epic in the sense that her face morphed into this mass of “oh-no-this-is-going-to-be-so-embarrassing”. If you don’t know what kind of face this is, just ask around to track me down and I’ll do the face for you. She actually looked like she was faking. She was, after all, on a stage. And whenever someone gets on a stage, something takes over their body and they begin to perform.
Well, the lights come up and there is Sir Falls-a-Lot. Pardon me; Dame Falls-a-Lot. I automatically recognize there’s a problem because she keeps saying, “OW!!!” Again, not a doctor, but this doesn’t sound good. The actors on stage stop and look at each other. Improv! Come on, people!
Finally after like, 12 minutes, she stands to her feet and waves at us? Then the entire audience minus me starts clapping for her. This isn’t a football game people; she’s not walking off the field, she’s walking to the lobby. Then people start looking at me because I am not clapping. I get this look a lot in other situations. It usually occurs when I speak in my classes.
The show restarts and they put on a fantastic production. I go up to my friend afterwards and tell her how awesome she did. I then start to tell her about this massive pwnage that happened at the start of the show. I describe it in step-by-step detail, not missing one beat. My friend starts to look upset. I don’t really notice and just keep going.
Turns out that was her aunt. And she was taken to the hospital. And I felt like a terrible person.
But the yellow brick road was so awesome when it lit up her face.
I added an old buddy of mine the other day and did quite a bit of catching up; we’ll call him “Sebastian”. Sebastian did a lot of funny things like running in front of me and then falling down. He did it on purpose of course; but there was just something satisfying about watching him fall.
Pass judgment on me if you must, but I cannot stop laughing when I see someone fall down. I know how bad of a person that makes me seem, but think about their facial expression at the EXACT moment they realize they are going to fall into a soft pile of steaming mud that has just hit the cold winter ground.
One time I was watching my friend play Dorothy in a production of “The Wizard of Oz”. It was a small little theater located on the outskirts of Houston. I had scored first row tickets on opening night and I was pumped. As the house manager did her speech about cell phones and other gadgets, the lights started to fade as she walked off. Suddenly, a woman came bolting from the entrance to try and grab the seat next to me before the show started.
What ended up happening was a sight that I will never forget. It seriously happened in slow motion. I felt like I was watching ESPN.
She must have lost her footing because this woman completely ATE the yellow brick road. I could not stop laughing. It was so embarrassing for me because I can usually control that stuff. There must have been some kind of touch device installed because as her face was planted onto one of the bricks, it lit up bright yellow. It was basically mocking her and using her as an example for late arrivals. The yellow brick road was practically shouting, “THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU TRY TO SIT DOWN AFTER THE DOORS FROM THE LOBBY HAVE BEEN SHUT”.
Now, I’m not a doctor or anything, but the fall wasn’t that bad. I mean it was epic in the sense that her face morphed into this mass of “oh-no-this-is-going-to-be-so-embarrassing”. If you don’t know what kind of face this is, just ask around to track me down and I’ll do the face for you. She actually looked like she was faking. She was, after all, on a stage. And whenever someone gets on a stage, something takes over their body and they begin to perform.
Well, the lights come up and there is Sir Falls-a-Lot. Pardon me; Dame Falls-a-Lot. I automatically recognize there’s a problem because she keeps saying, “OW!!!” Again, not a doctor, but this doesn’t sound good. The actors on stage stop and look at each other. Improv! Come on, people!
Finally after like, 12 minutes, she stands to her feet and waves at us? Then the entire audience minus me starts clapping for her. This isn’t a football game people; she’s not walking off the field, she’s walking to the lobby. Then people start looking at me because I am not clapping. I get this look a lot in other situations. It usually occurs when I speak in my classes.
The show restarts and they put on a fantastic production. I go up to my friend afterwards and tell her how awesome she did. I then start to tell her about this massive pwnage that happened at the start of the show. I describe it in step-by-step detail, not missing one beat. My friend starts to look upset. I don’t really notice and just keep going.
Turns out that was her aunt. And she was taken to the hospital. And I felt like a terrible person.
But the yellow brick road was so awesome when it lit up her face.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
STOP! PUT DOWN THE PHONE!
I think after 1 a.m., phones should be programmed to not be able to call any person you may have dated in the past. I'm supporting proposition 32, which puts a block on all calls to ex's.
Some of you may know what I'm talking about; others might be luckier. I'll put it in two different ways for both of these demographics.
Your MacBook reads 1:57 a.m. It's almost laughing at you. You have so much homework, but you are so tired. You start to doze when all of a sudden, a song comes on your iTunes. "Wow", you say to yourself, "I haven't heard this song in forever!"
Then suddenly, all these feelings come rushing back to you. You see, someone thought it would be a great idea to pick out a song for you guys to listen to together. And someone said that I was the only one who meant something to her and that I was special and cute. And then that certain someone decided to start going out with the second string running back of your high school football team.
"He doesn't even play any football, Amber! What do you see in him? I'm the one you want! I hate you! I'm sorry! Please come back to me!"
So you guys will go to college together and he'll never play football again. You both graduate and he will start his own insurance agency and become very successful. So successful in fact that you will never have to work a day in your life. That journalism degree was really worth it, wasn't it?
But I'm not bitter…
Why do songs evoke certain emotions within us? Every time Let's Get It On by Marvin Gaye is played, everyone stands up and moves around dancing, or tries to hit those high notes. You know Todd, whenever you sing it like that it sounds ten times better than Marvin Gaye could ever sing it. Will you just sing louder so I don't have to hear Marvin Gaye anymore?
Every time the Shins play, I feel like I should quit my job and live in Alaska. When Nirvana is played, I feel like I'm somewhat involved in Kurt Cobain's demise. After all, I bought their albums and made him famous and in turn made him crumble. What about Lil' Wayne? I dance. A lot.
Whenever I am driving my car, and people are in it, I feel like I am always having to entertain them with my music. I'll choose a song, and I'll hear silence. If I hear singing, I know I picked the right one. Apparently, I have a disorder where I can't finish an entire song; I have to change it before it ends.
It's not a disorder really, I just feel like my music isn't adequate. Sometimes I don't want people flipping through my iPod. I would be so embarrassed to find out that all my friends are giggling at me because I have a Peter Frampton song or NSYNC's No Strings Attached album. It's not my fault I like them.
So the next time you're driving around with people in the car, put on a universal song that everyone likes. Like Maroon 5. Vveryone likes Maroon 5. Or tomorrow night when you are working on a paper and you hear that song that you and your high school sweetheart picked out in 11th grade, put your phone down. Don't call that person; they aren't thinking about you. Trust me. It's pointless. Because that person has probably already moved on, and sure as sugar isn't thinking about you while she's watching a movie with a guy who owns a skateboard and played in a band in high school.
P.S. Amber, if you're reading this, please call me back.
Some of you may know what I'm talking about; others might be luckier. I'll put it in two different ways for both of these demographics.
Your MacBook reads 1:57 a.m. It's almost laughing at you. You have so much homework, but you are so tired. You start to doze when all of a sudden, a song comes on your iTunes. "Wow", you say to yourself, "I haven't heard this song in forever!"
Then suddenly, all these feelings come rushing back to you. You see, someone thought it would be a great idea to pick out a song for you guys to listen to together. And someone said that I was the only one who meant something to her and that I was special and cute. And then that certain someone decided to start going out with the second string running back of your high school football team.
"He doesn't even play any football, Amber! What do you see in him? I'm the one you want! I hate you! I'm sorry! Please come back to me!"
So you guys will go to college together and he'll never play football again. You both graduate and he will start his own insurance agency and become very successful. So successful in fact that you will never have to work a day in your life. That journalism degree was really worth it, wasn't it?
But I'm not bitter…
Why do songs evoke certain emotions within us? Every time Let's Get It On by Marvin Gaye is played, everyone stands up and moves around dancing, or tries to hit those high notes. You know Todd, whenever you sing it like that it sounds ten times better than Marvin Gaye could ever sing it. Will you just sing louder so I don't have to hear Marvin Gaye anymore?
Every time the Shins play, I feel like I should quit my job and live in Alaska. When Nirvana is played, I feel like I'm somewhat involved in Kurt Cobain's demise. After all, I bought their albums and made him famous and in turn made him crumble. What about Lil' Wayne? I dance. A lot.
Whenever I am driving my car, and people are in it, I feel like I am always having to entertain them with my music. I'll choose a song, and I'll hear silence. If I hear singing, I know I picked the right one. Apparently, I have a disorder where I can't finish an entire song; I have to change it before it ends.
It's not a disorder really, I just feel like my music isn't adequate. Sometimes I don't want people flipping through my iPod. I would be so embarrassed to find out that all my friends are giggling at me because I have a Peter Frampton song or NSYNC's No Strings Attached album. It's not my fault I like them.
So the next time you're driving around with people in the car, put on a universal song that everyone likes. Like Maroon 5. Vveryone likes Maroon 5. Or tomorrow night when you are working on a paper and you hear that song that you and your high school sweetheart picked out in 11th grade, put your phone down. Don't call that person; they aren't thinking about you. Trust me. It's pointless. Because that person has probably already moved on, and sure as sugar isn't thinking about you while she's watching a movie with a guy who owns a skateboard and played in a band in high school.
P.S. Amber, if you're reading this, please call me back.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
NERF Gun Right to the Face (clip at the end)
As I was finishing my dinner of a grilled cheese, French fries with cheese and a slice of apple pie with cheese (I enjoy cheese) at Umphrey Lee, I walked outside to feel the bitter cold hit my face. It was a pleasant surprise, however, because the cafeteria had started to become stuffy and warm. I was well equipped to handle the weather with my Sublime hoodie and gym shorts.
I retreated back to Peyton Hall at a slower-than-usual pace. The weather was so perfect and so beautiful that I tried to take it all in. The sun was setting just behind the 7-Eleven. Life was perfect.
Suddenly, I heard something coming up behind me. You know exactly what I'm talking about. The sound of a swish. So I moved to the left so that a bicycle could pass me (STAY ON THE STREET!) when suddenly, I realized the noise had subsided.
Confused, I turned around only to find a gigantic soft arrow from a NERF gun in my eyeball, followed by the shouting of someone yelling, "You're dead! We got you! Yes!"
What was going on here? I was just enjoying my granny smith apple like every other night, when suddenly I had been assaulted by someone with a NERF gun. Is that how you write it? All caps?
"Why did you do that?" I asked the assailant.
A look of confusion and horror came across his face.
"You aren't Jason!" he said, frowning almost.
Me: "No, I'm blind."
Assailant: "What?"
Me: "Nothing, it was a joke."
Assailant: "I don't get it!"
Me: "I know you don't. Why would you shoot people in the eye with foam darts?"
I then learned of something called VS Mafia, with the VS standing for Virginia-Snyder. Apparently, members of the honors community run around with NERF guns, shooting other members of the honors community who also have NERF guns. Wow.
Whatever, I don't have a problem with it, but I do have a problem when the next day I was trying to learn something in my math class, when someone stands up and yelled, "You are dead, Thomas!"
Yeah, Thomas died while trying to learn the binomial formula.
And Charlton? You heard about Charlton, right? Charlton died while eating a chocolate chip cookie.
My number one problem is seeing people running around with a yellow little gun screaming with delight. Don't get me wrong; I'm not like Ebenezer Scrooge or anything, I just can't stand people running around screaming and laughing. Some might see me as this cynical, unhappy, emotionless, evil and 60-year-old man screaming at kids to get off my perfect lawn. Nothing could be further from the truth.
Those of you who have never seen me in person will be happy to finally get a description of my physical body. I am 6'5", about 210 lbs. and mostly muscle; I enjoy long walks on the beach, writing poetry and being happy.
A common misconception is that I hate people. Not true! I love all sorts of people! Just not the ones who scream and run around the parking lots yelling things like, "Derrick's dead!!!" Come on boys and girls, why not just listen to Girl Talk and be friends? Do we really need to use NERF guns?
This NERF thing is stupid and needs to stop as soon as possible before more people get their eyes shot out. Like me.
Now, I need to go clean my eye patch before I go to bed.
I retreated back to Peyton Hall at a slower-than-usual pace. The weather was so perfect and so beautiful that I tried to take it all in. The sun was setting just behind the 7-Eleven. Life was perfect.
Suddenly, I heard something coming up behind me. You know exactly what I'm talking about. The sound of a swish. So I moved to the left so that a bicycle could pass me (STAY ON THE STREET!) when suddenly, I realized the noise had subsided.
Confused, I turned around only to find a gigantic soft arrow from a NERF gun in my eyeball, followed by the shouting of someone yelling, "You're dead! We got you! Yes!"
What was going on here? I was just enjoying my granny smith apple like every other night, when suddenly I had been assaulted by someone with a NERF gun. Is that how you write it? All caps?
"Why did you do that?" I asked the assailant.
A look of confusion and horror came across his face.
"You aren't Jason!" he said, frowning almost.
Me: "No, I'm blind."
Assailant: "What?"
Me: "Nothing, it was a joke."
Assailant: "I don't get it!"
Me: "I know you don't. Why would you shoot people in the eye with foam darts?"
I then learned of something called VS Mafia, with the VS standing for Virginia-Snyder. Apparently, members of the honors community run around with NERF guns, shooting other members of the honors community who also have NERF guns. Wow.
Whatever, I don't have a problem with it, but I do have a problem when the next day I was trying to learn something in my math class, when someone stands up and yelled, "You are dead, Thomas!"
Yeah, Thomas died while trying to learn the binomial formula.
And Charlton? You heard about Charlton, right? Charlton died while eating a chocolate chip cookie.
My number one problem is seeing people running around with a yellow little gun screaming with delight. Don't get me wrong; I'm not like Ebenezer Scrooge or anything, I just can't stand people running around screaming and laughing. Some might see me as this cynical, unhappy, emotionless, evil and 60-year-old man screaming at kids to get off my perfect lawn. Nothing could be further from the truth.
Those of you who have never seen me in person will be happy to finally get a description of my physical body. I am 6'5", about 210 lbs. and mostly muscle; I enjoy long walks on the beach, writing poetry and being happy.
A common misconception is that I hate people. Not true! I love all sorts of people! Just not the ones who scream and run around the parking lots yelling things like, "Derrick's dead!!!" Come on boys and girls, why not just listen to Girl Talk and be friends? Do we really need to use NERF guns?
This NERF thing is stupid and needs to stop as soon as possible before more people get their eyes shot out. Like me.
Now, I need to go clean my eye patch before I go to bed.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Pencil
Recently I logged in to my Facebook account to find that I had a friend request waiting for me. I didn’t really think much of it, seeing as different people usually add me every day. I’m THAT popular.
I didn’t accept it right off the bat, as I had to check my wall first and see who commented on my profile picture. I also had a very unusual Honesty Box message: “JP u so hot! Be my gf!” Oh to know who wanted to date me!
Finally I got back to my home page where I noticed that I had been invited to join a group, “STOP THE NEW FACEBOOK!” Everyone seemed to be so angry about a social networking website that was changing its layout. I decided to comment on group’s page.
Me: I don’t really understand the big deal here. Change is usually for the better. All they are doing is catering to the overwhelming number of people who are joining this site. Please, let them manage it and leave them alone.
“Tony”: Man u be actin’ stupid! shut up lol
After noticing society being dragged underwater at an alarming rate, I decided to see who exactly added me on Facebook.
It turned out to be a girl who I had a gigantic crush on in 10th grade. It was a very odd relationship by society’s standards. It was already into the “friend zone”. We were best friends and told each other everything.
Emotions inside of me begin to build up and I soon realized that I had very strong feelings for my best friend, which creates a problem. It also creates a dilemma: tell her how much she means to me and pray that we fall in love, or never mention it again.
So sitting in geometry class, I pondered what I should do. “Missy” sat in front of me and we would often talk about how stupid and boring the class was. “This class is so stupid and boring”, we would say to each other, followed by a giggle from her.
In my head, I knew how it would happen. “Missy, I’m in love with you!” and she would say, “JP I’m in love with you too!” Then we’d kiss and everything would be right as rain.
I decided to go for it, and just tell her everything I wanted to tell her. It had been building up for quite a while now, and I thought that tell her my love in the middle of my geometry class would be the perfect opportunity to tell her. Count to 10 and just do it!
“Hey Missy,” I whispered, so no one could here. Although I kind of wanted everyone to hear. But not now, I had to tell her first.
“Yes, JP?” she said as she turned around and stared at me. I never really knew how beautiful she was until she looked at me with those blue eyes and brown hair. She was so gorgeous; it was almost numbing to look at her.
“Can I ask you something? Like, for serious?”
“Of course, JP!”
“Missy, I-“, I started when she abruptly cut me off.
“OMG I forgot to tell you JP! David asked me out!!!”
“Oh…he did? That’s so awesome.”
“I know! I’m so excited! OK, what did you need to ask me?”
“Oh…um…do you have a pencil?” I said, stunned and alone and using my improv skills to make something up.
“No, I don’t! Sorry!” she said, and turned around. Just like that, it was over with no chance. I almost broke down right there in the middle of class. I quickly composed myself and looked up at the projector where my teacher was bumbling over the Pythagorean theorem. I put my iPod on and listened to the Bloodhound Gang when the girl next to me asked me a question.
“You like Bloodhound Gang?”
“Yeah. They’re alright, I guess.”
I did a double take and kind of stared.
She was really cute.
I didn’t accept it right off the bat, as I had to check my wall first and see who commented on my profile picture. I also had a very unusual Honesty Box message: “JP u so hot! Be my gf!” Oh to know who wanted to date me!
Finally I got back to my home page where I noticed that I had been invited to join a group, “STOP THE NEW FACEBOOK!” Everyone seemed to be so angry about a social networking website that was changing its layout. I decided to comment on group’s page.
Me: I don’t really understand the big deal here. Change is usually for the better. All they are doing is catering to the overwhelming number of people who are joining this site. Please, let them manage it and leave them alone.
“Tony”: Man u be actin’ stupid! shut up lol
After noticing society being dragged underwater at an alarming rate, I decided to see who exactly added me on Facebook.
It turned out to be a girl who I had a gigantic crush on in 10th grade. It was a very odd relationship by society’s standards. It was already into the “friend zone”. We were best friends and told each other everything.
Emotions inside of me begin to build up and I soon realized that I had very strong feelings for my best friend, which creates a problem. It also creates a dilemma: tell her how much she means to me and pray that we fall in love, or never mention it again.
So sitting in geometry class, I pondered what I should do. “Missy” sat in front of me and we would often talk about how stupid and boring the class was. “This class is so stupid and boring”, we would say to each other, followed by a giggle from her.
In my head, I knew how it would happen. “Missy, I’m in love with you!” and she would say, “JP I’m in love with you too!” Then we’d kiss and everything would be right as rain.
I decided to go for it, and just tell her everything I wanted to tell her. It had been building up for quite a while now, and I thought that tell her my love in the middle of my geometry class would be the perfect opportunity to tell her. Count to 10 and just do it!
“Hey Missy,” I whispered, so no one could here. Although I kind of wanted everyone to hear. But not now, I had to tell her first.
“Yes, JP?” she said as she turned around and stared at me. I never really knew how beautiful she was until she looked at me with those blue eyes and brown hair. She was so gorgeous; it was almost numbing to look at her.
“Can I ask you something? Like, for serious?”
“Of course, JP!”
“Missy, I-“, I started when she abruptly cut me off.
“OMG I forgot to tell you JP! David asked me out!!!”
“Oh…he did? That’s so awesome.”
“I know! I’m so excited! OK, what did you need to ask me?”
“Oh…um…do you have a pencil?” I said, stunned and alone and using my improv skills to make something up.
“No, I don’t! Sorry!” she said, and turned around. Just like that, it was over with no chance. I almost broke down right there in the middle of class. I quickly composed myself and looked up at the projector where my teacher was bumbling over the Pythagorean theorem. I put my iPod on and listened to the Bloodhound Gang when the girl next to me asked me a question.
“You like Bloodhound Gang?”
“Yeah. They’re alright, I guess.”
I did a double take and kind of stared.
She was really cute.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
My First Kiss, Or How I Couldn't Stop Bleeding (With a Clip!)
I think everyone wants their first kiss to be like that. Most ladies would agree, yes? But there's just one problem: I'm not Ryan Gosling and she wasn't Rachel McAdams. I was a young strapping lad of 13 and she was a beautiful darling of 14. Ah, what a cougar she was!
To quote Salinger: She was a girl, who for a ringing phone, dropped exactly nothing.
Not exactly. Her name was "Juliet" (that's a coverup) and she was into metal music and the gothic lifestyle. She claimed to have liked Hot Topic before it became socially unacceptable to shop there. Her parents didn't understand her and if she could just run away all her problems would be solved. Nobody understood her. She was a recluse.
And somehow I ended up with Juliet. This was my first REAL girlfriend. I had a little crush on a girl in Kindergarden and then in 6th grade. But nothing like Juliet. I don't know what exactly drew me to her. I spoke with her a few weeks ago and asked if I could write about this. She had no problem with that.
So I arrived at the movie theatre about 15 minutes early. I stood outside by the box office next to some other guys; some were my age, some were older. They all had spiked up hair with that "just took a shower" look. You know, the "I'm-not-sure-how-much-gel-to-use-so-I'll-just-keep-putting-more-on" look. I would be a liar if I didn't say that my hair was included in this.
"Hey man", I say to one of the guys. "Waiting on your girlfriend?"
"(Explicit) you. Leave me alone. Stop staring at me, punk."
Just then, Juliet showed up. It seems she had forgotten her purse. And that she was mad at her mother because she made her older brother and his best friend come to the movie with us. And that nobody understood her. Yeah, we get that. You're different. We know.
She was about 15 minutes late and we walked into the theatre, just catching the end of the trailers. I HATED THAT! The trailers are my favorite part. I always thought they should be at the end though. That's another story...
So me and Juliet find a spot on the second to last row of the movie theatre, while her brother and his friend sit directly behind us. That's just perfect. Thank you, Tybalt.
The movie begins (Scary Movie 3, in case anyone is wondering) and already my nerves are acting up. Why am I sweating under my arms? Was I getting taller? Was there hair growing above my upper lip? Was this that puberty thing everyone talked about?! Why was it happening now??
I count to 10 in my head and decide to grab her hand. It works. Success. I have gone to second base now. A few minutes pass. I look at her, she looks at me.
"This is it man! You can do it!", I thought to myself.
We go in for the kiss. My mouth is wide open and my tongue is going wild. She decided she only wanted a peck. I end up basically eating her lips. Fail. A few more minutes pass. We try again. Same thing, but with roles reversed; she ends up eating my lips while I took the conservative route. This is not going well. Finally, on the 3rd time we connect. Wow this is kind of good. I like this.
"Stop...", she says. Have I upset her?
"What's wrong, Juliet?"
"I just have to stop every once in a while; my allergies are acting up and I can't breathe out of my nose. I can only breathe out of my mouth."
...Wow. Whatever. We continue kissing but taking a pit stop every once in a while so she can breathe and not asphyxiate. Suddenly, I feel a warm liquid in my mouth. What was that?
Well, mystery solved. It was my upper lip, which Juliet had cut with her braces. I was now the proud owner of a cut lip and could not stop bleeding. I had to grab a napkin that reeked of pickles and popcorn and hold it to my mouth, every once in a while, succumbing to the smell and gagging. We finally made the decision to leave the movie early and call my mom via the oldest trick in the book: Collect Call. The operator would ask for my name, I would say very quickly, "mom it's me come pick me up bye". My mother would then hear who's calling, listen to my secret message hidden in the text, decline the collect call, and come pick me up. Outside the theatre, Juliet's brother, Tybalt, expresses his disapproval and anger.
"Man that movie was so funny...I can't believe we had to leave...This is so stupid...You are so stupid. Who cuts themselves open on his first date? You are so dumb. Of everyone I know, you are the biggest idiot. You win the Pansy Award."
"Leave him alone, Tybalt! Look, I'm really sorry about how badly tonight went. I really like hanging out with you and stuff, but I don't think it's gonna work. Sorry. Ok see you Monday. Bye!"
And with that, I had experienced 2nd and 3rd base (or at least what I thought 2nd and 3rd base was when I was 13...man was I wrong), the most embarrassing moment of my life up until then, public humiliation, and my first break up within the same night.
So what did we learn from all this? The first kiss isn't going to be like "The Notebook"; if you're a late bloomer, who cares. Everyone comes around at some point. I went on to have a successful personal life in high school, so something like this didn't really set me back.
Fun fact: Juliet never dated a man again and is now in a committed relationship in Louisiana with a young lady whom she claims to love.
And the movie was REALLY bad.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Anthony Hopkins Hates Me
When opportunity knocks at the door, one should answer it. I mean, not always; that’s what peepholes are for. You look through it and you see who is knocking, then you make the decision to open the door. I would say that nine times out of ten you should go ahead and answer the door. Not all the time though. I mean if the Hamburgler or Tom Cruise knocked on your door, I would advise you not to open the door. If you want your hamburgers stolen or your couch ruined, then by all means open the door.
So what exactly am I talking about? I’ll tell you. Sometimes it’s not the best idea to open opportunity’s door. Example:
Let’s journey back to the summer of 2006. I was accepted into UCLA’s film summer conservatory. I was so excited. I was getting to study my passion in a different light (in front of a camera and not on stage). As we walked into class one day, we took our seats. I was trying my latest pick up line on Karen.
“Hey Karen!”
“Oh, hey JP….”
“Is your dad in jail? Because he stole the stars and put them in your eyes…”
“My dad is serving 6 years in prison.”
“Oh my God, I am so sorry Karen. I had no ide-“
Suddenly the teacher walked in with a gigantic smile on his face. There was something different about him today. I think it was the tie. Normally he would wear gym shorts and a Jimmy Buffett t-shirt. Normally unkempt, he came in clean-shaven. Had he gotten a haircut? I would have asked Karen, but I think she was busy filling out forms to file a restraining order against me.
“Settle down everyone. We have a very special treat for you guys today. Instead of our normal lesson plan, we’re going to introduce you to our guest speaker: Sir Anthony Hopkins.”
WHAT?! He was here?! In the room?! My heart jumped into my throat. I cannot believe he was here. Was this an improv exercise? Were they gonna take a picture of our eager faces?
Nope. He just walked in the room. OMG!!!
So he speaks about his career. He speaks about playing Hannibal Lecter, about working on “Amistad”, and the awkward combination of fragments and inside jokes known as “Alexander”. Then it was announced that there would be a Q&A.
I eagerly raised my hand. After about 4 or 5 people, my teacher called on me.
“Hi, Sir Hopkins. Let me first just say that I am a gigantic fan. My question deals with character preparation. How do you dive deep into the roles like Hannibal Lecter and your role in “Hearts in Atlantis”? How do you truly discover the great stuff about those characters?”
“I study the text. Next question.”
I study the text? My 20 seconds with one of the greatest actors of all time, and his response was, “I study the text.” Everyone looked at me like I was the biggest idiot on the face of the planet. People were asking questions like, “Oh my god you worked with Colin Farrell? Is he hotter in person?!”, and “ What’s your favorite color?”. I thought he would tell me that I was the best actor, and he realized this by only hearing me ask a question. I was wrong. My teacher treated me badly for the rest of the class. People stared at me and threw rocks at me. I just asked a simple question and soon after, I had become the laughing stock of UCLA. I probably won’t ever get cast in anything in L.A.
By the way, Anthony Hopkins thinks Collin Farrell IS hotter in person, and red is Anthony Hopkins’ favorite color. Just in case you were wondering.
So what exactly am I talking about? I’ll tell you. Sometimes it’s not the best idea to open opportunity’s door. Example:
Let’s journey back to the summer of 2006. I was accepted into UCLA’s film summer conservatory. I was so excited. I was getting to study my passion in a different light (in front of a camera and not on stage). As we walked into class one day, we took our seats. I was trying my latest pick up line on Karen.
“Hey Karen!”
“Oh, hey JP….”
“Is your dad in jail? Because he stole the stars and put them in your eyes…”
“My dad is serving 6 years in prison.”
“Oh my God, I am so sorry Karen. I had no ide-“
Suddenly the teacher walked in with a gigantic smile on his face. There was something different about him today. I think it was the tie. Normally he would wear gym shorts and a Jimmy Buffett t-shirt. Normally unkempt, he came in clean-shaven. Had he gotten a haircut? I would have asked Karen, but I think she was busy filling out forms to file a restraining order against me.
“Settle down everyone. We have a very special treat for you guys today. Instead of our normal lesson plan, we’re going to introduce you to our guest speaker: Sir Anthony Hopkins.”
WHAT?! He was here?! In the room?! My heart jumped into my throat. I cannot believe he was here. Was this an improv exercise? Were they gonna take a picture of our eager faces?
Nope. He just walked in the room. OMG!!!
So he speaks about his career. He speaks about playing Hannibal Lecter, about working on “Amistad”, and the awkward combination of fragments and inside jokes known as “Alexander”. Then it was announced that there would be a Q&A.
I eagerly raised my hand. After about 4 or 5 people, my teacher called on me.
“Hi, Sir Hopkins. Let me first just say that I am a gigantic fan. My question deals with character preparation. How do you dive deep into the roles like Hannibal Lecter and your role in “Hearts in Atlantis”? How do you truly discover the great stuff about those characters?”
“I study the text. Next question.”
I study the text? My 20 seconds with one of the greatest actors of all time, and his response was, “I study the text.” Everyone looked at me like I was the biggest idiot on the face of the planet. People were asking questions like, “Oh my god you worked with Colin Farrell? Is he hotter in person?!”, and “ What’s your favorite color?”. I thought he would tell me that I was the best actor, and he realized this by only hearing me ask a question. I was wrong. My teacher treated me badly for the rest of the class. People stared at me and threw rocks at me. I just asked a simple question and soon after, I had become the laughing stock of UCLA. I probably won’t ever get cast in anything in L.A.
By the way, Anthony Hopkins thinks Collin Farrell IS hotter in person, and red is Anthony Hopkins’ favorite color. Just in case you were wondering.
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