Pick Sure Pages

While at a baby shower a couple years ago, among other places that burn a hole in your soul... CUUUUUUUUUUUUTE!... I noted what appeared an insane number of inane photographs being snapped. A woman with a digital camera was snapping pics every 5 seconds, from a package being picked up, to the hand-off, to the faces of the mom and her couch-neighbor being explained-to what the package was... LET HER OPEN THE GIFT, DUMMY... basically 5 pics of every gift-opening. Why not just buy a video camera? Friggin' flip-book of banality.

In December, while I was in Vegas, I strolled everywhere on the strip and saw where people took pics. Some of the pics, sure, great opportunity. The Tour d'Eiffel at Paris. A view of New York-New York from across the street, it's massive. The gold Lion on the corner of the MGM Grand.


But in front of the M&M Store? It's 4 floors of retail space dedicated to all things M&M. Like, THE CANDY. I get the opulence and extravagance of Las Vegas. I understand the M&M store is a somewhat-welcome bastion of innocence in the middle of a city that promotes excess and addiction as though they were life support... which they can be... but as a tourist destination, hmmm...

Doug: "So, uh... Gary... I don't know if I told you this. About 2 weeks ago, when I was in Las Vegas?"
Gary: "Dude, if you tell me what I think you're gonna tell me, don't tell me. I don't want this on my conscience."
Doug: "Listen. I went to the M&M Store."
Gary: "Doug, I am calling BULL'S SHIT on that far-out line of storytelling."
Doug: "Wanna make it interesting?"
Gary: "Yeah, dick eyes. $10! You can't prove it!"
Doug pulls out his digital camera

Doug: "BOO-YES, CheeseSkids! GIMME MAAAH MOE-NAAAAY!"
Gary: "Daaang! You do live the high life."

Now, please explain why this picture was on the internet, twice now...
This young man is either
1) Not of legal drinking age
2) Foreign
C) Recovering from brain reconstruction surgery
IV) Not worried about girls, they'll see THIS picture and realize what a sweetie he is and finally give up the lovin'.
FIVE) So tooted up on 'shrooms he thinks he's getting a picture with "the chick from the Greek Wedding movie."

I guess I just can't stand the posed pictures, they're so fake and ugh.

As odd as it sounds, I do wish that I had taken a picture of myself the moments after finding out my dad died. That depth of emotion, that moment my heart bottomed out, THAT was Life. That was an end-point of the spectrum of feelings by which all others would be measured. It would have captured a lot, from sadness to love.

So please, before snapping that next picture, ask yourself... why am I sitting in this van with a rainbow wig and a lightbulb in my butt's hole?


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A $tudy in Restraint

If you're like me, sorry. Tax returns are beginning to be postponed while we get our things in order. That includes a lot of receipt separation for me, especially for the entirety of the comedy work I write off. But when it comes time to file, and the money comes back... WHATCHOO GONNA DO, BROTHER, WHEN THE GOVERNMENT RELEASES YOUR MONEY BACK TO YOOOOOOU?
(first off, I think income tax is a scam... you get taxed for HAVING A JOB, taxed for what you buy, taxed for selling anything at a profit, and taxed if you save and it the money makes money... and we're bailing out banks)

So, either I'm gonna plop my money into an interest-bearing savings account, an IRA, or a stimulus plan that includes dinner with The Wife! and an upgrade of home protection, including but not limited to, a flamethrower.

What're YOU gonna do with YOUR tax return this year?

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It's Part Of The Gig

I just heard a great line from Matt Furey, who may have heard it elsewhere, but...
"Nothing bad ever happens to a Writer. It's all just more Material." So very true. The more I've embraced my Purpose of putting all the hot, joke-on-joke humor I can into the world, the less stress I've had in life. It's all part of the gig, Life. Job goes weird, c0-worker drives you nuts, club-owner shorts your money, hotel's not expecting you, hooker dies in your tub (not your hooker), cat craps in the tub, buddy has no clue of their own narcissism and toxicity, it's all Soul Food.



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Rules Of Engorgement

Well SHIT SALAD I gotta drop pounds again, thank you 10 days in Las Vegas and 9 at home! It's coming off, but cripes, I need to stop fretting when I'm back-sweating and get back to what I know works.
Roasted chicken or salmon + vegetables + TurbulenceTraining - PeanutButter by the Handload = leaner Geoffrey.

I think the stress of body dismorphism or "lagging feelings of self-image" causes us more stress, and therefore more physiological damage, than the actual fluctuation of weight. I've had weeks where the scale reads +/- 7 pounds, dropping as much as 3 in one day after a long walk and workout and eating right. Human beans eat about the same volume... VOLUME as in SPACE-FILLING... every day. Good rule to remember. If I'm gonna eat, say, 10 cups of food, and wanna keep the calories low, I need to schnorf down the high-volume foods, like veggies and fruits and oatmeal and things that take a long time to break down. Throw in a little lean protein to keep the shouldermeats lookin' wide, thick in leg and loin, and BOOM, we're good.

Turns out, I need to STOP DRINKING MY CALORIES. Beers, of course, but I do love and won't sacrifice mine Guinness. BUT, I can lay off the sugared energy drinks (300cal in a can?!?!?), sweetened coffees and teas, and for the love of handles, drop my JambaJuice fixation. Their "PeanutButter Moo'd" is clocking 640cal for 24oz (it's okay, 180cal just from FAT). Then again, if I saw a PBM'd personified, walking down the street, it'd probably cause me to stop break-dancing, throw off those clown shoes, and ask "Hey is your father a jewel thief? BECAUSE I WOULD TOTALLY DO IT WITH YOU IF I WEREN'T MARRIED."

That being said, I have a lot to accomplish this year. A lot. Soon. I'll keep you posted on what I'm doing and how it's going, of course, with minor musings on the desire to see
1) Customer Service come screaming into the 21st Century
and
2) Mine enemies driven before me, crushed beneath my comedy.

In the meantime, switch to half-caf, half&half, save 10% of your money (JUST DO THIS), and for the love of Dulce de Leche, stop thinking it's about YOU all the time.

Go with your elves.

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A Bad Rap

In one week, the movie NOTORIOUS is released.

It's about Christopher "Biggie Smalls/Notorious B.I.G." Wallace, a rap artist (one of the few who can be called an "artist"), and his rise to fame, as well as his tragic death at the age of 24. He was murdered in a drive-by shooting in Los Angeles before his 25th birthday, and less than 3 years after releasing his debut album, "Ready To Die." He was killed at a stoplight, in the passenger seat. The man who pulled the trigger has not been found, at least by authorities.

There has always been violence associated with the New Age of rap music, that which spawned from the late 1980's with "Gangsta Rap," headed-up by the group N.W.A. Still one of the best groups of all time. Still one of the most influential musical movements in the history of music.

So, when this movie comes out next week, will there be violence?
This litany of violence associated with events involving rap music says YES. I think YES, there will be violence at the opening weekend, which is sad. It costs so much to go see a movie these days, but to have it ruined by people shouting "YAY YAY DAWG, GIT THAT SHIZZO" for 32 mintues before you lose your shit and open fire on these skidmarks, AAARGH, just makes for a rough weekend.

I'll report back after the movie opens. I can only hope there is none. Zero. Not one fight. Hopefully people can go see the movie and dig it and it's all cool. Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.


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A GREAT PACKAGE - FITNESS WISE!

I have bad news. I rarely do that here, but this is a program I believe in for fitness and strength unlike any other. Turbulence Training!

At Noon (EST) on Thursday, January 8th, all of the free bonuses in the Ultimate Turbulence Training for Fat Loss Solution are going to be removed. There are like 10 extras here, for less than a yearly membership to a meathead local franchise gym!

• The Turbulence Training 6-Month Bodyweight Manual (no equipment needed)
  
• The TT Bodyweight 500 Workout Challenge (this will torch you)
  
• The TT for Athletes 8-Week Training Program (prevent injury, amp performance)
  
• The TT Ultimate Advanced Bodyweight Workout (wanna look like a Spartan?)
  
• The TT Bodyweight 1000 Fat Burning Challenge (only for those who can push themselves)
  

I don’t even want to think about how much you’d have to pay to get them separately. So don’t miss your chance to get them for free. I use Turbulence Training for Fat Loss and I love it. I can’t recommend the program enough. Seriously, I have gotten quickly back down, losing the 7lbs I gained after the stressful holidays.

And I promise you that you’ll love it, or Craig Ballantyne, the creator of Turbulence Training, will give you your money back. You have nothing to lose (except belly fat).

But all of the extra bonus goodie workouts will be removed from this incredible offer at Noon (EST) on Thursday, January 8th.

So don’t waste any more time. Visit this site to grab the Ultimate Turbulence Training Fat Loss Solution and all of your fast action bonuses:
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GO GO GO!

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Shopping Mauls

This morning I read where Macy's closed 11 stores after a weak retail season. CLEARANCE SALES NEXT WEEK!!! It's a foreclosure sale on INC, Alfani, and Tommy Hilfiger!

Not much foot traffic, and likely, not much via the web, either. Money's tight, if you're tight with money. Or for myriad reasons. I think I used "myriad" properly.

But also, retail sales dipped the past few years for a few reasons that I can point out here. How correct they are, in a "traditional" sense, is of no concern. I'm right, for the wrong reasons, okow? BOKAY!

1) Retail Employees: Most seem to work under the motto "If I have to fold clothes I can't afford, it's gonna suck for you, too." Not my fault, I didn't schedule you to work on your due date. OR, they go the OTHER way, and you can't make a move without being accosted, confronted, and suggested-to about an item. I can't stand either of them. Either I'm putting up with a ton of misdirected attitude of the bad sort, or somebody's climbing my back to introduce me to their, LIKE, FAAAAAAAAAAAYVRAT DENIMS! The training that goes into these folks is what's getting screwed up. I can't get that kind of treatment at home!

This fully excludes places I have visited like T.Petterson, LaRee Boutique, Posh, and Barney's. Hmm, the high-end places make me want to return. Weird. Prob'ly a quincidunce. I can't get that at home!

2) The Environment: Nothing says "let's shop!" like blaring techno, rap, or house music.

3) This is taking too long...

I don't want to drive into a crappy part of town, crowded with cars and dipsh*t, unsupervised teenagers who apparently shoot at each other now, and park, walk all over, and deal with it all.
Food courts. Teenagers being loud. Slow walkers. Gibberish languages.

Which is why I MUST. To NOT go is to deny a very American experience. I need to let that stuff go and accept that this is Part Of Shopping. All I can do is what's RIGHT.

Which is to alert Mall Security that the group of teens over there was shoplifting, and see that they are escorted out. The mall is for shoppers.


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This May Have Screwed Everything Up

Okay... so... being nice can ass-chomp you. It's doing that to me.
I just realized that next Wednesday I'm supposed to do a favor for somebody AND get a delivery on the SAME DAY. Unless I arrange it another way, which I'm hoping the Delivery Team will allow me to do.

Otherwise, somebody's gonna be standing outside LAX chain-smoking and cursing the existence of Geoffrey Lott... all while he's getting the Bidet-To-You-Sir! properly wired.

Life's sooo good.

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-$.05 is Too Steep A Price

Nickelbland, a puss-rock band outta Canada, has released a song "inspired by unrequited love btwn two young people." That, or something like it, was a quote from their front"man," Chad. The song was called "Be Somebody" or something to be played while an 8th-grader does push-ups over the picture of his homeroom crush.

Can we agree that...
1) Nickelback is marketed TO and FOR stalking people;
2) Nickelback is the soundtrack to small-town, teenage pregnancy;
3) Nickelback has enough support that they can tolerate the musings of a comedian more talented at stand-up than they are at music?

I hear 5 seconds of a -$.05 song, and I have to listen to powerdrills and a 14" chopsaw for an hour to re-up my testosterone.


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It's Done Been Rung

2009 is here.
2008 was nuts. Total shakedown year, the louts and losers and mooches got a LOT of heat in '08. I am still disgusted with the bailout situations for large banks, while a lot of people were losing their homes and H2's. Per usual, my ability to see both sides of a situation keep me from really taking a side. I think the predatory lenders at the banks were likely less-than-forthcoming about fees and upwardly-adjusting interest rates that would hike mortgage payments. I have had my own run-ins with those fart-savers, and when you work on a commission, of COURSE people will work the money in a way that says "It works out for YOU, the Buyer!" GREED, get it? Greed got most people. I love it.

The automaker bailouts, wow... it's amazing how corporations in our country can be so poorly-managed (like Mohan Gyani and John Zieglis running AT&T Wireless into the iceberg of old technology), and STILL walk away with millions of dollars in "severance pay." If most people at their jobs make a bad decision, a project goes a couple thousand over budget, or worse, the 6-foot sub sandwich has NO... CHEESE... But when you fail to LEAD a company as a CEO or President in a progressive direction, including adversiting, market position, and apple-bottomed spokesmodels who like MY comedy, and STILL get BILLIONS of dollars to correct your mistake, well sheeeeeit, why even try the first time? FORD is not taking any money, by the way. They have decided to work it out on their own. They are making more and more Hybrids, as are most companies. That won't be enough. We have a lot of unread newspapers and phone books, we MUST be able to extract some sort of energy from them.

So I'm happy to see that 2008 is gone. We started 2009 in Pismo Beach, a small-town, mid-Coast burg about 3 hours North of Culver City. It's the kind of town where, when you get a DUI, the officer takes you out for a beer afterwards. I got to perform 2 shows with Lisa Landry, a great comic from New York who moved out here with her husband and son a few months ago. We co-miserated over moves, as we, too moved, with a monkey-cat. Lots of drive time, my neck is a little tight. 2 Drunk Asspleats in the front row of show 2 nearly ruined it, though some people wanted them kicked out, right before being publicly stripped and face-crammed with a Dodge. The "manager" was a complete puss, walking into the room... after one of the guys pulled an Iraqi Confetti Moment and THREW HIS SHOE AT LISA... and the manager addressed the drunk f*ck by name and told him to "not embarrass (the manager)." His chace to be a hero, shot down so he could be "cool" in the eyes of this guy that he knows. More customers will remember THAT than how good the show was. And the bar-staff, including Gary "Comb On Over!" The Bar'sTender, just shrugged it off as if it were the comic's fault for not making a big stink about it.

I loved the shows, I'd do them again, and next time I'll make the kind of stink I usually reserve for the morning of Seis De Mayo.

So here we go. 2009. I'm not making resolutions or anything like that. Just regulating some things, and making sure I put some extra effort into some positioning. Things are to be done. Stop half-assing it and pretending it's not a problem. It is a problem. If nobody is talking to you about it, then you have a SERIOUS problem, and we only think you're sensitive about it. Get it checked out by a professional, get it fixed, and swallow your pride a bit so you can be Better. YOU DESERVE BETTER.

Go get it.

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2008 - The Year It Began To Start To Get Different Again

What a Year. 2008, wow. Everything changed this year. I've recapped a lot throughout this blog, so I'm not gonna try and get every little detail, but I'll hit some high-points and see who gets upset over things that were intended to be offensive and came across as "funny."

1. BLACK PRESIDENT! There ya go. We have a fantastic President Elect in Barack Obama. I don't really care about the color of his skin as much as the content of his cabinet. The state of this nation - greed-fisted into a shame spiral and geographically and emotionally entrenched in two foreign occupations via military - can be rejuvenated. Obama's the man to lead us. But seriously, a national income tax, on top of taxes for homes, property, goods, services, and food? Fist that. What a fistful of hate-farts.
   
2. DREAM-MAKING! Whenever somebody I meet in the comedy world states "I quit my job to do comedy," I ask them what they did for a living. They say "Oh, I was answering phones at this company..." or "I was a manager at a shoe store" or some-such. THAT is not job-quitting. That is "I didn't show up for my shift so I could stay up later and smoke/drink/try-for-more-ass." I quit a career in IT where I was making phat money, because my heart was elsewhere. I listen(ed) to the voice in my heart/gut that said "Go, I'll take care of you," and my wife totally called my bluff. Just tell folks you're out there making your dream happen; don't marginalize your run-up to it by inching around the fact you were no good on the grill. The Grill will be waiting.
   
3. Gerry Lott (1943-2008)! My dear dad, Gerry Lott, passed away on November 16th. He had battled Dementia and all that it did to him for about 5 years, that we know of. The years prior to that, however, were lived the way that culminated in the type of memories and sentiments most people would choose to have spoken of them. How? Because my dad loved Life. He embraced the struggle of being Human, in that we all shared it, and in that he found compassion for others. He encouraged, cared, befriended, hugged, loved, laughed, danced, sang, joked, taught, learned, cried, and Had Faith in every bit of it. It's not easy. But he did it right. I have missed him for years. I will love him always. And I only slotted him at #3 because of his modesty.
4. UW GOES WINLESS! The winless, 12-loss, ironically-named Tye Willingham uncoached my alma mater through 12 games without a win. Being a stoic, fridgid, unable to win a football game-like coach doesn't help a damn thing when you start throwing 19 year-old players under the bus. When they all make the same mistakes, that is a COACHING error. We get a new coaching staff, a new lease on football life, and hopefully a 6-win, low-tier bowl next year. If we do, you read it here first, I will get a "W" tattoo on my body somewhere.
   
5. WEIGHTGAIN! Son of a ... after getting down around 223 earlier this year, I'm again in the high 230s, thanks to the last 6 weeks of my life. Between my dad's services and 10 days in Las Vegas and the Holidays, I gots work to do. I now believe that most of the "diets" pushed by a lot of the men's fitness mags are there to keep weight on you, and buying their magazine. If you don't believe me, try the "PeanutButter FudgeSteak" diet and see for your fat self.
6. Mixed Martial Arts! Most of us know this as the UFC. There are organizations world-wide, however, many of them better than UFC. Most of the fighters are college-educated athletes with backgrounds in wrestling, Muay Thai kickboxing, and minor buffoonery. It's taken off to a new level this year, and with any luck, will cause numerous meat-heads to punch each other in the face while waiting in line for the bathroom at a bar.
   
7. FACEBOOK! It has surpassed MySplorch in terms of usability and intelligent networking, but not for self-promotion... yet.
   
8. GREED! Who didn't get this ass-chomp of a reality check this year? Car makers, home-owners who didn't handle their finances, banks going in the shit-chewer, politicians being voted out, Big Oil, Governor Blabonovich, EVERYBODY who went for the Bad Green got face-corned this year. I love it. It will turn around soon. But that was the shakedown, so I hope we are all paying attention.

Go get yours.

Happy New Year!
There's mass more but I have to go now.

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What Happened In Vegas Stayed In My Brain

Let’s talk Las Vegas, Comedy, and what ten days in Sin City will do to a man on a limited budget.

Recently I reached another comedy career milestone by performing for over 50 drunk trashbags from a drywalling company from Riverside, CA. Their behavior, for the normal standards of “indoors,” was nothing short of “exemplary,” as defined by Webster’s “Dictionary For Everyday Spousal Abuse.” Many of them should be sterilized by my “Animal Beer Eugenics” plan, which will go into effect secretly within the next 6 months. Frankly, a fiery crash consuming their drug addled corpses, leaving behind only their armband tattoos and some serious handlebar mustaches, may be too good of a death for them. I won’t mention the name of the company because I wouldn’t want to offend them. They may yet turn their life around. Or I may end up at a drywall job, sober, and question their ability to float a seam properly… AND QUESTION THEIR SEXUALITY.

Ten days in Las Vegas is about 7 days past my max tolerance. After 72 hours, my tolerance of humanity waned considerably, somewhere between “Earthquake” and “Idi Amin.” Performing was fantastic. Over the 20 shows, I performed about 300minutes of comedy. That’s about 5 hours. That’s bootcamp, folks. I got WAAAAAAAY better, broke that muscle down a lot, let myself get really loose on-stage, and came out a different, hopefully better, comic and person. BUT… there are 23.5 hours of the day that I was not performing. Had I a drug habit (expensive and/or illegal, that is), alcoholism (full-blown, not just the dabbling), or majorly-consuming vice of some sort, things may have been different. For example, I would have had more fun during the day. It turns out I DO have a serious gambling problem: I blew all my luck. One day I went 3-for-11 on elevators, hitting UP and getting a DOWN for the next lift. Also, Giuseppe “The Dream Crusher” Santini, roll another triple-run of 00 and I’ll come across the chips on ya, 73 years old or not. Thanks for the $50 vodka-soda, fart-saver.

It’s important to get a routine going. Not easy when I was there, because everything costs money. The only freebs were found at the employee cafeteria. Imagine a buffet, with drab walls, low-ceilings, and CNN blaring on one TV, Mexican news or Soap Operas blaring on the other, and being glared at for not having a gold nametag on. Having fun yet? But soldiered forth. Get up, take a walk, check e-mail, work out, nap, write, read, nap, shower, SHOWTIME!, hang out, SHOWTIME!, drink, in bed by 2a.m. But most of that time isn’t spent with friends, so please don’t imply that I was on a vacation. My mind went “The Shining” late Friday afternoon. A ½-Xanax and Bud Light later, all was a bit better.

In those ten days, I missed my wife very much. I realize how much we depend on each other for daily emotional support and physical energy. To know that she was at home, alone, with those guys from that Under Armour ad, just really saddened me. I hope she had fun. But I know that I changed as a person, man, and comedian. Hopefully the changes were beneficial to my marriage and career and performance. One thing is for sure, I have very little patience right now. I have patience to tolerate unchangeable circumstances, but if somebody asks me a question just for the sake of small talk, I feel like ignoring them, or asking them why they want to know. Not trying to be “better” than anybody, mind you. Just, you know, we have a black president and things are changing and nobody cares which hospital your third grandson was born in so stop holding the conversation up while you search your softly-edged memory for a name THAT IS IMMATERIAL TO THE STORY of the first time you slept with a Thai woman in front of your sleeping wife. With a dumbshit like you for a grandpa, he’s probably on his way to a career in drywalling anyway, the fag.

My deepest thanks go out to TJ Markwalter, Tom Rhodes, Carl Strong, John Bizarre, Robert Duchaine, and the entire staff at The Comedy Stop @ The Trop. Fantastic time, y'all. I wish you only the best.

If anybody knows how to get my grandma to stop talking and it doesn't involve a pillow, pills, elbow (Flying or otherwise), let me know. How does this woman know what EVERYBODY is doing wrong on the news?
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
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Lee or Ray, part 3

Furthering my list of factual information stating that the middle names "Lee" and "Ray" only cause problems in the life of the middly-named...
http://geofflottrules.blogspot.com/2008/06/lee-or-ray-part-2.html

I submit THIS STORY, wherein Major LEE Ray, 51, was killed in a homeless encampment near I-5 in Seattle. Terrible news.

Keep 'em coming, folks.

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That's What Friends are (meta)For

Solid carriage. Decent shape. Front tube, randomly disconnected and hanging downward.
Loses fluids frequently, causing to overheat. Not good for long trips. Runs hotter than it should. When hot, needs longer than usual to cool down.

Direction-signals need new covers. Somebody took them a while ago. There may be a blinker out, because a light comes on to say one is out, but they all work. False alarms on what's working and what's not. If you stop too quickly, the front bumper may fall off.

Massive chunk-shot to the windshield, causing a blindspot to the left. Gotta lean over to see around it. Out of windshield washer fluid. Wipers could use a replacement, but cleaning the windshield hits a major divot in the chunk-shot, causing more smearing than smoothing. The sun visor has been removed, forcefully, from the look of the shards.

Can't tell how much gas is in it, just gotta fuel up when you can, especially if the light comes on. No idea how the fuel efficiency measures up.

The interior windows are hazily bonded with a sheer coat of nicotine. All external viewing is through a slightly-distorted glaze of chain-puffed smokes. Ash-blown back seats and upholstery. Interior panel of the passenger side, which holds the handles for exit and window-dropping is off, stuffed into the trunk. Somebody else must open the door from outside to allow the passenger to leave. Unless the passenger can grip mightily enough to the one cable that opens the door. Wires bounce along, exposed to the elements.

Work needs to be done under the hood. The only person who knows how best to handle it is a man in a valley far away. But overall, it goes from point A to D to C, as long as you don't push it too hard.

A car, lent to me by a friend?
Or a friend?

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On Defining One's Self

I have a comedic spirit. I find humor in tragedy, and layers on the surface alone. I'm not saying I'm special, it's merely how I am wired. Were I wired for neurosurgerence, I'd be brain-poking with the same zeal and goopy fingers I phutz around with in my comedic pursuits. But I don't define myself as a Comedian.

I write a lot. I need to refocus my energy and focus on 2 projects more and write here less, but this is a comforting zen-like moment for me to write, as a Writer. What does that mean, anyway, to be a Writer? It's to translate what I see and think into visible words as well as possible so that reader's brains are flooded with pictures, emotions, or desires to send me money via PayPal.

The other day I was exiting a grocery store in Westwood, near UCLA. It was clean, well-lit, and not your typical LA-area grocer. On the way out, there was one double-automatic door, and three Asian guys, about mid-20's, were walking in. There was a cramped area near the front door, full of holiday florals and displays. One guy was text messaging on the phone his parents pay for, the others were making sure they were ribbing him for being a "fag" while they adjusted either their chain necklaces or their perfectly-flat-sticker-attached "LA" ball caps. In front of them, to my right, was a very disheveled, heavily-bearded, slightly odiferous man.

In one hand he held a bucket with cleaning supplies. In the other, two Ralph's bags filled with, from what I could tell, paper products and cereal. He stood there, looking out towards the doors, blank stare on his face. The youths were paying almost no attention to him, and nearly bumped into him. He grunted hard through his stare and they split around him, the one with the text session never looked up.

I paused as they passed, and glanced at the guy with the bucket. Thinking he was going to go first, I motioned with my hand towards the doors. Nothin'. Three seconds passed.

I then said "Pardon me sir" and made my way past him, about a foot of space between us. As I did, he took a step. To his left. Not forward. Directly into me. Not aggressively, just directly into me. I kept moving, and said "Excuse me, sorry," and he stopped, and flopped his carriage against his sides with a grunt. It was like he was trying to bump into me and then get angry. Odd, I thought, so I turned and said "Sorry, really," and he grunted again, blankly staring. So I said "oh, come on." Weird.

I made my way to the car, and headed out. But it's been with me all week for some reason. In the wake of my dad's passing it seems that every interaction I have actually has meaning. I have also not been sleeping too well. Everything seems heightened a bit. But hey, there's only so much I can do.

What I'm driving at is the fact that people define themselves, quite often, based on the efforts of others. Like showing off a tattoo on your calf in mid-January. Nice shorts, and what a great tribal seahorse. No, I'm not asking you about it. Or like blaring rap music to say "HEY PEOPLES! I AM BAD WITH MONEY AND DON'T GIVE A FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU*K!" Awesome. Giant flaming a-hole.

At this point in my life, I define myself a few ways, and will do so differently as I age, I am sure. But one thing I will never do is define myself on the output of others. Not their music, their clothing, their cars, nor their favorite color. Go with yourself. And shut up about it.

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My Blog About My Dad

Dumb and Violent

I feel very bad for the situations of violence that have erupted in my hometown area of Seattle. In the past few months, Jet City was witness to:

1) The mugging and beating-death of The Tuba Man, Edward McMichael, a man who would play his tuba outside of sporting events for money. He was as regular as rain on a sunny day and self-righteous vegans staring at you for not bringing your reusable bags to Whole Foods. He was beaten by 4 or 5 teens. How sad. Those poor boys have been failed by the System. Those of them that were caught, gosh, probably have to go to jail for a good 10 years at least. Hopefully the will reap the benefits of that correctional facility. How terrible for them.

2) The shooting death of a 16 year-old at SouthCenter Mall last weekend. I have been to that mall hundreds of times. I, too, found myself on the brink of madness more than once per trip. But to shoot somebody!? Well, that takes a level of commitment that is to be commended. There were reports that the young men involved in the altercation leading to the shooting and death were "throwing gang signs" using their hands, as if to say, "My hand signal should be all you need to 'step off,' or 'back it up a piece, sir.' Look at my hands!" It's never a good idea to use your hands where a gun will suffice. Always shoot first, expect your friends to not rat you out later. How sad. Another victim of the System.

3) In Spokane, two men, 18 and 20, robbed a wheelchair-bound man of his groceries. The man in the wheelchair, aged 87 years, had just purchased the groceries. Jeez, what an idiot! Doesn't he know how dangerous it is out there!?!? It's one thing to be 87, but when you're in a wheelchair, you shouldn't expect anything from anybody. Somebody should arrest his family for not looking after him. Danger is everywhere. This is totally on him.

So as you can see, there's a lot of dumb people and bad planning leading to a lot of crime in the Northwest. I would like to applaud all the parents of kids who are commiting crimes for doing the best they could with those kids. Some kids, gosh, you just can't teach them, so the best you can do, is make sure they have clothes on their backs, and a safe place to sleep after a long night of "acting a fool" or "thugging out." Be it in the suburban havens of small-time pot dealing and pill trading, or the inner-city pressure of being respected for your hand signals, it's gotta be tough to have a job AND know what your kids are up to.

more to come...

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My Blog About My Dad

Dealing With Dying

My dad, Gerry Lott, passed away on November 16, 2008.
He was 65 years old.
He had fought dementia and the symptoms and effects of it for over 5 years.
He is no longer struggling.
I have an unparalleled peace, as I know he is currently in the Presence of God, and that I will see him again one day.
==========================

In my dad's passing, this is the closest I have ever been to a death. It is the heaviest weight I have ever carried, and the lightest of burdens to bear, as I have only love and respect for my dad.

His body is gone.
He is deceased, no longer on Earth.
He is biologically dead.
As a human form, he is no more.

I have to express these things as a way of real-izing them for myself. The last time I saw my dad was in September, prior to moving to Los Angeles. He was as he had been for a long time; gentle-eyed, slow to react, and stuck in that wheelchair. He was merely existing. It's a rotten way to watch somebody go. I don't really know how much of him was still there. He could react with a laugh/cry thing when something funny happened or somebody familiar was near by. But we do know that some of that kind and great man was still in there.

In his passing, my dad fought through a couple of illnesses in the last few weeks. Pneumonia weakened his system, causing very high fevers and breathing problems. The lack of oxygen led to angina. He may have had a mild heart attack. He was suffering, physically. We all hurt to know he was struggling. He deserved much better than this pain.

I last spoke to him on November 15th. My mom held the phone to his ear as his body fought for breath. I told him that i loved him, that I was so proud to be his son, that he was a great father, and that if he was ready, to go on Home. To go on to Heaven. That we'll always love him and we'll see him again. It is never enough, or correct, or timely, to say these things. But my dad, in his 65 years of life, lived with a compassion and love for others and life. And "The Time" had come.

I hung up with my mom and began sobbing harder than I ever have. I told my wife "My dad is dying, honey. He's really dying." We all knew it. Never would I have said it before, in case the mere breathing of the word "dying" would accelerate anything. We truly had him taken from us by the dementia over the past few years. And physically, now, he was dying. His spirit was about to soar, if it had not already been called Home to Heaven. I know that he heard me, regardless.

After hours of crying and planning for a trip home, I slept a bit. I had no dreams I can recall. My phone rang at 5a.m. It was my mom.

My dad, Gerald Embert Lott, Jr., had died.

A man of integrity, character, compassion, love, faith, and humor, had died. A good man. A great father and husband. A man of peace and friendship. They die, too. We all will. So... now what?

After talking with my mom, I felt a lightness. It was either a peace, or an elation, or a relief of a burden I carried. It was like a weight I forgot I had been toting around. Perhaps it was the question "When?" had now been answered. No more waiting. No more anticipation of a phone call that I dreaded knowing the subject of. My dad, now in Heaven, was free of the body that was felled by Dementia. Healed, whole, in the Presence of The Lord.

Knowing this is the greatest comfort I have. I believe we all share this, in my family, and those we know who knew and loved my dad. To know that right now, my dad's spirit has returned to The Glory, the place from which all Creation sprung, to be surrounded by his family from ages past, with his friends who preceded him, begins to erase the pain of missing him.

I want to begin focusing on THAT. On my father's spiritual reward now, I will rest my heart and my thoughts, in knowing he is standing tall, he is speaking with loved ones, he is the Greatest he has ever been. He IS, still.

Were it not for the love he and my mom showed us, the teaching and avenues they directed us towards, and the freedom to choose, I cannot tell you that I would be elated or peaceful. But my father is Home now. Where he wanted to go when this was enough for him.

Amen.

Take Me Home

My Blog About My Dad

Gerry Lott, My Dad, My Hero.

When I can, I will write more.
Thanks Dad. Love you always, for everything.

October 26, 1943 - November 16, 2008

Geoff & Gerry, his dad, Georgia 1976

My Blog About My Dad

Fit In Where You Get In - TURBULENCE TRAINING RULES

When I first started lifting weights at the age of 13, I had no clue what I was doing. I would hoist anything heavy until I couldn't lift it anymore, then rest for about 3 minutes, then try it again. Push-ups and whatever we did in Jr. High PE classes, which I hated, because I was a chubbo.

As I got older, I realized that I really don't NEEEEED to bench 350lbs. It so rarely comes up that a gig requires me to close with the 800lb deadlift. So I searched, researched, and re-researched something that would help me
1) Burn and lose fat
2) Build and keep muscle without sacrificing cardio quality
3) Be portable, so I don't have to be in a gym/meatmarket to keep progressing
4) Constantly challenging

I found TURBULENCE TRAINING. Started up by Craig Ballantyne, this guy puts together seriously challenging workouts you can do with your own bodyweight. No 45minutes of treadmill walking. You're done with the entire workout in about 40min. If you have 40min laying around, 3 times a week, get this. You deserve it. I did these workouts prior to my triathlon in 2006 and it got me in shape like nothing else, even while I "rested" my shinsplints.

Here's a pic of Craig, if you want some proof. I am nowhere near this ripped, but if necessary, I could single-handedly grapple a puma.

It turns out that just about 15 years ago, Craig was heading down
the wrong path...eating and drinking too much and not working out.

But one day just after Christmas in 1994, Craig stumbled upon a
bodyweight workout that changed his life.

I want you to read the rest of Craig's embarrassing story here:

Check it out!

To mark the anniversary of the turning point in his life, Craig is
launching the Turbulence Training Bodyweight Fat Burning Solution,
full of all of his best bodyweight workouts...

PLUS, his NEWEST workout - the TT Hotel Room Workouts that even
include FOLLOW-ALONG workouts for the beginner and intermediate.

It's like having Craig Ballantyne as your personal trainer in the
comfort of your own home!

You'll get instant access to these NEW workouts, but MORE
importantly, he's also going to ship you FREE DVD's of the Hotel
Room Workouts and his most popular bodyweight workouts.

In fact, he's holding a PRE-launch sale for the first 50 copies and
cutting the price by 50 bucks.

This new Turbulence Training Bodyweight Fat Burning Solution package
includes...

1) DVD's and hardcopy manual of the 6-Month TT Bodyweight Program

2) A DVD and hardcopy manual of my NEW, Never-Seen-Before TT Hotel
Room Workouts (featuring the first ever "follow-along" beginner and
intermediate TT workouts)

3) A DVD and hardcopy manual of the TT Bodyweight 500

4) A DVD and hardcopy manual of the TT Bodyweight 1000

5) Free shipping on all of the above

6) And a Free 1-Year Platinum Turbulence Training Membership

The value of the entire Turbulence Training Bodyweight Fat Burning
Solution is over $1662.89, but the first 50 copies are available in
this Pre-Launch Sale for only $247.

(NOTE: These copies are going so fast since the website went "live"
yesterday that there are only 21 copies remaining at the PRE-release
price!.)

Grab yours here: (or up at the "CLICK HERE" link in my links on the upper Right)

=> http://www.BodyweightCardio.com

(But the low price and free shipping won't be around for long.)

Turn your life around today,

Geoffers
CLICK HERE NOW, You deserve this!

PS - Don't forget, you'll receive...

1) DVD's and hardcopy manual of the 6-Month TT Bodyweight Program

2) A DVD and hardcopy manual of my NEW, Never-Seen-Before TT Hotel
Room Workouts (featuring the first ever "follow-along" beginner and
intermediate TT workouts)

3) A DVD and hardcopy manual of the TT Bodyweight 500

4) A DVD and hardcopy manual of the TT Bodyweight 1000

5) Free shipping on all of the above

6) And a Free 1-Year Platinum Turbulence Training Membership

This package is worth over $1662.89, but it's yours for only $247...

BUT only 21 copies remain at the PRE-release price of $247!

Get started here:

=> GET GOING NOW!

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Blog 600! Gotta Do What Ya Gotta Do

There was a time when I thought to myself, "there's no way he's going to make it to the next rooftop." He did, by the way. I still can't believe he did, but squirrels are very athletic, with high degrees of Athleticism, which is a word a sportscaster made up to sound as though he had a high level of intelligism.

Life, as I've learned, is not a lineal path from Point A (your mother's "baby garden") to Point B (3rd Grade) to Point C (Cryogenic Head Reanimation). Oh no, it's not. It's lot of twists and turns. Like a river, filled with some rocks, some rolls, some backfat, some babyPhat, and some bodies. And I'm the water. In MY life, I mean, I'm the water, you are your own water.

Whatever it is you're planning on doing, stop planning and start doing. PLanning is NOT work, mmkay? It's been documented frequently - and perhaps to my detriment - on how many issues I had in corporative Americanus. Meetings, for one, were rarely places that work got done. They usually set up other meetings because some dipshit who called the meeting "Necessary" didn't make it. Likely in another meeting about their love of eating crapwiches and mustard shakes.

I now embrace my personality and creativity. For a looooooooong time - longer for my teachers - I was told to sit on those things, take them outside, or disallow their development. Well, NOW, I get to use them as a way to make money. A lot of money, I hope. Money's just a tool to build other things with, don't frown upon my desire to prosper and develop a robot to crush the dreams of my foes. Both of them.

So whatever it is that feeds your Zen belly, get the heaping handfuls you want and cram them inna yo face. I, at times, have to remind myself that "this is water," for you D.F. Wallace fans, and that I'm where I'm s'posed to be at this point in life. No, the money's not rolling in right now. There aren't agents knocking at my door. I don't have a big deal to sign tomorrow morning. These aren't things to discourage me, however. These are MOTIVATORS. And if I do what I'm supposed to do, which is different for everyone, then it will happen. And if it doesn't, so help me Bob Bledsoe, I will call a meeting.

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My Issues With The Issues

This is how I think I feel about everything that's important.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Gay Marriage - Marriage between any two consenting adults deemed mentally competent should be legal. Marriage is a legally-recognized institution. Everyone should have equal pressure from their family and be made to feel like they are hideous freaks if not married by the age of 29. And they should not have open the backdoor of saying "Oh, we WOULD get married, but YOU won't let us!" I don't care what you do, when you do it, or how much it costs.
At the very least, incorporate. If you think the paperwork and inclusion in newspapers is what will solidify your relationship, have at 'er. Butch & Sundance were Partners. Lucy and Ricky were Spouses. Enyoy.
Apparently the Gay Community is unaware that, as tough as they've had it, they will NOT be discriminated against when getting their asses kicked by the Bride-to-Be who is ALSO trying to book the Atrium for the second Saturday in June. God be with you.

Legalizing Marijuana - Great idea. But you have to have a license to sell it, pay taxes on it, must be purchased from a licensed grower for re-sale, records kept of purchase and retail, and subject to the same scrutiny as all other vegitation that makes you happy. BUT... no retail outlets. Nope, the drug dealers already have this on lock-down, let 'em work. If it's shady, it's shady. Half the value in getting high is the feeling that you're gonna die during the transaction. And, like cigarettes, it cannot be smoked in public without heavy judgment/envy.

Prostitution - How is THIS illegal? Every other Westernized nation in the world has some sort of legalized hooking. Legalize, make the women... or men... register for a license. Prior to which, they must prove to be 18, have a GED, and (not "OR") submit to a drug test and blood test for STDs. Every 6 months, tested again. Run it outta yer single-wide like that day care that never got off the ground, lousy probation! Inspections by health inspectors! See, now you're generating JOBS AND REVENUE. Legalizing it won't drive people into hooking or looking any more than it already does. If a person wants to pay somebody to have sex with them, without hiding it as dinner and a few drinks, they should have the right to. And why subject women to the blathering of a crotch-hungry dude? Split the diff for $150, get under the bed like a good pig, and be on your way. SO UPTIGHT.
This also brings down the crime rates against women working in this line of work. They're doing it anyway. It's still a choice they have to make to go do it. Shouldn't be promoted as a viable one, mind you, but it sure as hell isn't stopping folks who need their urges fulfilled. It happens DAILY in various forms.

Seat Belt Laws - While these traffic stops do yield results in getting some thugs and felons on warrants, for the most part, it's a chicken-shit way for the cops to harrass unsafe people. It's a form of profiling, too. A GOOD ONE. You really want to make cars safe? NO SEATBELTS. Now who just slowed down 20MPH? Everybody, right. Now we're all driving around in loaded guns, makes you think before reaching for that text message, du'n't it?

Red Light Cameras - A camera? Chicken's PLOPS. You can't have ONE officer standing there pulling people off the road? MAKE IT NOW, IMMEDIATE, SPOT FOUL... you pay the fine or you get your car towed. OR, even better, do away with the camera, and put a gun turret in the camera box. Firing blanks, 99.8% of the time, but that sends a message at 240 rounds per second. To think it could have been avoided if only you hadn't hit that snooze alarm! Sorry for the .50 shell grazing your manifold.

Tax Increases On Douchenozzles, Asspleats, and Seatsniffers - Why are we taxing the wealthy when we should be taxing people who spend money poorly? $100, screen-printed t-shirt? 8.9% sales tax, and 4.1% Dunce Tax. Nice Ed Hardy tee, Yvgeny. Way to plan for retirement!
Axe Body Spray on the shopping list? How about upping the cost to about $100 a bottle? Sorry, now only for people who can afford it. And if you can afford Axe at that point, you aren't the kind of person who would wear it. I can't wear Axe BodySpritz, as I have a severe allergy to marketing. Axe, now in "Aggro Fingering" and " 'NO' Means 'Buy Her a Shot!' " scents.
Pooka Shell Necklaces should cost $500.
Male pinky rings? At 32? Just hitting the market at $2,000!
Perhaps it's a ploy of mine to drive the individuality out of people. More than likely, it's to see America with the best-dressed Foreclosed-Upon immigrants and turdwrinkles this side of ROSS.

Adopting Kids From "Developing Nations" - Adopting children from every continent, instead of, you know, getting a mug at the giftshop, is the ultimate in Celebrity Accessoriality. Mmmm. Good intentions are drawn on the back of Hermes recei-pits. I wonder how much more good would come when the village received water and food and updated facilities and schooling. Taking one child out of the village, and into a world of first-class travel, macrobiotic wet-nursing, and paparazzi, yes, MUCH better life. Using the water supply to adminster saltpeter and birth control to the population, OH NO, that's unethical. But the sex-trafficking of young girls, the rapes, the spread of AIDS, all in Nature's Plan. I cannot wait to be rich enough to care about others!

Gun Control - Everyone gets one. And 12 bullets that are made of rock salt. They'll pierece your skin, and hurt a lot, and then you'll know why you should use blinkers on the freeway. There, everyone happy now?

SUVs - Everyone in smaller cars should breathe easier. If you drive a small car, you use much less fuel. And that's GOOD, so the fire will be quick and small when you're crushed under the SUV. SUVs can only be driven by men over the age of 45. Until that time, your testosterone's too high to be trusted with this thing. And odds are you're not blaring rap's music out the windows. Nobody cares you be tippin' on fo'-fo's, mung. Nice wheelz! And how's your retirement account?

Dangerous Dog Breeds - Again, something ruined by idiots. Sorry, we can't trust the idiots, so we have to keep the breeds away from everyone. If you want to walk around with something dangerous on a leash, make friends with an Oakland Raiders fan.

Mobile Phones - You get as many minutes as equal to your credit score, PER YEAR. Text messages would be $5 a pop. Phones wouldn't work indoors unless you paid the establishment a $10 deposit, and had to talk while wearing a plastic bag over your head. You can yammer away as long as the oxygen allows.

Drinking Age - If you can vote at 18, and drink at 21, it's only right that the drinking age be changed, to 39. Your brain isn't fully developed until 25 or so, why float it on Natty Ice until you start a decent 401(k)? You shouldn't be drinking until you have to get up early for something the next morning. Drinking is for adults, not you.

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My Blog About My Dad

Well CRAP, I Guess I'm a Nice Guy

We're gonna elect a new president tomorrow. Like it or not.
Along with that is a bevy of local votes that will determine everything from the cost of imported milk to legalizing prostitution, or "Consulting."

Many people have asked me recently, "Sir... was that you?"
Sorry. Dairy issues.

I have ideas on the Issues. And here I will pontificate on them...
IN PUBLIC.

First, I must go throw laundry in. I AM ON A SCHEDULE.

I am a good guy. When you're a "good guy," and genuinely so, which I really try to act like I am, people can sense it. You know who can sense it? People who are more open to the auras and energies of other people. And you know who they are?
Crazies.
Not the jarred-poop-collecting crazies (some of it their own).
Not the squalor-induced craziness crazies.
Not the GOD WARRIOR crazies, hello Margeurite Perrin. Who wouldn't want to sit down in a praise service next to this angel in support hosiery?

JEEEEEEZUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUS!

See, when you're a good guy, and told you are by a number of people under various levels of medical supervision, they feel they have a safe place to talk about what's on their mind. And what's on their mind revolves around three things.

1. The "government" (always mentioned with quotation fingers)
   
2. The Shadow Government (always mentioned by pointing to the "SG" tattoo on their palm)
3. Health-related issues, usually ear canals or bowel obstructions caused by antibiotics

The old saying "Nice Guys Finish Last" is because a nice guy stopped for a glass of water while helping his cousin move a cartload of figs, and the water vendor started in about how the sun god Zoalu was taking away his daughter's desire to work through the night as a plow-puller. The Nice Guy's cousin made it on to the market over the next 2 hours, while the vendor never stopped fucking talking about his daughter's ailments, which, these days, would be attributed to syphillis, if not "too much mung." And the Nice Guy, no matter how far away he inched from the conversation, nor tried to return to reading his Entertainment Weekly, if only to get ideas for his next haircut - because he LOVES Daniel Craig's crop - well the Nice Guy just couldn't get away from it. Because the vendor needed to talk.

And to kvetch about the whole thing must fashion a few layers off the niceness, right? My intent is always pure; I enjoy the stories of others, sometimes watching as they go high into the wall and just keep the throttle open while the tires blow and the flames fly high. And right when I think to myself "What am I getting out of this?" I have to remind myself that I can read Mickey Rourke's comeback story anytime. What I get out of it is what you're reading.

So while I have to search for Daniel Craig pics to take to a barber instead of just taking the coffee-shop's EW with me, I am only minorly annoyed at the extra work. I could have found those pics by now.

But it's not every day that somebody wants to bet you their van, parked RIGHT THERE SAME SPOT EVERY DAY, that by this time next week, we'll be under Martial Law. Try for THAT at your Star'sBucks.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
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Call Me. I dare you...

I'm pissed. And when I'm pissed, I'm motivated. So shut the fuck up and read a second.

Mobile phones are now the lifeline of people with somewhat of a life. A leash, a tether to things you MIGHT need to know, but probably don't. There's nothing I have yet to hear shouted into a cell-phone that needed to be said at that moment. NOTHING.

That means nobody important is talking on the thing.
Not the President.
Not the Commander of the Bomb Squad.
Not the guy who makes love to the girl who makes your latte.
And no... not even you. Sorry, you're not important, either. At least not important enough to be stammering directions to a shabbily-attended party down... down by... go... go 2 blocks ARE YOU THERE... go 2 blocks...

No, not an exact science. It's a large system of invisible rays of sound and radio and gamma, boncing on our ears and brains. And yet I cannot stop phutzing with my phone on a reg'lar. I look at thinking that something may have happened, as if a message from (IMPORTANT PERSON) will have finally come in, and I can finally rest in the knowledge that my ship has come in. That means I can turn around to the lady behind me yelling into her phone and take it out of her hand and throw it against the wall.
These phones are proof of evolution, that we have evolved... just not that far.

I set the ringer to something that I know I will hear in case somebody calls me. And then... EVERYTHING sounds like a horse whinny.

I set it to vibrate, then my pants always feel more lively. And right now there just ain't THAT MUCH going on that I need to know what's going on. If something was going on, I would be in the middle of it. But nothing's goin' on, and I'd bet your behymen that it WON'T be going on while I'm hearing a one-sided barrage of whatever that Armenian dude was blarrrrriddidiaiddian into what's left of my ear drum. Close the borders.

If you really want to put your phone or earpiece to good use, take photos of people sneering at you while you yammer on about, what? Can... go ahead... yeah, so... I knooooow... The par.... The party? Fuck you and your phone.

Cell phones should only have minutes equal to your credit score... PER YEAR.
After that, $2 a minute. If you really wanted to talk to somebody, they would be RIGHT THERE WITH YOU on the other massage table, getting yelled at in Austrian. Something about a hot griddle and a naughty spietzle.

Otherwise, it, the F, can wait.

Mom, sorry about the F words.

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Customary Disservice A-GAIN

Just had the new home phone in LA turned on the other day.
310 area code, via Time-Warner Cable.

As of today, I've had no calls from those who know my number, and 2 calls from telemarketers.

www.DoNotCall.gov

Some may say "Hey, that's taking jobs away from people who need those jobs!"

I say, "Hey, aim higher than trying to sell me a set of knives over the phone."

And "Eat me with your eyes open."

Then end.

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Gassed Prices

How much cheaper would gas be, were it not for NASCAR?

Do we need 500 miles at Daytona? What can't be solved in 250, or just 125?

When one begins to break down the amount of fuel used to transport the professional athletes around the country, it makes you realize that you may be some sort of homosexual, boy, and ya best start looking at nekkid wuman.

Just sayin'.

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No, Not In My MySpace Space

Ty Willingham is a ridiculous tiny coach and should be fired.

Well, they finally did it to themselves.

More Money and Power make people more of who they really are. If you're a little paranoid about a little power and money, a lot will drive you further behind the fortress of cereal boxes you built at breakfast. You'd be alone, mind you, as paranoia's accusatory onslaught carries all the charm of a mosquito buzzing in your ear while your grandmother screams "HUH? HUH?" and you repeat your answer until she asks ANOTHER question, and all you can think of is how you can't wait to fake-Gay-Out yourself into banishment and away from this lovely - but stone deaf - woman's underbaked hams. You suffer because, dag-nabbit, they DESERVE your attention. And cards played right, you're getting the LP collection upon her passing, now 19 years overdue.

MySpace, a FOX/Murdoch-owned entity, has created a way to simultaneously look Safe AND Paranoid. If you have a Space account and tried to log in this morning you may have been greeted with a Verification window. It's an application that generates random numbers and letters in varied order and linear formation so that you have to take a typing test in order to log in and see who called you Gay. Or Republican.

You know that first time you did a mountain of cocaine and then over the next few months you were Super Positive that the monkey in the rhododendron was, in fact, a CIA operative? And then, to make sure she couldn't get in when you were gone, you stopped leaving the house? And THEN, to make sure she couldn't get in when you were home, you duct-taped the doors shut? Well that's what MySpace did.

Instead of investing in security WITHIN the network, they threw up a giant snorfling gate and said "TRY TO CROSS." And no matter what combo you entered, whether is was Correct, Right, or Perfect, you and your desire to be looked-at wasn't getting in. And I thought to myself:

"Well, they finally did it. They went ahead and hit critical mass of management, and locked us all out. Awesome." I was happy about it. It wasn't like having a withdrawal, no shakes or bugs. Just a feeling of relief that they'd put themselves out of our misery. MySpace, for all it's influence and ability to connect people, is really now aimed at people younger than myself, hornier than myself, and drunker than myself. FINE, that's why I'm getting more into FaceBook, anyway.

So, soon I'll dump the MySpace Account, as soon as I figure out the FaceBook a bit more. And when I do, you will all follow me to FaceBook.
Why?
What are you looking for? What do I have that you need?
Before you say another word, you'll need to know my secret phrase.

Which is?

"GET UNDER THE COFFEE TABLE, THE GRIDDLE IS HOT"

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For UW Fans Only

Ty Willingham is the current head football coach at the University of Washington. The legacy of UW football is one of tough linemen, stout defense, and class, not to mention winning. Willingham, at this moment, has a record of 11-31. 11 Wins. 31 Losses. If you finished 11 of 42 assignments on time at your job, you would have been fired at the 20-miss mark.

And yet Ty won't step down, and the Athletic Director won't fire him, because of some type of "commitment." This is a business. If you are this bad, your position needs to be handled by somebody else. The Dawgs are being embarrassed on a weekly basis, not by the other teams who trounce them, but by the coach and the staff that fails them. Jake Locker could have gone ANYWHERE in the nation to play QB. He chose the UW. And he's come up short because these coaches cannot properly implement the plan around the main cog. So where does that leave us?

Well, Ty Willingham is nothing if not staunch. He's stubborn. He's stone-faced and tries to remain positive about all of this, making excuses for how this one got away. Every friggin' week. SCREW THAT. I want a coach that screams about how his defensive coordinator isn't coaching downward to make sure that LBs and Safeties aren't taking bad angles on ball carriers breaking into the secondary... AGAIN. And a line coach that demands we get at least 2 guys over 290lbs with suspect police involvement in their past. And yet Ty sits there and challenges everyone outside the program to figure out what's wrong. He has no answers. It's NOT WORKING OUT, TYRONE.

He needs to step down. This is not "quitting," mind you. If it was 3 games into a season and they'd lost 3 in a row, that's quitting. But he's lost 8 in a row, and is facing the meat of the Pac-10 schedule here. And he has the fates and attitudes of 100 UW football players on his desk every day. And he has cut a lot of ties to Husky greats because he doesn't rally the past into the present. That's affecting the future, also, because great potential recruits are dropping visits to the UW in favor of rival schools in the Pac-10, and elsewhere.

So if the UW is concerned about the future and present of UW Football, they need to fire Ty. Ty's not going to quit. He's only going to drive further the plow through the minds of these players about what it takes to win a game, and the deeper and longer that rut, the harder it will be to fill it back in. FIRE TY WILLINGHAM. Yesterday.



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Register, THEN Vote

Remember, you have to be registered as a local citizen in order to vote in the upcoming elections.

This is not a concert where you show up, flash an ID and get a stamp to Vote however you like on Nov. 4th.

Just a reminder, friendly-style.



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John, John, John...

I'm not sure if I love him for this, or just feel like sighing.


While my vote is still for sale... er... undecided... er... not yet cast...
I would like to point out that I've heard far more rhetoric leveled against Barack Obama in the vein of his Race, and not his Record. Neither of these candidates has wowed me, though the composure Obama has shown is a nice change to flustered mutterings and catch-phrases.

This "Joe The Plumber" guy that was so popular last night, btw, was investigated a bit to find out who he is, what he does, and where he buys his leg snares.
Turns out... hmm... Guy has never cast a vote in his home state. Interesting. And I assume he's at least 23 years old, from the pictures, so that means he's missed one Presidential "election" already. So, hey, please... get out and vote.

If for no other reason, than to vote opposite of the neighbor you dislike most. Don't let that 4-car havin', 1-car workin', stray dog-apoptin', good ol' gal with more kids than teeth decide which part of her health plan is paid for by your tax dollar in the next four years.

BIRTH CONTROL IN FOOD SOLD AT WAL*MART IN 2009!

I'm Geoff Lott, and I don't approve this message. I ADORE IT.


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When In Doubt

Move.
I suppose that's the best advice I have heard all morning. I think I hit some kind of lull in the past 18 hours or so. I did a lot of work yesterday, writing, job-applying, networking, comedy-traveling around Hollywood, etc. And right now I think my brain is a bit fried.

But the antsiness of my bodular system is overriding the drained brain-pan, so I should get out for a run or something.

Also, this place needs seriously more interior lighting. Seriously. More.

And if anybody knows where the screws to the bistro table are, please tell me. It would be nice to have that back in commission.

More boredom later.

Check out http://CulverCityChowdown.blogspot.com and CLICK ON THE AD-LINKS to the Upper RIGHT!!!!!!! It's my wife's blog about our chowing around the new homebase here, and ad-clicks = $!

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"BABY MAMA" is A Crowning Achievement

Last night I got home to find my wife having ordered a movie OnDemand, as it was a relatively slow evening in the later hours. I had gone out to a show to see a buddy of mine here, and met with other Seattle-ite comics, whom I think are more than ready to make funny here in LA. That's for another time.

So, Wife ordered "Baby Mama," starring the foolproof duo of Tina Fey and Amy Poehler (Pee-oh-el-ee-r, I think. No, "Peeler," okay). Synopsis of the movie is that Kate Holbrook (Tina's character) is ready to have a baby, but can't, because she's got a problem with having a baby. I don't want to give too much away here. (She may have been born a dude, they don't really explore that much in the film, but it would have made Tina Fey even hotter). So she enlists Angie Ostrowski (Amy Poehler's character) to carry the baby inside her (Angie's) uterine walls, played by Utris Jackson (former all-conference forward at North Texas A&M, 1993). In some circles this is called "Surrogate Mothering" or "The Rosie O'Donnell Method."

I, frankly, barf OnDemand when I smell a romantic comedy. Or anything "precious" in a movie, where it's obvious they're pulling at your heartstrings instead of being able to close a scene properly. This is not a romantic comedy, if that's what you're looking for. There's a romantic element to it, where Greg Kinnear is totally puttin' it to Kate in the movie (Kinnear is great in everything, btw). But really, the movie steers more towards COMEDY. And I know comedy.

So what did I think?

This movie is awesome. I laughed really heartily, out-loud, gut-busting at a LOT of stuff. Angie Ostrowski is a manic, immature, goofball with no business carrying a flu virus let alone a fetus. Kate Holbrook is a manic, anal retentive, do-gooder with a heart of organic tofu that demands a lot more out of Angie as the host-ut'ris. It's like "The Odd Couple," with spotting! The movie tells the story of these women with hopes and dreams, their polar-opposite personalities and common goals dancing around each other like a Polka in a Mosh Pit. HILARIOUS movie. Seriously. Amy Poehler's great, Steve Martin is again a subtle master, and you just get way more than you deposited. Like getting triplets when all you expected was dinner!

Truly, "Baby Mama" is now OnDemand. On DVD soon, if not already. Totally worth it.
I'm not lying or being snarky, I swear. SEE THIS MOVIE.

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Feels Like I'm Losing It Sometimes

Lately, without a dayjob and getting every other thing in order in life...

such as registering a car in a new state, getting smog-checked, taking a driver's test, handling insurance, handling renter's insurance, calling after jobs, handling investments, etc...

I have to spend a lot of time on the phone. Supposedly that is to make life more convenient. But I have a network or a phone or a connection or a bunch of people on the other end that are seriously malfunctioning. And that lack of ability to communicate with one's mouth and brain in full connection is incredibly widespread, and causing me to understand how our economy could very well be undermined by people who finance their clothing.

When I think of having to call an institution about an account change or anything that will cause me to change anything at all... which means i have to talk to a person!!!!!!!... I cringe. I don't want to hunch up, but I do. It's a gut reaction, as my gut churns while I think of the menu I have to negotiate (these will soon be a thing of the past, BTW, if we really want to stimulate the economy), leading me to a complete stranger. So every call is another communication style to learn and adapt to. And if the person on the other end of the phone is pissed off or underpaid or self-righteous, I'm in for an overly long call. Just read my previous entry on Lingo.com. That company can suck it with their eyes open.

I am who I am, a good guy who is doing the best he can to get in and get moving in his career, meet people, and be the kind of guy I would want to hang out with. There's no horn-tooting there, I have had to TRY very hard to make that happen every friggin' time I leave the house. It gets easier and easier each time because I have a clean slate of interaction where ever I go now. Nobody knows me. So I can joke around and chat it up and be as cordial as I want to be. Maybe I'm the only person in that person's day who didn't tell them they should go back to furrier school. I am who I am. And if you hung out with me for a while and had some beer, I think you, too, would like me. If you replenished the beer, that, too, would be nice of you, but no pressure.

LA is bigger than Seattle. It sprawls. It's got more of everybody, every color, every background. So by sheer numbers of people, there are more people doing dumb things and rude things and dipshit things, and those always stand out. Example... Stopping at a red light doesn't make nearly the impact as running a red light and T-boning a car ALSO running that red and making a left in front of the hitter. It's rampant here. I don't even chance that water. And these people aren't ever going anywhere. If it were that important, they'd have left their shit-tents much earlier.

So today, I'll chalk it up to heat and frustration and get it out of my system. Writing and a good hard workout later. I am going to a church service tonight, also, overdue for us. I knew it was bad a few weeks ago when we attended a church service and all I could think was "this pastor can't preach for shit. This guy's awful. I've heard more passion in a Little League dugout." Then his pushy wife went up and had the full-pew press about getting people to attend, you BETTER attend, DON'T THINK ABOUT NOT ATTENDING, YOU SINNERS, for some Halloween thing she wanted to do. And I sat there and judged them like they were dancing their way across the floor for my amusement. So I need something bigger than Me right now to focus on.

Today I walked by 17 people. I counted them, because I wanted to do an experiment on how people react to strangers on the street. Of the 17, 14 were wearing sunglasses. Of those 17, 2 were on bikes. Of the 17, 4 of them and I traded "Hello"s or "good morning"s. All 4 of them were white. The other 13 were all non-white. No eye contact, no recognition. Just a fact, that's how it went for me this morning. But, hey, I'm not shutting off or down. Next time, however, maybe I shouldn't dress as a cop.

On the bright side, it's nearly 80 degrees already, no clouds in the sky. I got calls to make.

Hello, Xanax?

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Open Letter to the Los Angeles Metro Idiots

I'm smart.
Not just book-smart or college-smart or know-my-way-'round-a-new-Trader-Joe's-smart.

Low-140's IQ smart as of last year.

And I cannot, for the life of my neighbor's parakeet, figure out the LA Bus System. Their website has a tool, probably named Davin and Devid or something dumb for a white guy, that uses an application to reference a route database. It should... SHOULD... show you what bus to take from point A to point B.

Likely designed by a white guy because an East Indian or Asian Citizen would not have left the flaws and bugs in the web-app that this one has. Because they, unlike crackaz, are working OVERTIME to get things right and done. Sportscenter doesn't carry cricket highlights, is most likely why.

I can't tell what goes where. The maps, yeah, for-get!-it. So not only are the buses here a "Who's Who" in Illegals, Lurkers, Pervs, and Gangsta-wanna-be's... NOW I HAVE TO FEEL THAT THESE F*CKS ARE SMARTER THAN I!

That, I will not ride for. I'm buying a bike, a lock, bear spray, and a komodo dragon.
The next sound you hear will be me, bus-farting.
I'll get my space.

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Shooting The Shots

Fantastic. I was invited to take on a role in a movie called "The Consultants," a feature film being produced by 21st Street Films. No word yet on release dates. BUT, I was excited to try this out because
A) Trying new things leads to growth of the persona, personality, wessonality, and sometimes, crippling embarrassment. Trying new things also has led to many a disease, explosion, and sometimes a dis-ease where one experiences a cripplingly embarrassing explosion (hello street-vendor sushi!).
AND...
B) I'm here to do that Show Business stuff.

It's great to be among highly creative, motivated people. It puts a little extra ZIP in the step, realizing that this flowing river isn't slowing for anybody. Get in your tube, drop in, and enjoy it. I'll make sure everyone who reads this blog on the regular knows when "The Consultants," also starring Geoff Lott as "Tommy," will be released. I am NOT in the trailer, my friend Tony Moser is, however. And he's pretty good.

The real lesson here is about sacrifice. I sacrificed a full day of watching Football, including the 3rd team from Washington State to get their asses handed to them on the grid-iron this weekend. But I got to spend 8 hours around a top-notch independent-style filming movie crew, meet great folks, and build my experiences up.

So when you come home and there's a cleaned-up house, a ready dinner, and tired loved one waiting for you, guess what ya do?
YOU SCOOP THE CAT'S BOX-LEAVINGS WITHOUT QUESTION, AND A HEAPIN' HOT MOUND OF GLEE, that's what you do. Because Acting is Real Reacting to Imaginary Situations. But chores, and cat's doo, are very, very real.

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Culture Schlock

In the past few days the average temperature in LA has been 87 degrees in a freezer. It's hot. It's not an Equatorial-nation swelter, it's just a heat that says "It's my job, don't bother me." The slowing-you-down kind of heat. And it's October. I'm not used to this. Normally by now I'd be scrounging for some sort of herbal anti-depressant and sleeping deeply at night. But lately, nope, it's just too frigging hot.
And Awesome.
Last night, and some of today, it rained. Just a smattering of rain, the kind LA natives probably think is a sign of the apocalypse. But for Seattlers, t'weren't nothin'. It was welcomed.

Now, RIGHT NOW, assholes across the alley from our bedroom are tearing down the party scene of a soiree at an art gallery, to which we were NOT invitees. Thus, assholes. People here work the alleyways. A lot of non-white people stroll the 'ways peering into the recycling bins to see if there's any glass or aluminum beer/energy drink/coffee cans to turn in for money. One lady who frequents the block wears jewelry on her route, or "day job." Nice touch, a little hoop action while peering into gar-bazh buckets. I am planning on rigging a bat on a string under the lid of ours, because it's private property and they shouldn't be pokin' around. Plus it's almost Halloween.
By the way... Pico Party Rentals can eat a hot plate of caca, hombre.

But, I digress...

Tuesday night I went to the H'wood Improv to meet a comic who is a friend-of-a-friend. When they say "It's all about who you know," that's only 95% true. The other 5% is luck, talent, and emotional preparedness. I say this because I've been blessed with incredibly helpful people who have "sent the elevator back" to get me. Now it's up to me to push those buttons and fig're out which floors I am getting off at. BUT, I digress...

Tuesday, I chat briefly with the intended meet-up, and think I may go home soon after, as he's off to another show uptown. Then I figure, no, I've invested too much already for one contact, let's chat. I meet another guy named Chris Millhouse, funny comic and show producer around here. We talk, he tells me about another room to work my way into. Very cool of Chris. Then... I see a line growing outside. On a Tuesday night. For COMEDY. So I check the line up.

Dave Attell.

Christopher Titus.

Two of my main influences, the latter being a major influence on my story-length material about real life, the former being simply one of the funniest jokemasters ever. I offer, from Dave Attell...
"I watched the Presidential Debates with the sound off, and it looked like a snowman yelling at a pharoah. Why is Frosty yelling at King Tut, Jr.?"

Also that same night I run into Iliza Schlesinger, winner of the most-recent season of Last Comic Standing. We talked a bit, as we both know Jeff "Jackpot" Dye and Marcus from the comedy circles. Iliza is really a cool person who loves comedy and what she's doing. Again, it's another situation of people helping out. I really hope I get to the point where I can help people on their way up.

Surreal, and yet it is Now. It IS.

And so, on Sunday, I'm off to downtown LA to shoot scenes for a feature-length film about corporate douchebaggery, trudging, and malaise. I've been in town a month, and got a part because a friend helped me out, my work was noticed, and I can DO THIS, yo.

When it comes time for you to take a swing at your dream, get both cheeks into it. The payoff, well hell, sometimes that's just a Tuesday.

Funniest thing about LA is that the entertainment industry is the ONLY industry in the world where discrimination and prostitution are legal, daily occurrences. You can be excluded because you are not the right ethnicity, age, body type, gender, or general look. You can have sex for money and as long as somebody films it, it's protected under the Constitution. Hmm. Observed.

I'll write more about Bob another time.

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