Month: July 2005

  • Changing It Up…

    Well, our dear beloved guild, the Association of Independent Commercial Editors, or AICE to you, has a yearly contest for card carrying assistant editors.

    They give you six films, with their genres, and you must cut a new preview, trailer, whatever, for the movie, but, here’s the kicker, it must now be a new genre. So, Red River as a thriller. Or West Side Story as a western. The Shining as a documentary… you get the picture.

    I did Titanic, as a… well why don’t you just look for yourself:

    (Oh, but a few caveats first: this is the first rough cut, it has been smoothed out a bunch since, I just ran out of time to post the new one. And second, you must try to watch it on a computer with good speakers, or at least speakers that can hit the low end of the spectrum. There is some key audio that hits the bass area.)

    Okay, here you go Hit That Ship

    And now, instructions on how to become really gay: Roll up your shorts as far up as they go.

    Strike the most effeminate pose you can do.

    Hit the low angle shot for the winner.

    And in sadder news for you, exciting news for me, I’m fucking off, bitches!

    Yes, after not taking a vacation last summer, I finagled a full two consecutive weeks to go to Europe. France, Italy, Prague, Amsterdam… oh jesus, its going to be krunk. Taking good old baum, gatti, John mclane the third…

    I am excited. And I am totally taking the camera, and even bought two new full 1 Gigabyte cards so as to not run out of space, but I doubt I will post much from the continent. Maybe some text here or there. But rest assured, when I return, there will be adventures to tell, oh yes, adventures of the likes you have not seen on this boring thing. So wish me luck, dickholes!

    Im out.

  • The Last Stackpole Hurrizzle…

    Yes, the great Colin Stackpole is leaving Brandname, and hence the PS family.

    So we took him out with a bang.

    All the peeps made it out.

    We even gave him the golden handcuffs.

    Brandname of yesterday.

    Brandname of tomorrow.

    Oh Mitch.

    Silly Jenna.

    Or silly me, for keeping the same face, and showing off my double chin.

    Sure Bryan, you think you are so cool.

    Half of the fearless leaders.

    Here, Ben showed me the delayed action settings, check the light.

    Crazies.

    Check out the disappearing chin.

    What?

    Ooooh, pretty.

    The Black Door treated us all right.

    Even if I had to come check my messages all the time. Maury knew what I was talking about.

    Get a room. Jesus.

    What’s all this excitement?

    Just a flirty Sidris.

    Good luck man.

    What a night.

  • Short but Sweet…

    You walk into the ATM, and slowly turn to find this.

    WTF indeed! I guess this business man couldn’t make it to the hotel, or something.

    Then you walk into poker, only to have your eyes fall upon this.

    What a fucking shirt. (the full copy reads as follows: I'm Rick James Bitch! And im dead).

    Just makes you glad to be alive.

  • Lazy Saturday…

    You know those sloth filled days? You wake up at 12 in the arms of a beautiful woman, make sweet sweet sweaty swex for the early afternoon, eat a delicious Metro Diner breakfast…

    Maybe protest a building,


    [censored]

    Take naked pictures of yourself next to yourself.


    And then hit the Sunday Crossword (a day early because this is New York, baby).


    Naked.


    And totally fucking finished. An unstoppable team. An incredible day.

  • Broken Promises…

    Well, I know I said you would see no more question marks, but, take a gander at this.

    Yes indeed, Mystery Date has taken me back. We hit up the Max Ernst at the Met, and let me tell you, its fully worth it. He was a master.

    We tried to take pictures of our favorites, but the picture police was on the prowl so we only got a few.

    My favorite early work.

    Hers.

    And we both agreed this one was marvelous.

    The later stuff really blew me away as well, but no pix possible.

    Yeah, baby, back in business. It feels good. Thanks Mystery Date, for believing in the unknown kid.

  • Soccer’s Back, Bitches!…

    New League, New Team,

    New Name, New Attitude.

    Look at that action.

    Look at that captain.

    We already have a winning record for crying out loud, 2-1.

  • The Past Comes Back To Haunt You Some More…

    Two weeks ago, I played another one of those twelve hour seven to seven pokerthons. It was glorious outside playing.

    But a penalty rule came to fruition, which I considered very rough, but everyone else agreed to. If you missed-dealed, you had to shotgun a beer.

    But then, with his departure immenent, John instigated a full family (almost) shotgun event.

    Notice anything weird about Bolsony?

    I rollercoasted from the lead around 10pm, to being down 50 at 12pm, to busting tighty Mctighty from Tighterton Sean when he made a non usual bluff with bottom pair, only to run into my over pair of nines for a plus 70 win.

    Jim and I rejoice with morning.

    Sean, not so much.

    Better luck next time.

  • I Owe You Bitches So Much…

    Yes, I know. So lets get on with it. We departed toward the Vineyard shore from NY early.

    We started playing car poker with my tiny key chain set. Notice it there in the bottom corner. The cards are like one inch thick, its perfect for the ride.

    Since we couldn’t really bring chips into it, the bets were all verbal, and the all in was just a hot dog on the boat, the maximum bet. You got some good cards, and you just say “HOT DOG!” and hope it all turned out all right. Sometimes you could raise it a beer instead.

    John was down like eight hotdogs at one point, but came back towards the end to only owe three. Katz got aces twice and kings one. He stands as the undefeated master of car-hot dog poker.

    After a Copiloto Joto (gay copilot in Spanish ((it rhymes))) move by Nick, not noticing that sleepy john was taking 91 instead of 95 at New Haven, we lost about thirty minutes. Luckily, we left early enough to make it to the New Bedford Fast Ferry.

    In the shuttle bus, we thought that john had left his lights on so he had to go sprint and check, for no reason, since it wasn’t his car.

    Not a bad ride, this new ferry I had never taken. Quick, and we get to skip the Cape traffic, though we do pay fifty bucks instead of ten.

    Finally, we arrived. Glorious Martha’s Vineyard. My father picked us up and we dropped off the guys at Katz’ place.

    Then Pops and I drove home, which includes another ferry ride. The Chappaquidick Ferry. This little peninsula, Chappy, is only connected to the rest of the island by a thin stretch of beach. But it comes close to touching at this point here.

    And that’s where the overpriced, and undermanned ferry crossing happens.

    Look at us go. This fucking thing closes at twelve am, which means I have had a Cinderella curfew my entire summer life. (it’s also the reason why the land my grandfather bouth in 1950 was so cheap).

    Finally we arrive home. Home sweet home.

    Dad and I get right to work cooking up and incredible meal.

    Look at that. Aren’t you jealous of our epicurean skillz? Chicken with sautéed veggies, flavored rice, salad, and fresh island corn. MMMMMnnn Mmnn.

    And take a look at my dad’s pimping watch bracelet.

    It matches his wedding ring. Damn.

    Finally, younger sister Caitlin arrives from her internship at the Vineyard Playhouse, where they are working her like a slave. (I must say that this is probably good for her).

    The next day, I decided to take a photographic tour of Edgartown, the town nearest to my place. I hit the candy bazaar.

    A kids’ heaven, and where my love of Swedish fish first started.

    This girly girl store used to be a trinket shop of all sorts. Shot glasses in the shape of lighthouses, plastic shoveling equiptment, magnets with seagull on them, you get the picture. It was my second summer job, where they paid me to read, mostly.

    Look at the quaint Main Street.

    To your right, Island Breeze, my first summer job (after being a counselor at the theatre camp I used to attend).

    I learned how to fold t-shirts like nobody’s business here, in the store where every single article of clothing says Martha’s Vineyard.

    And finally, Summer Shades, my third summer job.

    I had to clean all these glasses every time I closed shop. Not fun. But I did get some killer sunglasses.

    And throughout these shitty jobs, I always ate lunch at the Edgartown Deli.

    Home of the best steak and cheese on the island.

    (and maybe the world, outside of Philly of course).

    With a full belly I met my younger brother Thomas.

    We saw War of the Worlds, which I did not like that much. The effects were good, but the story just falls apart.

    For the evening activity I headed back to Nick’s house.

    The sunset looked great.

    And I met Daisy and Momo, cuteys that they are.

    Another gourmet meal, this time with the Katzenbach Swordfish, pesto pasta, and a nice salad.

    Everyone had a good time.

    And afterwards, playing poker, Momo was all in.

    The final full day there, I got up early and took pictures of my beach.

    Our dock.

    Shells and crabs.

    The first house my Granddad owned, Good Ship.

    The house my dad built right next to it (which we later sold), Two Shell and Five Periwinkles.

    And my aunt Lolly’s house (whose name I forget, but it has a name, all these houses do).

    Stepgrandma Laney was there with her friend Jackie.

    Back at home I had breakfast with the familial crew.

    Oh stop it, old foagies.

    After dropping off my little sis, I stopped by the Japanese garden My Toi.

    And the world infamous Dyke Bridge, where I certain Massachusetts senator took a dive.

    Tom and I went all in on the Steak and Cheese again.

    And for dinner, it was beach barbacue time.

    The Katz crew made it out.

    The meats were cooked.

    John got cold, so he put on the tiny girl sweatshirt.

    Brook enjoyed the view.

    Nick and I caught the sunset between us, thinking this would be as good as it got. Little did we know.

    Nice glasses, Man.

    Nice shirt, Dad.

    They both gave the same looks.

    Just a couple of cool cats.

    What?

    You want a sunset?

    (guest photographer Nick takes over for some of the better shots here.)

    We do.

    How about this.

    “Nick, give me the Jesus.”

    Now we got something.

    Off the glasses even.

    Oh, damn, we thought we had it before, but check this.

    And this.

    And this one off the guitar.

    Nick just couldn’t stop.

    What a cute couple.

    Time for a fiddle guitar concert.

    While the kids made smores round the fire.

    Then Nick got lucky and caught someone else’s flash for a cool effect.

    The younger set made a night out of it, and went out to the bar.

    Where I was bet to go over to a table full of girls, pull my Alien (the movie) hand knife trick (with a mechanical pencil) and then twist my moustache while saying “there’s more where that came from at that table.”

    We should have planned it better and got a reaction shot of the girls, but whatever, the people present will remember and laugh. Best ten bucks I ever made.

    The last day, and Tommy and I finally jammed.

    But, sadly, it was time to go home. John and I made the long drive home.

    Into the sunset.

    Thanks, Martha’s. Another weekend well done.

  • I suck at keeping up…

    So much to post, so little time. I will get to Martha’s Vineyard, I will get to a certain poker action with shotguns. For now, enjoy the most wonderful sunset shot of the weekend. (I wish i could lie and claim it for myself, but it's actually the doing of guest photographer Nick Katzenbach.)

    He perdido el sentimiento en mi alma. Donde se me fue la circulacion?

  • Martha’s Preview…

    Went back to the old summer home on martha’s vineyard for the fourth. I don’t have time right now for the full post so I’ll give you a sneak peak.

    This is my house.

    Its located on a part of the Vineyard called Chappaquidick, Chappy for short. If you really must know, its right here.

    This is a 360 of the property.

    And this is the view of my own private bay beach.

    Sometimes your grandfather just does the right thing and buys 30 acres for pennies back in 1950.

    (Fuck, i made the comps to small. Ill fix it later.)