To hell with Diablo

You guys all remember that movie Juno, right? About that one teenage girl that gets pregnant and then Michael Cera acts all cute, befuddled, and confused for 90 minutes? It won at least one Oscar®. Chicks loved it. Dudes loved it. I never saw it although I'm told that it's written with the kind of wit, quirk and verve that resonates with today's hip generation. And I should know about what's hip. I drive a Ford Escape, damnit. You should see the (potential) amount of groceries that thing can haul!

A few months ago in a fit of sleeplessness, I decided to write a note in/on my facebook about some goals I'd like to accompish within one year of the date that I wrote said note. Of those nine goals that I've listed, I've accomplished exactly 0 of them so far. I'm pacing myself. Don't judge me. But of those nine goals that I've set for myself, my most daunting one seems to me to be the "write a book" goal. Why? Well, for a few reasons. The first one is that I have no idea how to write a book. Blogs, short stories, these things I understand. Secondly, I write very well autobiographically but not fictionally. Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, I don't want to end up on a game show hosted by Wayne Brady and telling him that I'm working on my novel. How embarrassing would that be? I'd get all nervous and end up forgetting the lyrics and making an ass out of myself in front of the dozens (literally, DOZENS) of people watching at home. How I'd cope with my failure, I would never know. The silver lining to all this is, of course, at the end of the day at least I'm not Wayne Brady.

This 'writing a book' thing as you can imagine has gnawed at me for a little while now. I still think that I'm going to do it... I just think that I'm going to do it in a different way. "What way?" you ask. Well, by writing a movie instead.

If you've ever been to my house, you've seen the massive DVD collection that I have. I don't have cable and had it not been for the generosity of Dean Shortland last night, I wouldn't even have rabbit ears for my tv [which reminds me: I have to go buy a digital coverter box]. With what little time I spend at home, I tend to park my ass directly on my bed and watch movies. I'm also of the "If the world were like a movie, life would be infinitely better" camp. Except for Suburban Commando. That movie sucks. And also, I wouldn't want to hang out with Hulk Hogan because he dates young women that look like his daughter who looks an awful lot like a slightly more feminine version of himself. And he'd be an alien so there's no telling what kind of tricks he's really got up his sleeve.

I was contacted by friend, sometimes employer, and extraordinarilly talented photographer Josh Marx a few days ago about writing a movie script. I know he's done some work on some movies and CMT-type things so he knows his way around a camera and the only things I know about movie making is what I've watched from the behind the scenes featurettes on my Lord of the Rings extended edition movies. Anyway, he hit me up today and asked if I would help him with an idea he has for making a movie called... wait for it... "Looking for Like" based on a series of craigslist missed connections. Or something to that effect.

We're thinking low-budget here, folks.

There wasn't even a doubt in my mind that I want to do this. Not a shred. Not a hint. Why? Well, partially because of the success of the aforementioned Juno. True story: Diablo Cody, writer of said film, used to be a stripper and blogged her way into writing a movie kinda. Why the hell can't I take a job (or, rather, collection of jobs that are, you know, just as fulfilling) and parlay into some sort of story? "To hell with it!" I say. Sure, there probably won't be as much glitter, vanilla scented body spray and issues with sexually exploitative relationships as her background has forced her to deal with but we'll see how things pan out. I'm not the type of guy who likes to over-promise and under-deliver... Don't rush out and buy gallons of Stripper's Delight Glitter just yet. Also, I'll probably focus more on the flower delivery side of things than the HR here at my 8 to 5. Chicks dig flower delivery guys. Or they think that they're all gay (I'm not... Sorry, gay guys reading my blog). At any rate, I figure that this is as good a time as any.

Let the bidding war ensue. Kidding. Kinda.

So, my dear readers, if you know me in real life a caricature of you may very well end up in this movie. Don't say I didn't warn you. If you want to sue me in advance, that's cool. I don't have much money anyway.