Gloves are off! Bring on The Glass House!

ABC developed a new reality show called The Glass House that’s coming to a TV near you! Well, yours or a neighbor’s… unless you watch your favorite shows online, in which case it’ll be on your monitor… then again, you might not own a TV, computer and don’t live near anyone… how the hell are you reading this?!

The show actually led to a lawsuit from CBS because they claim GH resembles its long-running reality show, Big Brother, just a liiiiittle too much. It doesn’t seem like the lawsuit will prevent it from airing, so websites about the show have been springing up all across the Interwebs.

One of those sites, teamsteph.net, was created by some of my friends in Mensa because Steph is a member as well. (They decided to jump into the pool of social media hip-deep by creating a Facebook page and a Twitter account, too.) Personally, I’ve met Steph before, but don’t know her very well. However, she’s a close friend of some close friends, so I was happy to join the group and offer support and/or reality show-based insights.

Apparently, at least one person took objection to their preparation before the show hit the airwaves. Major objection. The blogger behind “Fat Grandma’s Glass House” went on a tear about how the creation of Team Steph was sabotaging her chances to win already. I’d include a link to that site, but 1) I can put a picture of the blog post on here instead, and 2) I don’t want to drive web traffic toward a person who probably hates my guts.

Note that this is an audience-driven reality show where people get to vote online about a bunch of stuff that will affect what happens in the Glass House. What really drove “Fat Grandma” around the bend was Team Steph posting suggestions about how people should vote, choices that they thought would benefit her on the show. That’s the summary—I’ll let you read the entire rant on your own.

Anyway, when I found out about said rant, I decided to go to the website and add my own two cents, which promptly became four cents, then eight… probably a full quarter by the time she said she was done responding to me. Yeah, it was kind of an extensive exchange.

So the reason for this blog entry isn’t bragging rights. It could be, but it isn’t. See, I’ve been known to adopt the role of “Douchey McDouchebaggerson” in the past and I’m wondering if I was making legitimate points or if it just sounds like I was being a dick. I think I’m right, but all of you would look at things a little more objectively than me under the circumstances. Thusly and therefore, if you’re in the mood to do some more reading, head over to the next page and see what you think. (The picture is a full-sized webpage, so you can click on it to zoom in… you know, in case you want to be able to actually read it.) Continue reading “Gloves are off! Bring on The Glass House!”

Not-So-Safe House

I saw the movie Safe House recently and thought it was pretty cool (assuming you like conspiracies, car chases and people getting shot at). However, there was a confrontation with a bad guy that… well, the person who was watching the movie with me didn’t see exactly what happened. This blog entry is a spoiler, so you may want to skip reading it until you’ve seen the movie. Or if you’re not going to see it because you don’t like conspiracies, car chases and people getting shot at. Continue reading “Not-So-Safe House”

Dear Davy Jones: Please stay dead.

I Am A Zombie
(Parody of “I’m A Believer” by the Monkees)

I thought the living dead were only fairy tales
Good for terrifying kids in their sleep
Death was going to claim me
It would eventually
But then my worst fears came to be

I won’t rest in peace, now I am a zombie
There are no thoughts left in my mind
I’m undead, I am a zombie
I wanna eat brains all the time

I thought that death was supposed to be a final thing
When you passed away, that was the end
Then you’d get cremated
Or buried in the ground
When you were six feet under, you stayed down

I won’t rest in peace, now I am a zombie
There are no thoughts left in my mind
I’m undead, I am a zombie
I wanna eat brains all the time

Death was going to claim me
It would eventually
But then my worst fears came to be

I won’t rest in peace, now I am a zombie
There are no thoughts left in my mind
I’m undead, I am a zombie
I wanna eat brains all the time

No, I won’t rest in peace, now I am a zombie
There are no thoughts left in my mind
Yeah, I am… braaaaaaains…
(I am a zombie)
(I am a zombie)
Braaaaaaains…
(I am a zombie)
Braaaaaaains…
(I am a zombie)

Let William Shatner Eat Cake!

I’m not sure how many details I can provide at the moment—I just made a Facebook page about this and I’m feeling kinda burned out. The short version: William Shatner is coming to the Twin Cities to perform a show at the Orpheum Theater on March 15th (“Shatner’s World: We Just Live In It”). Marie Porter is a huge fan and also an excellent cake designer. Click on her name under “My special love-monkeys” and you’ll see what I’m talking about. Since he’s coming to the Cities, she wants to make a cake for him (she hasn’t decided on a design yet, but it probably won’t be a Klingon Warbird—wouldn’t want to freak out Captain Kirk when the cake arrives).

Making a Facebook page worked to get Betty White to host Saturday Night Live, so I decided to do the same thing and see if that helps the cause. Thus, the Let William Shatner Eat Cake page. If it works, I’ll write about it and post some pictures on here. If it doesn’t… wouldn’t be the first time I’ve wasted a couple hours on Facebook with nothing to show for it.

Look, Mom! I’m on TV!

Best Buy was shooting a commercial at the Gophers’ outdoor football stadium today and I volunteered to help out. Part of the reason I volunteered was because they were paying us. (“Will work for free as long as I get some money, too.”) I had a really bad experience working on a commercial before, but this was different. For one thing, they were paying us twice as much. They were also offering overtime of $18+ an hour past eight hours. For another, they also gave us real food as opposed to a tiny little boxed lunch. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Call time was at 7:00am near downtown Minneapolis, which meant I wasn’t going to be getting stuck in the middle of rush hour traffic. At least I didn’t think so. It’s been a while since I’ve driven into downtown in the wee hours of the morning. And when I say “a while”, I mean “never”. Thankfully, traffic moved really well, so leaving at 6:00 got me there about 6:30. I checked in, went inside the stadium and sat down at a table to start filling out paperwork.

I have to say that after doing extra work and little stuff like this for so long, it’s kinda cool to see random familiar faces here and there. “We were in [blank] together, right?” Since I had a while to wait before we got started, I spent some time wandering around the room and said hi to a few people.

There were close to 100 extras there, so it took a while for everyone to get their paperwork done. I’m not sure how they made their initial selections, but there was a group of people who went up into the stands first and the rest of us joined them 20 or 30 minutes later. I was really glad I was in the second group for one very big reason: it was cold outside.

I know, it’s Minnesota, I shouldn’t be such a whiny baby, but when you’re sitting on a hard plastic seat in an outdoor stadium and it’s… the temperature was in the single digits when I left the house, so it was still pretty cold. Plus we were planted in our seats not moving around much for about four hours, which is plenty of time to have the warmth sucked slooooowly out of your body. Thankfully, I acquired some long johns at the last minute, so by the time we went back inside, the only part of me that was really cold were my toes.

As we were filing up the stairs into the stands, I was walking next to a couple people I knew, thinking that I’d get to sit next to them and chat. There was someone standing on the stairs in front of us pointing down the row: “One more…” and then it was me, so I had to go up to the next row and abandon most of my friends. I ended up sitting next to someone from the first group; thankfully, I already knew him, which was good for two reasons. 1) We could chat during the shoot; and 2) we shared some mutual suffering the entire morning. Going through that on my own would have sucked big time.

See, we ended up sitting directly behind someone who might be referred to as “an attention whore”. That in itself isn’t a big deal, but when the camera is pointing in his direction (as it was for the entire morning since he was sitting a few rows behind the main actors in the commercial and in line with the camera), it gets ugly. During the course of our suffering, we thought about trying Ritalin or a little electric shocker in his seat to zap him or just punching him in the back of the head. I don’t know if any of those would have worked, but when the assistant director said “Action!”, it was never a question of “Will he do something this time?” It was “What will he do this time?”

We were supposed to be at a football game, jumping up and cheering when our team scored a touchdown. They wanted us to mime the scene a couple times (action, no sound) and he yelled something anyway. Just before “the touchdown”, I’d lean forward in anticipation, whereas he’d be bouncing around or jerking backward in his seat in spastic movements (“He’s having a seizure! Tip his head forward so he doesn’t swallow his tongue!”). When we sat down after the touchdown, I’d turn and fist-bump the guy sitting next to me while the dude in front of us… a lot of times after the AD said “Cut!”, I’d just put my head in my hands and groan.

And maybe the worst part about his post-cheering antics was that he’d be flailing his arms around in slow motion. If the scene isn’t over, you’re supposed to keep moving and you’re supposed to keep moving in real time. Hey, our hands were moving in real time as we mimed breaking open tablets of Ritalin or pushing a button to give him an electric shock. The scene was always over when we did that, but still…

They gave us a break at one point so the crew could move equipment around—in doing so, they moved the main actors into the row right in front of the attention whore. Literally, he could have patted their heads. (He only did that once to someone during his post-touchdown antics, so we figured that was out of his system.) What I don’t think he realized was that they were doing a close-up shot of the actors, so all the camera could see was his lap or maybe as high as his chest. I don’t think he realized it because he didn’t stop moving.

Not only did he not stop, he kept going after three requests from the AD to not move his hands or bounce around… three requests! Three! The final solution? Everyone in that row was instructed to move two seats to the left. I’m not kidding. They moved everyone two seats to the left so he wouldn’t be in the shot anymore. I had been in line with the camera the whole time, but I was very good about sitting there and looking out at the field. I might or might not be able to see my shins if they use that scene in the commercial, but at least they got a couple good takes without the attention whore in there.

I probably would have been more aggravated about this today, but we wrapped just before noon. We were scheduled for eight hours (plus overtime if necessary), but instead, we were on set for about four. Even better, they had a hot lunch to fill our cold tummies that was waiting for us when we got back inside. Salad, lasagna, chicken breasts, garlic bread… way better than a sandwich and an apple. (“Will work for free as long as I get some money, too. And food is bonus points.”)

So today was nothing like Buffalo Wild Wings. Admittedly, I had to suffer watching an asshat work (what he thought was) his magic in front of the camera, but at least I didn’t suffer alone. Plus I got paid more, ate a better meal, I had time for a nap this afternoon… yeah. So no love/hate relationship here, which is good considering how much money I’ve spent at Best Buy in the last month or two. It would be way too cliche: “After everything I’ve given you, this is how you treat me?!”

You Better Watch Out

I went to see an Expressions show tonight in downtown Lakeville, mostly because three of the actors in this play were also in Mind Over Matt. I had a good time, it was cool seeing the guys again and a bunch of us had fun chatting at Applebee’s afterward. However, I had a question for the director about the end of one scene that took him completely by surprise.

It took place on Christmas Eve at a bed and breakfast with a handful of people staying there, one of whom was Santa Claus. The owners had invited her father for the holiday, he had turned into a big old grouch when his wife died and Santa wanted to instill the Christmas spirit back into him. During the first act, we see the wife and her dad continue a family tradition of lighting candles, putting them on the mantle of the fireplace, then letting them burn until they go out on their own.

An actual tradition I’ve never heard of before—the director told me about it at Applebee’s—is turning down the lights before blowing out candles on a birthday cake. Thus, at the end of a scene (after the candle lighting), one guy looks around, turns down the lights, starts quietly singing “Merry Christmas To Me” to the tune of “Happy Birthday”, then blows out the candles and leaves the room.

A very important note about the stage setup: the light switch is behind the coat tree. To turn the lights down so he could blow out the candles, he had to reach through a bunch of coats. When he did, one of them moved. Then he walked away from the coats singing “Merry Christmas To Me”. Basically, what I saw was this guy singing because he just gave himself a Christmas present: a wallet that was in someone’s jacket pocket. And boy, if that was Santa’s jacket, you’re damn right you better watch out.