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[13 Jul 2009|11:24pm] |
ETA: Apparently I have independently reinvented sircritter.com! Oops. This is what I get for falling behind on my URLs-to-visit queue. So if you liked this, you might consider buying one of their shirts or something. I know I am.
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| Shameful Admission of the Day |
[13 Jul 2009|06:32pm] |
I think I'm becoming a fat bigot. Either that or LI bus passengers bring out the worst in me. A guy got on the bus. He had to have been at least 400 pounds. Long, greasy hair and a shirt that almost, but not quite, covered his whole hairy belly. He says to the bus driver, "Come on, man! Could you let me slide for 50 cents? It's too long to walk-- this is all I got!"
When the bus driver told him "No", he started asking the seated passengers. "Fifty cents, man. That's all I need. Somebody's gotta have a quarter! Nobody's got a quarter?"
The whole time I was thinking, "If you hadn't super-sized your every stinking meal, maybe you'd have that fifty cents."
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| to properly commemorate the anniversary of patrick stewart's birth (or: happy birthday, old baldy) |
[13 Jul 2009|03:06pm] |
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http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/wwdn/~3/YQoLt7qQudk/happy-birthday-old-baldy.html There are two ways that I can commemorate Patrick Stewart's birthday, today.
The first: And the second, which comes in two parts. The first part should illustrate how awesome Patrick is, and why I like him so much. The second part should remove any lingering doubt. This is from Chapter Seven of Just A Geek, which is titled A Sort of Homecoming. It recalls a convention appearance I did with Patrick, Jonathan and Brent in 2001. Wow, 2001 ... was I really just 29 when I wrote this? I guess I was.
A deep, commanding voice bounced off the marble floor of the hallway, and filled the room before its creator crossed the threshold.
“Are there Star Trek people in this room?” it boomed, “I just love those Star Trek people!”
We all turned to the door, as Patrick Stewart walked in.
Patrick is one of the most disarming people I've ever met. If you only know him as Captain Picard, or Professor Xavier, his mirthful exuberance is shocking. Patrick is one of the most professional and talented actors I've ever known, but he's also one of the most fun.
“Bob Goulet? I haven't seen you in ages, man! You look great!” he said to Brent, and hugged him.
“Jonathan Frakes! I am a big fan,” he smiled at Jonny and hugged him to.
He turned to me. “Who are you? You look familiar, but . . . I can't place you.”
“Wil Wheaton, Mr. Stewart,” I said.
He looked thoughtful for a moment and shook his head. “I'm sorry, but it doesn't ring a bell.”
“I was Wesley on Next Generation,” I said.
“Get out! You were never that young!” he said.
“Oh, but I was, sir,” I replied, solemnly, “I believe we spent some time in a shuttlecraft together.”
He nodded slowly, but remained unconvinced. “Go on . . .”
“That's all I've got, man,” I laughed.
“Wil, darling, you look wonderful.” he said with a huge smile. He held his arms wide, and pulled me into a warm embrace. “I am so happy to see you!”
He held me at arm's length, and looked at me. Even though Patrick and I are the same height, I felt, like always, that he towered above me.
“You too,” I said.
*******
This is also from Chapter 7 of Just a Geek. This excerpt picks up right as I’m about to wrap shooting on Nemesis.
The day is a blurred composite of images, and no matter how hard I try, I can't get my brain to separate them into individual memories. All I can clearly recall is how I spent the day spiraling around the Yin and Yang of joy and sorrow, until the director called cut on the final take.
"Thank you, everyone!" The First AD called out, "That is a company wrap for today, and picture wrap for Wil Wheaton!"
There was some polite applause from the crew, who really didn't know me, and some very genuine applause from Patrick and Gates, the only cast members who were still on the stage. They walked over, and embraced me. We knew that this was the real Journey's End for me and Wesley Crusher, but we didn't talk about it.
"I'm going to walk back," Patrick said to me. "Would you like to walk together?"
"I'd like that a lot," I said.
It was late, but not nearly as late as it had been the night before, and it was very cold as we walked through the "New York Street" area of the back lot.
"Remember when they built this for Bronx Zoo?" I said. "I used to come over here and pretend it was real."
Patrick slowed, then stopped. A huge arclight towered over us. Apple boxes and cables ran into the facade of a deli, and someone had left a styrofoam cup half-filled with coffee on the window ledge.
"When I first came here to audition for Next Generation," he said, "I didn't know if I'd ever get a chance to be on a backlot again, so I left the casting office, and spent nearly an hour's time walking round here."
He began to walk again.
"That's so weird," I said. "I mean . . . here you are, fifteen years later."
He smiled. "I know. I remember worrying that the security department would catch me, and I'd end up in a great deal of trouble!"
We laughed together.
"I've lost count of the number of times I had run-ins with the security department." I said. "Most of them involved dangerously speeding around the lot in a 'borrowed' golf cart, or playing music too loudly in my dressing room.
"I wish I'd been able to hang out with you guys when we were doing this every day," I said.
"Oh, my dear, you missed out on a great deal of fun!" His voice became excited. "The late Friday nights when we'd close down Nickodell's [A restaurant that used to be on Melrose, with a backdoor that opened right onto the Paramount lot. It was bulldozed for "progress" in the 1990s] were great!"
"Can I tell you something?" I said.
"Of course," he said.
"I really blew it when I was here before. I should have treasured the experience that I had working with you guys, and I didn't. I'm really sorry that I was such a dick when I was a teenager."
He stopped again, and put his hand on my shoulder. "Wil, my dear, you were a teenager. We all understood."
"Really?"
"Yes. And when we worked together, I always related to you as an actor, first, and you were a lovely actor. You know, I wasn't thrilled about working with a child, but working with you was a great pleasure."
What do you say to that? How do you respond, when it comes from the man who was, for all intents and purposes, a father figure, mentor, role model, and hero? If you're me, you say, "I'm so sad that this is over for me."
"So am I," he said we began to walk again. As we turned the corner and neared stages 8 and 9, I saw someone come out of the stage.
"Hey! That's Brad Yacobian!" I said.
"It is!" Patrick said. "Hello! Brad!"
Brad started as a First AD on Next Generation, and has worked on all the incarnations of Star Trek since then. He was working as the co-producer and unit production manager on Enterprise.
"Hey you guys," he said. "Are you just wrapping?"
"Oh yes. It's Thursday, you know." Patrick said. Brad smiled a knowing smile, and I laughed. See, production usually starts out with early calls on Monday, but the Screen Actor's Guild requires a 12 hour break for the actors between their release, and the next day's call time. So if we start at 8, but don't wrap until 10, we won't start until 10 the next day, and so on. This doesn't happen very often, because it's very expensive for the studios, and if a show isn't starting until the afternoon on Thursday, it usually means that the director is incompetent, the schedule is very complicated, or a little of both.
"Director or schedule?" Brad said.
"Schedule," Patrick said. He pronounced it with a soft "ch" sound, like "shelf." I suppressed a giggle.
"Who's working tonight?" I asked, hoping the answer would be "Jolene Blalock, and she wants to see you without your pants in her trailer right now."
Brad looked at his call sheet. "I think Scott is still here --"
"Is he in his trailer?" Patrick asked.
"Yeah. You want to say hello?" Brad said.
Oh my god. I'm going to stand with Patrick while he talks to Scott Bakula!
"I'd like to, yes."
Brad walked us to Scott's trailer. It was in the same place where Patrick's trailer was so many years ago.
That's a little weird.
He rapped twice on the door, and from behind it, a muffled voice emerged. "Yeah?"
"Scott, it's Brad. I have someone here who wants to say 'hello.'"
I thought back to all the times I heard this when I was on the other side of that door, and felt a little uncomfortable. The door opened, and there was Scott Bakula, in that cool Enterprise jumpsuit.
"Hey, Patrick! How are you?" He said.
Oh . . . they know each other. Interesting.
"I'm well," he said. "Scott, this is Wil Wheaton, he plays Wesley Crusher."
Plays Wesley, not played Wesley. That was cool.
He extended his hand and I shook it.
"It's really nice to meet you," I said. "How are you guys doing?"
"It's Thursday night," he said with a tired grin.
"Some things never change, I guess, " I said.
We all laughed.
"Listen, Scott," Patrick said. "I've been on and off the lot for several weeks now, and I should have come over much sooner to say hello to you."
"Thank you," Scott said. "I've seen you pass by several times, but I've always been too busy to say hello myself."
They talked for several minutes about the things that you talk about, I guess, when you're the captain of the Enterprise. I remember Patrick said, "You're doing a wonderful job," and I realized that he was having the conversation with Scott that Shatner should have had with him in 1987; he was passing the torch to -- well, to the next generation.
I looked at Brad, and before either one of us could say anything, his walkie said, "We're ready for First Team on the bridge." How many times had I stood in this exact spot, and heard those exact words, over the years?
"Gotta go to work," he said. "I'm so glad you stopped by. I'll come over and visit you . . . are you on 16?"
"Shortly," Patrick said. "We're on 29 until tomorrow, then location."
Scott shook my hand. "It was nice to meet you."
"You too."
"Have a good night, you guys," Brad said, as they walked into the stage. He keyed his walkie and said, "I have Scott, and we're walking . . . "
I turned to Patrick. "That was very cool, man."
Patrick just nodded.
We arrived back at the dressing rooms. My trailer was farther away than his, so I said, "I guess this is goodbye."
"Not goodbye," he said. "Farewell." Happy Birthday, Old Baldy. I miss you.
 
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| ...and the livin' is easy. |
[13 Jul 2009|12:34pm] |
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http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/wwdn/~3/TdzuLD0EU0Y/and-the-livin-is-easy.html Hey, remember when I posted stuff in my blog every day and we all had a good time while learning? It's a distant memory, but if you squint, you may be able to pick it up. Anyway. It's summer, I've been working on awesome projects that I can't talk about, finishing up awesome projects that I've talked about a lot already (Memories of the Future, special edition of Happiest Days, etc.), and since Ryan came home from school and I have my whole family together under one roof again, I'm not especially motivated to stay at my computer after I'm done working, you know? To close some tabs, though, please enjoy these things that are all related: Indie Kindle Author lands book deal Author Boyd Morrison sold two books, the first one called The Ark, to Simon & Schuster. Boyd uploaded and sold the books himself and raised awareness for his novels by being a member of Kindle Boards and generally self-promoting. He will be published in hardcover in 2010 and is working on his next book featuring swashbuckling adventurer Tyler Locke. Kick ass, Boyd Morrison! I hope your experience in traditional publishing is better than mine was, and I hope you'll keep your fellow authors informed about your experience. Author Michael Stackpole: "I don't worry about pirates." Bestselling novelist Michael Stackpole says he's making great money
selling fiction directly off his site; he doesn't worry about pirates,
"People downloading my stories from the big torrent sites were never
going to buy them anyway. It's no money out of my pocket."
I have a similar philosophy, and I consider myself tremendously lucky to have the kind of relationship with my customers that I do. Sunken Treasure has gotten some incredible reviews at Lulu: I hadn't read any of Wil's books, and "Sunken Treasure" seemed like a
good place to sample his writing. My favorite chapters were those about
his childhood - the bad Star Wars trade, the arcade games, auditions.
There's something about the way he captures the true sense of those
times and weaves in pop cultural references so naturally. In those
chapters, I forgot I was reading and was totally drawn into the
storytelling. It felt like being there. I also liked the chapter which
was an on-set diary about a recent acting job - a very open and
engaging account of how it happens and what it's like.
Wil's writing is very honest, clever, vulnerable, raw, and
unprocessed. He's not afraid to show his doubts or fears, and he's not
embarrassed to share his highs. It makes him very real and very
likeable. After reading this sampler, I wanted to know more about him.
Finally, I simply appreciate the fact that this is an independently
published work. I think a lot of people shy away from self-published
books because they're concerned about unchecked quality. The writing
here is terrific and there is a feel of integrity and control in
presenting it.
So...yeah, that's pretty awesome. I love it that so many readers enjoy
Sunken Treasure, and the biggest complaint is that it leaves people
wanting to read more (kind of the idea, but don't tell anyone I said
that, okay?)
This morning, Twitter user @KenMcConnell said: "Wil (@wilw) Wheaton's Sunken Treasure used on Scribd page for ad copy. Cool for him! http://bit.ly/19Y18W" I grabbed a screenshot, because it's one of those things I kind of want to remember when I'm in the adult diapers stage of my life. If I haven't kicked the everlivingshit out of this dead horse, allow me to take a few more whacks (slow, then fast): publishing with Lulu has been a fantastic experience for me. It's easy, the quality of the final product is fantastic, and it frees me up to do the creative stuff I couldn't do when I was fulfilling orders in my living room with the occasional help from my friends and family. If you're considering publishing, I suggest you give Lulu serious consideration. When I was in Portland, working on Leverage, I spent all of my non-acting time writing stories. When I wasn't writing, I hung out with John Rogers and talked about writing stories. I'm not sure if I grew a level, but definitely gained a whole lot of XP: I wrote a short story that I love (to be released in the near future after I give it a second draft and Andrew applies the Red Pen of Doom) and began work on another that shows at least some promise. Ryan just wandered out of his room and sat down next to me on the couch with his laptop. "Dude, you have to see this!" He said, pointing to something on the screen. "Who is this is?" I said, glancing up from my own laptop. "Check it out!" He clicked the mouse and flipped the screen toward me. This is what he showed me. "Dude..." I shook my head. He giggled. "I totally got you." "You totally did." It's really great to have him home. 
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[13 Jul 2009|03:12pm] |
( Aubrey looks at fish! )
( Aubrey feeds a dolphin! )
( Aubrey takes a nap! )
Long story short: we took a week off, went to the zoo and Sea World in San Antonio, roasted in the sun, and had fun. Aubrey loved Shamu; I've never seen her like a show that much. She ooed and aahed, clapped her hands and laughed, and crouched way down and jumped when the whales jumped. It was hilarious.
There are other stories, of course, but those will do for now.
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| YCC's gonna get it. |
[13 Jul 2009|12:24pm] |
What prompted the additional information in my last entry is a conversation I've had with YCC at least three times.
"Wow, look at her/his/your feet! That's weird! Do you think they/you were burned as a child?"
"You've grown up with black people all around you. Don't tell my you're just now noticing the contrase between the no pigmentation part of the foot and the melanin rich part."
"My feet aren't like that."
"You have no pigmentation on the soles of your feet. You are also fishbelly white on every other part of your body. Also, have you not noticed this same feature with black people's hands?"
"That feet thing is just weird and gross."
"Oh no you di-int!"
Poll #1429175 Who you callin' 'Whitey'?
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: AllDid you know that white people have no pigmentation on their palms and soles? Did you know that black people have no pigmentation on their palms and soles? Once you've figured the pigmentation thing out, would you
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| Ruben Blades... |
[13 Jul 2009|12:10pm] |
I'm still nagging my dad to get some tickets for my mom, as my birthday (and anniversary) present to them.
Just today, I realized, they have added a new date... November 21st, in Miami.
Now, I was already planning on going to Miami for Thanksgiving, leaving the Wednesday of that week... But now I'm reaaally tempted to take a couple of days off from work (I won't have class that week anyways, it is a school holiday), just so that I can be there that Saturday and attend the concert.
Mmm... tempting... If only I knew they would be coming to Atlanta, I wouldn't be so interested...
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| Filthy beast, that's what I am. |
[13 Jul 2009|10:56am] |
There is now sparkley bling on the bottom portion of the door. The bling was grouted with black grout. And now my fingernails are grouted too. As are the tips of certain fingers. No amount of scrubbing will remove the blackness. No, the tips of my fingers aren't black naturally. There is no pigmentation on the palms of my hands. Nor underneath my fingernails.
One day I'll learn to use gloves when doing dirty work.
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| Not our fault and most definitely not mine! |
[13 Jul 2009|07:43am] |
One day I'm out and everybody gets in trouble. Let's see if I can simplify this. There was one case, Larry, Daryl and Daryl's case, that three of us were tasked to that had to be finished by this Thursday. On Tuesday (the 7th) Manhattan Boss put 3 of his fastest on the case-- me, TomTom and Cementhead.
Meanwhile, the case Pokeman and TomTerrific are finishing up ran into a problem client. This case is very complicated and had major revisions on how it was being read (a fun but frustration case to work on, btw). On Thursday a client called and was pissed at how we interpreted the plan of allocation. Pokeman transferred the call to Lawyer Guy. This is what is supposed to be done. He's the number 2 guy. Only he doesn't really know what he's talking about. Or how to say it. Which is kinda off for a lawyer. Anyway, he said exactly the wrong thing and had the client running straight to counsel. If there's one thing the bosses hate it's claimants running to complain to counsel (as they are the ones who pick the claim administrators).
The upshot of all of this was that Manhattan Boss spent all of Friday trying to fix this. At one point he called for me and then Cementhead to do some quick spreadsheet work-- and we weren't here. This pissed MB off to no end. He told Larry, Daryl & Daryl that he no longer had until Thursday-- he wanted it finished by Monday.
Little did MB know that it's all over but the dance party. We'll be finished before lunch-- this we knew before MB pushed the date up on us. Still it's our punishment for Lawyer Guy being a clueless big shot, Cementhead for having a step-kid with MS and me for getting a sciatic attack all on the same day.
P.S. My fucking ass is KILLING me!
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| Wonderland and hair dye. |
[13 Jul 2009|07:27am] |
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mood |
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 cheerful |
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 This weekend was Amy & Katie's birthday party! There was a scavenger hunt/photo thingie, TONS of food (why didn't I take a picture of the food table? It was gorgeous!), awesome costumes and great people! It was super fun! If you click on the picture of the beautiful birthday girls, there, you can see my collection of pictures from the party. (Did I mention that they both made their costumes? Well, Katie borrowed the corset, but her skirts were homemade -- Amy made that jacket!!)
 Here are the cupcakes I made for the party! Lemon Yogurt Cakelets from SGCC, with cherries subbed in instead of blueberries. Yum! Is it bad I ate them for breakfast the next morning? (yes, yes it is.)
Other than the party, not much happened during the weekend! Lots and lots of housecleaning. Bleh, being an adult sucks. On Sunday, I went to redye my hair. Usually, I can go two weeks between coloring, but by Saturday I had chunks of blonde in my hair. I'm giving the color the benefit of the doubt though, and figuring that maybe I just messed up the dye job. But when I went to buy another box of it, they were out! So, since I had to put *something* on my hair, I got a box of blue. As soon as it's faded a bit, I'll put some more lavender in. I didn't like the hot pink it faded to, anyway. Maybe I'll like it better with a blue base.
Have a great Monday!
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