DAY 361: Expand your vocabulary: Find a word you don’t know and write a bit about it.

For maybe my final vocabulary thinger, I’m pickin quandary. It means uncertainty. Like this blog. My friends don’t even read it. Besides my parents (thanks ma!), anyone else out there?

Shit mayne…dag gone ba donger ding. (beat) I don’t know if I’m gonna take the challenge and repeat this again in 2013. I’m trying to cut back, like the number of fantasy leagues next year. Like on other shit besides the important shit: Archdale - production/post-production (including researching distribution/prepping for film festival submissions - media kit, financing), finishing 3 scripts, maybe some improv classes (consistent this time! all 6 weeks in a row? can it be done), put on the Hitman play (Kilby collaboration) in the fall/winter, start organizing my writing kit to send out to lit agents in 2014, including finishing the TV pilot and spec script for the kit.  But most importantly…MJW Careers. I can’t wait to just dive in all day on that!

Cheers to making it a good 2013!

DAY 357: Write about winter.

The winter is a time…for FANTASY FOOTBALL! ZIP, ZIP, ZOINK, BAM, CLINK, DOINK, DINK! That’s right! Who cares about snow when you can be a winner of a fantasy football league! Hell yeah, I’m in! Welp, take a look. I won F’ers! I freakin won! Only happens once in awhile and this year I did it! Me! You can see the final scoreboard of the season above. I beat the shit outta my friend Brooks in the championship. The funny thing is that we played each other in 2 other Super Bowls. This is our third time going head to head. Prior to this, we were split at ones. Now, I reign supreme! $1200 whoppers! Woohoo!

DAY 341: Edit some of your older material.

Here is an edited scene from a pilot I’m developing about the HR recruiting world. Fuk format!

INT - MANUFACTURING FACILITY - DAY

HOT SALES GIRL (25) walks into plant. Pan from left to right with all those different boxes across the screen popping up 2 at a time until whole screen is filled w/ 8 boxes (so the screen begins black and lights up as she walks past…each box represents another disaster from MALE WORKERS watching her walk through.)

BOX 1: Guy on towmotor crashing into wall.

BOX 2: Welders lifting hat up and welding sparks getting on face and eyes.

BOX 3: Guy dropping heavy hand tool on foot and wearing no steel toes—-make it known that the company doesn’t provide steel toes or hard hats due to expenses cutbacks.

BOX 4/BOX 5: Guy drops box from top area and it falls on Guy below who isn’t wearing hard hat.

BOX 6: Guy turning blue because of material handling chemicals, because he took off his respirator mask to see lady.

BOX 7: Guy falling off ladder.

BOX 8: 2 Guys running into each other and papers going everywhere.

CUT TO:

INT. BOSS’ OFFICE

Hot Sales Girl is meeting with BOSS (55). Hot Sales Girl is blabbing and cue his narrative in his mind of what he’s thinking.

Boss: Man, I wanna get some of that.

Closeup of upper sweating lip and eyebrows. He puckers and licks his lips; tugs his balls; rubs his sweat off; starts bobbing his head; grinding teeth and then more grinding teeth; starts making donkey noises out loud.

FIREMAN (45) enters room and extinguishes him off, hosing him off with extinguisher foam.

DAY 335: Write about the worst winter in your life.

The worst winter of my life was the one between 1980 and 2006 in Cleveland.

DAY 315: Expand your vocabulary. Find a word you don’t know and write a bit about it.

Today’s word is propulsion. It means momentum or progress and that’s how I feel about our small production company. I have 4 other guys that are so fuckin passionate about film and creating, that it makes me smile thinking of all the shit we’ll accomplish together. Now at first, with 5 heads, it was tough to agree and come together all at once. We definitely had different visions for our Vision Breeze Productions company. However, as of recently, things took a nice turn and it’s starting to clear up. We are all committed again and feeling 100% assurance over the direction we decided to take the company. Not only that, in a night out of brainstorming over some $1.75 PBRs, we realized more avenues we can pursue to capitalize on our plan even more. It’s exciting and the fire is spreading more than ever since we started together back in July. Stay tuned for more notices as we continue to grow. And if your band wants a music video or a promo video or a live taping, contact me (216) 246-9900.

DAY 314: Reedit some of your older material.

Here’s a scene from the upcoming Dale Archdale feature. Edited of course and formatting is crappy because it’s a damn blog.

INT. RICK’S ROOM - SAME

Rick is sitting back in a computer chair masturbating to women’s tennis. His pants are around his ankles.

DALE (O.S.): Rick!

Dale busts in the room. Rick falls out of his chair.

DALE: Jesus Christ Rick!

Rick frantically gets up and pulls his pants back up around his waist.

RICK: Dammit Dale, I’m lonely.

DALE: I’d say so! You’re jerkin it to the Williams sisters.

Rick fastens his belt and sits on the edge of his bed.

RICK: I get turned on by them sounds they make when they serve the ball. Plus you know I got the jungle fever.

Dale shakes his head.

DALE: Whatever. I found a way we can save the trailer park.

DAY 312: Add all new bits you’ve been working on to your material list.

Done. Here is a review I received from our play we’re performing in Wilmington!

Highs and Lows

Local playwright’s latest music and comedy hits both

Local playwright John Grudzien presents “Music and Comedy,” a double bill of one-acts at Big Dawg Productions’ Cape Fear Playhouse through the 11th. The evening is composed of a song-and-dance number,

“Beef: The Musical,” and a comedy, “When I Last Saw Davy.”

“Beef: The Musical” follows the adventures of young Patrick Sherman (Matthew Stephen Taylor) home from his freshman year of college. Sherman is working at the local grocery store, and as fate and hormones would have it, he develops a crush on Tina Loton (Tori Keaton), the confused young check-out girl. The grocery store’s atmosphere is dominated by an unspoken rift between the two butchers, Bill Valzano (Doug Shaw) and Tony Guerra (Matt Warzel).

It is the early ‘70s, and the expected tension between the Nixon-loving management and the rock ‘n’ roll-loving Tina and Patrick is addressed in my favorite song from the show, “Sorry, But I Like to Rumba” sung by Matt Warzel. Grudzien wrote the book and lyrics for the show and collaborated with John Sullivan on the score. Sullivan brings a beautiful and responsive ear to the music for “Beef,” which underscores the longing and confusion of its two main characters.

Wilmington audiences are very lucky to have the opportunity to see multiple original productions a year from Grudzien. Though we watch many straight plays produced as original works, it is rare to see a musical workshopped or debuted locally. Though not unheard of, Frank Trimble, Steve Cooper and Bryan Putnam have mounted several original musicals between them. I tip my hat to anyone who does the work and takes the chance to produce an original script—doubly so for a musical. It is a monumental amount of work and a terrifying experience to bare yourself. That being said, “Beef: The Musical” is really at a workshop stage, and from an audience point of view, this can be fascinating.

More than any other art form, theatre requires the creator to see and hear it from an audience perspective. They need to hear the jokes, watch for the tears and feel the audience sing along with the show. This cannot be attempted in an office space alone.

As a playwright, Grudzien strikes me as being on the brink of a breakthrough to the next stage of his career. Right now, though, he needs a team of collaborators. Working with Sullivan on the music is a great step forward. In addition, I think “Beef” needs an insightful director and a choreographer for its next production in order to see it evolve into itself fully.

Tori Keaton as Tina does a wonderful job of manifesting a very confused young lady as seen from the perspective of an even more confused young man. Matthew Stephen Taylor looks like he could be a younger version of Grudzien; with sandy blonde hair and medium build, he radiates a quirky kindness. He encompasses all uncertainty the age 19 brings.

Mostly, I was surprised that for its time period, the draft never gets a mention, which would seem to be a Sword of Damocles for all young men then. Patrick, though confused by life, women and expectations, seems very carefree for someone who should have a lottery number for Vietnam. That having been said, he brings a strong introspective quality to his character that rings true in his interactions with other actors. Suzanne Nystrom’s cameo appearance as the older lady loosing her car but not her zest for life, is a high point in the show.

The second half of Grudzien’s bill is a one-act titled “When I last Saw Davy.” It opens in Rick Hinton’s (Charles Auten) artist loft on a Saturday morning. He answers a knock at the door to find a young lawyer named Chloe Mallard (Terrie Batson) who hands him an urn containing his best friend’s ashes and informs him he is executor of Davy’s estate. Within minutes, his loft has filled with the deceased’s former wife (Lynette O‘Callaghan), step-mother (Suzanna Nystrom) and Davy’s other best friend, O’Brien (Matt Warzel). Warzel, is an incredibly talented comedic actor. Both his rendition of Tony the Butcher and O’Brien, the cartoon-watching, cereal-munching goof, are delightful. He has a fearlessness on stage that makes him irresistible to audiences. Auten does his best as peacemaker with a group of emotional and bickering mourners. It’s a tough job to be the guy in the middle at such a delicate time, but Auten has a soft, almost hypnotic voice onstage. He does wonders for focusing attention and bringing everyone back to the task at hand: Davy’s funeral.

Besides trying to navigate the waters of the mourners, Rick Hinton is taken with the young lawyer Chloe Mallard. Batson is a stunningly talented comedic actress who will go to any length to get a laugh. Seeing her in a very calm, understated role is a nice demonstration of her range of ability.

Mallard is also attracted to Hinton, and they are quietly trying to feel this out while the storm of grief rages around them. It is fascinating to watch this cool, quiet discussion in the background—even more so if audiences know Batson and Auten are a couple in real life.

Grudzien has a wonderful ear for writing comedy. If he teamed up with a really good comedic director, like Steve Vernon, his scripts would blossom even further. Both he and his work deserve a wider audience, and the refining process that comes through workshops and early productions. I look forward to seeing “Beef” and “Davy” again for a second run.

DAY 307: Free associate on what’s going on in your life right now.

OH, ABOUT BROWNS LOSING SEASON AGAIN - It’s why we’re blessed as Cleveland fans. We might not win, but at least I only have one city across the board of all sports whom I favor. No fairweather fans in Cleveland and no “oh, I like Duke, the Cowboys, the Lakers, the Yankees…” — SHUT THE FUCK UP! We Clevelanders deal with our blows and we’re one for all. I kinda like bagging on NC fans and how they are down here. I can’t tell you how many people I know who like a melting pot of teams. I do understand - half of them didn’t grow up with the exposure to one bag of teams like I did. But it still makes me laugh when they argue sports. It’s nice to have an identity.

DAY 232: Edit some of your older material.

CAR HORN - How about when your car horn not collecting your anger! if someone cuts me off and I wanna use my car horn, I go to do it and it goes “beep” real pussy-like and you’re like FUCK! Why cant I have a freakin semi or tanker horn? I want it to sound like a lion and it sounds like the damn road runner. I want it sound like Russel Crowe in Gladiator and it sounds like Mark Wahlberg in Italian Job.

DAY 227: Write a piece “roasting” yourself.

Hardy, har har! Look at me, I’m Matt Warzel, a giant fucking bear, ready to attack you with verbal assault. Hey guys, hey guys, listen to my awesome, funny story that no one gives a shit about. If Warzel came through the door, let me know, because I’m gonna head out. I’d rather listen to Cyndi Lauper talk to the pizza delivery guy  than hear another snoozer about the mid 90’s Cleveland Indians. If I have to go to another Browns game with that asshole and listen to him complain, I will seriously Clockwork Orange him with a TV, rotating the shows Growing Pains and Blossom until his fucking eyes explode from the ad nauseum. It’s like “yeah, we know you’re on Weight Watchers, but you might want to get those wings naked, ‘cause you’re still a fat fuck!” “Hey, let’s all go swimming with our shirts on” is what I really wanna say when I’m dominating the peak at the beach with the fatass. If his goal is to make it in the film industry, then my goal is to create the first ever fart/cough/yawn/sneeze, because they have about the same chance in happening. I just wanna tell him to pack his shit up, move to fucking Singapore and annoy the Indians with his Indians talk. Maybe they’ll give ya some fruit, because that’s all you should be eating, brah.

DAY 215: Write a bit about something in nature.

I’ve never done this before, but today I’m sharing a Dale Archdale script. It’s for “Tenter to the Stars,” coming in early fall. Again, fuck format and pronoun usage, it’s a comedy blog. And I promise it’s the last OIive Garden meme.

DALE: Tired of life and you just wanna say “Fuck it, let’s go to a National Park and try not to get rear-end fucked by some bears”?

Close-up of LADY 1’s face.

LADY 1 (nodding): Mmm. Hmmm.

DALE: Your man away and you need a man’s man to do an eagle scout’s job and camp the shit outta some nature?

Close-up of LADY 2’s face.

LADY 2: Yeah.

DALE: Well fucking call my ass.  I’m fucking Dale Archdale, the tenting torchbearer.

CUT TO: Dale sitting there in chair drinkin beer and lawn fishing, while J puts the tent together.

QUICK CUT: Her struggling (do 3 takes of various stuggles to get the tent up)…then it’s up.

DALE: Bout time. I was getting bored just watching you.

Dale walks past her into the tent and she’s standing there tired as shit.

DALE: Get in here and put up my tent pole now.

CUT TO:

DALE: I don’t like this spot…break it down and move it over a couple feet…hurry up, real quick!

CUT TO: Blue screen. Background is a random summer scene.

DALE: Oh did I fucking forget to mention that I was the chapter president for the 1991 KOA striped bass fishing to fight Sam Goody’s flawed forearms with only split shot, night bobbers and worm harnesses frenzy freakout fanatical friendly fever for featured fitting financial fortress fights? Now you want me to dress up like the Shoney Bear and get our furry on?

CUT TO: Dale is against wall.

DALE: Lesbians love camping. It reminds them of what could be.

Closeup of hotdogs being grilled.

CUT TO: Dale is trying to rub 2 sticks together to start a fire.

DALE: How did Kevin Bacon do this in White Water Summer? Fucking Bacon, man.

QUICK CUT: Dale tosses the sticks, squirts the lighter fluid, throws a match and flame erupts.

DALE: Boy scouts are stupid.

ARCHDALE WHISPER.

CUT TO: Close-up of Dale holding “Time Out” VHS tape in one hand along with box in other hand.

DALE: Every gore-tex grill brush set comes with a free copy of Time Out with Arsenio Hall and Magic Johnson!

CUT TO:

DALE: I hate when people say ‘awkward’…Shut up ya dick!

CUT TO:

DALE: You like grilling wieners. Well I got one for you to fire up and smoke…c’mere bitch!

Dale chases after her, jumping over the fire.

CUT TO: Dale is standing there by fire pit.

DALE: The African tribes are pussies.

He walks through the hot coals and fake fucks the air giving a thumbs up.

DALE: Pancake titties. With fresh maple syrup from Crocker Barrell.

CUT TO: Dale is squatting in woods and shitting.

DALE: Best part of camping. Spreading a little of me all over nature.

CUT TO:

DALE: Watch out for big burly bears.

INSERT: Generic clip of bear running through woods.

Dale is running from bear, pushing Jamie out of way, and continuing to run while she is laying on ground.

CUT TO:

DALE: Hey Progressive, Flo’s annoying as shit! You’ve done been on my nerves for 3 years running.

In tent, Dale puts the fan towards him.

DALE: There we go.

CUT TO: Dale is laying there in tent freaked out by noises.

DALE: Go check it out!

Cut to her about to leave.

DALE: Don’t forget the lantern.

Dale hands her the flashlight and showers her with 16 D batteries.

CUT TO: Dale is fishing with her.

DALE: Put my worm on. There’s only certain slimy things I’ll use my fingers on.

She hesitates.

DALE: C’mon, don’t be a wussy.

She hesitates. Cut to Dale putting the worm on with the big hook thingy we have.

CUT TO: Dale catching fish, throwing it in air, and trying to hit it with stick like it’s a baseball.

DALE: Fish ain’t hooked on no feelings.

QUICK CUT: Dale slamming beers, J offering bug spray, Dale hitting it away, burping, slamming beer, singing, slamming beer, falling over, sleeping, waking up with Bug bites all over me (use red lipstick)

CUT TO: Dale has bug bites on him still (red lipstick).

DALE: So if you need a wigwam enthusiast, give me a call, Dale Archdale, I don’t fuck around.  Mmm, here comes that slice of hair pie. Yeah.

DAY 204: Pick a style of comedy you don’t use often and write in it.

I decided to do a couple campy/cheesy jokes today, using puns.

1. A blonde receptionist is sitting at the front desk of a Dentist office, reading US Weekly and her boss comes in and asks “What are you doing?” She responds, “Uh, reading this magazine.” He says “That’s for people who are waiting.” She says, “Yeah, I’m waiting for people to come in.”

2. Fat girls are the “Rudy” of screwing…they’re all heart and no natural ability.

In honor, the above meme is a pictorial version.

DAY 195: Write an essay on your comedic style. Don’t skimp.

I f’n love swearing. I f’n love ranting. I f’n love making fun of morons. I f’n love making people who think they’re cool feel like an idiot. I f’n love calling people out. I f’n love watching people or crummy TV that I hate just so I can complain about it later. I f’n love bagging on Ben Rothlisburger (spelling his name is stupid too). I f’n love telling Steelers fans to suck a D. I f’n love yelling at people in traffic and then honking my horn at them to make them feel like a stupid driver. I f’n love complaining about bad acting in commercials. I f’n love listening to marketers pitch their products to me so I can know what it feels like when I make a sales call. I f’n love people who don’t listen when you’re talking so then I can wear my emotions on my sleeve and make it awkward during the next conversation because I still feel awkward from the last conversation when they weren’t listening to me. I f’n love golfing well and rubbing it in my friend’s faces hoping the golf Gods aren’t listening. I f’n love betting and winning and rubbing the win in people’s face. I f’n love loving the Browns and complaining about them the whole season. I f’n love bagging on ex QBs. I f’n love playing with parent’s dog and then complaining when his saliva and hair gets all over me. I f’n love telling people how awesome it was to live in LA and Cleveland, but then realize I live in NC. I f’n love threatening that I will move out of NC, but know that the beach is only 3 miles away. I f’n love going to places to eat that have a reputation, and say “yeah it was good!” even though it was “eh” but in the back of my mind I’m like “I wanna like it.” I f’n love listening to music that sucks and thinking it’s catchy in the back of my head. I f’n love watching the sky and then freaking out about life. I f’n love watching people who don’t like sports complain about not liking sports, just so I can continue talking about sports in which I know they could care less about. I f’n love watching movies that suck and telling people that it sucked when I know they liked it. I f’n love telling people I hate certain famous people and they say how much they love them, so it makes me complain even harder about how much I hate those famous people. I f’n love getting chills on my arm for cool stuff, even though the people I’m talking about the cool stuff to do not think it’s cool. I f’n love writing this blog even though I know no one reads it.

DAY 194: Write a comedy piece in the past tense.

There once was a man named Sam; who liked to listen to Wham; when he was banging Pam; and right before he would jam; into her chopped ham; he would standup from the slam; flex his muscles for his hidden cam; then hop back into the wigwam; and ka-bam! He would splam his abraham into her damn clam. Whim-wam! Pam was yet another victim of the internet porn scam.

Above is the new Dale Archdale: Stock Analyst to the Stars

DAY 191: Try your hand at writing stand-up.

Done. Here’s my complete set for this week…

HISTORICAL WILMINGTON - Wilmington’s a nice, old town.  Nice blend of youth and tradition.  I love how these college kids are coming outta bars all hammered and they end up puking all over the alley.  You wonder “he just yacked where a revolutionary war soldier mighta died”.  Then his buddy comes out and pisses his name all over the wall and you wonder “did General Lee’s horse take a shit there too?”  You know George Washington probably slept where the girl is getting finger blasted by the black dude she just met at Goodfellas. It’s funny to combine carelessness with sacrifice.  I hate people who don’t appreciate history. It’s like when the National Anthem’s being sung at a bar before kickoff for a Team USA soccer match, and some bonehead won’t stop talking about his new iPhone to some broad who just wants free Stolis from the asshole.  Drives me nuts! Show some pride, ya dingbats! Show some appreciation for the flag and what it stands for! And stop acting like you’re partying in college! You’re in downtown Wilmington.  1739! Some guy sacrificed his arms and legs for you to get a $1.75 PBR.  So at least wait until you get back to the dorms before you blow the guy ya just met.

BEACH - I love going to the beach. Big beach goer.  I’m like a kid at the beach.  I show up, spread my arms while my wife lotions me up, then I run frolickly towards the water (imitate running like a pussy, arms spread open). But I’m sucha pussy at the beach! (Wimpy like) “These shells are so hard on my feetsies” as I’m walking into the ocean looking like I’m trying to avoid stepping on a land mine, I’m like my wife when I’m going in the water.  I’m kinda like “Oh, ow, ow.” (imitating stepping on shells). Until I get to the even sand part and then I’m like “arg, elevation” (imitate walking down steps). Looking around for weird shit like jellyfish. “Ooh, get away!” I’m one of those guys that used to wear those water shoes. Right, remember those guys who wear the shoes into the actual water? I’m wearing a t-shirt so my fucking mammies aren’t hanging out. I’m such a pussy at the beach. The worst is when I’m walking into the water and I start doing a tippy toe into the water because it’s “oooh, it’s too cold. It’s starting to touch my belly button.  Ooooh. It’s so cold up here.” (point to tits).  You know the guys that are masculine. They run past you while you’re still fighting the shells and dolphins dives into the first wave they see.  Why can’t I be like that guy? Oh you need a barbed wire tattoo and love going to Goodfellas? Gotcha. OK, OK.  That makes sense. Ahhhh. I love shitting in the ocean. Yep, I said it. Why walk all the way to the Neptune, when you can feed some bottom feeders? My reasoning is that it ain’t a pool and uh…well I gotta shit. So all of you tonight who look down on taking a deuce in the ocean, let me remind you of this…Thomas Jefferson’s wife mighta taken a dump in that very same spot too and that makes me feel like an American.