Quote of the Day...

...from the Mann House (screenplay style)

ALEX and DAD sit side by side watching television in the Mann family basement.

DAD
This is gonna be a good game...

My stepmother, JEANETTE, is on the first level and approaches the stairway to the basement, and yells at the two males while hovering over the basement entrance.

Jeanette
(V.O.)
Did someone use the new toilet!?

Dad and Alex look at each other.

Alex
I didn't use it...

Dad
Yeah, I used it, why?

Jeanette
(VO)
They're still working on the new bathroom! It's got pee in it!

Dad
Hey, I know! I was careful with my aim....

Dad shrugs and Alex and continues watching television.

Scene.

...maybe you had to be there...

Leather Jacket/ Writing a Screenplay/ the Problem with Food Network Challenge

So, as I peered into my walk-in closet in my basement room in my parent's new home in Omaha, I was greeted by the clothing rejects that didn't make the cut for me to bring to college. I also saw an old friend in the form of the world's best leather jacket. I wore it when I was 11 years old when my dad didn't want it anymore and the copper leather arms out-lengthed my own. It made me feel like Tom Cruise from Top Gun. Well, 10 years later, th jacket was still in my closet, unworn for probably 8 years. I tried it on and it looks like one of those shorty jackets girls think are fashionable. And you know what? I still feel like Tom Cruise (the good Tom Cruise).

I wore it around today and I felt pretty BA. Although, I can't wear it around forever since its A)old and B) too small for me. So, I want a new one of the exact same thing, but I think they stopped making them like 15 years ago. So, I've been scowering the internet for one...it just sucks because the jacket pre-dates the internet, so I don't really know what its called or where to look for archived Banana Republic clothing. Wish me luck...

So, my step-uncle as got me reading his novel, which is pretty cool. He says he re-acquired the rights to make it into a move and wants me to write the screenplay for him. So, over the past couple of days, I've been reading it. Its pretty impressive that he wrote this thing...I know from writing my own fiction stuff (mainly screenplays) that it DEFINATELY ISN'T EASY. Trust me. When I'm writing, I'd usually rather be doing something else- and I mean anything else. Like watching Home Cooking with Sandra Lee or something. Anyway, the point is, writing a novel is a horrible pain, and I'm proud he was able to do it.

Unfortunately, I don't feel like it works as a screenplay because of it's sparse conflict. Meaning, should I try to adapt it, the story would be radically different. I'll be honest, I'm not really sure what to say when he asks 'what do you think?" I'm not for lying, but I want to be truthful about the story's shortcommings. If you have advice, please tell me...

Lastly, as I was reading the novel last night, I was watching Food Network Challenge- more specifically the one in which the chocolatiers have to make 4 ft replicas of world landmarks (Taj Mahal, Eiffel Tower...) completely out of chocolate. Its not my favorite show, but its pretty cool how talented these people are. The one thing I wonder, though, is this: If there are so many starving people in the world, why are we making a 100 ft. Mickey Mouse Sculpture out of popcorn? Or why a gigantic cake made to look like Ursula from The Little Mermaid that wont get eaten? I feel like this show is wrong because it wastes A TON of food that doesn't necessarily have to feed the whole of Africa, but could be used for homeless Americans, at the very least. I'm not a real politico, I just wish our culture could spot this. I mean, is art really worth this kind of amount of massive waste? Especially when we have millions of needy? I love Food Network, but I can't bring myself to watch this show anymore.

Though I have to admit, the Eiffel Tower out of Dark chocolate was pretty bitchin'

Old-maha- tales from a Midwestern Spring Break

Well, I hope you jerks are happy with your bikkinis and one-pieces. Sure hope Spring Break/Girls Gone Wild/ Crazy MTv Craziness Spring Break is a happy one for ya....

Because I'm here in Nebraska (yes, its still a state...) for mine. And because my parents read this blog now, I'm having a FANTASTIC time (friends, call me, we'll discuss this when I'm not being monitored like Hannibal Lecter in Silence of The Lambs)

It's been pretty relaxing so far. I've slept till 11 TWICE! I'm reading a screenplay and book and I've played video games, all while being the butt of most of my father's jokes (apparently he's not too fond of my major).. .

Although, I have to say, the weather's been tropical for an Omaha winter...50 degrees the othe day!

Is that a TAN, Alex!?

Why...um, no its not...shaddup.

I pistoled whipped my dad at HORSE...five straight games. Yep, I can finally beat him. Needed him to have some cardio problems to do it, but, hey, I'm finally the best basketball shooter in my family.

Other than that, I've O.D.-ed on iced animal cracker cookies (ADDICTION!), judged everyone walking down the red carpet for the Oscars, and have been offered to marry my cousin...well step cousin, actually. (I know I'm bad with girls right now, but I'm not this bad off).

To all of my friens in Florida and elsewhere: Have a heart and please take some pictures of beaches and/or beautiful women in bathing suits for me. Thank you.

Quote of the Day

Italian clas:

Girl trying to read a simple Italian sentence:
"Io stre....st...st..I don't...st..st.."

Italian Teacher:
"Oh god, I vant to keel myself..."

I know how he feels...not that I'm brilliant in Italian, but it hurts when someone messes up EASY stuff. It was a classic moment. I love Italians.

Parents: Go Away.

It appears as though my parents have found my blog.

How did they do this? They created a facebook profile, searched my name, and found the link.

Then they denied it, until I told them that I had a tracker on the blog.

...wow, some people have NOTHING to do.

The Feigning Excitement Hall of Fame

So, my stepmother, Jeanette, (who is a saint) just took my grandmother (her mother-in-law) on a three day trip to San Fransisco. God knows I love my grandmother, but I'd rather spend a long weekend in solitary confinement. And I'm pretty sure Jeanette would agree.

Apparently it wasn't the torture I envision as they basically ate the whole time. Its ironic because my grandmother's only love in this world is food...and she's a former anorexic. How sad. That'd be like me denying myself sports or checking out girls. Life's already too hard. I couldn't live without life's natural luxuries.

Anyway, I encourage you to look at the picture above. Look how gracious and happy my stepmother looks (she's the young one, if you hadn't guessed). There's no way she's that happy about being there. Uncanny. Also, its debatable to whether or not my grandmother likes my stepmother (which is crazy because my stepmother is the best person in the entire world). How are women so good at hiding the fact that they'd rather be somewhere, ANYWHERE, other than where they are? I mean, sure if they're really pissed off you can tell in all kinds of body language like pursed lips and crossed arms, etc., but still. Goodness knows I could NEVER feign a smile like this. You'd basically have to inject me with happy nerve gas to get me to smile. And even then it wouldn't look half as genuine as it does on my stepmom. If there were a hall of fame for people who could fake liking people, it'd be my stepmother. We're talking first ballot, like Cal Ripken Jr. or something.

Spring Break '08 Only Four Days Away

Well, you think you're gonna have fun in Florida or Alcapulco or on that cruise you booked with all of your BFFs, but I'm having a way wilder time for my Spring Break.

I'm going to Omaha, bitches.

Yep, a week with the moron twins (the affectionate name I gave to my dad and stepmom), old people, and utter nothingness is just what the doctor ordered. To be fair, I need somewhere to relax and actually do nothing, so this might actually be OK. Plus, my dad's making up for it by taking me to Dodger Stadium in May, which is pretty sweet. If you desire anything from the endless fields of corn or the delightlfully simple plains of Nebraska, just let me know. I'll steal it from an unsuspecting old person for ya...

So, it appears I'm getting worse at Italian. Its getting to the point to where I can barely read a passage out loud in Italian class. I read it like its written in Hebrew, which I can read, just not well. Not good, Alex.

So, for an after-workout snack, I happened upon the Insomnia cookie truck parked outside West Quad. Pretty good...for being baked in a truck. Why is it that things cooked/baked in/on something on wheels are so good, but so bad for you? Mmmmm...street food.....

Punishable By Death

So, this morning I was rudely reminded of one of life's little annoyances to go along with ugly people PDA, people chewing with their mouth open, and the overuse of "like" in modern English conversation...that being false fire alarms. But there is good news: I think I've found out how to remedy this inconvience and stop having morons misuse the fire alarm. Two ways, actually. The first being lethal injection. Yeah, I don't think I have to elaborate on that one. The second being this, since I believe the offenders are most likely all males. I say we secretly video tape the fire alarm levers so that we can identify these god-less perpatrators. Then, we kidnap them, blindfold them, and drive to the nearest federal pen (who'd be in on operation: bitch is a compliment), and force them to "drop the soap" in the shower right next to the prison's largest (and sex desperate) inmate.

So, you think waking me up is funny, huh? You like pulling the fire alarm like its NEVER been done before. I'm glad, because for the rest of your miserable life, every time you hear a fire alarm, see the fire alarm lever, or probably even hear the word "fire," you'll see and smell the billowing clouds of the post-coidal smoke Tiny took after romancing you in the prison showers.

Me? Bitter? Nah....

Ok, obviously I'm not crazy and I don't want to go to this extreme, but I do want the madness to stop...I hate loud noises, being prematurly woken up, and having to go out into the cold because you thought you were being funny. How about the whole of West Quad get to line up, execution style, and pelts the perp with snowballs while naked. I think that sounds fair...

The Gym

One of my favorite places on earth is the gym. Its a place I can go and get away and feel good when I leave because I did something good for my health. Running on a treadmill or elliptical allows me to listen to my iPod, weightlifting gives me the feeling of being ripped, and playing basketball is plain fun exercise, provided I'm playing well. Some of my best afternoons were spent in gyms, clearing my heard or beating friends at one-on-one. Of course, some harder times have occurred in them too...the blowup between me and you-know-who comes to mind. But alas the gym has always been a fundemental part of my routine.

And its taken on many variations in my life. During my teens starting out, it was Perimeter in Atlanta where the assholes there didn't like me playing basketball. Signature in Dallas was OK, until they sold it to LA Fitness and thus ruined it. Then came probably the most memorable which was the Cardiovascual Rehab Center in which I was the youngest memeber-- by about 50 years. It was all old people because it was actually owned by a hospital and ws primarily there to help old people rehab...you can imagine the horrendous sight in the locker room. Yuck! Oh, and when I'd shoot baskets, the old people watching on their little excercise machines around the court would stop and give me standing ovations upon made baskets. Made me feel like Kobe Bryant. Good times.

Then came SMU (you wouldn't believe the co-eds...), and of course the Premier club (you wouldn't believe the co-eds...and the assholes who'd be there hitting on them).

And of course, now I work out splitting my time between Michigan's CCRB and IM Building...of which I prefer playing basketball at the IM Building but like working out at CCRB better.


So, a few things have struck me in the CCRB this last week. First, a dude in the men's locker room was drying off using the handblower things. I'm not kidding, stark naked in the middle of the sink area with 3 blowers point at his nude body. Yeah, disgusting.

The other thing that always strikes me about the gym is how great a girl-meetng opportunity it is, yet nothing ever comes from it. Take the treadmill for instance. You're running in place next to people you don't know for like 30 minutes. You're next to the same person for half an hour, why can I never take advantage of this!? I was on a treadmill next to a GORGEOUS girl today, but I didn't make a move, I didn't know what in the world to say. It's a travesty. I never know if hitting on a girl on a treadmill is wanted: I feel like they're too much of a captive audience. Plus, apparently Men's Health, my personal bible, says girls at the gym are self-conscious because they're so dressed down and sweaty. What's my move here? I always feel like a loser for not being able to make something out of these seemingly ample opportunities that present themselves daily.

This to go along with such sticky situations such as picking up girls in class, on public transportation, in the dining hall...etc. Being a guy sucks.

Good Dreams

Last night I dreamt that a tall, buxom, kind, beautiful brunette visited me on my last day of college to say 'hello' and hang out. And no, it wasn't the buxom brunette you might be guessing...it was Jennifer.

If you don't know who Jennifer is, she's the first girl I ever liked when I was a 15 year-old in Atlanta and she an 18 year-old high school graduate. I met her in a photography class in which I was the only boy (and the only person under 30, save Jennifer). My stepmom was also in the class and mocked me endlessly. She was the most beautiful girl these ever have ever seen...and thus she was the founder of my inability to talk to girls I like....you know, the thing where I forget to speak English because I can't think straight in the face of feminine beauty. So, amazing looking in fact, that it sparked the phrase of evaluating girls physical appearance in which I'd say "She's no Jennifer" when my dad or someone else would point out a lady they thought was pretty. And trust me, some really pretty girls got "She's no Jennifer," that's how beautiful Jennifer was (on the outside. I didn't get to talk to her TOO much, but I can assure you, she was really nice). Anyway, I didn't ask her out because I was embarrassed because I couldn't drive, but she remains, in some ways, as the yardstick by which all other girls are measured.

I love dreams where you wake up happy. So often, I wake up upset...mostly because I have to go to class, which I detest or because I'm sort of lost in life. This morning, I woke up remembering that there was once a time in which I actually liked a girl not named Kate (not that I like her anymore, you know what I mean), which makes me feel good. One day, there'll be another Jennifer, and when she comes, I can bank on my driving abilities, so I'll have no reason not to ask her out this time.

Today, I'm thankful for good dreams. Obvi.

Ahh! My Head's Going to Explode!

So, I have this massive STATS test tomorrow, and I'll be honest, I have no idea what's going on, this the eve of test. I haven't had this feeling since I was a junior in high school about to take a physics test. Or a sophomore in high school about to take a chemistry exam. Or a freshman about to fail one of my high school's famously difficult biology tests. See a patttern? Yeah, I'm not good at the math/sciences. Why can't I be tested on things I'm good at, like enriching dinner conversation or Madden on the XBox? School sucks.

Sooooo, this afternoon I thought I was about to welcome Jason Kidd back to my beloved Dallas Mavericks only to find out tonight that Devan George selfishly blocked the trade because he can do so. I've never disliked a player on my own favorite team so much in my entire life, what a little cry baby bitch. Mr. George is a free agent this next summer and wishes not to be traded because if he were traded, he'd stand to make less money (its hard to explain, but true). Devan, I've got news for you: you suck. You're not sniffing the court next year unless you're a coach, a ref, or a ball boy. My money's on ball boy.

So, my friend Rachel is coming to visit this weekend which will be my first ever out-of-town visitor. I feel honored. I was always jealous of kids who had a bunch of friends visit them. Well, its my turn, but I dunno whats cool to do around Ann Arbor. I'm open to suggestions....

Which makes me think. I remember a conversation I had with either my stepmom or my dad (or both) a couple months ago in which either or both of them told me to "just have fun." To which I replied "Yeah, fun isn't my strong suit." Which I think is sad. But I think I'm learning a little. I think my quest to have fun is progressing, just slowly. Maybe by the time I graduate I'll just be a "drag" instead of "stick in the mud" like I was at the beginning. Can't knock progress...

Today, I'm thankful for tissues, because I have a cold.

Warning, Ojectionable Material...

I love it when things come with a warning label. I think it makes people pay closer attention, when supposedly it asks you to turn your attention away. Who actually turns away when they hear a disclaimer? Not me. I remember one such episode on SportsCenter waaaaay back to like 1993 when a basketaball player disagreed with a ref's call and the SportsCenter commentator, who had previous knowledge of the clip, said "Don't look at his mouth!" as the player clearly mouthed "That's bullshit, you asshole!" To which the SportsCenter anchor responded "I think he said something about dances with wolves and the digestive system." Classic.

And I know what you're thinking..."Did I decide to read Alex's blog today because of the warning only to have him only talk about warnings?" Not to fear. I have something possibly offensive up my sleeve. I'm gonna premier a new concept. Ready? Excellent.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give to you the concept of the 'non-sexual erection.' Actually, ladies, you might not totally relate to this, although, as I understand (in truth, I don't understand, I just happen to know) you have a similar process of genital stimulation, but I digress. What is a 'non-sexual erection,' you ask? Well, it's basically when you get really excited about something...let's say like you find out you're going to a really nice restaurant or you've just recieved some sort of great news. The excitement is so overwhelming, it affects you, uh, physically...to the point it kind of turns you on.

Examples? Well, since it is my blog, I'll give you some non-sexual erection moments from my life. The Boston Red Sox win their first World Series in 86 years and I was a fan of theirs (obviously, pre-living in Boston days). Non-sexual erection. Trying French glacier (ice cream, which is actually a tad better than Italian gelato). Non sexual-erection. Getting a STATS problem correct. Non-sexual erection. Anne Hathaway. Non-sexu...oh, wait, real erection. Well, I think you get the point. I think it works.

So, I'm having terrible trouble getting up in the morning. I was a solid 7 minutes late to my first class today. This after having been a solid 10 minutes late to my first class the day before. I'd have to say, I HATE getting up in the morning. Its so cold outside, why do I have to leave the warmth of my bed to be lulled back to sleep by a droning German professor? To add insult to injury, I was dreaming of cuddling with Inga, my stunning yet imaginary Sweedish girl friend....I didn't even get to say goodbye...

Wait? Really?

So, I was watching my obcession (Food Network) and I saw they did a mini-feature on the show Unwrapped (which is underrated in the pantheon of Food Network programming) on a UofM professor who teaches a class on chocolate. WTF!!!?!? Why haven't I heard of this? This is going right to the front of my fall semester backpacking. I will steal, cheat, lie, and kill to get in that class. Did someone say Suma Cum Laude?...I did my honors thesis on Count Chocula...sweet!

By the way, the Dove bar is named such because the Dove is a Greek symbol of love and peace and their founders were from Greece....just in case you were, ya know, curious.

So, I finally sorted out one of my life's conundrums. I'm going to London to celebrate my mom's 50th birthday right when I get out of school THEN go to California for some fun in the sun/ internship business. It seems minor, but working that kink out is a big step for the near future. Now to find the love of my life and figure out my passion. For the record, I'm open to suggestions.

My parents offered to send me to cooking school when done with college, in France none-the-less. I don't think I'm going to take them up on it...the food business seems a little too daunting, and this is coming from a person who hopes to break into Hollywood, but its a cool concept. Although, I'd love to do nothing but cook all day. They said my birthday present is actually a week long cooking course in either France or No Cal right after I graduate next year, so I have that to look forward to.

So, my newspaper screwed me over today as I spent 11 hours covering tennis this weekend, only to have them cut my 500-word story to oh, you know, 30 words!! Yeah, sucks.

But you know what? I'm turning this into a positive. In the past, I would've walked into the newsroom and verbally kicked someone in the nuts; however, today, I'm going to take the high and understanding road. I'll stick with them despite what happened. I mean, I don't get paid, so they really wasted my time, but I'll just say this weekend was experience and hopefully never again will they do this to me. Here's to growing up a little...which is what I'm thankful for today.

Alex and the Christian Holiday of Lent

I know what you're thinking: "Alex, aren't you Jewish?" Yes, I am. Yet, in honor of Lent, celebrated by many Christian friends of mine, I have decided to give something up for a month. Starting today, I am taking a hiatus from making fun of people. While certainly a funny and effective part of my sense of humor, I think I've utilized poking fun at people to adnauseum and am trying to stop. I can, however, make fun of myself. So, at least I can always bank on that. If for the next month you find me humorless, just know I'm trying to build myself into a better person.

Sam's reaction: "If you're not going to make fun of anyone, then there's no real reason to hang out with you anymore."

...great

So, the other day in Screenplay as Literature class, the quote of the semester happened. In class we read scripts, but we don't always see the movies we read. So, this one kid was talking about the script for The Big Lebowski and I expected him to say "I haven't seen this movie." But what actually came out of his mouth was "I haven't seen this movie...sober." Classic.

Today, I'm thankful for the fact that spring break is so damn early. I really need some time off.

The Last Thing I Would Say If I Won the Superbowl Is...

"I'm Going to Disneyworld." Why? Because I hate theme parks. More specifically, I hate the rides. Who wants to be purposefully scared? Not me. You know where I'm going after I triumphantly lead my team to a world championship? Probably to the bathroom then to sushi.

Unfortunately our IM basketball team lost today, completing our season at 0-4. At least the suffering is over.

My XBOX is apparently on its way back from getting repaired (or at least, so says the UPS website). It feels like a long-lost family member is coming back home. Would it be too much to wait by the mail room for the UPS guy with a banner that says "Welcome Home!"

Tomorrow is a huge day for Michigan football as it is national signing day. This could determine whether we'll be good next year or if we'll suck. Please pray we get our man.

Today, I'm thankful for my new-found gift of gab. I'm actually pretty skittish at talking to people I don't know. But after observing my father closely in the past few years (he's not really the king of talking to people he doesn't know, he's more like an Earl), I've picked up on some of the neuance of this skill. I think I'm getting better and I think people are starting to take notice. Cool.

I'm Terribly Sorry If This is Offensive...

But I dislike penis-shaped food, e.g. hot dogs, Coney dogs, popsicles, etc. I particularly hate corn dog day in the cafeteria-- it looks like everyone's giving a bj. And trust me, some people you just don't need the image of their, um, felactial talents. The next time you witness an ugly person chowing down on a hot dog or popsicle, you can thank me for that wonderful image.

I also love root beer. Not Barq's or A&W or any of the really commerical stuff. I prefer the kinds you find in Whole Foods that looks like it could have been made in the back of someone's Chevy....mmmm, that's the stuff.

I've almost mastered the beginning intro of "In My Life" by the Beatles on my guitar. I'm pretty proud of myself....even though it is 6 notes long. I really need lessons....

Today I'm thankful for my room. 314 Cambridge House will again be my home next year, meaning it'll be my permanent home during my tenure at Michigan. I know what you're thinking: "Only losers live in dorms when they're seniors." Point taken. But there are undeniable positives. I figure I have the world's best roomate (oh, I don't have a roomate! yay!), I have my own bathroom, and its situated in the perfect part of this campus. Other than the cost (which is expensive) living in my room is kind of great. And if living great makes me a loser (shut up, mom), then so be it. You're just jealous of the Penthouse! And that's what I'm thankful for.

Food Network Husbands

Do I really need to see Rachel Ray's husband on their love fest through the streets of Barcelona? Do I really need to see Giada take a lunch-time picnic basket to her husband Todd (or, as I lovingly call him, "f-ing Todd") and make goo-goo baby eyes at him for 20 minutes? I hate it when Food Network (which I love) shoves their stars' love lives in my face. In a way, I'm surprised they didn't show the, achem, after-meal when Rachel Ray and her husband John finished their Tapas in Spain. And what do I really hate? When these lovely ladies marry loser-low lifes. I'm pretty sure if you added the manliness factor of Pussy Todd and F-ing John together, they wouldn't come close to my heroic man-ness.

So, I woke up this morning to the following phone message from my father:

"Hi Alex. Um, I went to shoot baskets this morning at the gym. First time since my [heart] problem. I shot great. Look out, because when you come here, I'm gonna kick your ass. Hope you're having a good day." [click]

I know I make a lot of fun of him and he ruthlessly makes fun of my love life, but I'm thankful for my father. God knows I can't live with him anymore, but I'll miss him when he's gone.

So, I Guess I'm a Wild Child Now...

I drank my bi-annual cup of beer last night. And I remembered the minute it hit my tounge why I only drink non-wine alcohol only twice a year. Seriously, people, why beer? It sucks. It's like fizzy horse pee. Yech! Why can't it be cool to drink something good, like orange flavored Stewart's pop or taro flavored bubble tea? Did somebody say bubble tea pong? You like it. No. You love it! If someone wants to challenge me in a bubble tea pong tournament, I'll take you on. Booyah.

In other news, I got published in the Daily for the first time, cut my hand on a chain-link fence, ate my first BTB churro (the jury's still out on them...), and celebrated Gentz's birthday by going to dinner with a ton of people. Seriously how do people get so many friends? I can only hope that many people attend my funeral. Afterwards, we got ice cream (yes its 40 degrees below zero outside, but ice cream still tastes great), watched the office, and inquired to random girls if they'd give Gentz a lap dance. I didn't get a yes. What's a brother gotta do to get another brother a lap dance!?

Oh well, hope it was a happy birthday none-the-less, Gentz.