It's an account of my upcoming week in Florida, as told before it even happens! Amazing!
It was completely unreal, and I've been involved in some pretty unreal shit lately. Hours of straight interviewing with my family.
They conducted two main interviews... one with my parents and then one with me alone. Then they did an interviewy thing where they sat us down and talked about old photographs for a while. All three of these interviews were extremely long, unexpectedly long.
And of course they asked me gallons of serious, depressing questions... but I think I was much more comfortable on camera this time... I'm getting used to the cameras. I'm getting used to the corny b-roll stuff. Getting the mail, typing at my computer and what not. I'm getting used to them sticking microphone packs down the back of my pants.
The correspondant was really, really nice... here she is here.
Of note: My interview was conducted with me leaning against my kitchen sink.
This is going to come out really, really good and as I said... I think it's going to open doors for us left and right. It airs next Friday, March 5th. The show is highlighting the success stories of Jared, Wayne Knight (who has apparently lost a lot of weight now) and us. There it is... we're right up there with Jared now.
Also... there is now an official launch date for the Food Network series... May 9th. It's part of their Sunday morning health block... noon on Sundays... which really scares me... I don't know how well shows do at noon on Sundays. But we were told to expect this from the first season... and that the second season would move into primetime.
I have to pack now...
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Another strange project to throw into the mix.
Also Adam Wekarski and I are talking about starting a comic book. That's a whole different thing altogether.
Today, I have a zit on the side of my nose. The acne elsewhere is somewhat less distracting, but still a problem.
Tomorrow, we will have no makeup trailer. No makeup woman.
Today, I bought a makeup-ish product. Oh sure it's placed in the acne medication section to not completely ashame people like me... and that's real nice of them to do... but I know the truth. What I speak of, is Neutrogena's On-the-Spot Blemish Wand. Or as I refer to it... concealer with acne medicine in it.
So it really does tone my acne down to a pleasing level and also it raises my metrosexual level to ridiculous heights. Whatever... I don't care. I'm a tv star now... it's what has to be done.
MY MOTHER: What nice shirt?
ME: The one I wear a lot. It's got makeup on it, from the filming.
MY MOTHER: Yeah. Okay.
ME: And blood. There's some blood on it.
(pause)
ME: And coffee. I spilled a drop of coffee on it.
This is all going down from 10am to 4pm... a six hour shoot in our house! I should probably make my room presentable... just in case.
THEM: We'd like to get a few shots of you in your own element. At your computer, whatever.
ME: Sure thing, just take a step over this mountain of clothes on the floor. Also, do news crews readily use the word "whatever?"
So... funny thing... Food Network HAS NOT started getting word of the show out to the media. They're not ready yet... seeing as the show doesn't premiere for two more months. But it was the CBS crew that filmed the special that told 48 Hours about my father's show, resulting in the story on my family.
So in a way... 48 Hours is launching the show. Food Network is now scrambling to get information out there quicker than before... they'll have to have the show's information up on their website... they could even bump up the premiere date because of the early press...
I mean, this is the first public mention of the new show... and it just so happens to be on a show with millions of viewers... who needs a press release?
Offers from other news/talk shows will no doubt start flowing in and basically, all hell could break loose.
Also... I should mention the Food Network is sending footage to 48 Hours... so next Friday, we could get an early glimpse at the show itself.
Thursday 48 Hours will be filming a story on us in my house. A motherfucking primetime news magazine, folks!
I know they're going to ask me really serious questions. Now then, what's the most attractive way to explain how crappy being fat was?
It's going to air a week from Friday on CBS.
It must have been true. It must be why I'm so contemplative now.
ME: By the window, I don't care.
MY FATHER: Okay, but where in the plane? Not by the wing, right?
ME: Yeah, that's fine.
MY FATHER: Front or back of the plane?
ME: It doesn't matter.
MY FATHER: If you crash into a mountain, the back of the plane has a chance of breaking off and sliding down it, and you would have a chance of surviving.
ME: Yeah, but if I didn't survive, I would be alive longer to realize what's happening and die in horror.
MY FATHER: But I think someone actually survived that way. I think they pulled a baby out of a plane. Maybe it's just babies though.
ME: But who gets off the plane first? The front, yes?
MY FATHER: Yes.
ME: Then I'll sit in the front and hope that we don't crash into a mountain.
MY FATHER: But if there are terrorists, they'll cut the throats of the people in the front, because that's where the action is. That's where the cockpit is and that's where everyone in the whole plain can see them cutting the throats.
ME: I'll sit by the wing then.
Coming to Kissimmee a day earlier now... Friday afternoon, yo.
Bweeeeooop. Bweeeooop. Bweeeooop.
The alarms sound strange today.
I sometimes wonder if I made an album and never realized it... and then accidentally shit on it a couple times... and then labeled it as Radiohead's Amnesiac album.
Today we ate dinner in South Norwalk and it was expensive. Today we were recognized from the special. Today nothing else happened.
The makeup trailer was a modified RV and craft services was two packages of berries and a block of cheese sliced by my father.
Everyone was young and kind of just chilling.
The only thing that seemd professional was Rochelle, makeup and wardrobe woman extraoridinaire.
All of this had me very worried. This was nothing like filming the show.
But once we started filming things went over well. I saw that they were definitely good at what they do and fast enough that we barely needed that RV. We were done by 9 am!
The cinematographer won best short at Sundance a few years ago.
They had Anthony and I doing the absolute cheesiest things... I'm talking popping up from behind a pile of oranges, throwing green beans, disorganizing the bell peppers.
We were yelled at by the produce guy for playing with the bell peppers.
It's all a good kind of corny though. One where we can all sit back and get a hearty laugh each and every single time the show is on.
Also, I must say that organic vegetables are very dirty looking. And I must also say that organic vegetables are sometimes very, very tiny. They love their miniature gourds and their cauliflower heads that are smaller than a tennis ball and two dollars each. I wanted to know what cauliflower that costs a dollar a bite tastes like... but oh well.
Also, New Yorkers don't even give a shit when you're filming in their produce section. They'll just push the cart past the cameras, past the lighting rig and then kind of lean right over you to inspect an eggplant, right in the middle of a shot.
So I feel it came out really good and my worries were unjust. And also... one of them took Anthony and I around the store afterward and bought us health food that we wanted. Free is good. Needless to say, I had the weirdest lunch of my life because of this... fruit leather, soy chips and steamed soybeans.
I leave you with a picture of the Concorde Jet, taken from a moving vehicle.
Or to really get down to the nitty-gritty of things... why previews on a DVD are evil, but mortgage ads on my milk jug are not.
Lost in Translation... a mighty fine film. Absolutely wonderful. A DVD I could watch over and over again. A DVD with previews I have to watch over and over again.
This is a terrible trend... DVDs with preview after preview that you are not allowed to skip. You think you'll just press that menu button, but they've disabled that as well.
The them I speak of? They're what I will dub "Preview Phantoms" and they are in control now, bub. So sit back, press fast forward and watch your nifty DVD player temporarily become a VCR... only someone forgot to make fast forwarding a DVD as smooth as fast forwarding a tape. And also, every preview is a seperate title on the DVD, so you'll have to re-push that fast forward button in between each and every one.
The Preview Phantom phenomenon is one I've been accustomed to for some time, as it occurs on all pornographic and Disney DVDs. Because when you've got your dick in your hand or a child screaming for Bambi... that's when you're dying to be forced to watch previews!
So now then... on the reverse side of the coin. Big ol' mortgage ad on the back of my milk jug. Big honkin' thing. Lendingtree.com Come on over to Lending Tree, get yourself a mortgage. Come on over to the Lending Tree, have an apple. Have one of our delicious mortgage apples.
And yet this all brings a smile to my face, not only because advertising on milk is ridiculous and fantastical... but because I like dairy. I like dairy products. And so I say, supporting dairy farmers is good. Supporting dairy farmers is good as long as the price of milk doesn't go up or some shit. So by all means, drill that money out of Lending Tree like maple syrup. Fuck finding missing children, our dairy farmers need money... our milk needs advertising.
Now what isn't needed, advertisements FOR milk... that's a whole different thing altogether and that just pisses me off. Maybe if they spent less money on pointless campaigns they wouldn't have to slap mortgage ads on my fucking milk jug... the bastards.
I don't think that's going to happen. Oh well.
We're filming it in a little grocery store somewhere in the city. Sounds kind of boring to me... I pictured a much cooler shoot. Oh well, again. We'll have a makeup trailer though. That'll be cool.
I'll stand outside of it and look important to everyone walking by. Maybe I'll pretend I'm smoking. Then I'll look important AND cool.
The producer will say, "We need you in ten," as a beautiful woman is crossing my path. I'll turn to the producer, roll my eyes, flick my cigarette onto the ground. As the heel of my boot rubs it out, back and forth, quick and concise, I'll cock my head back toward the woman and speak as breathy as possible. "All in a days work." It is then that I bend down and pick up my fedora, place it where it belongs and then reposition it askew; sexy.
When I turn away, toward the camera crew and coincidentally the sun, she'll catch my name, branded into the back of my jacket... Rex Albatross. Rex MOTHERFUCKING Albatross.
Now if you'll excuse me, I would like to eat a bowl of cereal before I get ready to leave.
But now they've dropped them and gone off on their own again, with new search technology... and GASP... it is good. I got much better results doing name searches than I got with Google... and that's just sad. So long that I've loved you Google. Even before it was hip to love you Google. Now I'm torn!
Also... Yahoo has opened my eyes to another Christian Stella that exists in this world. He's a kid that plays flag football apparently... and he also freaks me out. It freaks me out that someone else is called by my name; signs my name. MY name. And I mean, it's not like I have some generic name either. Now I'm just going to have to change it to Rex Albatross. That's the only thing left to do. I'd like to see some punk flag football playing baby with a name like Rex Albatross. Yeah, doesn't exist, because Rex Albatross is one of a kind.
If you need me, I'll be on my hang glider.
-Rex
My left ear is driving me off the wall. There's a constant humming. Like the sound of the fans inside a computer... high frequency whirring. White noise. All the time.
This happened to me before. Sometime last year. I don't know if it's a pain-free ear infection or what, but I can clue you in to how crazy it makes me...
It makes me think...
What if all that gum I chew burst a blood vessel near my ear? I could've burst a blood vessel.
What if I'm going deaf? I could be going deaf. Isn't this an early sign of going deaf?
I play my headphones too loud and now I'm going deaf in my left ear.
If I go deaf in one ear, there goes music production. Bye bye. See ya later.
How will I listen to music period? What if the drums are panned hard left? I do gimmicks like that all the time with my mixing. I won't even know there are drums. I'd have to mix down every cd I own and buy to mono and then listen to it in my right ear.
... So you see, I am scared to death about going deaf, but I'm sure this will go away. I hope this will go away.
In the meantime I'll try to fall asleep over the noise, dream that I'm stuck inside a computer.
I turned out to be my favorite song by them, I declare this pointless quiz to hereby be... accurate.
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Friday we film the show's opening... a twelve hour day they're saying. Another long day without pay. There better be good food and cute interns... it's the least they can do for me.
You could administer Johny Kerry's botox injections.
I was just talking to Ryan about how bad trans fats are... instant delivery of fat to your heart. And every fucking cracker is stuffed with the shit. Oreos are literally stuffed with it. So are most snack foods period. Chips. French Fries. Donuts. Cookies. Microwave popcorn. Frozen waffles. Brand name peanut butters. Cool Whip. Even some cereal.
Over a nine year study... they found that every 2 percent increase of trans fat you add into your diet, you add 1/3 of an inch to your waistline.
But now everyone is scrambling to reformulate their products before next year when the government starts enforcing labeling products to note that they contain it. "Oreos are hazardous to your health," and what not.
Apparently he fell from a seven story window and died. Probably on purpose. Probably a suicide, I mean.
How sad... Now when I listen to his cd, there will always be that added element to his songs. The songs all have drums, guitar, bass and suicide malaise. Suicide malaise being out of the human ear's frequency perception, but sensed by your subconscious at all times. Like, if you were having a really great time at your birthday party and someone kept coming up behind you and whispering, "You're going to die one day."
I could bitch about how there wasn't an episode in weeks and then after tonight's episode they dropped two bombs on me. One- Sloan could be Sydney's real father and... two... no new episodes for 3 MORE weeks... but you see that these bitches are fruitless, because there's a ninety percent chance that you do not watch the show. Also, I'd say there's a two percent chance that you're allergic to peanuts... just saying.
Also, you've maybe never met me before... in that case, who are you? Why are you here? Do you like it here? Do I warm you? Are you female? Do you like it here? I'm one cool motherfucker, huh? You are female, right? Do you like snow cones? Would you like to share a sugar free snow cone on a brisk winter day and then spend hours twisted around each other like shoelaces to raise back up the temperature of our bodies?
I'm just asking.
All right, that one retains none of it's original source material. Not even a black, floating window.
You know Uri Gellar right? He's the guy that bends spoons with his mind, only doesn't really use his mind because he was exposed as a gigantic fraud.
I've been living the past few months in a void. It's now sinking in. Jeremy has a lot more to lose moving up here. And now the move is rapidly approaching. I'm going to be there in 2 weeks. Unless things start happening for him here in a quick manner, he'll be disappointed. I'm going to feel like shit for pushing for this. If for some ungodly reason he backed out of moving here, I won't be able to live here any more. I cannot live here without knowing anyone. So I'm not sure what I would do in that instance.
I know it's very selfish to wish that we were all up here, but I still think I made the right choice... even if things are slow going and boring.
Why don't we create a holiday that celebrates our eye sight? That way blind people can feel extra special sad on that day.
Mattel has issued a statement and...
Barbie and Ken are breaking up.
That's right... that's right... that's right... that's motherfucking right. Barbie and Ken are taking some "quality time apart." The word is, "Ken doesn't want to commit."
So now Barbie is coming out in a bikini and darker tan to flaunt her new and very much available business.
There's one thing though... SHE'S A DOLL. A motherfucking DOLL. And this is all from a motherfucking Associate Press story and the front page at motherfucking Yahoo.
If I were working at Associate Press and Mattel said, "Hey, Barbie and Ken are breaking up," I'd tell them to shut the fuck up.
What does this say to little girls, that even their perfect looking dolls they play with can't find love?
Take her to a ball game. Good idea. A little generic, but... sounds like fun.
Climb a volcano. Yeah! A volcano. I have one of those right down the street. Why didn't I ever think of climbing it before? Well, that's why I need magazines to tell me what is and isn't fun.
Go to Beverly Hills. All right. A little easier than climbing a volcano... a little harder than say, dinner and a movie. Plus, it's easily customizable. I could just change Beverly Hills to Vegas, or Miami and it would have nearly the same effect. There's a name for this. Oh yeah! A vacation.
Take a home pregnancy test. Fun, fun, FUN!
Spend the night in an igloo. You know, an igloo.
"Let me now if you ever want to come to any tapings or any other way I can
help you with your career plans."
Filming is finished. We may all breathe out.
I am coming to Florida on the 28th for a week or so, before driving with Jeremy back here.
Jeremy, Ryan and I saw 21 Grams in the city and it made me want to die. Also, made me want to write a movie with more redeeming qualities. Maybe something with bunnies, or just no dying would be fine.
The pictures from the city, all though few and far between... will do our journey more justice. They will pop up tomorrow, I'm sure.
Most recently, and most easily remembered at such a late hour, I went in to a Target for the first time in three months! This Target was fantastical, magical, motherfucking astronomical. And I say this because it was the bottom layer of a crazy city building. A tangle of escalators connecting four floors of the Target, a Circuit City, a Barnes and Noble and a 15 theatre cineplex. This building should have more floors of apartments and I should be living in one.
Also, the Food Network forgot to schedule a publicity photographer or something and the programming director was pretty upset... somehow it ended up with me taking publicity stills of my father on set with my digital camera. I just sent them off to her. Food Network owes me through the roof. I mean, with "interstitials" and all. An "interstitial" is just a neutered word for commercial and that's what they filmed me in. A commercial for their "COOK WITH YOUR KIDS!" week. That's two shows, a commerical and publicity stills... free of charge.
Well, like I said... pretty damn worn... so I hope you enjoyed your Chicken and Stars... maybe tomorrow I'll have some Progresso Thick and Chunky... or maybe an even heartier stew or chili. Who knows?
So I spent most of my day in the craft services room with the PAs. The PAs being closest to me in age, and so, easily conversed with. One girl had moved here from Florida two years ago, so we talked of old times and Publixes and the like. Turns out, she worked for a few years at a Papa Johns down there.
Occasionally she'd say, "I can't imagine how this must be for you." This is extremely off-putting. This is when I realize that she's working on my FATHER'S SHOW. That all these people are only here for one reason. That this entire house is covered in plastic and cardboard so things don't get worn and torn, because they're filming my father's show.
The entire basement is a kitchen. I'm not even sure how many people were working down there, they generally stayed down there. At least 5. I do know there were...
3 producers.
2 camera people.
3 lighting guys.
3 on set food people.
2 PAs.
1 makeup and wardrobe woman.
Also, the owner of the house and the on-set great dane, Carl.
I believe I had hour long conversations with at least 6 people as they filmed in the kitchen upstairs.
The blurry Food Network girl in that picture talked to me about music for a long time... about Damien Rice and how I have to go see him when he plays New York in a few months. It was all very flirty, but I think that's just how New Yorkers are about music. Later, she handed me a post-it note of bands I should check out. I showed her that two could play that game and wrote my own. She then flipped to see Rhett Miller... apparently she knows him... used to work in music... for the producer of some of his cd's with the Old 97s.
Filming got ridiculously behind, and they cut me out of the first two segments of my show... because things run smoother without a guest. This was more than fine by me. I was tired and the less thinking, the better.
In the makeup chair, the makeup woman went on a mission to get me coffee, the coffeemaker having broke earlier in the day. She had decided that I was far too tired to go on TV and needed coffee bad. Eventually one of the Food Network people put coffee grinds in a napkin, put the napkin over a paper cup and poured boiling water over it. This made coffee quite well, I was shocked. Also... the trouble these people were going through... still not used to it.
My segment itself... ugh. Ugh. Hopefully it edits up nice. It seemed like a mess. It was dark and they had to avoid the windows. The windows are everywhere. So the camera angles were basically limited to RIGHT beside my face. This was so very, very distracting.
I had to eat greasy steak on camera over and over and over again. I couldn't believe just how greasy it was. I guess that's because I haven't had anything like that in a year. They then had us sit down to eat more. You'll notice in these shots that I stick to eating the salad.
Meantime, here are a few photos... most of my photos came out all blurry though and also, none of them could capture just how HUGE this whole thing is. There was equipment and people and props and food all over every room of this giant house... it was insane. These photos happen to be of the set itself, so things look neat and clean... it is not a good representation of my day... as I was mostly as far away from set as possible.
Also, don't let the picture of me getting makeup put on fool you, this is merely a photograph of my makeup being retouched, the actual process took place in the makeshift makeup room and took over half an hour. Over half an hour.
Everything tomorrow... goodnight.
Homing pigeons use roads to guide their way home, folks. They use roads.
Read for yourself.
Me, I've got to get ready... filming IS happening and the car is picking us up in a little over an hour. Should be a full on photo essay some time tonight.
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My show will then have to be moved to either Monday, in front of my friends, to embarass me to the fullest extent... or it could be moved to Tuesday, the one day Jeremy, Ryan and I have free before they fly back. The day Ryan is dead set on going into the city. Me, I'm just wondering where the $25 train fare for that day is going to come from? I have all of $4 to my being.
I'm just waiting for this whole television thing to spew money at us.
I'll know later if we're still filming tomorrow.
I saw the movie Monster, and so I saw Kissimmee again. Just how I remember it, big manly Charlize Theron and all.
I then caught myself stirring a big pitcher of iced tea in a sleeveless shirt. This was certainly not an intentional combo. There was nothing to drink, so I decided to whip up some of the awful low carb iced tea Lipton sent us and all my good t-shirts were in the wash. Wearing a sleeveless shirt when there's three feet of snow on the ground outside feels wrong, no matter how warm the house is. Anyway, mixing that tea with a wooden spoon and bare arms was just about the most Florida thing a person could do. If someone asked me to capture Jeremy with one single image, I think that would have to be it. Pitcher of tea, wooden spoon and sleeveless shirt.
I started remembering all of the places that I had forgotten existed. My darling Atlanta Bread had been all but erased from my memory. My Publixes, Winn Dixies all replaced with generically titled Stop and Shops and Shoprites. Sonny's BBQ, oh how I hated your food... but miss you oh so much. Golden Corral, I'll never experience your macaroni and cheese lottery again. Will the macaroni be too watery today? It doesn't matter, I can't be with you anymore.
I then had to look at my old driver's license to remember what street I lived on.
So anyway, filming is a show behind because of sleet, raining down on all the outdoor lighting. They're going to have to make it up on the party day... the episode everyone is coming up here for. That was going to be a great last day, with all my friends and only one episode to film... easy stuff. So now it's going to be just as hectic as all the other days.
I film my episode TOMORROW. Right now I'm focusing all of my mind's efforts on reducing my acne through telepathy. I will say that most of my acne has disappeared over the past week... so my brain's powers are seemingly endless.
Maybe I'll post some pictures from the shoot... if AOL ever gets their fucking act together with my webspace.
Update: Webspace is back up, obviously.
Motherfucker.
Update: Apparently the server at AOL that hosts my shit is overloaded right now.
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I wonder if that woman had a cold when he was raping her?
Filming begins in the morning. This means I'm stuck here until Friday, because I don't want to get in the way until they're filming my episodes.
The house they're filming in is amazing. Big and beautiful. Also... people are living in it. I find this extremely strange. These people rent out the use of their beautiful house to production crews. The Food Network crew turned the damn thing into a set for the week too. A closet became the makeup room. The basement is now a whole catering kitchen with a staff of TEN. There will be TEN people on set, just preparing the food!
There are chairs with my parent's names on them... my parents have their own chairs.
They better have a chair with my name on it for my day, dammit.
My ten year old cousin told his parents that he wants his hair like mine... how funny is that?
First new forms of matter... now new elements... and I don't understand any of it... just that it's interesting to note.
Emeril's food stylist is supposed to be here soon. I was going to be polite and shake her hand... but...
Goodnight.
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It'll be like the opening to the last couple seasons of Roseanne.
I'm not just going to be on television, folks. I'm going to be MORPHING on television.
It could be a very scary sight.
And now Justin Timberlake has to go and pull Janet Jackson's tit out during the MTV produced halftime show. Personally, I thought it was hilarious. It was so very deliberate... and just a pathetic attempt at controversy.
And now MTV, who swear it was an accident, are going to be banned from doing further halftime shows. That's fine by me... I'm sick of all the lip syncing bullshit.
Ahh beautiful, a Nasa tribute. Is it just me, but does Josh Groban look like a freak mix between Willy Wonka and my brother Anthony?
That is all. Back to the game.
1. Nothing is ever finished until the entire CD is finished.
2. There's some white noise. I had erradicated it, but some came back in mastering. I am currently scared to fuck with the song further... but will probably take a stab at it sometime.
3. It hasn't really been field tested. Sounds good in my CD players. Sounds great actually. Better than anything on the whole last CD. But Ryan's Car's CD player was always my real judge and jury. Also my broken Sony stereo that I gave Jeremy... I miss it so. Why did I ever replace you with such an empty sounding system? So without hearing the song in the car or the Sony... I really can't say for sure what it will sound like however you listen to it.
4. This sounds fantastic in my headphones... you should hear it!
5. Nothing is ever finished until the entire CD is finished.
Enjoy! I will probably only keep it up for a short while... so get it while you can. Also, get it before Ryan's even heard it! Then you'll be the cool kid on the block!
Also, AOL's file space is very screwy... so the song might cut off wherever it feels like it... download it again, if it does.
I've finished mixing Ryan's new song, "Leaving Me Behind." I think it came out quite nice, and I'll probably post it on the blog tomorrow or so.
Let me also say that it was quite difficult and draining and I hate you for not caring.
Also, not a pleasant experience at the mall today. I was going to buy two different colored dress shirts and call it a day with the wardrobe fiasco. It seems that all the big department stores in the mall have millions of dress shirts. Big cubed displays of folded dress shirts from every designer I've never heard of. But all these big department stores, these big cubed displays that take up half of the entire men's departments... none of them have my size. They had cubes partitioned off for it, but they were filled with larger sizes. This is what I've done to myself. I am too small to find clothes.
I had to go to American Eagle again and search for anything that wasn't striped, had no store logo, wasn't white, was an extra-small and had long sleeves to cover my tattoo.
I pretty much failed. Bought some short sleeve polo shirts... they'll have to deal with the tattoo or let me wear my jacket. This is an outfit I'll be wearing on the party episode... I don't see a problem with wearing my jacket in a party atmosphere.
I'm done though... they can choose from what I've got.
Once again, I don't see the big deal. I never knew this much thought went into wardrobe for guests.
