February 26, 2007
I spent the weekend brandishing fake guns beneath an underpass while the cops looked on, finding a dude in a fridge with a dick drawn on his face, and pretending to be a ghost. This was all in front of a camera. Behind the camera, I mostly just ate at Friendly's and sat in the car for long periods of time.
It all happened in Manchester, True Hampshire, and it will be the source of at least three comedy videos and innumerable screen captures that become Facebook pictures.
It was really cold and our fingers almost froze off holding the guns, but as Dan likes to say, "pain is temporary, film is forever." Or like Ty from AZ said in his blog post I was just reading, "just shut up and film." That is pretty much the best advice there is on the subject.
Donald has released the second single from his as-yet-to-be-released album. It is here and it r00lz.
This is what it's like in my head: Tonight during a break from my thesis class I walked a couple blocks to get dinner without my coat and was very cold, so I kept myself warm with such thoughts as:
A good t-shirt would be "This Fucking Salad Tastes Like Shit." I'd wear it.
A good product would be something called Little Fuckin' Brownies. They would be little fuckin' brownies, bite-size and secret-recipe delicious. They could be niche-marketed to stoner-run sandwich shops on college campuses. All I need is a really good secret brownie recipe and some venture capital.
A good name for a bad college comedy group would be Narcissistic Fibrosis.
When I got back, my classmate Dylan suggested that I could sell Little Fuckin' Brownies out of my Brooklyn anchor store, The Little Fuckin' Bakery. I am not the only one with my particular disease.
Everyone I know is either sick as a dog or in the midst of crippling midwinter depression. Some are both!