Black Rain, Pt. 2

Traditionally, employees on Black Friday wear black (as if we need reminders of what day it is). My employer decided to break from the mold and have all employees wear red t-shirts. It’s bad enough that I hate wearing red, but to make matter worse, there was a peace sign on the back made of random doodles. Above it were the words “Santa’s Little Helper”.

First off, there is nothing peaceful about Black Friday (as those who shop on Black Friday or those who read my last blog entry already know). Black Friday is chaotic, busy, exhausting, brutal, and sometimes, violent. A peace sign doesn’t quite symbolize the day. A more appropriate symbol would be boxing gloves or a sword.

Second, Santa’s Little Helper? Really? If I were a 9 year-old boy eager to share his Christmas list, wearing a shirt with the words “Santa’s Little Helper” would really make my day. But as a 29 year-old man, I get no pleasure from such a thing.

I had to jazz up my uniform by adding a little black. Actually, it was a lot. I wore the red shirt over a black button-down and under a black coat. I also had a black hat, black jeans, and black shoes. The all black business-casual attire mixed with a little red made me look like the long lost member of Alkaline Trio.

Call me a non-conformist if you like, but I had to do it. And in the end, I liked the outfit, so I guess it was worth it. But best of all, with the coat on, nobody got to read the shameful words on my back.

Currently in Rotation: Punk
Alkaline Trio – Time to Waste

From the album Crimson

Black Rain

Yesterday was Black Friday, the day I had been dreading for weeks. Despite having worked for four years in an industry that considers it to be the jumpstart to the holiday season, I have always had mixed feelings about the day. On one hand, it gives a huge sales boost to businesses and is very exciting from both a consumer and overall economic standpoint. But on the other hand, I’d be lying if I didn’t say that it frequently highlights the worst side of humanity.

Every year there are stories of rowdy customers getting into arguments, shoving matches and even full-on fistfights, all in the name of buying TVs and toys. I saw this first hand four years ago when portable DVD players left a few customers bruised and blooded at my old job. Are they great deals? Absolutely! Are they worth fighting over? Not really.

I’d never get in a fight with someone over something I have to buy. MAYBE I’d fight over something free, but even that would have to be something huge, like a house or a car. Yeah, I’d hit someone with a baseball bat for that sh*t. But joking aside, I speak from the standpoint of someone who places little to no value on material goods. To me, a flatscreen TV, no matter how big, doesn’t matter (and if you don’t believe me, come by my apartment and check out the size of my TV).

However, I figure that to someone who doesn’t have a lot of money and values material things, they’d be more than willing to fight over unaffordable goods that are suddenly made affordable for one day only. Also, in order to get the item, you have to stand in line for hours in advance (and in the case of Best Buy and Wal-Mart, days in advance). Long lines already make people angry, but imagine waiting in line for hours for something you never get because supplies run out. Factor in a bad economy and you’ve got a recipe for disaster.

The one thing corporate America knows well is that when people are bored, they shop. Give America a day off work and, after going to the movies, Americans will go to the mall to blow a few bills on random stuff. That’s why I understand why Black Friday exists. It’s not only set during a day off, but it happens when people are with friends and family and sometimes out of town, thus more likely to shop in large groups and for large quantities of stuff.

Economically, it makes sense. But from a personal standpoint, I seriously question whether or not it’s really worth it in the end. Most sales are repeated, especially when it comes to clothes. “One Time Offers” rarely exist, and if you look hard enough, you can find anything at a good price. Some stores have decent doorbusters (free gift or great discount to the first few people inside), but even those aren’t overwhelming incentives when you play the odds. Yet most consumers don’t question whether or not it’s worth it. They just wake up, shop hard, go home, and celebrate the Blu-Ray player they drop-kicked an old lady to get, completely unaware that it will be available for a comparable price in a few weeks.

This is why I’m convinced that for consumers, Black Friday isn’t really about the prices. It’s more about the environment. It’s about the struggle. It’s about the stories of success and failure. It’s about the victorious feeling from getting what you want, especially when you go gladiator on someone’s ass to get it. It’s about competition, both between businesses and between customers.

This why I hate Black Friday. And this is why I love Black Friday.


Currently Listening To: Hip Hop
Jay-Z – “Empire State of Mind”

From the album The Blueprint 3

Quantum of Solace

After I got off work a few days ago, I drove out to Santa Monica to meet up with Andre and Thomas, a pair of movie producers with whom I’m currently collaborating on several projects. We met at Loews Hotel on Ocean parkway, site of this year’s American Film Market. For those who aren’t familiar, AFM is a global gathering of filmmakers, producers and distributors, a place where many independently made films get picked up by bigger studios to be packaged, marketed and released for a mass audience. For them, it was business as usual; for me, it was a learning experience.

Actually, before I continue, I should reintroduce myself since most of you reading this have no idea what I’ve been up to over the last few years.

Hello, my name is Aaron Ellis, and I’m a screenwriter… Or maybe it would be more appropriate to call myself a struggling, semi-discovered writer.

________________________________________________

Upon graduating from college, I started writing screenplays. After several years of writing for a newspaper, I decided to make screenwriting my career goal. I walked away from journalism and spent the last few years working low-maintenance day jobs so I would have the free time to write as much as possible.

While it would be fun to pretend like I’m living it up as a successful Hollywood scribe, I’ve never been one for putting up a front that I can’t maintain. Truth is I’ve spent six years writing screenplays that few people have read and fewer appreciated, regardless of how good they were. Every time I went forward, I ran into a brick wall. Every time I got high, I got kicked back down to reality.

Roughly a year ago, my buddy Tom introduced me to Andre, a producer he knew from business school. Being the persuasive homey he is, he convinced Andre to read some of my scripts. Dre read them and liked them, which led to a breakthrough opportunity. He asked me if I was interested in taking a writing assignment. The project involved adapting a Japanese short story (which shall remain nameless) into an American film (his production company specializes in adapting East Asian anime, manga, short stories and films for Western audiences). I accepted the assignment before I even read the story. That could have been a major mistake, but after I read it, I knew for sure that I had just gotten in on a good thing.

The last year has consisted of learning the ropes and struggling to stay afloat. I’ve worked on countless loglines, synopses, summaries and treatments of the project so that it will be perfectly presentable and pitchable when it’s time to get funding from studios. And though I’m biased, I gotta say, the movie will be f**king awesome if we get it made.

It’s been an exciting process, but the wheels of the studio system turn slowly, and now that we’re in a down economy in which the film industry, a place of excessive spending, has been hit very hard, the process is taking much longer than it would have four years ago. I wish it were as simple as a countdown to the big payday and career jumpstart, but that’s not the case. Everything is indefinite and far away.

The main reason I’m writing this is to update most of you on my life. I know I seem like the coolest bastard alive (mostly because it’s true), but there’s a lot of hard work and sacrifice that goes on behind the scenes. Also, I’m really sick of fielding bullsh*t questions from stuck-up morons who think I’m a loser because they don’t understand why I walk this path. If I wanted a 9-to-5 and an ordinary life, I would have had it years ago. But I demand something else, something different. You may not understand it, but try to respect it.

_________________________________________________

The meeting with Andre and Thomas went well. We had a lunch at Cucina Italiana and developed a strategy for generating studio interest in our project. After discussing the strategy and eating a good meal, I parted ways with them. They had meetings with various producers and distributors. I had time to kill, so I walked along the boardwalk to the Santa Monica Pier, where I indulged in some junk food. I stood at the pier with a cone of frozen yogurt and watched the waves rush to and from the shore. At that moment, I felt pure solace, like everything would be okay.

When it was time to leave, I returned to the streets and walked back to my car. When I got there, I saw a white piece of paper under the windshield wiper. It was a fifty dollar parking ticket, courtesy of the city of Santa Monica.

And once again, I got kicked back down to reality.


Currently In Rotation: Deep House

Blue Six – “Sweeter Love”
From the album Beautiful Tomorrow

Built From Scratch

Most of you already know that I’m not a creature of convenience. When given the option to do a task the easy way or the hard way, I’ll usually choose the latter. If it’ll save a few dollars (or hell, a few nickels), I’ll choose cheap over practical. I’m the kind of guy who is willing to do things by himself whenever possible, even if it means having to put in a lot more time than if I had help. I guess you could call me a caveman.

My most recent step on the path towards inefficiency is brewing coffee. I have a fancy Cuisinart coffee maker that can be programmed to do anything I need, but over the last few months, I’ve hardly plugged it in. I started reading about easy ways to make coffee without a machine, so I gave it a try. As of yesterday, I think I finally perfected it.

To make it, you start by heating water in a small pot. You then put a coffee filter in a strainer, measure out the coffee grounds (the norm is about two tablespoons per six ounce cup), and dump them onto the filter. After that, you pour the hot water over the beans (I use a ladle for this) and let it drip through the strainer into a cup or bowl.

Presto, coffee.

Coffee is a very simple drink: it’s hot water poured over ground, roasted beans. But the details of making it well are tricky. The water isn’t supposed to boil, but it should get close. The coffee beans should be ground and brewed within a small window to get the best flavor. Measuring out the right amount of grounds per cup to fit your likings takes time. And espresso is a whole different topic. I’m still figuring out some of that stuff, but I think I’ve mastered the basics.

Right off the bat, I know this process won’t appeal to a lot of people. For one, if it doesn’t have whipped cream, steamed milk and flavored syrup ala Starbucks, most folks don’t want it. Second, for people who are short on time in the morning and drink coffee on the go, this would seem tedious (although I assure you it’s very quick). Another downside is that it’s harder to make large quantities of coffee. And of course, most people would rather pay for it or have a machine do the work.

But for me, a single guy who doesn’t mind wasted time and effort and enjoys the occasional afternoon cup, the process works.

Sooo... anybody need a coffee maker?

Question: Have any of you brewed coffee without a coffee maker? How’d it turn out? Got any useful tips for me?


Currently in Rotation: The Veronicas – “Untouched”

From the album Hook Me Up

Finger Lickin' Good

A little over a month ago, I went to the LA County Fair and spent the day eating as many random foods as possible between rounds of laying down bets on the Fairplex horse races. One of the first things I ate that day was yam fries, and I don’t know why, but it really stuck with me. I tried them and it was love at first bite.

It’s no mystery that The Fair specializes in unusual foods. I mean, where else in the world will you find a place that specializes in deep fried foods (frog legs, ice cream bars, twinkies, Oreos, Snickers) next to a booth that specializes in chocolate dipped foods (strawberries, bananas, cotton candy, bacon; and yes, they did serve chocolate-dipped cotton candy and chocolate-dipped bacon)? So knowing that, I figured the yam fries was something I wouldn’t see again, or at least not until the next County Fair.

But A few weeks later, I ate at an Italian restaurant in Claremont and, to my surprise, they had yam fries on the menu. I ordered it and, like before, it was good. With two fixes in my bloodstream, I needed more, and so I started cooking yam fries on my own.

The recipe is simple. You cut up a yam and fry it (or deep fry it) the same way you would French fries. Once they’re done, you season them with, cinnamon, sugar, powdered sugar, honey, maple syrup, or melted marshmallow. Personally, I like all of the above.

I encourage all of you to give it a try. It won’t change your life, but it might change your thoughts about fries.


Here’s my most recent batch, topped with cinnamon and sugar.








Question: Do you have a favorite county fair food?




Currently Listening To: BritPop


Keane – Everything’s Changing and Lily Allen – Everything’s Changing

Do The Right Thing

Several weeks ago, I woke up early in the morning, got dressed for work and left my apartment. I left at 4:30 am, so it was dark outside. When I got to my car, I pushed the button on my clicker to unlock the door and pulled the handle. For some reason, the door wouldn’t open.

I tried it again. Push the button, pull the handle. Once again, the door wouldn’t open.

It was then that I looked down and saw a giant dent in my car door. Evidently, some jackass hit my car in the middle of the night and damaged it bad enough that the door can’t open from the outside. And of course, the f**ker didn’t leave a note. No insurance info, no “sorry that I hit you,” not even a napkin with a fake phone number on it. I got the old hit and run; the hit and split; the smash and dash.









As you can imagine, this has made getting into my car a real pain. I’ve spent the last few weeks jumping through the window like the Dukes of Hazzard.






Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but not by much.

Yesterday I visited my insurance company and they appraised the damage. They crunched a few numbers, estimated the damage and cut me a check to help get it fixed. Soon I’ll be searching for a good local body shop to replace the door and repaint several parts on the driver’s side.

When I spoke to the insurance guy, he gave me a shocking statistic. In the thirty years that he’s been in the business, he has filed over 75,000 claims. Of all the hit and runs he’s encountered, he says he could count on both hands the number of times that the dasher actually left a note behind.

It’s so weird to me. I know that if I ever hit someone, I would at least leave a phone number or something. But apparently I’m a total sucker for thinking that way. Nobody does the right thing.

I’m curious to know something. How many of you have been involved in a hit and run? Did the other person leave their contact information behind (or if you were at fault, did you leave your contact information behind?).


Currently In Rotation: Punk

AFI – Miss Murder

Golden Girl, Pt. 2

Three days after an epic Halloween weekend, I met up with Chris, who hosted the memorable party in Ontario. I planned on skating around the issue of the drunken, naked Golden Girl, but he was eager to talk about her because he had an interesting update.

As I figured, she didn’t remember a thing about the night before. She was sick and hungover all through Sunday. On Monday she was still sick and got worse. That night she checked herself into a clinic, where the doctors ran a series of tests on her. The tests had two major reveals.

The first was that her blood tested positive for cocaine. I can’t say I was too surprised to hear that: Chris and I strongly suspected that many of the people at the party were high on something other than life and cheap liquor. I figured a narcotic was at work (cocaine is a stimulant, not a narcotic, but close enough). I guess the combination of the coke and all the liquor was too much for her to handle.

The other big reveal was that she was pregnant. Yeah, seriously.

I hear she spent all of Tuesday in tears while trying to figure out what to do about the baby. Personally, I have my doubts about her being mommy material right now. But then again, I once said the same thing about Nicole Ritchie and she seems to be a decent mother.

You never know. Some people change… sometimes, anyway.


Currently in Rotation: Hip Hop/Electro

Kid Cudi f. Kanye West & Lady Gaga – "Make Her Say (Afrojack Remix)"

Golden Girl

Halloween weekend just passed, and if I had to rank this year among Halloweens past, 2009 would be the second best of all-time. Friday night was dinner and clubbing in Pasadena with group of supercool, borderline alcoholic doctors, while Saturday night was split between Beena’s party in Chino Hills and Chris’ party in Ontario. There were lots of highlights, but one in particular deserves mention.

Before I share this story, I should offer a disclaimer: if tales of drunken debauchery aren’t your cup of tea, you might wanna close this window and read some news stories on MSNBC instead. This is not a story about mankind on his best behavior.


Around 1 am, I got to the party in Ontario. I stepped out of my car, walking with a cane and a nice gangster limp. But I wasn’t dressed as a pimp; I was Dr. House from my favorite show, House, MD. I had the cane, the sport coat, a stethoscope, and even a bottle of Vicodin (sorry, no pictures).

When I arrived, everyone was already really drunk, particularly the girls. Nonetheless, I had a good time hanging out with everyone. After a taking shots, playing many rounds of beer pong, and grooving to some funky jams, I hung around ‘til around 3 am. When I sobered up, I said my goodbyes.

I went into the garage to say bye to Chris and the rest of the crew, then went back into the house to leave. When I got into the hallway near the bedrooms, I noticed a really drunk girl standing there like she was about to pass out. I walked closer, but then realized that she was naked. Completely naked. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I asked her. “Can I help you?” The moment I spoke, she started urinating – while still standing – all over the hardwood floor.

Yeah, that happened.

I went back into the garage and informed the host.

Aaron: Dude, uh, I don’t know how to say this but… there’s a naked a girl peeing on the floor in the hallway.
Chris: What the f**k! Who is it?
Aaron: I don’t know. The girl with the lightning bolts on her cheek.
Chris: S**t! Why didn’t you stop her?
Aaron: What am I supposed to do, catch it?
Chris: We gotta handle this.
Aaron: Great!


We go back inside and she’s still in the hallway, still standing, still naked, and somehow, still peeing. Other people overheard me talking to Chris, so they ran inside to see the naked girl who is, quite literally, pissy drunk. Chris rounded them up and sent them away so they wouldn’t see her like that, while I grabbed her by the arm and tried to take her to the bathroom. The girl, who looked like she had no idea what was going on before, suddenly started struggling, so getting her to the bathroom became a real chore. As if it weren’t hard enough to move her along while trying not to step in the liquid gold all over the floor, now she decides to put up a fight.

Oh yeah, and she’s still peeing.

Chris and I finally drag her into the bathroom and she slams and locks the door behind her.

I felt bad that the girl made such a mess, so I agreed to help him clean it up. I rounded up a mop and bucket, filled it with water and cleanser, and started mopping up the hallway. Since hardwood floor gets ruined if it takes on too much water, we had to dry the floor as we went along. So everywhere I scrubbed, he followed it up with a towel to soak it up. When we were done, the hallway was spotless and odor free.

Job well done.

We went to dump out the water and put away the goods, but then we realized that the bathroom door was open. I peeked inside and the girl was gone, but she left her mark. I guess she never got on the toilet. Instead, she just peed all over the floor and went somewhere else, perhaps in search of her clothes. All I know is it looked like the Yellow River in there.

Back to work for us.

By the time we finished, nearly everyone who was still left at the party was passed out. Chris and I went outside and chatted about our Fantasy football teams. I congratulated him for throwing a wild party and left left. When I got home, I took an extra long shower. Though I didn’t get a drop of pee on me, something about being surrounded by that much urine just makes one feel, well, a little unclean.

A part of me wonders if she remembers any of her drunken behavior now. Probably not. If I ever see her again, I won’t remind her, but I’ll probably call her Golden Girl at least once, even if she doesn’t know why.


Currently In Rotation: Indie Pop

Mozella - "Freezing"

The Walking Dead

A few years ago, I killed off my online existence. Networking sites were deleted, pictures were erased and blogs were abandoned. I had my reasons at the time, though if you were to ask me now, I'd struggle to recall any of them. I'll just say that I wanted anonymity, so I decided to lay low in my own form of social exile. This is not to say I became a hermit in the physical world; far from it. But online, I was a ghost, a mere vapor trail of blog entries and jpegs.



Today is All Souls Day, or as some would call it, Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead). It's fitting, since I've now come back from the dead. Thanks in large part to a handful of friends who were very persistent over the last few years in getting me back onto a social networking site, I've been resurrected. I don't know how long this will last, but for now, I'll enjoy my return to the online life.