Thanks for coming. My name's Harry Lockhart, I'll be your narrator. Welcome to L.A. Welcome to the party. Now that I'm in L.A. I go to parties--the kind where if a girl is named Jill she spells it J-Y-L-L-E, that bullshit. By now you may wonder how I wound up here...or maybe not, maybe you wonder how Silly Putty picks shit up from comic books. Point is, I don't see another Goddamn narrator, so pipe down. How'd I get here? See for yourself.
-Shane Black
WAKE ME UP WHEN SEPTEMBER ENDS
In two days I'm moving to L.A. Despite what you may expect, I'm not scared. I'm also not worried or anxious. But I'm not really excited either. In truth I'm not really feeling anything, which I think is strange. I should be feeling something. After all, I'm moving halfway across the country, to a place where I know next to nobody and have no job. To say nothing of the fact that if I say "I want to be a screenwriter" in Missouri the typical response contains at least some amount of awe. This will never happen in L.A. In fact, a majority of people would probably be more surprised if I said I didn't want to be a screenwriter. This is a somewhat disconcerting thought.
And while, as of this moment, I have little to no emotional response whenever I think about the upcoming trip, I can tell you that I'm not at all looking forward to the various things that I'm going to have to do over the next few days. I'm referring here to the driving and the moving all of my earthly possessions and the setting up of the cable and the electricity and the obtaining of insurance and all of that other bullshit that comes with relocating. I know all of this is small and none of it is in any way difficult but it all still has to get done, real life's equivalent of all that busy work you have to do in school.
I'd prefer to just go to sleep and wake up in a few weeks when it's all done, when I'm settled and there's nothing to do but go to work, go to school, and write. I don't think that's gonna happen though. I can sleep with the best of them, but that's a little unreasonable.
Anyway, I'm moving to Los Angeles. And you're all invited.
Seriously, whoever reads this is totally invited. Open invitation. I don't care who you are.
Which could get interesting.
WILD AND CRAZY KIDS
Despite living in Los Angeles for three months last summer I never really ran into any celebrities. The one almost exception being that one day, as I was walking through the lobby at Lionsgate, I saw Griffin Dunne. Now, I'm sure almost none of you know who this is off the top of your head and rightfully so...he's not that big of a celebrity (so much so that the word celebrity might be a stretch and, in fact, he's so insignificant that I'm not even going to bother checking to see if I spelled his name right). You probably know him best as Veda's vaguely attractive teacher in My Girl or one of the many befuddled adults in Big Girls Don't Cry, They Get Even. Or, for those of you who watch Alias, he's the Russian guy who worked for the Covenant and then defected to work for the CIA in a couple of episodes of season 3.
Anyway, seeing him didn't exactly blow my skirt up. Unlike my second celebrity sighting...
This weekend I was in Vegas and I found this table poker game that was pretty easy to win money on. (It was texas hold 'em and the only person you had to beat was the dealer). Anyway, I came down to my table on Friday night and there were a number of African American gentlemen there, one of whom kept spilling his beer all over the table. After a few minutes the table clears and its just me, the beer spilling guy, and this couple in there thirties.
We're playing this game and everything's going grand and then I happen to look over at the guy who keeps spilling his beer everywhere and he looks vaguely familiar. And then I think I know who it is, but I was like "no," that can't be it.
And, for the record, you can't just ask someone if they're a celebrity. One of the perks of being a celebrity is that people automatically recognize you; If I asked and was wrong I didn't want to sound weird and if I was right I didn't want to be insulting. So I just sat there, perfectly content not to think about it.
Until the woman sitting next to me pulled out her checkbook, handed it to the beer spilling guy and said "could I have your autograph...just sign the back of my checkbook there." And the guy did. And a few seconds later he got up and moved to another table.
So I'm sitting there thinking, okay, that was him. Wow. How fucking sweet was that. I played poker with a genuine celebrity...almost.
And who was the guy you ask...
None other than Omar Gooding. That's right ladies and gentlemen, Cuba Gooding Jr's younger brother and the former co-host of Wild and Crazy Kids.
And sitting with him for a few minutes would have been good enough for me, but he came back an hour later and it was just the two of us for almost half an hour. Do you have any idea how much self restraint to took to keep myself from asking if he'd seen Donnie Jeffcoat lately or to not hum the Wild and Crazy Kids theme song? I thought I was going to pop.
But me and Omar had some good times. We lost some money. We chatted about how mean the dealers were for taking said money. We quoted Rounders and we even did a duet of the "She's Your Queen to Be" song from Coming to America. Of course, neither of us knew any of the words after the opening five, which cut the duet a little short, but it was still fun none the less.
Anyway, I'm not one for telling hero stories. And I'm not bragging or anything.
It was just kind of a surreal experience.
After all, I was a wild and crazy kid.
God I loved that show.
-Shane Black
WAKE ME UP WHEN SEPTEMBER ENDS
In two days I'm moving to L.A. Despite what you may expect, I'm not scared. I'm also not worried or anxious. But I'm not really excited either. In truth I'm not really feeling anything, which I think is strange. I should be feeling something. After all, I'm moving halfway across the country, to a place where I know next to nobody and have no job. To say nothing of the fact that if I say "I want to be a screenwriter" in Missouri the typical response contains at least some amount of awe. This will never happen in L.A. In fact, a majority of people would probably be more surprised if I said I didn't want to be a screenwriter. This is a somewhat disconcerting thought.
And while, as of this moment, I have little to no emotional response whenever I think about the upcoming trip, I can tell you that I'm not at all looking forward to the various things that I'm going to have to do over the next few days. I'm referring here to the driving and the moving all of my earthly possessions and the setting up of the cable and the electricity and the obtaining of insurance and all of that other bullshit that comes with relocating. I know all of this is small and none of it is in any way difficult but it all still has to get done, real life's equivalent of all that busy work you have to do in school.
I'd prefer to just go to sleep and wake up in a few weeks when it's all done, when I'm settled and there's nothing to do but go to work, go to school, and write. I don't think that's gonna happen though. I can sleep with the best of them, but that's a little unreasonable.
Anyway, I'm moving to Los Angeles. And you're all invited.
Seriously, whoever reads this is totally invited. Open invitation. I don't care who you are.
Which could get interesting.
WILD AND CRAZY KIDS
Despite living in Los Angeles for three months last summer I never really ran into any celebrities. The one almost exception being that one day, as I was walking through the lobby at Lionsgate, I saw Griffin Dunne. Now, I'm sure almost none of you know who this is off the top of your head and rightfully so...he's not that big of a celebrity (so much so that the word celebrity might be a stretch and, in fact, he's so insignificant that I'm not even going to bother checking to see if I spelled his name right). You probably know him best as Veda's vaguely attractive teacher in My Girl or one of the many befuddled adults in Big Girls Don't Cry, They Get Even. Or, for those of you who watch Alias, he's the Russian guy who worked for the Covenant and then defected to work for the CIA in a couple of episodes of season 3.
Anyway, seeing him didn't exactly blow my skirt up. Unlike my second celebrity sighting...
This weekend I was in Vegas and I found this table poker game that was pretty easy to win money on. (It was texas hold 'em and the only person you had to beat was the dealer). Anyway, I came down to my table on Friday night and there were a number of African American gentlemen there, one of whom kept spilling his beer all over the table. After a few minutes the table clears and its just me, the beer spilling guy, and this couple in there thirties.
We're playing this game and everything's going grand and then I happen to look over at the guy who keeps spilling his beer everywhere and he looks vaguely familiar. And then I think I know who it is, but I was like "no," that can't be it.
And, for the record, you can't just ask someone if they're a celebrity. One of the perks of being a celebrity is that people automatically recognize you; If I asked and was wrong I didn't want to sound weird and if I was right I didn't want to be insulting. So I just sat there, perfectly content not to think about it.
Until the woman sitting next to me pulled out her checkbook, handed it to the beer spilling guy and said "could I have your autograph...just sign the back of my checkbook there." And the guy did. And a few seconds later he got up and moved to another table.
So I'm sitting there thinking, okay, that was him. Wow. How fucking sweet was that. I played poker with a genuine celebrity...almost.
And who was the guy you ask...
None other than Omar Gooding. That's right ladies and gentlemen, Cuba Gooding Jr's younger brother and the former co-host of Wild and Crazy Kids.
And sitting with him for a few minutes would have been good enough for me, but he came back an hour later and it was just the two of us for almost half an hour. Do you have any idea how much self restraint to took to keep myself from asking if he'd seen Donnie Jeffcoat lately or to not hum the Wild and Crazy Kids theme song? I thought I was going to pop.
But me and Omar had some good times. We lost some money. We chatted about how mean the dealers were for taking said money. We quoted Rounders and we even did a duet of the "She's Your Queen to Be" song from Coming to America. Of course, neither of us knew any of the words after the opening five, which cut the duet a little short, but it was still fun none the less.
Anyway, I'm not one for telling hero stories. And I'm not bragging or anything.
It was just kind of a surreal experience.
After all, I was a wild and crazy kid.
God I loved that show.
