This Can't Be Broccoli

I have reached the end of my rope with The Walking Dead . It has become yet another AMC show to decide that spending hours upon hours with no plot or character development is totally acceptable, as long as you tell the viewers to keep "investing." Well, guess what? I'm not investing anymore. Not without a good reason. The Killing had everybody "investing" and then they didn't even clear up the season-long mystery during the season finale. Sorry, but once bitten, twice shy. I don't expect every episode of a television show to be gold, but I do expect plot progression over the course of the season, especially when a season is only ten to thirteen episodes long. Instead, I see what appears to be a lot of writers with two episodes worth of plot trying to stretch it out all season (I'm looking at you, Ryan Murphy). Every time you complain that a movie or a television is boring, people say that we've lost our collective attention spa

Recently President Obama got some people upset by saying that everyone should go to college. You read that right--the President upset people by saying that college is a good thing. The funny thing is, I was kind of upset by it too. Let me explain. I think the "college is the only choice" way of thinking probably made sense back when EVERYBODY wasn't going to college, and so a college degree actually meant something. Unfortunately, unless you're going to school in one of the three fields that are adding jobs, it's possible that skipping college might be a good idea. I went to college for four years, got two degrees (granted English and Theater, but still, went to college!), and when I graduated I went looking for part-time work in retail until I could find a full-time job, and what did I discover? All the people who would be hiring me had not only skipped college and spent the past four years advancing in their respective industries and making lots of

When I announced that I would be writing 100 short monologues in twenty-four hours, the main question I got from people was this: Aren't you worried it's a little...gimmicky? Well, yes, I was worried. But felt that if I did it well, then what seemed like a gimmick would become a "concept." I mentioned that the only difference between a gimmick and a concept is execution. Any great concept sounds gimmicky when you first hear about it. So how did I do with the project? Well, to--at first--not answer that question, let me just say that every few months I do a Monologue Madness Month where I write 100 pieces over the course of the month. Some are great, some are okay, and some are awful. I've learned that you have to write the awful pieces to get to the good pieces, so the awful pieces don't bother me that much. Then I came to the 24 Hour Project, where each piece had to be at least an A- because each piece was going to be given directly to a p

Recently on "The Voice," an attractive performer seemed to embody exactly what the show was about. He got onstage. He sang. He was gorgeous. He didn't get a judge to turn around despite the fact that the crowd was losing its collective mind. This seemed to prove the show's point: Appearance can alter our perception of someone's talent. But here's my question: Can someone's appearance be considered part of their talent? Let's take Ryan Gosling, for example. Because as far as examples go, he's not a bad one to take. He's incredibly attractive, but he's also a darn good actor. But part of what makes him a good actor is his confidence and charm, which I'm sure comes from the fact that he's attractive. It's a cyclical thing, I would imagine. So here I am, listening to this performer sing, thinking--Why aren't they turning around? He's really, really good! But then I catch myself. Am I influenced b

Details gave me an early birthday present this year with a special on swimsuits. Maybe they thought us gays would like something to counter Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition, but the result is this: I now feel like the most unattractive person on Earth. So I guess it really is the counter to the SI Swimsuit Edition, in terms of how normal people feel looking at it. Let's begin, shall we: http://www.details.com/style-advice/perfect-wardrobe/201203/swim-trunks-bathing-suit-beach-fashion#slide=1 I don't know how I'm supposed to get an idea of how these look on someone. Is the new trend to have someone model something while doing a push-up? Granted, this is, by far, the most conservative of the suits. Don't believe me? Let's go to next slide: http://www.details.com/style-advice/perfect-wardrobe/201203/swim-trunks-bathing-suit-beach-fashion#slide=3 What kind of event would you wear this to? An Egyptian porn proprietor's house-warming party?

I had a plan this week for my food shopping. Martha Stewart's Everyday Food--a magazine I'm obsessed with--had an issue lately that offered five nights of meals for only $50 worth of ingredients. So, I decided to go to the market, spend the fifty bucks, and make each of the meals. What a great way to save money and try new food! ...If you're a normal person. If you're me, here's what happens. The first stop on the list is produce. First, I'm supposed to get a yellow onion. But I can only find a bunch of yellow onions. Do I buy the bunch? Also, I don't really like yellow onions. Is the yellow onion essential? I decide to move onto the next item on the list. One head of iceberg lettuce. Now, I don't mind iceberg lettuce, but it always seems to me like recipes call for iceberg lettuce, use a third of it, and then the rest of it ends up sitting in your crisper going to waste, because iceberg lettuce has no flavor and I never feel com

It's an interesting thing watching people with children. Some of the time I think--Wow, how amazing to have this little person depend on you and love you unconditionally. But most of the time I'm thinking--If I had to deal with that screaming monster for more than a minute, I'd find a basket and a nearby orphanage and call it a day. Most of the time I'm happy to be single and childless. People with children will tell you that if you don't have children, you're just missing out on this inexplicable, mysterious thing . I think they like to play up the mystery of it, because the mystery is--there's no mystery. The way I see it, you have kids, they create an unending amount of stress and heartache, tempered with ingratitude, peppered with adorable instances and a sentimental moments here and there to convince you that it's all worth it. Then they get married, have kids, and you have grandchildren who are now torturing your children the same way

You're going to die when you read my next sentence. Really, call 9-1-1, because this is going to send you into a proverbial tizzy. (I don't know if that's the right expression, I've just always wanted to say "proverbial tizzy.") I saw a segment on Fox News that I actually--gasp--agree with. Hear me out. There was a segment about rising gas prices, and how nobody's on Obama's case about it even though when costs were as high during the Bush administration, there were endless news stories about how this was another notable failure during his Presidency. Now, obviously, whenever you talk about the news, you sadly have to factor in spin, but here are the facts: ~ Gas is as high as it was when it peaked during the Bush administration. ~ It's true that people don't seem as concerned, and if they are, it's certainly not being reported as much. ~ I haven't heard Obama say anything on the subject. ~ The prices don't seem to

The other day I mentioned to a friend that the Meryl-Viola upset that happened at the Oscars may be the result of greedy movie producers who want to rack up as many awards as possible. (By the way, whenever you're looking for someone to blame for something, always blame the mysterious greedy movie producers/studio executives. They're everybody's favorite scapegoat.) Let me explain. If you actually count up the amount of time Viola Davis is in "The Help," you'll probably find that she has only a bit more screen time than Octavia Spencer, who won for Best Supporting Actress. She has significantly less screen time than Emma Stone, who, at one point, was actually marketed as the movie's lead. So why was she put in the Lead Actress category? Admittedly, she gave a commanding performance, and a more dramatic performance, whereas a mostly-comedic performance like Spencer's does seem to fit more appropriately into the Supporting category. But I t

Brian came to lunch with a problem. BRIAN: There's this cute couple that I hear does threeways, but I'm not sure how to get an offer from them to join in. I need to find new friends. SCOOTER: Just ask them. ME: Just ask them? TURNER: You can't ask them. They have to broach the subject. ME: Are we really talking about this? BRIAN: Jump in or go eat somewhere else, Broccoli. This train ain't stopping now. Don't judge me, but I stayed. Sociological issues involving sluts always fascinates me. ME: Okay fine. I agree you can't come right out and ask them, but this still seems like a pretty easy fix. BRIAN: Send them a card? ME: Get drunk with them. SCOOTER: Now we're talking. BRIAN: I don't know. SCOOTER: What do you mean you don't know? If they pay for the drinks, that's an ideal situation! BRIAN: I don't think they drink that much. TURNER: Are they Mormon? BRIAN: Uh-- TURNER: Because if they're Mo

My best college liaison (and yes, I'm using a pretentious word for it, because it makes the whole thing seem less slutty) was with Yoga Boy. I think his name was Trey, but it was actually something much more complicated and exotic like Treyonasani, or something. It was something that sounded dinosaur-ish, but hot at the same time. We met, and there was an instant attraction. He had an apartment on the East Side near Thayer Street with a living room that had a giant television screen hooked up to his computer, and another computer that was always playing an episode of Desperate Housewives . He'd look at it and say--"I find it fascinating." I think he was studying physics and contemplating Teri Hatcher just blew his mind. The television screen always featured that laser show that your computer has as a screen saver, but I believe he designed the whole thing. Moby-esque music was always playing whenever I'd go there. There was no couch or chair or an

A little over a week ago, I got very ill while on a day trip, and felt like I was going to throw up. So I did what I normally do when this happens: I took whatever medication I could get my hands on that would prevent me from vomiting. As you can imagine, when you have a stomach bug, and your body is desperately trying to rid itself of the bug, and you refuse to let it, a sort of Civil War emerges in your digestive system that feels about as bad as it sounds. Some would argue it's worse than just throwing up and getting it out of your system. But I disagree. Throwing up is perhaps my least favorite thing, action, noun, experience, etc. in the entire world. A few non-exaggerations: I would rather get bit by a small dog than throw up. I would rather get hit by a small car than throw up. I would rather eat something out of a Hoarder's fridge as long as I was promised that it wouldn't make me throw up. I loathe throwing up. I.Loathe.It. Every time I'

It all came to a head when my Mom caught me listening to the "Joyful Noise" soundtrack. We were driving in my car, and when I put on my favorite song from the movie starring Queen Latifah and Dolly Parton, my Mom was a little taken aback. MOM: Are you actually listening to a song called 'I'm In Love With You Jesus?' ME: It's just 'I'm In Love With You.' MOM: But it's about Jesus. ME: I'm aware. MOM: And you're an atheist. ME: It's catchy. MOM: But isn't it against your...beliefs? ME: Mom, I sing 'Rocket Man' all the time and I don't believe in astronauts. MOM: Atheists don't believe in the space program? ME: I was kid...never mind. If there's one downside to atheism (and some might argue there are lots of downsides) for me, it's the music. There's really no good atheist music. Plus, I feel really drawn to gospel music, probably for the same reason I'm drawn to showtune

I have a brilliant idea for a store. Well, more like a shop. Like a mechanic shop. Sort of like a Valvoline, but with a notable difference. All the shop does is fix what you ask to have fixed. I'd call it "Just Fix It." Want to replace a tire? All they do is replace the tire. Want an oil change? All they do is give you an oil change. Want to have your brakes checked while a dead body rots in your backseat? They won't say a word about the body, or the bloody knife in the front seat. They'll just check the brakes. If you think this sounds like an idea somebody should have already had by now, you're absolutely right, but for some reason, nobody has. Whenever I get any simple job done on my car, I get a phone call from the mechanic informing me that my engine is filled with orange juice and my windshield is about to explode in my face for a mysterious reason that only mechanics know. Think about how great it would be if there was a sho

I have a confession. I'm obsessed with the Lana Del Ray album "Born to Die." I know I shouldn't be. Not just because she became a laughingstock on SNL--even SNL defended her, and let's face it, they should. It's great to stay cutting edge, but putting someone on your show who has so little experience performing on television should obviously be a recipe for disaster. Then again, you could have said the same thing about the Beatles on Ed Sullivan. But let's not get too lofty. After all, we're talking about an album with a song called "Diet Mountain Dew"--my favorite (the song, not the soda). I don't really know how to describe my feelings for the album. I'd say it's perfect music to do ecstasy to, or drive through a vague metropolitan city in a new car, or do the second while doing the first, but I've never done either or both. It's a little too creepy to be sex music, but it's a little too sexy to be

MOM: Did you get me anything for Valentine's Day? ME: No, why would I? MOM: Because I'm your mother. ME: Yeah. MOM: And it's Valentine's Day. ME: Mom, we go through this every year. You have a husband. MOM: Did you get grandma something? ME: She DOESN'T have a husband. MOM: I see how it is. ME: No, I don't think you do. MOM: It's fine. I'm not heartbroken or anything. ME: Did your husband not get you anything? MOM: No, he did. ME: And? MOM: And your grandfather sent me a card. ME: And? MOM: ...And your uncle. ME: And you still want something from me? MOM: I didn't give birth to any of them. ME: Well, I would hope not. Otherwise we'd have a lot more to talk about. MOM: I hope you at least plan on taking me out to dinner. ME: We can go to dinner, but not for Valentine's Day. That's creepy. MOM: You never want to spend time with your family. ME: And you always want to

Last week seemed to feature a victory over ignorance, when JCPenny refused to fire Ellen Degeneres as their spokesperson because a group called One Million Moms threatened to boycott JCPenny because Ellen is an out-and-proud lesbian. People were outraged. Apparently, there are a lot of homosexuals you can go after, but Ellen is the Lucille Ball of lesbian television hosts--she's untouchable. Even Bill O'Reilly came out in her defense, saying that One Million Moms was trying to bring back McCarthyism. But all seemed well once JCPenny stood by Ellen. The evil One Million Moms seemed vanquished. Or were they? What a lot of people made fun of is that One Million Moms is actually only made up of about forty thousand people. That's still an awful lot of ignorance, but not nearly as much as their name would suggest. What a lot of people didn't point out is that by even acknowledging this fringe group, the media was giving them power. When Rush Limbaugh challen

I have a problem. Well, it might not be a problem. I guess it depends how you look at it. I have trouble separating the art from the artist. Let me give an example: If I don't like an actor or actress, I don't bother seeing their movies. They might be fantastic, but if I dislike them, I can't separate how I feel from the work they're doing. I used to try and fight this. I'd tell myself that it was my responsibility as an artist to look past my personal feelings about someone and just take their work for what it is. Then I got a little older and realized that life is too short to spend doing stuff you don't like. And if I don't like someone, I don't like experiencing their work. I know that some awful people have been truly great artists, and I'm thankful that I don't know as much about my favorite actors, writers, etc., because if I did, I may not like them as much. In fact, sometimes I specifically try not to find out things a

I could be wrong, but despite how popular Rhianna may be, I doubt that twenty years from now, anyone will be saying that they remember where they were the first time they heard "Rude Boy." Although both "Rude Boy" and a song like "Didn't We Almost Have It All" may both be considered pop songs, only one of them is the song my parents refer to as "their divorce song." A lot of singers give people break-up songs, and fall in love songs, but to give someone a divorce song? That's saying something. Her songs encapsulate experiences in a way that other songs don't. And here's why she deserves so much credit: The songs aren't all that good. Think about "How Will I Know?" sung by anybody else--especially one of the singers around these days. Not to date myself, or sound like an old crony, but I doubt Miley Cyrus could make that song sound as joyful as Whitney did. I'm not trying to take anything away fro

The title of this post may seem odd. Comparing a phrase that's been used for a corrupt business with the word theater may seem ludicrous, but I've been seeing more and more examples of it lately. Smaller theaters seem to be getting kinder, some might even say flimsier, reviews from critics. I wonder if it's because these critics feel like if they actually lay into any of these theaters, they run the risk of hurting the theater so much it won't be able to recover. It's not like it hasn't been proven that a bad review can significantly hurt ticket sales for a show. Now that critics understand their power, are they using it more sparingly? Look at New York, where they don't hold back. A bad review from the New York Times usually means you're toast, unless of course you have the word "Spiderman" in your title. For example, if you look at the number of shows in Rhode Island that have received negative reviews in the past three years, y

From Social Corp, the people determined to give you the life you never knew you wanted, comes a new way to make sure your relationship gets those last few raspy breaths before it dies completely. Introducing--"Not the End of the Road!" The newest innovation in relationship extension is a mix of nostalgia, sentiment, and good old-fashioned R&B. It's simple: As soon as your significant other sits you down for the break-up talk, call Social Corp and order the "Not the End of the Road" package. We'll immediately airlift and/or helivac the 90's singing group Boyz II Men directly to your door. As soon as the love of your life hears those aching melodies, there's no way they'll be able to leave. Listen to this satisfied customer: "My girlfriend was going to leave me, so I used 'Not the End of the Road' and as soon as she heard 'On Bended Knee,' she realized that we should give it one more try. She broke up with

I was having lunch with the boys when the issue of the gray area came up. BRIAN: The gay area? ME: No, the gray area. With us, everything's a gay area. Here's the gray area--according to our definition. The gray area is a period of time when you're dating someone but you're not official yet. (And when I say official, I mean Facebook official.) Gray areas are always tough, because at a certain point, things are serious enough where it seems like monogamy should be assumed, and yet sometimes... SCOOTER: So I slept with someone in the gray area. ME: And now you're in a relationship? SCOOTER: And I'm wondering-- ALL: Do you tell? TURNER: How long was it between you sleeping with someone and then getting serious with your current--I hesitate to say boyfriend... SCOOTER: Well, I mean, I hooked up with Chris on a Tuesday, and Jon and I made it Facebook official the next night. ME: Twenty-four hours? That's not part of the gray area. S

I've written posts before about the flexible nature of sensitivity. Like how it's somehow okay to have a toy version of the Titanic even though, when it happened, it was a national tragedy. I read an article when the toy came out asking how people would feel if a hundred years from now there was a twin towers toy. People were outraged by the idea. To think we could ever be that insensitive. But the thing is... We already are. To prove this, I tried a little experiment of my own. I told a joke about Abraham Lincoln's assassination. People laughed. I told the same joke, but replaced Abraham Lincoln with John F. Kennedy. One person giggled. Most felt uncomfortable. What's the difference? Time. But is it any more insensitive to laugh at one joke as opposed to the other? It's not like anybody I told the joke to personally knew J.F.K. When American Horror story did a school-shooting themed episode, some people--who were of the Columbine gener

It's been awhile since I've checked with GQ to see what style trends I should be keeping up with this winter. Luckily for me, GQ went to Paris and came back with a whole roster of looks that we'll be seeing here in the States any day now. Here are my thoughts: http://www.gq.com/fashion-shows/F2012/paris/gq-paris-fashion-week-vibes-coverage-show-reviews#slide=1 - First off, what's a Kryptonian man? Is it a man who can beat Superman in an arm-wrestling match? - The name Mugler is adorable. Points for that. - The pants look like what you would wear to a circle jerk in the 1970's. http://www.gq.com/fashion-shows/F2012/paris/gq-paris-fashion-week-vibes-coverage-show-reviews#slide=2 - Adrien Brody meets crime-solving English professor. - This look is so French, when you buy it, the salesperson is required to insult your cheekbones. - There are actually seventeen more layers you can't see in the photo. It's the male version of corsetting. h

(A bare stage. GLENN holds a script in her hand. ALEX, VAL, JEFF, and IKE are all sitting around her.) GLENN: What is acting? ALEX: Acting is-- GLENN: Wrong. ALEX: I didn't even-- GLENN: Wrong! You're a fool. Become a plumber. ALEX: But-- GLENN: A plumbing fool! Exeunt! (ALEX sighs, and leaves the theater.) GLENN: He was corrupting my art. IKE: Glenn, you haven't even told us what script you're doing yet. GLENN: Haha, god you're sexual. IKE: I'm...what? GLENN: Stop making those eyes at me. Act like a professional. IKE: I'm just afraid of you. GLENN: Fear. Sex. Death. Madness. IKE: Those things are all different. VAL: She's a goddess. IKE: Val, don't go into her light. VAL: I don't believe EVERYTHING she says. JEFF: No, he means, don't go into her actual light. If you do, she chops off your toes and feeds them to John Lithgow. GLENN: Silence! (They all huddle together.) GLENN: The play

There's a kid I run into all the time around the town I'm from, and I'm pretty sure if you look up "adorable" or "precocious" or just "golly gee whiz huzzah," you'd see his face. He's about eight-years-old. Very friendly. Very talkative. Very bright for his age. Everyone who knows him likes him. ...Except me. For some reason, I loathe this child. I don't know why. I feel awful about it. Every time I see him, there's a part of me that says, Ugh, and then another part of me says, Stop it! You're awful! and then the first part responds with, Please, he's insufferable. And on and on and on, until finally, the nice part gives up and leaves to go help the homeless and the evil part stays sitting on my shoulder casting scornful glances at the adorable little kid. Recently, I posted something on Facebook scolding critics of the movie Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close for writing that they wanted to thrott

There's a new word that seems to be a critical favorite when it comes to describing a theatrical production: Brave. Critics, always looking for new ways to be hyperbolic, seem to have latched onto this word because, apparently, "life-affirming" has run its course. Being a stickler for proper word usage (and someone who loves to pick on critics) I thought about the way this word was being bandied about. "Brave." What would a piece of theater have to be to be brave? Immediately, I think of "Red Light Winter" by Adam Rapp, an incredibly stark and intense play that made me wince several times while reading it. If someone were to ask me if they should mount the show, I'd say "Yes, but it's a very difficult play." So perhaps, to me, a brave production is one that's undertaken a difficult play. (Differentiating between "play" and "production:" something critics still seem to have trouble doing.) A lo

This year, I made a resolution to stop filling my head with so much junk. After an extended Mob Wives marathon followed by the six-day reunion of Bad Girls Club: Mumbai , I decided that enough was enough. Not only was my brain turning into artificially flavored yogurt, but I was no longer able to converse with my friends about the shows they were enjoying. I found myself saying things like--"At what point during Downtown Abbey does Maggie Smith put out a single called 'Going Downstairs (On Me)(Lady Bits)?' Because if that doesn't happen, I'm not interested." Finally, I'd had enough. Starting January 1st, I sat down with a list of 2011's Best Television shows, and I started embracing the more cultured side of pop culture. How's that going, you may ask? Well... There are certain "great" shows that I simply don't get. Homeland sucked me in immediately, but it seemed to lose a lot of steam, only to gain it back in the

Cynthia Nixon recently got everybody in an uproar when she announced that she has chosen to be gay. In other words, she's been with men and when she was with them, she was straight, and now she's with a woman, and she's gay. I tried to find out if Anne Heche has weighed in on this, but so far, no luck. The big problem with introducing the word "choice" into a discussion about sexuality is that it then seems to lend credence to the idea that ALL gay people are choosing to be gay. When, in fact, what's really happening, is that Cynthia Nixon is crazy. Oh, please don't me wrong. I thoroughly enjoy her as an actress, and she seems like a lovely woman, but to think that you can label yourself whatever you want-- Well, I guess you can. The issue is whether or not you can get other people to honor what it is you're labeling yourself. For example, I could label myself a turtle. Would other people regard me as a turtle? Would I be oohed over