Friday, March 6, 2015

America's Butt Munch.

The S is for Suckage, and the U is for Up yours.
No, not me. The 405. Where am I? Sitting right in the middle of it. If you live in Southern California, you know I'm in hell right now. On one hand, you have the drivers. Everyone thinks their agenda is so much more goddamned important than yours. And isn't it? I mean, that Xbox 360 isn't going to play itself, War Games. On the other hand, you have the road itself, which naturally sucks, but then you throw in all the goodies from Caltrans: "Carmageddon," "Carpocalypse," whatever name the media conjures up to make what is essentially shitty road construction sound awesomely epic when it's so ... not. Next they'll stream Tiesto into all of our cars, funnel us into a Del Taco drive-thru, charge a convenience fee and call it "Carchella." Hashtag fun, vocal fry.

So, it's been a while since I've written anything, mostly because the only free time I have is when I'm sitting in a car. The rest of my time is spent feeding a baby, changing a baby, soothing a baby and teaching him how to destroy my enemies when he grows up. Perpetually assholey barista at my local Starbucks, be warned. The enemy of my enemy is my son.

As this is a horror blog, I should probably throw something horror-y in it. Well, as it happens, I am working on a new script, titled She Swallows, and it's based on my favorite guilty pleasure this side of an empty Pepperidge Farm cake box: the Real Housewives franchise. I love it. I love to watch it, talk about it, listen to (hilarious) podcasts that recap it, and so on and so forth. Why? Hell, I don't know, pregnancy hormones? Postpartum repression? Anyway, I'm going to make my housewives eat each other. Out. Kidding. Unless my script gets optioned by Vivid, and listen, I like that whole roof-over-my-head thing too much to judge. But really, what do you think? Cannibal housewives. I'm making "eat the rich" a real thing, y'all. Now, I know it's been said that we should "write what (we) know," but I never do what I'm told; otherwise, I'd be writing about green tea fraps and the lyrics to J.J. Fad's Supersonic.

Or I could write about traffic. Coming soon, from the writer of She Swallows ... It Blows.