Sunday, November 22, 2009

Just A Saturday Night In Wilmington

I don't play poker.

Mostly because I can read people's minds and therefore feel its cheating. Also, I don't like to "handle" chips, unless its that latin love Erik Estrada. I'm not gay, but come on! That dude's down right dreamy:
So last night I went to see Stephen Lynch at The Grand in Wilmignton, DE. It was an awesome show! I was there with Jim Burns, star of The Water Horse: Legend of the Deep. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it. Jim is awesome. The secen where he farts in the tub and the Water Horse giggles like a child is priceless. Cinema at its finest. Again, not gay, but Jim is also dreamy:
Speaking of the dreamy, here's a shot of Jim dreaming. I hope he's dreaming of doing a sequel to The Water Horse. So many questions left unanswered.

Also, accompanying us to the show, was George Stulak. You may consider George dreamy, but he's most certainly gay. Also, never saw The Water Horse. Which in and of itself is rather gay if you ask this red blooded, hetero, America.

Although let's be honest, the dude can pull off wicker & camo, which will come in handy if we ever decide to storm the beachs of pretty much ANY beach resort.
So after the show, Steve Manocchio got us back stage with Stephen, Rod Cone and David Josefsberg. Stephen & Joberg were playing cards. Joberg said, "Sit down boys, play a hand." I told them I was religious and my God looked down upon those who gambled for financial gain. They said we could play for bragging rights, but I informed them pride too was a sin to my people. Jim and George are not burdened by such a strict God, which meant they were able to play (and will ultimately burn in hell...George even more so cause of the whole gay thing).
So Joberg dealt the cards and I let my mind reading go to work just to amuse me. Lynch was holding a pair of queens. Joberg nothing better than a 10. Jim was rocking a 2 pair. And George had a pair of twos and the instruction card. Not sure how that ended in there, but George held it when it was time to get some "fresh" cards. The betting part I zoned out for as I'm fairly certain just being in the room for that can have horrible repercussions on one's soul.
The betting went around the table and go to George. "Give me all your 9's," he said.
Joberg looked annoyed, "This isn't go fish buddy."
George threw the table over and pulled out a gun he fashioned from the seat infront of him during the night's performance. "I said I'll be taking the Gosh Dang nines ya cunts!" Personally, I appreciated him not taking the Lords name.
Joberg went throught the deck and gave him all of the nines. Let's face it, you don't mess with a dude in wicker and camo, no matter who you are. George texted me later that night he is almost done the house of cards he is building only from "nines." George is on medication.
Before we left Stephen and Joberg were kind enough to pose for a picture with me.
If the photo seems hazy, it was probably all of the REEFER in the air. You know those guys in the music biz. Also, if you look closely, you and totally tell Stephen is grabbing my ass.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Star Wars: The Wrath of Caan

Some of you may recall the blog post listed above (not the part about Pat Morita dying...although you may remember that too).

Julie's friend, Scott, from her Pulsations Days forced us out of bed one cold night at 3:00 am back in '05, to help with what he called "Balloon Work," during the Macy's Day Parade. It was absolutely getting into a plane with Cory Lidle (ironically, the same apartment was victim on both occasions. No word on whether Pat Morita was a resident).

I vowed never to allow Mr. Scott Caan (yes, that Scott Caan) to get me caught up in another one of his "adventures." Well it was a quiet four years, until Sunday night.

Julie and I went to see "Star Wars In Concert" at the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia. A lot of our friends were in attendence, Joel & his lovely bride Sabrina. James. One of my favorite writers Matt Casarino ( - cheap plug buddy!) along with Tina Sheing. And the entire Turner family. Julie and I had floor seats! How happy were we? Keeping in mind that EVERYWHERE we go, the tallest person seems to sit in front of my wife. Multiply the fact that this was a Star Wars event and the guy becomes exponentially wider. Let me put it this way, Salicious Crumb laughs at his every joke...get it? We enjoyed the evening and then said "adieu" to our friends (Actually I didn't as I don't speak French).

Julie and I sat down and waited around for the place to clear out. A security guard said, "Gotta move it along." I told him we were just waiting for the crowd to dissipate a bit before we headed out. This guy, who's name tag read "Abe," didn't care much for that plan. Julie, being the wise beauty she is, was able to keep me from pulling a John Wilkes on old Honest Abe. She even managed to get him to point out a VIP elevator that would get us up a level faster than standing in the line to go up the steps (floor seat bitches!). So we walked up to another security guard who looked back to Abe. Abe nodded and the security guard allowed us to hoped in the elevator. It wasn't fast, but it wasn't standing in a line filled with amped up Star Wars nerds either. The doors open and J-Lo Snow and I were home free...almost.

"Kevin!" He always manages to punch me directly in the bone in my shoulder. I haven't seen Scott Caan in 4 years, almost to the day...I mean I've scene him in movies, he's done a bunch since 2005 including Ocean's 13...but he hasn't seen me. AND I am standing with my wife, his friend, yet he still manages to see me first and essentially cripple my left arm for the rest of the night. Scott hugs Julie (no punch there) and pulls us both from the elevator. His "bodyman" Leo is standing there and escorts us through a crowd of people to a set of service doors. We walk down a long hall and Leo pulls out a cell phone. "This is us coming out now," he says. This is the second time I've met Leo, and either he didn't speak last time, or I never noticed he has a high pitch voice with a slight German accent. Julie told me later she thought it was Austrian. I don't know that there's much of a difference.

BOOM! The door busts open and Scott double times it into the Limo waiting. Leo ushers Julie and I to follow toward the door Scott just jumped through. I notice cameras are everywhere. Not fans, but something different. Paparazzi. Scott has to deal with his share of unwanted camera bulbs flashing because of the business he works in, but this was like a frenzy! Likely because of the rumors that Scott has been seen "making time" with Jessica Alba. I think of that for a second as I'm ducking into the car. I dismiss it as just gossip for the trashy websites like TMZ (which I watch every week day at 6:30). As Leo slams the door behind Julie and I, I find the soft delicate hand of Jessica Alba in mine. Scott says, "These are the people I was telling you about, Kevin & Julie." Wait. What? How the hell did Scott Caan know we'd be at this show? I know I once acted out the entire Cloud City Scene from Empire for his amusment over dinner the night I first met him, but that was only because Billy Dee was sitting at the next table. I was that or acted out Brian's Song...which I thought would be inappropriate given Billy Dee's costar in that film. I wondered if Leo had been keeping tabs on us. As our eyes met in the rearview mirror he lifted an eyebrow as if he heard my thoughts. Nope. Definitely German.

"Where did you guys want to go?" Scott asked.
"I heard Chickie's and Pete's is nice," Jessica suggested.

This was refreshing. I don't mind going to Pat's or Geno's, but that kind of seems hacky to do with people from out of town. Chickie' and Pete's it was.

We get a table in the bar at the restaurant. Leo says he'll be back and then directs his attention to me, "Take care of things in my stead." I don't even know what that's supposed to mean, but it sounds ominous. My head shakes uncontrollably as I try and shake my head "yes" and also throw it from side to side as if to say, "Huh?" Out of context, it probably just looked like a really mean impression on Michael J Fox. Leo left and Scott said he had to piss. He also departed the table.

The place wasn't packed but it had a good amount of people watching the Patriots play the Colts. Since The Eagles lost earlier in the day, the boos and cheers seemed half hearted and almost sarcastic behind us.

It occurred to me that Jessica was wearing a pair of glasses with NO glass in them. Not sunglasses (as it was 8:30 pm in South Philly - that doesn't go unnoticed). But actual reading glasses. This small addition made her look completely different and kept people from recognizing her. Our waitress came over and asked what we wanted to drink Scott wasn't back yet so we said we needed another minute. Tom Brady made a great pass on the TV and a fair amount of cheers went up throughout the bar. It was almost loud enough to drowned out the sound of glass breaking in the men's room. Julie looked over quickly, and Jessica took off her glass as if they were impeding her vision. "Oh shitballs," she said. I'll never forget it, because it sounded so weird coming from the actress. I never really liked "shitballs" any way. It was like taking 2 wonderfully meaningful curse words and smacking them together to make what sounded like a child's word. Like "fuck" and "dick." When would it ever be appropriate to put those two words together to form a compound word? I got out of my chair and headed for the bathroom, mostly out of fear of what Leo would do if I didn't.

I opened the door and the mirror over the sink was smashed. It spiderwebbed out from the center which seemed to have a blood mark, and the shape of a forehead in the middle. I'm not sure whose since Scott's head was bleeding, but so was the guy who was holding him from behind. Another guy, wearing a bloodied Colts jersey, was standing in front of Scott with a knife drawn. Scott looked at me when I walked in, "Now you're both fucked." I hated when Scott put this kind of pressure on me. We once fought 5 guys after leaving the set of "Brooklyn Rules." If it wasn't for Alec Baldwin and Leo showing up at the last minute, I'd hate to think of what the outcome would have been.

The dude with the knife came at me and I slipped on some water that had been spilled on the floor. As I wondered if it was urine, I reached out with my right hand (since my left arm was just now starting to get the feeling back) for something so I wouldn't fall. What I grabbed was this thugs arm. The one holding the knife. Somehow as I was spinning out of control I forced the knife he was weilding in to his leg. "Oh Shitballs!" Screamed the other guy. He loosened his grip on Scott, which was all Scott needed to throw an elbow in this dude's nose. The back of his head hit the exact same spot in the mirror. Scott ripped the Colts jersey from the stunned guy and kicked him in the balls sending him to the floor. With both guys down Scott and I darted from the bathroom. Julie and Jessica gathered there things and we made a beeline for the door. Just then Leo and the Limo driver pull up. We pile in and take off. "Anything exciting happen?" Leo asked. "Nothing we couldn't handle," Scott said as he punched me in my right shoulder bone.

Since the night was getting late, the Hollywood couple dropped us off at our car back at the Wachovia center. "I'm doing the balloon's at the parade of you guys wanna come up this year." I quickly made up and excuse about seeing family all day. Scott said they might blow off the parade and tag along with us then. I don't know if he was kidding or not...and likely won't until Thursday morning. We all hugged and they got back in the car. "It was good hanging out again," he said from the rolled down window. "Hey, next time lets do Pat's." The car drove away and I would have given him the finger, but I couldn't lift my right arm.

I never found out what started the fight in the men's room. But with Scott, nothing would have surprised me. Just like I wasn't surprised when I got home and a bloodied Colts jersey was on my front porch with a note which read, "May the force be with you." I stood in the cold night air reading this thinking, "What a fuckdick."