I recently got the iPhone. One of the features that sold me was it’s ability to film video. I’ve been taking advantage of it…mainly while drunk and looking for laughs (and occasionally when the naked girl in my bed thinks I’m making a phone call). Last night I ran into a old friend…he was really really tired, so I didn’t bother waking him up while I attempted to film up his nostrils.

Right after this I actually stuck my phone into his mouth, but some ghetto white chick got madd and threated to stab my lady friend if I tried filming her. I told her to chew on elepahant shit, threw half of my pop tart at her, and ran away screaming for the police.

The large room smelt of peanut butter and tequila. I was drunk, but also very hungry for the butter made from peanuts(not to be confused with the butter made from penis…I did not want that). Our clothes were scattered across the floor…except for my socks, I stapled those to her wall(I’m tired of losing my socks at girl’s places and in my drunk undressing, stapling them to the wall seemed like a genius idea). I met her at a bar on 50th street. She was throwing up outside. I called her beautiful and asked if she’s ever been to Italy. She smiled, threw up again, and asked if I wanted to go back to her place. I started unbuttoning my shirt.

Her goose down comforter was torn and goose features flew around the room as I fucked this little Asian’s vag out. She kept insisting on only having sex missionary style so she could see my eyes (weirdo). I told her her breath smelt like battery acid and spider shit and to turn around. She did and I continued my drunk attempt to look like the porn stars I watch on an hourly basis on my iPhone. I will say, I was doing a great job…so good in fact, that I started to get a little sea sick. Did she have a water bed? Wait, we were on her kitchen table. I wanted to distract myself from my nausea so I did what most people would do and started pulling her hair. At first she jerked her head forward and yelped like a small dog, but I held tight and kept her in my reins. I began pulling tighter and with every tug I could tell she was starting to enjoy it a little more. I figured if she liked that, maybe she might like ‘other things’.

That’s when I started talking dirty to her, real dirty. “oh you likey me?” and “me makey your kitty kat purr so nice ” she replied, “why are you talking like that? I’ve already told you twice I’m from San Francisco, I’m not Asian, I’m white”. She was lying. Her eyes were way too small and chinky, but maybe, just maybe she was looking for a little roll playing? “oh you bad bad girl, you get big spanky from daddy…your Irish daddy(said in a terrible Irish accent)” Why not? She replied with, “well, tell me I look as pretty as Susan Sarandon”. What did she just say? Did she really just tell me to tell her she looks as pretty as Susan Sarandon? This bitch was fucking insane…who thinks Susan Sarandon is pretty? She played the mom with cancer in Step Mom. BUT once I’m humping around I do what has to be said or done to get the job done right. “Yeah, yeah you look just like Susan Sarandon. You guys have the same…toes” She screamed in delight. “When I first met you I thought you were Susan Sarandon. I was just coming up to ask for your autograph”. With her eyes closed in pleasure, she scream, “Oh my God, I’m going to cum. Don’t stop. Don’t stop”. I didn’t know much about Susan Sarandon and was sorta running out of things to say. “And you know who else you look like…that actress…um”. Her little Asian eyes got larger as she yelled, “Who, Who? Tell me who I look like?” “You know that one from that movie…she’s soooo pretty”. “Tell me! Tell me! I’m going to cum”. “Um, that real pretty one, um…Morgan Freeman?” There was a long, very silent pause with no movement. Then she turned, looked me dead in the eyes, “I just came all over the table cloth”.

I hadn’t cum at that point, but opted out of a blowjob and just got dressed. She asked where I was going…I told her I thought she was the real Susan Sarandon and felt really betrayed. Though disappointed to see me go, she understood and said, “I understand”. Within 10 minutes I was back at the bar ordering a Blueberry Stoli and Ginger Ale with my friends. When questioned where I was for the last half hour I told them I was drunk texting my dad outside. They were all hammered and didn’t bother nor care to question the authenticity of my story…until I sat down and my pants rode up over my ankles. A friend of mine took notice, “Dude why the hell aren’t you wearing any socks?”. Fuck.

After a year in the city I need to make a film. I feel if I don’t make one relatively soon I’m going to spend the rest of my life bald, poor, and fat(rich people buy poor peoples hair and therefore never go bald). I’ve done a lot in the past year, but at the same time I haven’t done shit. I’m very thankful I had a play produced, but the only thing that helped me do was remove ‘un’ from “unproduced playwright’. In other words agents aren’t calling…let alone picking up my calls.

I would love to film mine and my writing partners screen play, “Super Seniors”. Tooting our own horn, it is hilarious and would be a blast to make, but it is too big of a project for my first full length film. Therefore I’ve been leaning more towards making a documentary. It seems like a more feasible option both with budget and time…but as with anything in my life I am extremely ADD and very indecisive. Originally I wanted to do a documentary on subway artist. Then I wanted to document myself and a friend leaving all of our belongings behind and attempting to live homeless in New York for six weeks. Now I’m trying to channel all my new views on love and relationships into a documentary about, drum roll….love and relationships. Will this actually get made? I don’t know…but I figured if I wrote it here it would help me keep focused.

If you live in the New York area and would like to be in my documentary send me an email.