Thursday, September 25, 2008


If you don't know what a link is, you've probably never used the internet before. A LINK is the thing you're seeing below.

Copy it and paste it into that big white bar at the top of your screen....or maybe just click on it.

THEN, after you do that, go watch YOUTUBE. You can find funny videos of people puking, people falling down and panda bears sneezing.

Also, I'm watching Riding in Cars with Boys right now, but only because my wife put it in.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008



My CAT Scan (Computerized Axial Tomography or CT Scan) was performed on Friday - pelvis, abdominal and a chest x-ray. The man-nurse told us it was just because we were new patients and the doctor liked doing chest x-rays on new patients, but we'd done our research.

They were checking to see if the cancer had spread.....

I hate needles. I hate needles more than anything. I would first eat mashed potatoes from between a homeless man's buttcheeks using only my mouth and tongue as silverware than take a needle in my own. I would rather shoot a shotglass of footsweat than "just feel a little stick". I would rather fall down a flight of stairs blindfolded than to lay my eyes on one of those thin sliver needles.....SYRINGES. Ug. Just THINKING the word makes my toes wiggle.

Anyway, I digress. Last week they gave me powdered Barium. This is the stuff you drink and it lights your insides up like a Christmas tree in the CT scan. I have to drink 64 oz. of this radioactive potion before my appointment.

My wife says they probably won't have to "stick me" since I'd been drinking the Berry-Yum. This pleases me....I hate needles.

I show up and the first thing the man-nurse says is, "Ok, we're gonna get ya hooked up with a chest X-ray, then we're gonna plug ya into an IV real quick and do a Cat Scan.

My day just dropped from around a possible 4/10, to about a 2/10. An EYE-VEE!!!??? Those things are like the giraffes of needles. The mother brain of pain.
I ask the doctor if there's a bathroom around and he points me off down the hallway.

I tell him I'll be right back. I tell him I've just got to go have a quick panic attack.

They poke me. They scan me. They X-ray me (not in that order) and then we go eat pancakes at IHOP.

My day has just gone up to a 3/10.

Now we wait all weekend to see the results. How is my cancer? Has it spread? Lung cancer? Stomach cancer? Liver cancer? Has it gone to my lymph nodes? Will I die in six months? If it's spread what is my chance of survival? Research tells us that depending on what it is, it could be anywhere from 30% - 93%.
It rests on our minds all weekend, but we push it back by playing mini-golf.

Monday I take a half day and we drive to the urologist.

He tells us that I have Stage 1 cancer. That's Stage 1 of 3.

He tells us it hasn't spread.

He tells us it's all good news.

My day is a 10/10.

I walk out of the doctor's office and hug my wife.

Today is not my day to die.

We posted a while ago telling everyone we'd postponed the shoot. We said that maybe later on we'd be able to look back and go, "HEY!...It really WAS better that we didn't do it late September."

There ya go. Shooting a film and dealing with this at the same time would have been disastrous.

Monday, September 22, 2008


So you wanna get your nasty mug in a movie, huh? Well, here's ANOTHER chance. Jordan's Room Productions is still looking to fill a few spots in their FEATURE FILM.

We've got ONE lead and a few supporting.

Here's the catch - we're an LA based production company that will be shooting in South Dakota so we're looking for actors that are EITHER based in LA or the Midwest (South Dakota, Minnesota, North Dakota, Nebraska, etc, etc.)

If you're interested, PLEASE check out:

We've got a few different age ranges - from 18 to 70 - so don't be afraid to take a gander, salamander.

If you match up with what we're looking for.....or if you DON'T but think you've got a little somethin' extra, send us a myspace message or drop us an email at:

and we'll let you know how to proceed!


Wednesday, September 17, 2008

CANCER?.......but I’m a Virgo...

I was peeing the other day and felt a lump on my testicle.

Oh no...

I went to the doctor and he felt the lump and didn't know what it was so he sent me to a specialist - a urologist.

I went there today - on my birthday.

The urologist told me to pull down my pants and underwear. I just kept thinking, "I hope he doesn't try and give me an oral exam....."

I told him it was a little touchy, a little tender. He started to squeeze and I said, "whoa - I said tender".

He tells me his ultra sound guy is in and he wants to give me the once over so I follow him into a room where a little Indian (India Indian, not Native American) man stands in a white lab coat.

In his thick Indian / Apu from the Simpson's accent he says to me, "Please pull down your pants and underwear and sit up here".

He pats the table with the white paper and I drop em and hop up.

He picks up my weiner and says, "Here, hold this, but don't pull on it". I'm not sure what he means, but I comply.

He says, "I'm going to apply the jelly" and as he's lubing me up for the procedure, I say, "Hey man, you've got the best seat in the house".

He smiles, but not because he thinks it's funny. He smiles because he's a polite Indian man.

He starts rubbing the laser gun all over me and I'm watching the screen and I've got the urge to shout, "Is it a boy or a girl - NO WAIT! - don't tell me, I don't wanna know!" but decide against it. I don't think he'll get it.

He takes a bunch of black and white photos of my testicle, tells me to wipe myself off and go wait in Room 3.

The doctor comes in and tells me I've got a tumor and the testicle has to go.


But I don't even smoke......ALTHOUGH, I HAVE suspected that my testicle has been sneaking cigarettes with my butthole for quite some time now....

I'm thinking, "These things happen to friends of my friends - these things happen to people I don't know. These things don't happen to ME.

GOOD NEWS - 98% survivability. APPARENTLY, if you're going to have cancer, this is the one to go with. Brain, liver, stomach, skin, bones - testicle is the one you WANT!



Tell em what he's won, Johnny!

You've WON......A NEW CAR!......Truthfully, Announcer Guy, I really could have went for the winning lottery ticket or Ed McMahon's giant cardboard check. Heck, I would have settled for a used toaster oven to be honest...

I spent some time this morning being very angry. Angry at lots of different things. But now I'm sort of feeling like......really this is more of a nuisance than anything - I just want to get back to..........normal. I'm hoping we can just move through this and have it exit our lives as quickly as it entered.

I plan to talk about it and write about it and say it's name:


Say it with me. If we don't say it, if we treat it like a secret, it gains power over us - like Voldemort - and that, friends and neighbors, will not be happening this year.

MORE GOOD NEWS - next year's birthday has GOT to be better.

Now listen - I don't want sympathy - sympathy implies that we've lost.

I want battle cries......cuz we're gonna scalp this bitch.

You are not welcome here.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008


I was talking to my wife on the phone earlier today. She was outside with our dogs while I was at work.

Suddenly she says, "I gotta go, Clementine is in the street".

Clementine is our dopey cocker spaniel. She squeezes through the fence on occasion and meanders around in the neighbor's yard, usually being persuaded to escape by one of the stray cats that populate our neighborhood.

We always get her back inside.

We spank her.

We say "no!"

She runs into the backyard and rolls in dirt.

Jade called me back a few minutes later and says that Clementine was standing in the road, smelling it and tasting it - the schnoz berries taste like SCHNOZ BERRIES! But all is well now. She's back inside and I say a little prayer and thank God that my dog has escaped a cruel fate once again.

I got home from work the other night (morning) and walked down to the grocery store at about 4am to buy some Cheez-its and Golden Puffs cereal (in the bag, not the box) and I see my neighbor lady putting food out for all these stray cats - the ones that live around here - they're all just following her around, the six of them, like she's the Pied Piper.

It doesn't bother me. Some people hate stray cats. I sort of like them. They're not friendly but I think they give a certain ambiance that I'm a fan of.

Anyway, I'm not sure if they're HERS or if they're strays and she just feeds them, but it's obvious that she cares for them - I mean emotionally, not just food-wise.


So, I just got home from work this morning - it's about 4:30 in the am - I come around my corner and see something in the street, just laying there - it's about the size of

Dang it.

I pull the car up, shine the headlights on the mass in the road.

Yeah - dead cat.

I park the car and debate what to do, finally deciding to pull my garbage bin out into the street, grab a shovel and a pooper-scooper and lift the cat into the garbage can. The thought of just grabbing it with my hands crosses my mind, but for some reason I can't bring myself to do it....which is funny, because I was attempting to pet this very cat last night...

The animal is much heavier than I ever would have imagined and very stiff. When I lift him or her up and peel it off the street, the smell of dead things hits me. It's not bad enough to gag, but enough to make me want to hurry this process along.

I drop the cat in the garbage can, wondering if putting a cat in a garbage can is something Clark Cunningham would do. I think about digging a shallow grave in our dead garden, but ultimately decide against it because I don't want my dogs to exhume the corpse.

I also think about just leaving it out there - letting someone else deal with it...and then I think about the lady next door.

Do you think she would be happier if she woke up, saw the dead cat and was able to accept it's fate or is it better for the cat to just stop showing up?

I mean...bottom line - the cat WILL just stop showing up. I'm not digging that thing outta the trash - but I don't know.

I kept thinking...if Clementine was hit by a car, would I want to walk into my front yard and see my dopey cocker spaniel stuck to the street with blood running from her ears, drying her face to the concrete or would I rather her just.........disappear.

I said another quick prayer, thanking God that that cat was NOT Clementine. Six hours ago, she stood in the same spot the cat laid.
I came inside and washed my hands with soap three times then threw the towel that I used to dry them in the dirty hamper.

There's something about dead animals that makes me feel unclean.

Thursday, September 4, 2008


Here I sit at my computer, answering emails. Just another early afternoon at Jordans Room. Everything is pretty odor. It hits my nostrils like a creeping vapor.

I am immediately aware of what it is - that smell so eminent and strong, clouding in around me, overtaking my presence, my very being.

The smell of a toddler's diaper. The smell of it on your shoes. A burning bag on your front porch.

I look down and, sitting under my desk staring back at me, is my dog, Clementine. Her mouth is open and she's panting and seems to be just waiting for me to notice her.

Once I roll back to say hello, the smell increases ten fold.

I call her and she casually saunters out into the light and I gasp.

"Heavenly Father, why?"

Clementine has decided to stop, drop and a pile of.......well - you know. The brown plate special.

It is on her back, up and down her sides, COVERING her big floppy ears, on her CHEEKS, around her mouth, on her feet and she seems happy enough about it....she actually seems PLEASED with herself.

I casually follow her around, trying to get close enough to grab her collar without actually TOUCHING her and drag her to the bathroom.

I will never understand the inner workings of a creature - dog or otherwise - that revels in rolling around in the brown blanket (on a hot day, no less).

I spray her, I soap her, I spray her.

She's now staring at herself in the TV. I stand up to look at her and she says, "Life is kind when you're a Clementine".