Category — Life

I just wanted to send a Merry Christmas to my peeps. Or a Happy Hanukkah or Seasons Greetings or Happy Holidays. In the words of Outkast, ‘Whatever floats your boat or finds your lost remote.’ It’s days like today that remind me how extremely blessed I am. I hope on this day that you spend time with love ones and let them know how much you care because there’s no greater gift than that. (With the exception of maybe the miracle of a Texans playoff birth…I’m just kidding Mom.)

I want to leave you with a clip from quite possibly my favorite Christmas movie. Enjoy Michael Caine flex his acting muscle around felt. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, take care.

I am someone who honestly loves giving presents. It really is my favorite part of Christmas. This isn’t something I say because I like to pat myself on the back and feel good about myself, I really mean it. I toil and labor and methodically calculate what each one of my Christmas presents will be. I don’t like going in to a store and looking around. I like going into a store grabbing exactly what I have in mind and telling the clerk, ‘No, I am not interested in anything else.’ I pride myself in giving great presents. It’s something that I work hard at and I enjoy. I am really someone who honestly loves giving presents.

The other day I was going through some ski clothes and stumbled upon a black beanie with a skull and cross bones on it. It reminded me that sometimes gifts are very simple.

A couple of years ago my family decided to take a ski trip on vacation. At that time in my life I had still never seen snow. Maybe a couple of flurries here and there but not real snow. The thought of going skiing was amazing. Seeing real snow. Hanging out in a lodge. All things new to me. However no one in my family had ski clothes so my Grandma Peggy bought everyone clothes. She just so happened to buy me a black beanie with a skull and cross bones on it. A little ominous for a first time skier, but I didn’t mind it so much.

This vacation also happened in a time in my life wear I was in the process of growing a beard…or the best beard I could grow. (Sometimes as an actor you don’t control your face.) I had a thick, scraggly, nasty looking beard. And this is where the bad exposition ends and the true story begins.

After a tough half-day of skiing the intense “greens” of Deer Park, I decided that it was lunch. I did my best of not looking like a fool and took my skis off and put the on the rack with my poles. I proceeded to pretend I knew how to walk in ski boots, a talent that I still don’t know. I went to the very luxurious locker room and looked around to make sure no one was noticing that I didn’t know how to walk.

I sat on the bench for a moment before opening my locker. My hands were frozen and my clothes were soaked. Just a few moments before I was sliding down one of the slopes for about fifty yards. Learning how to ski could be very humiliating. I had the feeling that my legs were in a tremendous amount of pain but they were frozen and I couldn’t be sure. I might be horribly injured.  I finally decided to man up and pull my PB & J out of the locker. I quickly decided that it wasn’t worth the effort to eat this beautiful sandwich in the lodge, I was going to eat it right here. That way I wouldn’t have to walk any more than I had to.

As I was finishing my sandwich I noticed a small moppy headed child sitting next to me smiling. He was grinning from ear to ear. I didn’t quite know how to take this seeing that the whole time I’ve been in the locker room I’ve been scowling in pain. The kid looked at me and said Hi. Hey, I say back. He just continues to smile at me. Maybe he wants a sandwich, I don’t know.

Hey buddy, you want a sandwich? I have an extra, I say to him.  The kid just sort of giggles a bit. I start looking around the room for a parent for this little odd ball. There’s got to be a parent somewhere responsible for this kid who’s trying to talk to me while I’m in pain. I see adults, but no one who seems to be paying attention. I like your hat, the kid says. I beginning to think this kid’s making fun of me,  but he seems too sincere. Thanks, I like to wear pictures of heads on my head, I say. The kid seems to find this humorous and chuckles.

Finally a thirtysomething year old man turns around and says, I’m sorry, I hope he isn’t bothering you. No, no, I say to the man. I look back down to realize that the kid is sitting right next to me flush up against my leg. I’m not sure how to take that and I don’t want to anger the father so I stand up and pretend to grab something out of my locker. The kid stands up on the bench and his smile seems to be bigger and brighter than ever and his eyes are fixed on me. Are you a pirate? the kid asks.

Now I didn’t know how to take this because I’m not accustomed to lying to innocent children. I look at the little blond kid, he’s just beaming with happiness. Then I notice the man. His eyes are huge. He’s looking at me with desperation and he very slowly nods his head yes. So I look the kid dead in the eye and I say, Yup. I’m a pirate. The little kid then jumps off the bench and spins around and says, I knew it! He then goes to the other side of the locker room screaming, Dean, Dean, I found one! I found one!

The man looks at me with a weak smile and says, That’s what he wants for Christmas. He wanted to meet a pirate. And before I could ask, the kid and Dean, who was smaller and blonder than the first kid, were right beside me. Dean asked if I was a pirate and I said yeah. They asked me my name and I said Paul (I thought I should be somewhat honest).  I looked at the man and said, Well, I should be going now, I have to catch up with my crew. The man nodded and began to tell the kids that I had to go and say bye. Bye Mr. Pirate Paul, the said in almost unison. Bye, I said, be good now. The man mouthed the words Thank you so much. And I turned around and started to walk away. All I could hear as I was leaving was pure innocence and excitement of the two kids saying, It was a real one! You said I couldn’t find one! It really happened! As I was trying my hardest not to limp too badly until I was out of sight.

I wrote the title for this and then stared at the computer. I thought writing about writers block would get me out of my slump. I poise my fingers to type and I get frustrated. ‘Who cares about your stupid inability to write. That’s not interesting.’ I then relax my fingers and decide to make myself hot chocolate. I get out of bed but decide I’m too comfortable and return.

I started this blog to get writing done and I barely write anything. I’ve found a home among writing my NFL picks for but even that has sucked lately. I can’t write to save my life right now. It’s frustrating. I have all these ideas but no way to get them written.

I look through my draft folder. There’s plenty of options. Most of them rewritten so many times I forget what my original ideas were. ‘I’m too self critical I’m sure there’s some good stuff somewhere in this folder.’ But after searching for a while. I think maybe I’m not too self critical, I just write crap. Oh well, I’ll waste time on Facebook or Twitter.

I feel like a louse because I need to get some writing done. I’ve got a play to work on. I even have notes for writing a book. But these ideas now seem dumb. These projects are old friends I’ve lost touch with and have no idea where to pick up with, I’d probably just have to start anew. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t just finish reading The Road. Cormac McCarthy is a genuis. I get more critical of my writing. ‘Who cares about what I write? I should just write something to get out of this slump. It wont matter how good it is.’ My head hurts and I rub my eyes searching for something in my imagination. Anything. Nothing. I just need to put pen to paper. ‘Well, everyone has to write crap every now and then right?’ I hope so.  So I start writing.

This one’s for all of my Houston peeps. My Comedysportz debut is this Saturday December 5th. Come out for some improv and see my rookie game.

This Halloween is going down as my favorite Halloween to date. Why you might ask? (‘Might’ being the key words as some are already leaving the website.) Well, for All Hallows Eve this year my beautiful girlfriend got tickets to the Rockets opener. She knows me well. We went to Toyota Center and watched the Rockets give the Portland Trail Blazers what for.

Trevor Ariza looked like an old friend we all know and loved name Tracy McGrady, especially in that number ‘1′. He scored a cool 33 points, a career high for Mr. Ariza, and he looked silky smooth on the court. The man might make the Rockets look good.

One of my favorite moments of the night was during warm ups. Alex turned to me and said she liked the Rockets white warm up jerseys. Then the Trail Blazers came out and she said they looked evil. It was good versus evil. The Trail Blazers were playing a team that is barely a shadow of the team that beat them in the playoffs last year.

I was excited to see Chase Budinger, the poster boy for white basketball players. He was alright but they really didn’t need to use him much off the bench.

David Anderson looked awkward. He looked out of place and small. Every move he made looked spastic and weird. It seems like he’s second guessing himself. It really worried me.

I wanted Pops Mensa-Bonsu to play just so I could yell his name.

Chuck “The Chuck Wagon” Hayes had eight points. I’m not sure if that’s a career high…but I think it might be.

Clutch the Bear deserves an award. I’ve always told Alex how great of a Mascot he was and he delivered. We both laughed so hard at all of his stupid antics and he had some halloween costumes. He was Spiderman, A Knight, Superman (on a segway), Batman, a pumpkin, Wonderwoman and Michael Jackson throughout the night.

For the halftime show the Power Dancers, Launch Crew and my personal favorite: the Little Dippers (a group of kids who can dance better than anyone I know) performed Thriller. Which ended with Clutch in the MJ costume dancing like a pro. Seriously he had a smooth moonwalk.

It was the awesomest Halloween I’ve had since I was a kid. And Alex and I got a hot dog, beer and T-shirt as part of the ticket cost. Sweetness. (Although the shirt did say ‘guys night out’ and had beer glasses on them. Alex was none to pleased.) The Rockets look like they could get a playoff spot if they play that well every night. And for the record I might have the most amazing girlfriend ever.