In other Benjamin Button news ...

Jesus.

The Ultimate in Man Babies

Last night, I went with a friend to see "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button". I loved the short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald, but quickly realized even through the previews, that it wouldn't be the same.

When we were waiting for the movie to start we talked about the normal stuff: New Year's plans, Christmas vacations, and, of course, Man Babies.

We were probably pretty obnoxious to other theater goers because as soon as they showed Benjamin Button as a "baby" we were obnoxiously disgusted. But our loudest guffaw was when Benjamin's mother called him, "not a boy, but a man child".

Please to enjoy, some of my favorite "man childs":

This is the story of my red, right ankle.

I've re-injured my ankle.
Last time I hurt it, I was doing laundry, fell down (three) stairs and launched into a major panic attack that I was going to die alone at the bottom of the stairs. This time, I hurt it by exhibiting behavior in preparation for dying alone: I was desperately trying to get my cat to pay attention to me.
I got home to California on Wednesday and was alone in my parents' apartment for a few days. My mom and sister were in Colorado, my brother hadn't made it to the West Coast yet, and my dad was working during the day.
So, while catching up on my Maury one morning, I leaned forward on the bed and tried to reach the family cat, Jelly Bean (note: I did NOT name her). As I was commanding the feline to "look over here" and "why don't you love me? I feed you!" I leaned back on my legs and all my weight hit my right ankle strangely and I heard that familiar pop I heard last time.
Many hours later, when my mom and sister came home, I started to whine that my foot hurt - but mostly to get that attention my jerk of a cat was denying me earlier. My mom and sister told me I had a contusion; I trust their knowledge as they are an on-disability nurse and a frequent patient, respectively.
My mom wrapped me up, iced me down and smoothed my hair. Despite asking for an amputation last night, I think I'm going to live ... and not die alone.

Giddy-up, giddy-up, giddy-up let's go - let's look at the snow!

Happy Holidays from my half-naked, half-cowboy, half-mermaid house to yours.

Please watch.

How to Make Friends on Transportation: A User's Guide

Around this time last year, I was taking the subway back home from work and saw a guy my age sitting down with a giant tin of popcorn on his lap. I searched his face, and couldn't understand why he looked so familiar. Finally, I remembered where I had met him before.
Months prior, a friend of mine and I were taking the train back out to Astoria after seeing some other friends of mine play at a club in Manhattan. Sitting across from us were an incredibly drunk guy and his seemingly sober friend who was trying to wrangle said drunk. The drunk guy kept falling over wanting to lay across the subway bench. The poor woman sitting next to him was less than pleased. My friend and I weren't hiding our amusement very well when he tried to make phone calls underground - we started cracking up.
I thought this was so funny that I not-so-stealthily started taking pictures with my cell phone camera: We started talking to the sober friend to find out how his friend had gotten that way (bachelor party), where they were headed (the same stop as me) and was his friend going to be ok (no, they had to get off the train at Times Square because his friend was going to puke any second). As the train pulled away and we watched our new drunk friend vomit everywhere, I thought that would be the last time we'd see each other. That December night when we were reunited on the subway, we got to talking and now, we see each other about once a month for drinks (within moderation and not on a subway).
***
This summer, I was flying home to Los Angeles from New York for a friend's wedding. As I wrote about before, I had a stopover in Cincinnati. On that flight, I mentioned I met an actor - and former Blue Man Group performer - who seemed incredibly nice and upbeat. Hoping to set him up with my equally nice and upbeat roommate, I gave him my business card, never really expecting to hear from him again.
Three months later (!) I got an e-mail from him saying he found my business card in his wallet and he wanted to know how I was doing (which completely reminds me of this). We're trying to find a time to hang out, where I can continue to give him a hard time - as I did on the plane - about him only have Tool, Dr. Wayne Dyer and one Bjork song loaded on his iPod.
So, to make friends while traveling is an easy 3-step program:

1) Find yourself in a strange situation, be it with a drunk person underground, or tens of thousands of feet above ground sitting next to an actor with a terrible iPod

2) Utilize your ability to laugh at other people's expenses

3) Wait a few months for the universe to magically reunite you and make plans to build a friendship