Category: apocalypse

  • Cut! Let’s up the douche factor a notch, guys. Take 5. Action!

    I have to admit I’ve never ever really felt very cool. Even when I was considered kinda ‘cool’ in high school, I usually felt like it would be just a minute before someone figured out I wasn’t cool and relegated me to the nerdy table with the mouth breathing band members.

    The horror!

    In college, I thought it was cooler to not be part of the ‘cool’ fraternity system, so I was definitely not looked upon as cool. Thankfully, the whole notion of cool sort of dissipates after that unless you and your group of friends still hit bars in troops with popped collars, thinking you’re cool. In that case, yes, you’re totally cool.

    The other day, though, I finally felt cool for the first time. (I will stop using the word ‘cool’ soon. Promise.).

    It started when I wrote a blog post about interviewing God (it’s here if you haven’t read it). I felt I had to talk to him because I think it’s only fair that we have a chat if it’s true we’re all going to die on May 21st, like many Christian groups are saying (actually one Christian group is saying it and it’s not really a group– more like a couple of dudes. But they’re buying up billboards in LA to make us think this is the big one). I asked God lots of questions. He gave me no info and turned out to be sort of douchey.

    I tried to sell my time with God to Vice magazine as a follow up to this interview with the leader of those couple of Christian dudes. They didn’t want it. I didn’t get so much blog traffic that day. I liked the post, but it seemed to be just ‘meh’ to everyone else.

    Until I got a call from Funny or Die. They wanted to shoot it as a sketch for their front page! Ok, this is where I started feeling cool. Started.
    Since it has to air before May 21st, we were suddenly on a production fast track.  Derek and Kelly, the directing team, found a director of photography and props and made creative phone calls and shot lists. The Funny or Die team sent out a net to cast the right celebrities to play ME, and God. WHAT? Someone to play me!!! They booked a hotel suite as the interview location and spent a few grand to get the whole thing running.

    WHAT!? All this because of something I thought of at some coffee shop in Venice just days before.

    Coooooooool.

    When I walked on set that day, the cool was rising. Both actors were from TV shows!!! Kyle Bornheimer from Perfect Couples (among other things) and Janina Gavankar from True Blood (Yes, an Indian actress played me. I would LOVE to be Indian. Why am I not Indian? Also, why don’t I watch TV? I hate my excuse about it blocking me from my creative process because then I look like the douche. At least I’m a cool douche. But I felt horrible for not having seen either show. I wish I’d had some good phrases lined up to say like, “You were so great in that pool scene last season.” I had nothing.). There was a hair and makeup lady at the ready, a guy with a sound boom… It was a full production of something I wrote. But the moment when I felt I had truly arrived was when the PA brought in the craft services.

    Craft. Services. My sketch was worthy of Wheat Thins, hummus, donuts, coffee, and plenty of bottled water. Plenty! Like, we could have each drunk three or FOUR! And the hummus was that really good creamy kind.

    100% Cool.

    I didn’t get to call ‘action’ or hold that clappy black and white thing like I originally planned on begging to do, but that’s only because the cool factor rose tremendously when a surprise cameo was scheduled. This surprise model graced my walls growing up. I had his calendar up from 1993-98. I was willing to accidentally mix up dates just to have this man’s pectoral muscles hang on my wall. This guy is hot. With a pack of six. I couldn’t go around set acting like I was grateful for the hummus and bottled water. I had to pose against the wall to make it look like I wasn’t posing. I had to laugh and flip my hair back casually as if shooting something I wrote was totally boring. He came in, shook everyone’s hand, read a few lines, and left. But HE SHOOK MY HAND. I didn’t tell him about the calendar. But, we did make eye contact for at least .43 seconds. I think he likes me. He’s probably going to see my name on the sketch and click to this blog and then Facebook and then email to tell me how cool I am. Yes, for sure. I can feel it. (Is anyone who uses the word ‘cool’ actually cool? Now I’m having second thoughts.)

    The best part of the day was that he wasn’t the best part. The best part was watching the actors improv. I’ve taken my share of improv classes, and maybe once I made someone laugh, but these guys were pros. So funny. They took what I wrote, added to it, and made it their own. Like Levi’s. Or Burger King. Or the hundreds of other brands that tell you to personalize their shit to make it something completely unique even though it could never be unique because it’s a tea or something everyone else already has. What they did was definitely their own. In a good way.

    Did I mention a celebrity got to play me?! There’s about to be a biopic out. Ok, not really. It’s a three-minute sketch, but there were Wheat Thins there!
    The WORLD PREMIERE is This Thursday. I’ll post it. Please watch it. Then we can all be cool together. And I’ll finally stop saying ‘cool.’


    Wheat thins!

  • Exclusive Interview: a Humans are Funny first

    After waiting thirty minutes in the lobby of the Marina del Rey Ritz Carlton, I called God’s cell phone. He had let his spa massage go too long and was rushing to meet me. As he settled in across from me on the crisp leather loveseat, I made note of a tiny hole in the shoulder of his white robe and a few knots in his towel-dried hair that already curled around his shoulders. His skin was tan leather, almost George Hamilton-like but quite that orange. He shot out some emails while he apologized, keeping his Blackberry poised on the table. “Just in case,” he said, mumbling something about the Middle East.

    Humans are Funny: Thanks for giving me this exclusive interview. I know you’re really busy.
    GOD: Don’t mention it. I’ve been reading Humans are Funny for a long time, so I’m more than happy. Plus, I feel bad about your excessive body hair. Was snoozing that day or something.
    HaF: There are several theories about the end of the world, and I wanted to get your take firsthand. I’ve heard things about the rapture, the Mayan calendar, May 21st. Do any of these hold any truth?

    He picks up his Blackberry while we we’re talking
    .
    GOD: I’m sorry, what was that? Had to give some orders. Japan’s getting another earthquake. Small one. Figured might as well, right? Everything’s already destroyed.
    God lets out a chuckle and scratches behind his head.

    HF: Ok. Umm… I was asking about the end of the world. The Mayan Calendar?
    GOD: Who are the Mayans again? Oh… Those short, dark people, right? I forgot. Man, that was a long time ago. They were always sacrificing each other for me. Can you believe it? I felt so bad.
    HF: So, is their calendar correct? Are we all going to die on December 21, 2012?
    GOD: What!? They’re saying that? What fuckers. I don’t think that’s true. Let me check my calendar.
    Looks in his blackberry.
    GOD: Nope.
    HF: Oh, well how about May 21? Of this year?
    GOD: Preposterous. You have to stop reading the tabloids. What’s next? A story about how I promise martyrs a harem of virgins after they die?
    God explodes in a bellowing laughter, causing the fancy tea-sippers at the next few tables to turn and give us the eye. He notices.
    GOD: Just killed their firstborns.
    He senses my disturbance.
    GOD: Kidding.
    HF: Can you tell me a little bit about Global Warming? Or climate change? Or whatever it is that’s changing the world and causing so many upsetting natural disasters lately?
    GOD: Why are you guys so worried about everything? Seriously. Relax. This is life. Enjoy it. Eat. Have sex. Quit yer yapping.
    HF: So that’s the message? Quit yer yapping?
    GOD: Ugh. I’m so sick of everyone thinking I’m going to say something profound. You know what? Filicumpup.
    HF: Filicumpup?
    GOD: I don’t know. Just roll with it.
    He checks his Blackberry and chuckles.
    HF: Sir, What do you think about all the suicide bombings performed in your name?
    GOD: Suicide! Ha! Sure makes my job easier.
    HF: Okay. So… is the world going to end soon? That’s really all we want to know.
    GOD: I don’t see it in the calendar. I’ll have to see what Barb had planned. She does my schedule, bless her soul.
    HF: What does it mean when you say ‘bless her soul?’
    GOD: I’ve really got to go. Meeting Mary for coffee.
    HF: The virgin?
    GOD: Pfft.
    God stands to leave, his robe opening slightly to give me a peak of the magic hidden below (about which I don’t feel I should share… but I did see it and don’t think I’ll ever be the same again).
    HF: Ok, so I’m going to spread the word that the world is not going to end on May 21st or December of 2012.
    GOD: Great.
    HF: Before you go, can you please answer a few more questions… Which religion is right? Why do some babies die? Is karma for real? What should I do with my life? How did Jesus do that fish thing? Why the appendix? Who killed JFK? Why adult acne? What if you were a stranger on the bus? How much do you really know about all of us? What’s in the Amazon? Why Antarctica? Cancer? Do our dead relatives watch us masturbate? Are we all just a little bit gay? Aliens? Reincarnation? Why quicksand,  cockroaches, body odor, Tom Arnold, boogers? Why can’t we all just get along? What does it all mean?
    Before I can continue, God’s bellowing laughter encompasses the entire lobby of the Ritz.  Just like in Star Trek, his body fades away, leaving only a trail of swirling dust. Before I can thank him for pre-slicing our oranges or for flowers or for the smell of fresh cut grass, he’s gone. I speak anyway.
    HF: Thanks for carrying me.
    God’s voice looms.
    GOD: What are you talking about?
    HF: The footprints poem? You carried me. Right? You were there in hard times?
    More bellowing laughter. And dirty stares from the Ritz patrons.