Join the Quest for Johnny!

Strange things are afoot at Tao Engine Philms...

Your assistance may be instrumental in the production of an independent documentary and/or what will hopefully be a big-budget film starring Johnny Depp. Yeah, THAT Johnny Depp.

I'll give you all the links so you can check out the detail for yourself, but here's a quick synopsis in the meantime:

My friend, Haylar Garcia, wrote a film script called Narcophonic about the crazy and brilliant life of his friend, renowed luthier Scott "Bax" Baxendale. The only person who could do justice to the role of Bax is Johnny Depp. Bax made one of his custom guitars for Johnny with a pocket on the back, in which a copy of the script has been placed. The intent is to find Johnny, hand him the guitar, and ask him to make the film. (Still with me? Keep reading...)

Haylar, Scott, and Tao Engine producer Darcy Grabowski started on a quest to find Johnny. They've been all over the G.D. place, following leads...Johnny conventions, red carpets, even Texas. No dice yet. However, the journey itself became so eventful and hilarious and intense that a documentary called Do It For Johnny developed along the way. Bottom line, they're outta money to finish production on the documentary. So what did they do? Something that has never been done before: they put executive producer rights up for auction on ebay. Yeah. Fucking BRILLIANT. And it's working...two days left on the auctions, and each one is THIS CLOSE to the reserve price. So there's your first opportunity to support independent film. If you have the cash, GREAT! If not, you might know someone who does. OR, you may want to promote the auctions some other way because you are so damn cool. Get the picture? Outstanding!

So, the auction is in process...Here's where your little friend Helen comes in. No, I don't have $5K to hook up my friends. Duh. But I figgered spreading the word couldn't hurt, so I emailed the press release to everyone I know. What came back, thus far anyway, is not money...but it's pretty effing interesting nonetheless.

Yesterday I received an email from JVLBaritone, who had forwarded the press release to some additional folks. The email had been forwarded to JVL by his friend Shawna, who had originally received it from her friend Trish. He's where it gets fucking weird, people.

Turns out that earlier this week, Trish grabbed a cab at 43rd and 3rd right here in New York Fuckin' City with Pier 11 as her intended destination. Who do you suppose was behind the wheel? Johnny Depp, that's who. No shit.

I was understandably incredulous upon reading Trish's account of her alleged encounter with this elusive object of Haylar's cinematic desire...um, Johnny Depp ain't no hack in NYC, honey. Nuh-uh. I hadda hear this from her directly, or I weren't really gonna believe it. Via Shawna, I got Trish's number and rang her up. About 22 seconds into the conversation, I was convinced. Trish is no dummy, crackhead, lush, or starfucker. Johnny was most definitely her cab driver.

Of course, I was immediately on the phone with Darcy and Haylar, as any lead is a good lead when it comes to finding the man. He's all over the place and notoriously hard to track down. He's also notorious for doing freaky shit, such as in driving a taxi in New York, when he's researching his roles.

So here's where YOU, my burgeoning New York fan base (ha ha), have your second opportunity to make your mark on the film industry:

Johnny's here, kids...let's find him! Keep your eyes open...he's gotta show up somewhere. Take more cabs...hang out in the Village and the LES...Be on the lookout. We live in New York...we've all seen The Pretty People shuffling around, and we know how to behave. If you see him, simply do this: Smile politely, look pretty, write www.doitforjohnny.com on a piece of paper, and hand it to him. Don't explain it to him, don't try to talk him into it...he's shy and very private. Let the site speak for itself. BUT DO IT! DON'T LET HIM OUTTA YOUR SIGHT WITHOUT GIVING HIM THE LINK!

Then, after you're done freaking out coz you just met Johnny Depp, contact Darcy (darcy@taoengine.com) at 720-935-6981 and/or director Haylar (haylar@taoengine.com) at 720-280-1673 to let them know wha' happened. If your tip makes the final connection between Tao Engine and JD, I'll make sure Haylar thanks you by name in Narcophonic's closing credits.

So there you have it...spread the word...support independent film! DO IT FOR JOHNNY!

Good news from Jersey, of all places

FINALLY...After a month of sweating it out, I got word from one of David's friends today...He called his mom, he's fine, and he's coming home next month. David's awesome friend Nicole and I spent half the day yesterday on IM, coming up with ideas on how to find him. She made tons of phone calls, we did internet searches, and we came up with absolutely nothing. The frustration and worry were maddening. Reading the email this morning, I cried from sheer relief for the first time since the doctor walked out of my mom's lung transplant surgery with a smile on his face in 2000. Now I just have to decide which to do first when I see him--hug him for two hours straight, or beat the piss out of him for letting everyone worry that the goddamn tsunami got him.

Now that that's cleared up...Whoopee, here we go, more randomness and stupidity for the sake of it:

This is the most bizarre and fucked up thing to make Daily Candy since the Giraffes. Gives new meaning to the term "banana hammock," don't it? (And thank god for that...*shiver*)

Mark Jen is a total fucking moron. Dude, if it were up to me, your ass would be back on Bill Gates' doorstep begging for your old job back. Since when is the ability to READ not a prerequisite for getting a kick ass job here? You signed the NDA just like the rest of us, pal. You're an idiot.

Guess who got new snowboots...first ones she's had since she was, like, 12 or something...Go on, guess! Yep...ME! YAAAAAY! (It's the little things, people. Don't hate--appreciate.)

Master Fly H. Shizzle hereby (that being me) commands you to stop here and get yo' Pimp Name on, bitch! Shout out to my pahtnah Tricktickler Lynn Dazzle for the hookup, yo.
(these name generator things never cease to amuse me. glean what you will from that.)

Ta-ta, kiddies...I'm off to shake down my hos.

Inaugurate this!

To George W.B.: Fuck your inauguration, fuck the (second) election you bought and/or stole, fuck your VP, fuck your cabinet, fuck your wife, fuck your trampy alcoholic daughters, fuck your budget plan, fuck the corporations paying for your big party, fuck "no child left behind", fuck your religious right, fuck your daddy, fuck HIS daddy, fuck your idiot brothers, fuck Rummy, FUCK YOUR WAR, and of course, last but nowhere close to least, FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOU! **
Enjoy your big day while you can, princess, because Karma is real whether you believe in it or not.

To William F: HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Mama loves you, my delicious little chocolate morsel. Wish you were here! Sorry they scheduled the inauguration on your special day...don't let that ruin it for you.

To Aaron "Gurn" Lazar: I hereby forbid you to ever, EVER have another fucking heart attack ever, EVER again. Thank you for your cooperation. Motherfucker. (heart)

To those of you looking for way to forget today's cavalcade of the criminally rich and stupid: Christian, CBass, J-Dawg, myself, and a host of others will be spending the evening at East of Eighth with the inimitable Hedda Lettuce, who will undoubtedly make it all go away. (And if she can't do it, I'm sure the $5 appletinis can.)
NOTE: I strongly suggest that you read the "Do's and Don'ts" section of Hedda's site, in order to ensure that you don't end up getting stabbed in the forehead with a size 10 Prada stiletto. The bitch don't play. God, but I love her.

**Special thanks to Ice-T, from whom the style and sentiment of this particular foul-mouthed tirade were respectfully borrowed.

Dear Christian,

Since today is your 26th birthday, and since I'm an asshole & didn't get you a present, I thought I'd write about you here so that you and all (two) of my readers will know how exactly how wonderful I think you are.

First and foremost, you're one of the kindest and most laid-back individuals I've ever come across. And honey, you know that I've come across a LOT of individuals. You have a way of engaging people, making them feel instantly comfortable...you ask them questions and make the effort to get to know new people, bring them into your conversations, make them laugh...And the best part is, you do it not just to be polite or charming, but because you're genuinely interested in others. It's important to you that everyone around you--across all lines of age, ethnicity, sexual preference, attractiveness, whatever--is as happy as possible. It's amazing. Every time I make a new friend, I can't wait to introduce the person to you. And inevitably, that person ends up raving about you later on.

Second, you are a solid friend, a solid person, in every respect. You can be counted on to do the right thing, even when it's more difficult than the other options. You're honest. You're funny as hell. You treat people the way you want and deserve to be treated. I mean, come on...we met in the midst of gay club scene insanity amongst a bunch of cracked-out chuckleheads...and yet now, years later, we live 2000 miles away from there and our lives have changed completely, and I can still trust you with anything. You know some rotten secrets about me, and as time goes on, you're sure to know more...I have this picture of us giggling to each other before one or the other of us gets married over all of the naughty little things the groom will never know...You've seen me at my best and worst, and yet you've never judged me or put me down. I can laugh with you over the most grossly inappropriate things, or cry with you over...whatever...knowing that what's between us is just between us. I can truly count on you. That's rare, and important, and a luxury you provide to every one of your friends.

Third...you are one fine ass bitch. Damn. If I was a gay man, there would be nowhere for you to run, baby. It's so nice to always show up with the cutest boy in the place, even if he isn't my boyfriend. (And if your parents are right and you do MAGICALLY become hetero now that you're 26, I better be the first one you call.)

All in all, you, Christian, are a gift. You have the presence and wisdom of a great man, the open, loving heart of a happy child, and the talent, brains and determination to take you wherever you want. In the past couple of years, you've absolutely blown up...you're grabbing onto your life, taking what you want from it, and giving more and more back all the time. Thank you for letting me stick around to watch, and partake, and call you my friend. I love you, sweetheart.
Happy Birthday!

Yeah, I'm a sheep...sue me.

Okay, so I'm finally reading The DaVinci Code. I can admit it with only minimal shame. In my defense, even the most poorly written pop novel sounds like poetry when a gorgeous (naked) Irishman reads it to you...not that this book is that poorly written...did I mention that he was naked? At any rate, the story is intriguing, as are the research and reality behind it, so there. It's not like I'm extolling the literary virtues of that douchebag Dave Eggers or something. And anyway, he had that accent, and he was, you know, naked! How could I ignore a book recommendation under circumstances like that? You tell me.

Anyway, thanks to Jen for letting me borrow her copy. Sheep out.

Back from...nowhere.

Okay, so it's not doing me or anyone else any good to not write in deference to the horrors of the tsunami. No, David has not been located. No, I'm not okay about that. But short of getting on a plane, there's not much I can do for him or anyone else over there at the moment. And I'd be lying if I said my life was miserable because of it...it's not. I'm scared for and constantly worried about my friend. I'm sad for and empathize with the people on the other side of the world who have lost so much and must start their lives over. I've donated and will continue to donate money as it becomes available to me. If anyone has suggestions for additional ways to help, please hit me up. For now, I'm gonna go back to sharing the inane details of my little life for your entertainment.

So...developments thus far in the still quite new year:

1. CBass is back, CBass is back, yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay! New York feels as normal as it possibly can again. At some point, CBass will too.

2. Work is going astoundingly well. Like...wow. I'm not even being sarcastic.

3. I don't really believe in New Year's resolutions. They seem to me to be one more way for people to forcibly disappoint themselves for no reason at all. Thus, I made more of an anti-resolution: Eat even MORE carbs (if that's humanly possible) and make even more fun of those around me on low-carb diets (definitely possible.) It's going fabulously so far.

4. I have placed myself on a dating moratorium until further notice...sorry, bitchez. I'll be back at some point, but right now I need my "me" time.

5. I've been remarkably productive. It's amazing what cutting 150 pounds of dead weight does for one's energy and motivation. My room is more than halfway to being re-done, and the kitchen is next. After two years of living in my loft, it's damn near presentable. Stay tuned for the inevitable party details.

6. Our beloved Aaron Lazar (the one with the axe...) went and got hisself all effed up. He's out of the hospital now and I'm told he will be back to cold rockin' it at some point, but he be a mess. Details on the upcoming benefit to pay his sure-to-be staggering medical bills forthcoming.

7. Blogging about Dublin is like, SO 2004. That ship sailed. Sorry 'bout that. But worry not...You'll definitely catch snippets here and there, as too many poignantly relevant and moronically hilarious events took place there for me to go to long without mentioning them.

8. Are we watching StrangeLove on VH1, my people? I, for one, cannot help myself. Nor can I stop running around screeching "Flavor FLAAAAAAAAAAAV!" If you feel like killing me, be my guest. The part of my brain that should be concerned with preserving my own survival has been effectively destroyed by the first two episodes of this show, so I won't even fight you. My only concern now is over the extent of the brain damage I can expect as the season progresses. Crack is, indeed, wack. (And if you don't believe me, ask the Flav. Cold chillin' in e-FECT!)

So there we are, effectively caught up. Keep doing your own version of praying, whatever that may be, for David and everyone else over there. And, um...don't stop thinkin' about tomorrow, or something. Yeah.

Speak little, say much

So yeah, Happy New Year and all that. My lack of recent blogtivity has been due to a pressing need to be productive somewhere other than cyberspace. Odd, I know.

Thing is though, there is crazy awful shit happening in the world (again, click here and/or here for info & ways to help), and David is still missing. We're looking at 150K dead now. I can't bring myself to talk about my dates and what kind of hair day I'm having just yet. It's hard to reconcile the swell status of my life with the nightmare that so many are living, and until I can do that, I'm gonna shut my (virtual) cake hole.

In the meantime...please read, listen, pay attention, enjoy your good fortune, and do what you can to help.