I want to meet my Google Twin

I've had a fair amount of Google Twins over the years. A video editor, a comic book inker I've never met, and some guy that calls himself J-Rod and hailed from Tijuana (he's my favorite). But one true Google Twin has risen from all the noise - Jason Rodriguez, stuntman extraordinaire.

What makes him a true Google Twin? The fact that comic guys ask me if I'm doing stunts in the new Iron Man movie, that's what.

We're like the Danny DeVito and Arnold Schwarzenegger of Google Twins. He's this death-defying stuntman. I sit at a computer and edit comic books. But he's a stuntman on all of the movies comic guys like: Spider-Man 2 and 3, Constantine, Iron Man, Pirates of the Carribean, Mission Impossible III...um...COUGH Hulk.

I feel as if our lives are linked in a way we don't understand yet. Like I'm going to witness a drug deal one day and he'll be the only one that could keep me alive so I can testify. Doesn't it seem like some great fourth-wall cinema? You know Spike Jonze would kill on this project.

One day, Google Twin, our paths will cross. And when they do, I feel like we will come up with an idea so awesome that’ll it’ll blow David Lynch’s mind when we pitch it to him.

Even more amazing...I realized recently that someone likely confused me for this Jason Rodriguez when I was editing Western Tales of Terror. I got a phone call out of the blue - on my cell phone, no less - from some woman in Arizona saying she saw my western on TV and wanted to know if I'd read her husband's manuscript. I told her she has the wrong number and to never call me again, obviously, but lo-and-behold my Google Twin directed this movie.

Could it be the one the random woman was talking about? Likely.

Google Twin - our paths have been crossing for years, it seems. Amazing.

POSTCARDS Delayed and Other Great News

Three weeks. July 17th is the new release date.

This is great news for the book, obviously. You see - now we're going head-to-head with Harry Potter. This way, when Postcards gets crowned the number one book of the year, none of you nay-sayers can say things like, "Oh! But Postcards had a three week head start!"

We're starting at the same time. No handicap. J.K. must be quaking in her muggle boots. People are going to be showing up for their Harry Potter midnight launch party to see the Postcards display and say, "Oh! Postcards came out? I only have twenty bucks on me...next time, Harry, I promise."

It will be a glorious victory. One talked about for many years to come.

Ok, seriously. If anyone can provide me with proof that they went into their bookstore during a Harry Potter Midnight Launch Party and asked for/buys Postcards, I'll make sure that one of my creators gets a sketch postcard mailed out to you or we get you a signed book or something. You can still buy Harry Potter, but if your receipt says Postcards or if you go ahead and make a little film of yourself raising a ruckus because your bookstore doesn't have any Postcards for its Postcards Midnight Launch Party, I will find a way to get something cool to you.

Promise.

Please spread the word, too. I think this could be fun…

Fore!

I went to the driving range this weekend and broke my future father-in-law’s driver. He didn’t make a big deal out of it – I hit a clean shot, after all, and the shaft just absolutely splintered – but it was still pretty embarrassing. It reminded me of the long, slow climb I’ve undertaken in order to get mediocre at golf.

It all started the summer after sophomore year in college – my first time actually playing a round of golf. It was a par three course out in Rockaway. I remember the day well because it was shortly after breaking up with my long-time girlfriend and, well, my head really wasn’t “in it” for golf. I did as well as I could do for my first time out – shooting sevens and eights the whole time and that was with cheating. By the time we got to the ninth whole I was so frustrated that I took out my driver and whacked the ball as hard as I could, expecting it to fly off the course. Ironically, it landed on the green, and I shot for par on that hole.

After the game we discovered that my friend Max locked his keys in the car and we needed to contact AAA. Not wanting to wait, and having a bad couple of days, I offered to smash his window in with a golf club. He wouldn’t let me. We all put our heads together and realized that we could unscrew his radio antenna, pry open the passenger side door just enough to push the antenna through, and then use it to hit the power lock button. It was satisfying, but not as satisfying as smashing his window with a 9-iron, I’d imagine.

I decided that golf was stupid, and that I’d stick to the driving range – where I could drink beer and use my driver all day.

The next time I played golf was in DC, after I graduated college. Haines Point – you can find me there every weekend now, hitting some balls. This was a full-sized golf course and I played better although not entirely well. Good off the tee, a nightmare to the hole – that’s my motto. On the whole it was an uneventful round of golf.

The next time, however, at Rock Creek’s course, I realized what we were missing at Haines Point: a golf cart and beer. We snuck a couple of six packs onto the course and drove that cart around like we were NASCAR drivers. Best trick to play on someone with a golf cart? Drive at top speed through a low-hanging tree branch and duck just before you hit it. Yeah, sure – your friend could lose their eye. But if they don’t? Laughs for minutes.

We ended up playing best ball at Rock Creek because we were having too much fun to actually, you know, keep score and stuff.

I’ve played a lot since then. I eventually purchased my own clubs…from Costco.

Whatever – we were on a Costco kick. In one year we bought golf clubs, a computer, and a mattress from Costco along with all of our groceries, for the most part, and little things like DVDs, books, and clothes. And the clubs are just fine – I still use them, although I do notice I get an extra fifty or sixty yards out of other people’s clubs.

Along with the golf clubs came my first lessons. I took a golf class through Arlington County. They taught me how to hold the club, how to swing, how to gauge your shot…I’m still recovering from how much they fucked me up.

I’ve only played one round so far this year and it was a par three that I absolutely choked on. Hitting a hundred balls before playing didn’t help, it seems. I have a pretty big outing coming up at the end of June – a bachelor party in Myrtle Beach were we’ll be playing at least two rounds.

The upcoming outing is why I’ve been hitting the range every weekend – I don’t want to waste a trip to Myrtle Beach. And that’s why I was at the range this past weekend, while in Framingham with Robin’s family. And, since I didn’t have my own clubs, I was using Robin’s dad’s clubs. I heard that club break – I looked at it and saw it hanging by a lone thread of graphite.

Ah…golf. I’ve grown to love playing it but I doubt I’ll ever be good at it.

Ask me anything

Some Postcards creators and I are doing a podcast for cIndyCenter.com and they're taking questions for us here. You don't even need to sign up so, you know, go put some questions up. They're recording the podcast at 9PM Monday so go there now. NOW!

Another car wreck!

As if wrecking my car yesterday wasn't enough, I went to go see Spider-Man 3 today.

Two car wrecks in two days - what are the odds?

Firsts

Well – I got into my first car accident today. I’ve been hit once before but it was just a bit of a tap, no damage, no information exchanged. But yesterday I was at a stop sign coming off 395-S and getting on to George Washington Parkway when some guy rammed me from behind – knocked me into traffic but luckily no-one else hit me. Back bumper was smashed, trunk won’t close all the way, taillights destroyed – but I walked away with a little stiffness and nothing else, thankfully.

It just sucks all around. I planned on trading the car in this week and getting a new Matrix. Now I need to wait a couple of weeks, most likely. Also, I was coming back from the driving range and I was hitting the fuck out of the ball – out of 102 balls I probably hit about 70/80 of them real solid, which is great for me. So I was in a real good mood on the way home.

I decided that there is, indeed, a first time for everything and that sometimes first times can totally suck. First car accident: Sucks. There are plenty of other firsts that suck, as well.

First time getting stitches: Sucks. Christmastime – I was probably around five years old. We had those old-style radiators in the apartment. You may have never seen these but for some reason they had these metal blunted-spike looking things poking out of one end of them. I was apparently really excited that one of our neighbors had their Christmas decorations up and ran to the window to see them. Slipped, fell, and the blunted-spike thing went through my cheek. One of my earliest memories is the doctor putting this white-cloth square over my face during the operation. I guess it was before they put me under, or whatever they did.

First time getting punched in the face: Sucks. Nothing in the world prepares you for that feeling. Playing handball in Junior High when some kids tried to take my San Antonio Spurs Starter hat (that was when the Spurs got their new logo – everyone was wearing Spurs’ gear). One kid grabbed it; we played a bit of tug-of-war until the other kid pops me in the face. I drop the hat, fall on my ass, and clutch my face as blood flows from my nose.

First time getting your finger caught in a car door: Sucks. Thankfully this one only happened once. It was my thumb. I was probably around ten or so – I remember it being my dad’s monster of a car – this big, dark-red Chevy he used to drive. We called it Betsy. It had those big heavy-ass doors and one of them slammed nicely on my thumb. Man – I screamed. I had no idea what to do. My dad opened the door after realizing what was going on and I was in tons of pain. My fingernail turned purple and fell off – freaked me out every time I looked at it.

First time someone catches you masturbating: Sucks. Actually, I can’t think of a single time getting caught hasn’t sucked. Unfortunately I don’t live that life where some girl or girls catch me masturbating and decides to help me out. Usually she calls the cops. Having said that, who knows when I was first caught. We lived in a small apartment and, as an adult, I’ve learned that we’re never as subtle as we think we are. Unfortunately that still hasn’t curbed my masturbating. Just the other day I kissed Robin goodnight and told her I was going to check my email. She told me to put the blinds back up when I was done. Sucks.

First time you blow your entire post-college paycheck in one weekend: Sucks. Man – my first check seemed like the biggest fucking thing in the world. It was like infinite money. I went from about 7k a year in college to 50k. A 700-plus percent raise! In one weekend I bought drinks for a lot of people, bought dinner for the lady, bought new clothes – I bought a lot of stuff. Then Monday came along and I quickly learned that 50k a year, 960 dollar a week, isn’t even close to infinite money. Hell, it doesn’t even cover rent after taxes.

First time you spend a night in Aberdeen, Maryland: Sucks. There is nothing in Aberdeen except for Aberdeen Proving Grounds, a Days Inn, and a Grand Corral. At least that’s all I saw during the week I stayed there for work. I was walking through the woods, setting up microphones and directing army guys as they fired mortars and cannons. Whereas that part was pretty cool, the coming home to do a tick inspection before going out for all-you-can-eat shitty steak and getting drunk in your hotel room by yourself was not a good time at all. In fact, I imagine it’s what hell is like.

First time buying fake Cubans in a Mexican border town: Sucks. I don’t even remember the name of the fucking town. It was south of Yuma. I thought I was the master negotiator after I talked the guy down to $20 for a box of Cuban cigars. The ones in the box he were showing me looked and smelled just fine. They weren’t dry, they burned well – even if they weren’t Cubans they were good cigars. And then I opened my box to find twenty novelty cigars. I don’t even think they had tobacco in them.

(I’d also include the first time you accidentally drive your rental car into Mexico because you took a wrong turn as a big-time Suck. This time I was in Mexicali – luckily I got the car out of there.)

First time Best Buy pushes you into their extended warranty plan: Sucks. Second and third time sucks, as well.

First time you try to fix something covered by Best Buy’s extended warranty plan: Sucks. We brought a laptop in three times before we just said, “Fuck it,” and bought a new one.

First time you accidentally throw away a receipt for the shirt your girlfriend wanted to exchange: Sucks. The worst part? Every time she loses a receipt from that point on it will be because you threw it out. Even if you weren’t home, if you’re away on business, she’ll wait until you get home and blame you for it. The same thing happens the first time you accidentally throw away her mail and the first time you accidentally eat her box of Girl Scout cookies. Fuck, I have to do a story on the food situation in my house. Next time.

Anyway – I could keep going, mainly because I decided to lie down and do nothing all day to ensure my back is fine tomorrow – but I’ll stop. Robin’s in the office and I think I can pop a quick one without her finding out.