nickadoola-blog-blog

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The bidding is now closed to bid on a custom avatar by Josh Hara (aka Twitter's @yoyoha) to benefit Matt @sucittaM's wife. Thanks to @lafix, I've decided to throw my hat into the ring, as well. Another custom avatar auction is coming soon -- I hope there might be someone out there willing to pay for one by me.

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I Could Have Been a Boy Band Heartthrob! (Part 2)

It was getting long. I know how Tumblr works: "Scroll, scroll, scroll, funny cat pic! Scroll, scroll, scroll, animated GIF!" So if you liked the first part, you'll keep your eye out for the second part and continue. Otherwise, I'm only wasting my own time. If you're back, I'm honored to know I have your attention. Shall we continue?

The gates open and we pull into Sony. We drive along to the back area which looks like a row of offices that look like makeshift public housing and he pulls into a parking space. "Here's my office," he says as he points to a building that looks like a one-floor townhouse.

We exit the vehicle and enter. The front area looks like a scene out of Hoarders, boxes and papers strewn about. Behind it is a small office with a desk with a computer, more boxes, and more stacks of paper. He leads me through a door to our right into a dark room with a couch, several chairs, another computer and a sound-mixing board. There are four other handsome young men in the room waiting for us.

"Hey guys, I'm back," he announces, "This is Nick, everyone!"

I meet and greet the others with some handshakes, nods and hellos. I have a seat.

My new producer friend proceeds to try to catch me up on this exciting new project he's working on. He's thrilled with how rich and successful he's going to become in his quest to make us all rich and famous.

He plays twenty seconds of one of the songs he's working on for us. It's absolutely dreadful. Mind you, I hate pop music. I've always been a rock and roll kinda guy, so pop is something I've always barely tolerated. But, even by pop music standards, I felt like the sounds I was hearing were pretty sub-par. I sat in silence, though, nodding along and just listening.

After we listened to the clip, he proceeded to tell us about everything he had in store for us: We would have personal trainers to get us in shape and choreographers to teach us how to become dance superstars.

There would be amazing light shows; Fantastic video directors; Personal assistants to take care of every need.

He singled each one of us out individually. "You're the cute one," he said to the young twink sitting furthest away from me. "You're the dancer. That's your strong point as you have a history of dance and you'll probably need to work with the rest of these guys to help them with that," he continued as he went down the line.

"You're the bad boy," he said to the third guy, "You have some tattoos, you're a little on the edge." 

"You're the wholesome one," he said to the fourth guy sitting next to me, "You're the boy next door that the girls will fawn over. You have a pleasant sound that will make everyone crazy for you."

He turns to me. "You're the voice," he says. "You have powerful vocals and can give us some respectability." 

I'm simultaneously flattered by his compliment while feeling my eyes roll deep into the back of my head.

"I realize that two of you are gay," he continues, "I'm cool with it. I know everyone in this room is cool with it. But that's not something that will be discussed with anyone else once this is off the ground."

My eyes roll once again.

We take a break halfway through our meeting. I'm smoking a cigarette outside with one of my new "band mates."

"Is this shit for real?" I ask him.

"I dunno, man," he replies, "I'm here just trying to figure it out myself. It sounds like a lot of bullshit to me."

"I'm glad I'm not the only one who feels that way."

About two months, we continue. Same process. He picks me up. We drive to the Sony lot. We meet. He keeps telling us how famous we're going to be. He's going to provide counselors to us to prepare us on how to handle with our fame. Etc, etc, etc.

By meeting number six, I ask, "When are we going to start talking about music? Shouldn't we be singing with each other by now? We're supposed to be in a band together, yet I have no idea if the songs are any good, and none of us even know what each other sound like."

"The music is good," he sternly told me, "You'll hear it, and you'll all be singing soon enough. Just be patient and let's deal with the important stuff."

A few days after this meeting, I received a phone call from him.

"Listen," he told me, "I don't think your attitude is right for this project. I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut you from the band."

"Oh," I replied, "That's fine. Do what you need to do."

Approximately a year later, I ran into one of my fellow former band members.

"Hey!" I said, "What's going on with that band? Anything new and exciting?"

"Nah," he replied, "We recorded some demos. Shopped it around. It went nowhere. Such a wasted of time. You dodged a bullet, dude."

That's life in Hollywood!

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I Could Have Been a Boy Band Heartthrob! (Part 1)

I haven't posted to Tumblr in awhile, cos I haven't really had anything to yap about. As I was riding the bus home from work today, however, I began to reflect on some of the stories of my past. I recalled one little nugget that I've shared with very few people, because, quite frankly, it sounds far too ridiculous to be true.

The following story is completely ridiculous. It's also completely true.

It was the summer of 2000. I had been living in Los Angeles for a little over a year. I was watching my dreams of entering the world of hand-drawn animation whither before my eyes as the traditional studios were either in the midst of massive lay-offs and/or completely shuttering themselves in favor of CGI. I was about to become yet another Hollywood statistic.

I met a guy who would become by dear friend, and not long after, my roommate, on karaoke night at a now-defunct bar in Studio City called Apache. He introduced himself to me after I sang "Take On Me" by aha and complimented me on my voice. He insisted, since he'd worked as a sound technician in the music industry throughout the early 80s, that compliment was high praise. He encouraged me to consider singing professionally.

I had zero interest in pursuing singing. The final moments on the clock of my twenties were ticking away, so quite frankly, so I assumed it would be far too late for me to consider it even if I'd had the interest. I thanked him for his kind words nonetheless.

After we'd began living together, he maintained his insistence on getting me to sing. He mentioned he had a friend who was a music producer and insisted we meet. We were going to karaoke night together, and he'd told me that he invited this friend to join us.

We found ourselves at Apache, our typical Thursday haunt. I met his friend. We chatted, we drank, and me being the karaoke whore that I was at the time, sang four or five songs.

His friend told me he was impressed with my voice and handed me his business card. "I have a project that I'm putting together that I think you'd be perfect for."

I've already lived in L.A. long enough to be jaded by L.A. bullshit, and I could smell it coming from a mile off. But I didn't really have anything better going on at the time, so I decided, "What the fuck," and gave him a call.

He told me he was putting a boy band together, and thought I'd be a great addition to the line-up.

"I'm about to turn thirty," I confessed. "I think I'm a little old for a boy band, don't ya think?"

"You look younger than thirty," he told me, "So we can lie about your age. Besides, you can be the mature one! The girls love that shit! I'm setting up a meeting with the other members on Saturday. I want you to be there. I know you don't drive, so I'll pick you up."

This guy is the total "slick Hollywood douche bag" type that you'd think was just a caricature portrayed in movies and television shows if you've never actually lived here. But, again, I didn't really have a hell of a whole lot going on at the time, so I decided I'd see where this would go. At the least, I'd have an interesting story to tell later, right?

He pulls up in a beat down wreck of a car, floorboards filled with fast food bags and empty Coca Cola cans. This is how slick Hollywood producers live, I guess, huh? I enter the vehicle and he apologizes for the state of his car. I brush it off. "It's okay," I reply, "You should see how sloppy I let things get when I'm busy."

I try to feel him out a bit more and chit chat about bullshit during the drive. He tries to steer the conversation to his "project," while I try to nonchalantly steer the conversation away and try to reveal what I'm all about while trying to gauge what he's all about.

We arrive at the gates of the Sony lot in Culver City, he flashes his card and the gates open.

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The bus ride I couldn't live tweet...

Far too many of my tweets are inspired by my rides on the bus in Los Angeles; far more than I'd care to admit. Sadly, I couldn't live tweet events as they happened tonight, so I'll do my best to recreate said events here from memory.

After a twenty minute wait, I boarded the #4 bus in West Hollywood to go home approximately an hour ago. As I took a seat, the driver took the loudspeaker and gleefully announced, "Okay, y'all. There's gonna be a four minute layover. I know, for some of y'all, four minutes is gonna seem like... (pause for dramatic effect) ...for the longest time!"

At that moment, he segued into Billy Joel's "For the Longest Time." From start to finish. And he gleefully sang aloud to the song in falsetto.

Oh dear god, I thought to myself. Should I get off this bus and get the next one? What's happening? Is he going to kill us all?!

The song slowly faded out, but his falsetto vocals became more spirited. "Okay, y'all!" he shouted, "The longest time is over. Y'all ready to go?!" and with that, he revved up the engines and began to pull forward.

He continued speaking, "If I could make a rooster with my hand, I would call it a 'hand cock!' Up next, HANCOCK!"

Oh dear lord. I'm stuck with one of those bus drivers who grabs the microphone with the gusto of a morning zoo disc jockey or an open mic comedian. I buried my face in my hand, afraid of what I'd hear next. But, as when Joan Jett sang, "I hate myself for loving you," I couldn't wait for his next announcement.

I pulled out my phone to document every word. Alas, my battery was dead. FUCK!

"Some folks was born in the west," he shouted, "The can't help where they was born! They gotta be born somewhere. Up next is WESTBORNE!"

Oh no! He's really gonna do this for each and every stop, isn't he?! He let a few stops go without anything clever to say. He simply announced the transfers at the intersections. Eventually, he wasn't done yet...

"If you live on this street, they say they should give y'all a crown! Up next is KINGS ROAD!"

Ugh. Okay, that was painful. It can't get much worse, can it?

"They say you sweet, but baby I'm so much sweetzer. Up next is SWEETZER!"

I'm a half mile in. Only five and a half miles to go!

"Get ready for a low punch. Up next is LA JOLLA!"

That one took me a minute. Oh, La Jolla is pronounced "La Hoya!" That was an Oscar de la Hoya joke! He's so clever!

"There's a fare and it's fair! Those are just the facts! Up next is FAIRFAX!"

My face is fully buried in my hand right now.

"My daddy always said, 'If you mad, you gotta let it out! Curse on!' Up next is CURSON!"

I wished my phone wasn't dead for this.

"If we eat the same amount, but you bigger than me, I'm gonna be fuller than you! FULLER is next!"

It can't get any cornier than that, really? Right? RIGHT?!

"My daddy always told me, 'If you gonna bet, go formosa the money. FORMOSA is next!"

Oh no he didn't!

"When you feelin' low, where you gonna go? You gotta go to high land! Next stop is HIGHLAND!"

I'm preparing myself for the next stop. He cops out.

"Up next! WILCOX! I ain't got nothin' for that stop!"

Bullshit you don't.

"When you wanna wine and dine and feelin' fine, get it off the vine. VINE is next!"

Now he's getting lazy on me.

"Up next is the toughest street in Hollywood! Get off here if you got a death wish! It's BRONSON... as in Charles!"

He was nice enough to explain his joke to us, everyone. Wasn't that sweet?

"Our next street is as simple as ABCs. You got A and then B and then C and Van Ness. VAN NESS, everyone!"

Okay, you were REALLY REALLY reaching on that last one. What the fuck? That didn't even make sense!

"They say the western is dead, but you'd never know it by this next stop. Coming up, WESTERN!"

Make it stop, please! Not really, I'm living for this right now.

"If you love art, you'll love Hobart! HOBART is next!"

Boo!

"Up next is a Grecian city! Give it up for ALEXANDRIA!"

What? I think he's getting sleepy on us now.

"There's lots of monts in this town, but this mont is on the edge! Up next is EDGEMONT!"

Yeah, I think he's done now. And I'm only halfway home.

"As I said, there's lots of monts in this town. The next mont isn't his mont or your mont or their mont... it's VERMONT!"

Oh! That last one was a set up for your killer punchline! I get it! Please kill me now.

"The next street's gonna give it up eventually. We all do. Up next is VIRGIL!"

I think he's trying to get a little blue there. Again, he's reaching.

"The next stop will show you a good time. HOOVER is next! Yeah, baby, it's Metro AFTER HOURS!"

Okay, he's clearly trying to work blue now. This is adorable.

"Everybody's gotta be born somewhere. Some folks was born in the sand. SANBORNE is next!"

Did you just recycle your Westborne joke from 20 minutes ago?! I'm gonna have to call a serious foul on that one.

"As B.B. King said, 'I found my thrill with Lucile!' LUCILE is next"

I'm almost home. I gotta pee. Help me.

"'Micheal who?' you ask. It's Michael Torena, y'all! Up next, MICHELTORENA!"

Yeah, I really gotta pee.

"Some people got a heart of gold, but this street's got a lake of silver! SILVER LAKE is next!"

Some people have a lake of gold. Me, for example. Thank god, the next stop is mine. I'm sorry I'll miss what he has to say about ALVARADO.

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This is why man created the internet.

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This is an example of why I don't like to respond to my @ replies on Twitter. Idiots follow me.

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Screen captures from Police Squad (1982)... Yes, folks, Sandusky notwithstanding, this joke is older than most of you.

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I see my friend Dave Sirus is up to no good again. Sadly I'm at work, so I can't watch it yet. I'm posting it here so I can watch it later. (FYI, you can follow him on Twitter at @BrickStoneNews).

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Oh, Adam Carolla...

Adam Carolla recently got a little attention for himself for some comments he made while promoting his new book in an interview for the NY Post. He's resurrecting the good-ol "Women aren't funny" line, always guaranteed to spark controversy and garner attention for himself and his book.

The lesson you learned from a sexual harassment seminar was “Don’t hire chicks.” Do you hate working with women?

No. But they make you hire a certain number of chicks, and they’re always the least funny on the writing staff. The reason why you know more funny dudes than funny chicks is that dudes are funnier than chicks. If my daughter has a mediocre sense of humor, I’m just gonna tell her, “Be a staff writer for a sitcom. Because they’ll have to hire you, they can’t really fire you, and you don’t have to produce that much. It’ll be awesome.”

The “are women funny” debate has grown very contentious. You’re not worried about reactions to this?

I don’t care. When you’re picking a basketball team, you’ll take the brother over the guy with the yarmulke. Why? Because you’re playing the odds. When it comes to comedy, of course there’s Sarah Silverman, Tina Fey, Kathy Griffin — super-funny chicks. But if you’re playing the odds? No.

If Joy Behar or Sherri Shepherd was a dude, they’d be off TV. They’re not funny enough for dudes. What if Roseanne Barr was a dude? Think we’d know who she was? Honestly.

Let's not ignore the fact that women aren't exactly encouraged to be funny. Comedy is a boys' club. It always has been, and as long as attitudes like this continue to permeate the comedy scene, it always will be.

As far as "playing the odds" goes, maybe he's correct due to the sheer volume of men in the comedy scene versus the number of women.

And, as we've seen with the proliferation of Twitter and blogs, we've seen a leveling of the playing field. From the privacy of their own homes, without the intimidation of clubs where they're discouraged from being funny, women are finding a place to articulate their humor to a huge audience.

If you were to compile a list of the funniest people on the internet, your list would likely be a 50/50 split between the sexes – hell, funny women may even outnumber men (even if you remove women who shamelessly exploit their sexuality and men who pose as women from the equation).

As far as there being an "affirmative action" with regards to comedy, there might be some truth to that. Producers (in both television and in live comedy venues) are often so desperate to hear funny voices that aren't straight, white and male, that they can be eager to throw slots at anyone outside that mold. (I know damn well I've gotten a few shows because a promoter needed "a gay," and, since I began hosting an open mike I'm grateful whenever I can have the rare female comic sign up to perform).

Regardless of how you may feel about The View, Joy Behar is actually an incredibly funny standup comedienne. I've only had the opportunity to see Sherri Shepherd perform once live at a club here years ago and, while I don't recall her set to be memorably hilarious, I do think she's an incredibly gifted comedic performer. (Her guesting role on an episode of Friends was particularly memorable). And Roseanne Barr is one of the funniest comedians alive. Yes, they would all be on TV.

What he says here is incredibly telling: "They're not funny enough for dudes." What does that even mean?! Is he saying that they're not funny enough to make men laugh or is he saying they wouldn't be considered funny if they were men?

If Adam Carolla was a woman, do you think we'd know who he was? If he was a chick, would he have ever been on TV? Is he funny enough for chicks? Do you think "The Woman Show" with "guys on trampolines" would've survived for more than three or four episodes?

I will begrudgingly admit that I think Adam Carolla is an incredibly gifted quick wit with an amazing talent – and I've found quite a bit of his material hysterical. I'm not necessarily a fan of all his endeavors, but I also recognize that I'm not exactly his target demographic.

There's hack among every group. Would it be fair for me to say straight white men aren't funny because of the existence of people like Larry the Cable Guy, Jeff Dunham, Carrot Top and Dane Cook? No.

So can we finally trash this antiquated notion that women aren't funny once and for all?

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SEPARATED AT BIRTH?

Pixar's Brave heroine Princess Merida and comedienne Morgan Murphy.

(I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself.)

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That was fun. Let's all look at our phones together again soon.

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It was @tracy_marq's birthday and I finally got to meet her. It was an awesome coincidence that it happened to be Batman's birthday, too. There was no way I wasn't getting this picture. (Oh, hi, @TheNuzzy. Stop photobombing my shot!)

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Aww... Look at the adorable and funny @blaudiablogan, fresh faced after her first of two performances recording her comedy album last night. Isn't she precious, guys?

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Apparently his love for a good massage goes way back.

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Hey everyone! Look at me! I'm an asshole!

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Mothers' Day...

I came out to my family 20 years ago. It sucks that coming out is still a big deal to so many people, but it's been quite remarkable to watch how much less of a big deal that's become in my lifetime.

My mother was the first person in my family I had the courage to come out to. I felt like it was a no-brainer at the time, since she was always relatively liberal and progressive my entire life. And so many of my friends had been telling me at the time, "Moms always know."

Mine didn't.

Being as liberal and progressive as she was, however, she understood from the beginning that the problems she had with my sexuality were hers and not mine. She knew she had to come to terms with it.

At one point during our conversations, she said, "I'm all in favor of gay people having all the same rights as everyone else. I'm still not comfortable with the idea of them getting married though."

I replied, "Well, from my perspective, it's not a 'them,' it's a 'me.' And I don't understand why I should be prohibited from marrying the person I love while my sister can be married to the asshole she's been with for the last ten years."

She paused for a moment and suddenly burst out and said, "Wow! When you put it that way, gay marriage makes total sense to me now! You're absolutely right. I'm sorry I ever doubted it."

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My dad has a date...

It's been almost four years since mom passed away. I've been worried about my dad. It makes me sad to think about him being alone. I want him to find joy and companionship. I don't want him to feel lonely.

Today I found out he has a date Monday night!

Oh my god! I'm so happy for him! I'm so happy that he's found a way to move beyond mourning the loss of his love for 50 years and seek some companionship!

Oh my god! I'm so freaked out! Dad is going to be with a woman who isn't mom?! What the fuck?! NO! NO! NO! LA LA LA! I CAN'T HEAR YOU!

No! Nick! Stop it! Dad deserves to move on with his life. He deserves companionship. He deserves the embrace of another person. He deserves not to feel lonely. Be happy for him that he's finally had the courage to take this step.

(BREATHE DEEPLY)

I'm sure whoever he has a date with must be an awesome person. Who did he feel connected with to take this step? My mom's best friend? Oh wow! That's interesting! That makes sense! Not only are they the same age, but they have shared experiences and they are both connected to mom. It's totally logical that they'd feel a connection.

WHOA! WHAT?! WAIT A MINUTE!

Has my dad wanted to fuck my mom's best friend this whole time and now he finally has his chance?! WHAT THE FUCK?! AACK! I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about this at all!

Hey, dad! I love you. Thanks for making me go through the same twisted emotions I probably put you through when I came out of the closet to you. Touche!