O Dear friends! What a prolonged spell! What a gap! Where has the laughter gone? Why the tears? Why the tears, baby? You know I’d never mean to hurt you! I just can’t control myself! Who’s my special reader? Who’s my special reader? You are! You are!

(pause here while Rob lifts up your shirt and kisses your belly button. His unshaven chin tickles you a little. He’s looking into your eyes now. You’re falling. Falling. All is forgiven. Within moments he is finger-banging you. Mmm.)

So, I’m back. I feel terrible. I know you guys come to this site for the culture. You get your geek-fix from Wil, you get your hard news from Marisa, you get an instruction on how-not-to-write from Kessleman, and from me…you get a page and a half of vicodin-laced stories abut how cool my wife is, which she totally eats-the-fuck-up by the way.

I’m in New York shooting a very, very important film (a comedy in the romantic vein, something for the ladies) and my wife and daughter fly in today so before I trek out to JFK to scoop them up I’ll explain my absence.


1. I was busy. But not really. I don’t mean every second was taken up by something, I was just busy being somewhere else that wasn’t home, you know? It takes a lot of psychic energy to “go somewhere and do something”. I have a Suicide Girls routine which is hard to follow here in NY. It involves a lubricant containing a live culture that is illegal on the East Coast. Get with it, East Coast!

2. I’m lazy. But not really. I’ve actually had an inordinate amount of energy lately, but it’s all been spent on taking the subway to Buy Buy Baby to get socket plugs and going to Trader Joes so that my wife has that egg-white salad she loves so much. God, what a special lady, huh?

3. I’m spending a lot of time on set. In my trailer. Doing nothing. Perfect time to write you may ask? No. Perfect time to nap. Perfect time to make phone calls. Perfect time to organize my digital music into inventive Smart Playlists. Perfect time to masturbate. I love my wife.

4. I’m trying to invent a time machine. Ask Wil, that’s HARD.

5. Television is fun to watch.

6. I’ve been eating a lot of citrus. I’ve been cooking soufflés. I’ve been reading Erma Bombeck’s back catalogue. I’ve been trimming bonsai trees.

7. I’m a functional alcoholic. That means lots of dinner parties and wine tastings. I only attend functions where it would be uncivilized not to drink. I rarely drink alone (unless no one is with me) so a gallery opening is the easiest place for me to rationalize a self-medication. Try writing with half-a-hangover. No way Jose. Seriously Jose, how many times do I have to tell you to shut-up?

8. I’m insecure. I’ve been going through a molting process. I can’t seem to say, write or do a funny thing. I’m worried that I’m a plagiarist at heart; a comedy-vampire with timing. But like The Hungry Caterpillar I’m eating a lot of green leaves and will soon be a Beautiful Butterfly. I love you very, very much. Fuck off.

9. I never know how to end these things.