Last year, for reasons of my own, I taught my nieces a new mantra for Easter.
It was a simple and joyful, “EASTER IN YOUR FACE!”
They were three at the time – in retrospect, perhaps it was immature of me to do this to (for?) them.
Being that they’re almost four, it’s time to tell them how adults celebrate Easter joy with a new phrase, “EASTER ALL NIGHT!”
It’s not so much a phrase as a party anthem.
Imagine the Black Eyed Peas taking these words and turning them into a song, and you’ll get what I’ll be going for.
Like Fergie sings the first part and the Waylon or Wilbie or whatever their names are sings the after-shout portion.
EASTER ALL NIGHT! (EGGS)
EASTER ALL NIGHT! (EGGS)
EASTER ALL NIGHT! (EGGS)
EASTER ALL NIGHT! (EGGS GOTTA GET EM)
Like all their songs, that’s all there is to it, and it goes on for ten minutes and sells a zillion copies.
I’m told that last year EASTER IN YOUR FACE! came out at completely inappropriate times, and this is why I’m the best uncle ever, and probably shouldn’t consider fatherhood anytime soon.
If you’ve read my stuff for any length of time, you know the vividly horrific story behind my shoulder tattoo, and my embarrassed self-loathing I do at myself whenever anyone sees it.
If you’re new or whatever, this is it, all oiled up and stuff for you.
The time has come, at long last, to finish this mistake once and for all.
I’ve talked to people several times over the years about what to do about this monstrosity.
The removal options are bad – since it’s been done three times already and there’s scarring to boot, it just won’t look right.
I asked one tattoo artist about putting a roman numeral XIV over it, the rationale being that I could make up different stories every time someone asked me about the deep, hidden meaning of my ancient number tattoo.
This wasn’t going to be doable either, and every other tattoo artist suggested things that just wouldn’t work for me.
I always make this clear before these conversations – my number one option would be for it to not be there at all anymore.
Starting from there, I’m not sure how these people come to, “How about like a cool snake that’s on fire and goes from your shoulder all the way around your chest, and then is flowing into a skull that’s on your back, and it’s the skull of a naked booty stripper?”
Anyway, after many years and much thought, I am giving up…and that’s what this new version of the tattoo will represent.
Inevitably, someone will try and make it artistic or special or whatever.
No, no, nay, nay, booty.
I don’t want it planned or artistic or meaningful – I want it to look like someone scribbled over it in frustration…like which is what I feel about it with my special heart that is inside me.
Some years back my mom started sending those “here’s what everyone is up to” letters with her Merry Christmas cards.
I immediately insisted on control over any part of the content that referenced me, so each December I submit my own section for her to include.
(My brother does this too – perhaps he can post the 2009 edition, as his are excellent.)
Alas, this is what I sent her over the weekend.
I’m still writing and acting and producing and trying to get new projects together.
I’ve never touched a guitar before. Also, I stopped using question marks this year for awhile. Isn’t that weird.
Oops! Lost my car keys again! LOL
Do you use gmail?
Your pal,
Brian Spaeth
P.S. My sole goal in writing this was to have my mother say something like, “I am not sending this!” and I guarantee she did exactly that after I emailed it to her.
Sent via my Blackberri Tornado II From T-Marbles
Movie – www.whoshotmamba.com
Twitter – www.twitter.com/brianspaeth
Facebook – www.facebook.com/brianspaeth
Website – www.brian23.com
P.P.S. Mom, make sure to include these links, cause like that’s part of the joke for this section of the letter.
P.P.P.S Also include all of these PS’s – including this one. These are also part of the joke.
P.P.P.P.S. Sorry for not taking your Merry Christmas Letter 2010 seriously. :(
I have to admit, I can’t see a day where I ever send Christmas cards or letters of any kind myself.
Like I get them from friends of mine who are married already, and I’m always thinking, “Why did you send me this and why is it signed The Jones Family? I don’t know what one of those is – why don’t you just email or call me? Yeah, I know I don’t answer my phone ever, but why did you get married?”
Do you or your family send these type of Christmas letters? Do you send Christmas cards? Do you believe in Merry Christmas Trees and why.
Anyway, most of this week has been spent brooding and being happy about how sad and happy I am. Also, lots of self-important writing.
Over at AOL Fanhouse, I wrote up my problems with LeBron James, and did a podcast with Brett Pollakoff, wherein I talked about LeBron’s Dancing Crisis, Bill Simmons’ basketball book, and of course some Who Shot Mamba? plugging.
At Yahoo!’s Ball Don’t Lie, there’s a small essay about the logistics and fun of shooting at Bill Walton’s house. Couple cool behind-the-scenes pics – I think in that one I’m trying to explain what an Orange Roundie is.
LOL!
What.
At CT Kingston’s blog – otherwise known as @CTK1, I did maybe my favorite Photoshop work I’ve ever done for part of her mega-super-2009-roundup-post.
Thanks also to @DennyMayo, @mfeige, @cjrider, and @thegnc for joining me in that Matt Bullard-based Houston Rockets chat, helping to bring Calvin Stadiums, Petey Skippen, Sherpa, Peter Ovaire, Brad Radby, Russell Slanteer, Monstero, and others to vivid life.
Keep in mind we are twins, but I’ma go ahead and say it – do you want to date my sister?
I spent a good four or five hours in a Borders on Saturday, reading my own book, Prelude to a Super Airplane.
(My ego isn’t that crazy – something I’m working on has a a few loose tie-ins, and I wanted to make sure my continuity wasn’t getting screwy.
That said, I’ve read it purely for pleasure something like 27 times.)
In any case, I didn’t get much reading actually done, since the two elderly ladies over my knee there spent lengthy amounts of time talking about the merits of Nick Cannon, whom one of them referred to as, “that colored fella from America’s Talent Show“.
As if that – and my need to IM everything I was hearing to a friend – wasn’t enough, at a tumultuous moment, the following seven people came in and sat at a nearby table.
- white female/21
- white male/52
- latino male/16
- white male/28
- white male/48
- latino female/58
- white female/35
This was an amazingly odd grouping of people, because they didn’t seem to know each other at all.
Book club? No books.
Parent-teacher thing? No – there was a lot of introductory conversation, and the mix wasn’t right.
Fellow Nick Cannon enthusiasts? No mention of Nick Cannon.
It was really starting to bother me – there were no logical scenarios.
My IM companion said I should go sit down and apologize for being late, which I considered, along with simply asking them, “WHO ARE YOU AND WHY ARE YOU HERE, YOU SOBs. ALSO DO YOU WANT TO BUY MY BOOK.”
You may think I wouldn’t do this – I assure you I would, minus the SOB-calling and book-selling.
I didn’t have to though, because the 16-year old boy was squeezing the 21-year old girl’s leg under the table. She smiled, and had braces – I reasoned she wasn’t 22 at all, but rather 15 or 16 herself.
Then a flurry of info came forth – 35-year old whitey has infertility issues. She said this with a conviction and volume that amazed the entire cafe section. 52-year old white male runs down his family’s health history.
Adoption and “staying in the baby’s life” are discussed.
28-year old whitey – now reasoned to be in his mid-30s – tries to discuss Madden 2010 with the boy. He’s full of wonderment about how, “All the real players are in the game now…wow, how neat.” Buddy, they had that 20 years ago when you were growing up – did you only play Metroid and Zelda.
In any case…these teens were pregnant, and having a nice meeting about giving the baby away.
At BORDERS.
By the way, if you go to that Borders, there’s now a signed copy of PTSA randomly placed in the Cooking section. Where would you have your baby-momma adoption meeting.
So like I was somehow watching the final scene of Alias this morning, and what happens is Vaughn and Sydney’s kid see their old partner Agent Dixon walking on the beach.
She’s like, “Uncle Dixon! Uncle Dixon!”
It’s all awkward and stuff, because “Dixon” is his last name, but even moreso, my thoughts turn to what happens when this girl turns of legal age, and is no longer required to refer to him as “Uncle”.
Isn’t the precedent too ingrained at that point.
She’ll likely be cornered into an awkward transitional moment, like what occurred with myself and one of my uncles. I was like sixteen, we were playing pool in his basement, and I just went with his name, and no “Uncle”.
Everyone – and I remember my brother’s face more than anyone’s – shot me a “WHAT IN GOD’S NAME DID YOU JUST DO” look. Still, I stood my ground and went with it, giving my Uncle a slow-and-dramatic-head-turn and a growly, “You heard me, friend. Converse with me.”
Not only do I have that burned into my memory as one of the Top Ten Most Awkward Moments of My Life, but now I never address any of my uncles directly.
I don’t feel I was wrong or something, but it’s just like a hanging issue that’ll be there forever.
As such, I’ve fought hard to make sure my nieces refer to me as just “Brian”.
Don’t misinterpret – it’s not a selfish thing or some hang-up about “Uncle” making one feel old – it’s for them. I don’t even know if that was my choice to make, but it’s worked so far. They will always be my peers in this manner.
How do you feel about the issue of the formal titles of Aunt and Uncle.
(I’m the seventh most important Cleveland-sports-related person on Twitter, according to WFNY.)
So after thinking about all the crying we did at movies together the other day, I decided to download an exciting new app to my Blackberry Tornado II – the TwitVid thingie.
This is “Tempest du la Keys”, and I’m pretty sure your tears of being overwhelmed should happen after you watch it.
Has there ever been something so powerful on a baseline emotional level – I don’t think there has.
Other stuff I’m up to, besides that – I started a new company with @kristinbrennan. We have set up a Facebook Page for it here. As soon as we figure out what the business does, I’ll let you know.
HOT TIP: If you start a Facebook Page for a company or film or project or whatever, do it under a separate account than your own. Otherwise, you can only post on that page as the page, and not as yourself. Like on the old one, I was only able to post as “WHO SHOT MAMBA?” and not as “Brian Spaeth”. Twas a problem.
Hey, my sister is on Twitter now – be deliberate in what you say to her, because I will monitor every single Tweet sent her way.
(Joe, you win the free copy of Prelude to a Super Airplane from the other day for your awesome picture shown to the right.
Shoot me your address and I’ll get it out to you Mon or Tues. Thanks again for the pic – it made me do laughing.)
I’ll admit it – I’ve been sitting on this post for awhile. Perhaps to publish on a day when it’s an almost-holiday, or my mind is just tired from surgery, and jokes/thoughts (Nay, and as such, “joughts”. Tempest.) are not free-flowing.
Anyway, the following are things one of my toddler-aged nieces said. These were spouted right in a row, in about a minute and a half, and they’d all make great titles for deep and/or quirky independent films.
There Is A Ball in the Car
I’m Swording Myself
Fishing Pole Okay
Mickey Doesn’t Want to Wear a Shirt
Throwing In the Secret Garden
Doors Close Forever
I Did It With My Bat
You Know What a Bat is For
Take Home the Ball
It is Not Tired
Here’s My Socks and Shoes
Let’s Look Out the Window
Take Me Outside First
Any joughts?
You have any good indie film titles you can throw back at me?
So a revelation that honey is actually bee regurgitation, and some discussion amongst the siblings, yielded an updated list of foods that I’ve never had. It’s below the vid.
I basically added two foods and surveyed the brother and sister. Tim is the most adventurous of us, and Kristen actually became offended I would even ask some of these.
1) Mustard
Tim: YES
Brian: NO
Kristen: NO 2) Pickles
Tim: “ACCIDENTALLY”
Brian: NO
Kristen: “ACCIDENTALLY” 3) Mayonnaise
Tim: YES
Brian: NO
Kristen: NO 4) Beets/Radishes
Tim: NO
Brian: NO
Kristen: NO 5) Anything Mexican that isn’t a taco or burrito
Tim: YES
Brian: NO
Kristen: NO 6) Baked Beans
Tim: YES
Brian: NO
Kristen: NO 7) Baked Potato
Tim: YES
Brian: NO (Tim claims I have, but I dispute this.)
Kristen: YES 8) Sour cream
Tim: NO
Brian: NO
Kristen: NO 9) Cole Slaw
Tim: NO
Brian: NO
Kristen: NO 10) Egg Nog
Tim: NO
Brian: NO
Kristen: NO 11) Potato Salad
Tim: YES
Brian: NO
Kristen: NO 12) Relish
Tim: NO
Brian: NO
Kristen: NO 13) Cream Cheese
Tim: YES
Brian: NO
Kristen: NO 14) Cottage Cheese
Tim: YES
Brian: NO
Kristen: NO 15) Guacamole
Tim: YES
Brian: NO
Kristen: NO 16) Blue Cheese
Tim: NO
Brian: NO
Kristen: NO 17) Honey
Tim: NO
Brian: NO
Kristen: NO
(Follow me on Twitter here.) (Download the first 55 pages of my epic, pretentious, and stupid book, Prelude to a Super Airplane, here.)
Due to increasingly being tagged in this over on my Facesbook, and in honor of the 250th post on BTAA, here is my official “25 Things You Didn’t Know About Brian Spaeth”.
1) I don’t want anyone to know anything about me.
2) I like to be an enigma.
3) I keep secrets about myself.
4) I have a bad shoulder tattoo.
5) One time, I didn’t tell anyone anything about myself.
6) I have been known to be private.
7) I have a twin sister.
8) My twin sister won’t tell you anything about me.
9) I wrote my entire family into the first and only novel I will ever write.
10) You can get $3 off that book through Monday with this promo code: JGPTR476
11) I make a wonderful chicken dish.
12) I use Twitter.
13) My Twitter feed is becoming more useful than my blog at generating humor.
14) I had to walk a horse around in the background of CSI:NY once, and Gary Senise told me I looked scared of the horse.
15) Gary Senise can see inside my soul with regard to horses.
16) I don’t like telling people things about me.
17) I don’t like you telling people things about me.
18) I like telling things about you, as long as it doesn’t involve me.
19) I don’t want anyone to know I am yoked.
20) I once had to kiss a girl on the set of Las Vegas, and I screwed up twice on purpose because her boyfriend was there.
21) Scoop Jackson is my favorite writer at ESPN, and I don’t think he gets a fair shake.
22) I ended Gilbert Arenas’s career. (Not on purpose.)
23) I once told a tall girl we needed to reproduce for the advancement of mankind.
24) I don’t want attention drawn to me that I did not initiate in some fashion.
25) All of this said, I love being the center of attention.
Really, my book has everything you could possibly want to know about me, plus it’s all fictionalized. Why haven’t you bought it yet?
(Follow me on Twitter here.) (Download the first 55 pages of my epic, pretentious, and stupid book, Prelude to a Super Airplane, here.)
Last year, for reasons of my own, I taught my nieces a new mantra for Easter.
(Joe, you win the free copy of 
