OUT OF FOCUS

iPhone Expected To Cause Orwellian Panic

Before the Internet there was Radio.

No seriously. It looked something like this:

And on Sunday, October 30, 1938, millions of radio listeners went into mass hysteria when dramatist, Orson Welles, recited from H.G. Wells well-known book, War of the Worlds.  He said the arrival of Martians on earth was inevitable. People believed him.

We, as a planet, are about to witness the same mass hysteria. 

The iPhone.

People have been awaiting the release of iPhone like they have been awaiting the second coming of Christ. 

Or is he already here? And is his name Steve Jobs?

I believe the iPhone will be more than a phone, more than an mp3 player and more than a browser. I believe it will be a communication device that secretly allows us to communicate with aliens.  I mean, it is 2007.  Men in Black wasn't just a movie. Isn't Steve Jobs always the man in black?

Tell me this isn't weird?  On the homepage of UFO Evidence, there is a hypnotic image of an iPhone floating up and down.  Up and down.  Coincidence?  I don't think so.

I think its a matter of months before we start procreating with the alien sex and once again, Steve Jobs has been the first to target that market.

I wonder what Gummy, The Lovesick Alien would do if the device landed in his hands?  Would he click his heels three times and say there's no place like home?

If you hear of mass rioting and pillaging at the Apple Store tomorrow, I won't tell you, "I told you so".  I'll be too busy getting probed.

 

Fergie Coughs Up Brillo Pad on Stage

Fergie of the Black Eyed Peas just came out with an incredible single entitled, Big Girls Don't Cry.
An amazing talent, the singer can't get any sexier and the song can't get any catchier but I will say that she is entirely wrong.  Yes, Big Girls Do Cry.
Monday through Friday and sometimes for the most frivolous things. 

A last cigarette with a whole in the side, will make me cry.

The wrong Chinese Food delivered to my door at midnight will make me cry.

Another Paris Hilton album will not only make me cry, it will make me use. 

And that brings us to the subject of Crystal Meth (a great name for a porn star), the drug that Fergie admits she had been abusing.  I don't mind that she was using.  I'd be more judgmental if she was on an all Raw Foods diet.  I pray that she gets off the smack. For Good. 

I didn't know what exactly Crystal Meth was.  So I Googled it. Boy, was I both frightened and pleased at the same time.  Frightened because I saw a series of pictures of a prostitute using Meth over a ten year period.  Pictures so shocking I refuse to put it on my blog because I am afraid I might scare you, my readers, and give you nightmares. But pleased to find out that A.D.D is a natural form of Crystal Meth without the anxiety, irritability, insomnia, paranoia, and sometimes even psychosis. Oh, and death.

Here are some side effects of A.D.D.:

1. mood elevation

2. increased alertness

3. increase energy

4. reduced fatigue

5. increased movement and speech

6. a sense of increased personal power and prowess.

Here are some side effects of Crystal Meth:

1. mood elevation

2. increased alertness

3. increase energy

4. reduced fatigue

5. increased movement and speech

6. a sense of increased personal power and prowess.

How fantastic. I can have all that and more without having to swallow:

a book of matches

Red Devil's lye (ya got me?)

gasoline

a Michelin tire

rubbing alcohol (thank you, Kitty Dukakis)

Coleman's Fuel

nail polish remover

a Brillo Pad

WARNING: FOR READERS UNDER THE LEGAL AGE OF 18 OR READERS WHO ARE SIMPLETONS, I AM NOT ADVOCATING THE USE OF CRYSTAL METH.  THIS IS ONLY A BLOG MEANT TO ENTERTAIN.  I REPEAT.  THIS IS ONLY A BLOG MEANT TO ENTERTAIN.

On that note, here are some very bad things about Crystal Meth:

anxiety, irritability, insomnia, paranoia, and sometimes even psychosis.

Oh, and death.

Fergie, I thought I'd never say this, but I wish you had A.D.D.

Rockin' Girl Blogger

I was happy to discover today that I got a shout out today from a blog entitled, Moms Out There, authored by Taylorblue.  She was awarded The Rockin' Girl Blogger Award today and had to choose five female bloggers worthy of the Rockin' Girl Blogger...I being one of them.  Her daughter has ADD and Taylorblue has gained  a better understanding of how the ADD mind works after stumbling upon my blog.  Thank you!  Thank you and congratulations  to  Moms Out There.  The emotions I am feeling right now are the same emotions I felt when I made the cheer leading squad in the seventh grade....pure bliss.  I can still do the 15 minute cheer that got me on the squad....after a few drinks, I still do it at parties.  You should see me on top of a three tier pyramid after three margaritas...very GitMo.

So now I have to cut and paste the Rockin' Girl Blogger Widget into my Sidebar and because I have TYPEPAD, which is like having a bad case of excema, I cannot figure out how the hell to cut and paste html into my sidebar! OK, I'm going Wordpress as of next week.  No, really.

Here's a link to the page where I get my first honorary nomination!

Thanks again, Taylorblue.

Improv is the Cure for those who have A.D.D.

I sometimes wonder how I ever performed in stage plays
with my A.D.D.  How is it that I ever remembered my
lines?  I never pulled a Brando by posting my lines on my fellow actor's forehead.  Maybe that's just where hyperfocus comes in. Look, I know real acting is focusing on the moment to moment actions of the character and not the lines, but its still gotta make me wonder? How did I ever remember who the character was?  If I was playing Blanche in a Streetcar, what prevented me from going back on stage as Stanley screaming Stellllaaaaaaaa!

Doesn't matter.  I never played Blanche in a Streetcar but I did play Rheba, the black maid in You Can't Take It With You.  I also played the role in Black Face.  No seriously, I was fourteen at the time and I had no idea that doing such a thing was deemed racist.  In fact, the stage director applauded the idea.  I wonder if he's still got his teaching license in the state of New Jersey.  If only I had had the parents in the audience flashing pictures! The were probably too busy arguing who forgot to bring the flashbulbs.  Oops, Sorry.  I meant these flashbulbs.

For those who have A.D.D., I highly suggest taking classes with Kim Schultz, an incredible improv teacher in New York.  I started taking class with her when I was eight months pregnant and my baby came out "giving me the finger".  Friend and family thought, "Oh, how cute!" but I knew it was Kim's class that made my baby funny.  I mean, her timing couldn't have been more perfect.  That's improv!

Come check out one of her shows this Sunday.

7 PM @ Ha! Comedy Club

163 West 46th Street  New York City 10036

$7 cover/1 drink

Kentucky Friend Failure and A.D.D.

Some years back, amidst the chaos of my A.D.D., I decided to shoot a film.  It was a film that emulated my favorite cult classics; Kentucky Fried Movie, Groove Tube and Amazon Women on the Moon. It was called Channel Surfing, a film encompassing a collection of skits poking fun at today’s television and pop culture. I ran out of money and could not finish the film so I cut into a TV pilot.  Brilliant move on my part.  In never aired not did it get picked up but at some point in time, I will set up a blog and pay tribute to my long forgotten Channel Surfing.  In the meantime, I will tease you, my blogging audience with some bits and pieces...

Last night, I sat around a table of filmmakers at Cafe Noir.

After a round of mojitos and an hour's worth of conversation, I divulge my personal experience of spending thousands of dollars on a film, never having been able to finish the film and never reaping any financial benefits from it.  "Oh, that's nothing.  Everyone has one of those under their belt", one filmmaker told me.  I needed to hear that. 

I guess its the unpredictability of the “creative process” and the insatiable desire to keep creating that keeps me inspired as an artist to "keep on truckin...."

Friends Who Have Friends Who Have A.D.D.

Enough about me.  What about them? 
This friend does NOT have A.D.D but he does have
a great song style and enough focus to put an album together :) Please post your comments and let him know what you think!

Jeff Garfinkle

Studies Find Smoking is Good For Your Health

I Smoke

That’s right.  I smoke. 
I smoke one cigarette a day.
I smoke Nat Sherman Mints and I pay ten dollars a pack for them.
Sometimes they get stale and I throw them out.  Even at that price. 
Yep.  Ten dollars. 
Why?  Why not.
That’s equivalent to three cups of Star*ucks coffee and I don’t drink that tar.
I’d rather smoke it.
I like the taste of a luxury cigarette.
Like a luxury car. 
I can feel the smooth buttery leather, cream colored of coarse as I inhale. 
"That's disgusting!  You what?"
I inhale. 
"It is a luxury, I mean, it says it here right on the box" . 
I like the feel of the box. I like the font on the box.
And I smoke one cigarette every night.
That’s 365 a year. 
I will not smoke any other cigarette.
I love the smell.  I love the taste.  I love the experience.
I am addicted to the psychological benefits of smoking.
For some, they suppress one’s appetite, for me , they suppress my anger.
What can be better? 

Will they kill me? 
Maybe. 
Will I regret it?
Most likely.
Will I stop? 
Probably Not.
I smoke at the same time, every night, with or without company.
I like to blow smoke in people’s faces. 
No, not really. 
In fact I am a polite smoker. 
I will not smoke on the streets of New York.
I will not smoke in the park. 
I will not smoke here or there. 
I will not smoke anywhere.
I will not smoke with green eggs and ham.
I will not smoke In public that is.
I will only smoke on my balcony.  In rain or shine.  Sleet. Snow.  Monsoon.  Nuclear fallout.
No, that’s not funny. 
I pretend that I smoke like the dames from the fifties. 
Sometimes I even recite lines from the movies as I smoke.
Look at this guy. 
He’s a big, hot Bollywood actor.
He likes to smoke and looks cool doing it.
I have a vision that he and I will one day smoke together.
Somewhere. 
Maybe on a movie set.
Under a willow tree.
Or maybe after a pilates class.

You should try it.
Everybody's doing it.

I Just Had a Panic Attack

ADD Symptom:  Obsessing.  Just plain obsessing.

Watch this.

Did You Know; Shift Happens - Globalization; Information Age

The Art Of Shoplifting

ADD Symptom:  Tendency towards addictive behavior.

My older sister and I used to shoplift.  A lot.  We were unstoppable. We would shoplift till the cows came home.  She was 17 and I was 15 and we made the finest team; we worked with the grace of Cagney & Lacey, the coolness of Starsky & Hutch…and when we finally got caught…the embarrassment of Tim Conway and Harvey Korman.

We turned shoplifting into an art form.  We would stake out our location.  Macy’s of coarse.  We would strategize.  A Wednesday-one-dale-sale.  What else.  We would ambush behind closed doors.  Now, this was the '80’s of coarse when Spandex and big leather purses were in style.  What better way to steal Spandex than to layer it beneath loose clothing or hidden beneath the torn lining to your ten-pound leather purse? 

Then, the unthinkable happened.  We got caught.  It was a sunny afternoon and I took a shoplifting day of rest.  I worked my regular shift at a restaurant where I would buss tables for $2.25 an hour plus tips during the lunch rush.  Yes, I said, $2.25 an hour plus tips. That alone was a crime.

3:35 pm came and my sister was fifty-five minutes late.  I sat on the curb waiting for her Chevy to drive by.  She’s never late, I thought to myself, too much excitement to tell me about our newly stolen treasures.  And then before I spotted her car, I spotted two swollen eyes they size of cranberry scones.  She cried buckets as she unlocked the door and gripped the steering wheel even tighter, “Get in the car!” she said in a holler that was meant to be a loud whisper.  I got in the car, obeying my older sister’s orders and stared at her waiting for the bomb to drop.  What felt like slow motion, her head turned towards the passenger seat where I sat and she blurted, “I got caught”.  I don’t know if I heard her the first time or the fifth time she repeated those words.

As we drove the same two miles home,  she replayed the montage of the event that played like a bad after school special: 

Two sweaters shoved in a shopping bag.  Foot steps to follow.  A hand on her shoulder.  A quick turn of the head.  Two street clothed policeman.  One cuffs while the other confiscates.  A cold, pale green office in the basement.  The removal of her college ID from a velcro wallet.  And the removal of 200 in cash.  Questions. “Good student?  Private school?  Why steal when you have the money?” they asked her.  “Why ask the question when you know the answer?” she told them.  For the rush of coarse.   They threatened to call my mother and she threatened to kill herself (and the Academy Award goes to...). They let my sister go.  With a warning of coarse. And forever exiled as a Macy's employee. “And tell your accomplice never to show her face her again!”, they threatened as the door slammed behind her.

I got the message.  That was the last time my sister and I rehearsed The Art of Shoplifting.

Boy, do I miss that show.   

Tonight's blog was dedicated to a devoted friend and fellow closeted shoplifter, Jim Allen.

In Memory Of Adrienne Shelly

I can’t think of anything right now but Adrienne Shelly.  I went to see the fallen actresses directorial debut film, Waitress, this afternoon and cried when I saw the closing credits, In Memory of Adrienne Shelly, fade on and off the screen.  Adrienne was murdered last November by an illegal immigrant employed as a construction worker in her West Village apartment building.  He strangled her, left her for dead and then confessed days later. 

Words from the killer:
"I was having a bad day," illegal immigrant Diego Pillco, 19, allegedly told cops. "I didn't mean to kill her. But I did kill her."

When most people are “having a bad day”, they like to hit the gym or maybe get a pint of Guinness.  Tying a noose around someone’s neck is not what most people have in mind. The murderer, who committed a previous criminal act by coming to the U.S. illegally, deserves the death penalty and rot in hell so he doesn’t get to see 29. Lord knows what other crimes he committed back in his homeland of Ecuador. (Oops, looks like I won’t be winning and votes in office anytime soon!)

A mother to her three-year-old daughter, Adrienne Shelley had a blossoming writing and directing career ahead of her. Her husband, Andrew Ostroy, has started the  Adrienne Shelly Foundation, a non-profit organization that will award film school scholarships and grants to women filmmakers.

She was a beautiful woman who had an on-screen quirkiness that just mad you stare and smile.  She still had a child-like quality as a grown woman that made her so likeable and vulnerable.  Watch this video of her that I found on You Tube.  You’ll know what I mean…and go support her film, Waitress.