Dead Frank

I joined the Producers Guild of America last year, which turned out to be a wonderful decision. The PGA gives out awards to honor the best film and television of the year. The studios put on private screenings in New York, San Francisco, and Los Angeles for the films they believe in the most. During the end of last year, I had at least three different movies a week from which I could choose. I took advantage of this golden opportunity to see as many films as I could. Let’s call it “professional development.”

Going to the theater week after week reignited a long dormant passion for watching films on the big screen. A year ago, I firmly belonged to the camp of modern Americans who though their big screen television at home was a good enough. Complacency kept me out of the theaters for a very long time.

But the urge to see feature films in theater didn’t pass with the holiday season. I wasn’t making going out to the movies a priority without studio PR people mailing me calendars. All of a sudden my television looked way too small, and I couldn’t A desire was building up inside me with no proper release.

The only logical solution was to create a support group. Thus was born a “Tuesday Night Movie Club.” Our prime directive is to get together on Tuesday Night to watch a film. Most weeks we’ll get together for a beer at the local pub to discuss. The only rule for choosing the film is to keep a variety going. Sometimes we watch big studio films like last night’s selection, Sucker Punch (review to come), other times we’ll check out independent releases like next week’s pick, Rubber.

So far the group has exceeded my expectations. Going out to the movies is a fantastic way to spend an evening. It’s one that is made 10x better with friends.  I couldn’t recommend it highly enough.

I started up a companion piece to this blog. It’s a tumblr account built to house funny pictures I’ve collected over the years, as well as the new ones that flow past me in the future. Think of it as my personal baleen for your amusement.

Please enjoy: http://deadfrank.tumblr.com/

The crazy adventures in life do not entirely happen by accident.  While growing up my father would often tell me, “If you want good things to happen, you have to be in play.”  To extend the sports metaphor a little further, you’re never going to win a trophy unless you try out for the team.

Last week I had an adventure that started when my friend invited me to attend the reopening celebration of a bar called MatrixFillmore.

For those of you outside of San Francisco, let me quickly explain.  This bar is a trendy night spot in the Marina district whose patronage consists primarily of Fraternity Boys who grew up to be Investment Bankers, yet retain some of their… shall we say… youthful exuberance.   Such people are the natural enemies of the Art Students turned Hipsters who frequent bars such as Delirium in Mission district and listen to bands that no one has ever heard of.

I had the privilege to have interesting conversations with a number of people that evening, including a socialite who confessed that he often out of touch with his own calendar and attended events only knowing what he should wear: casual, suit, or tuxedo.   I also met a dandy gentleman who was very excited about the new jacket he picked up earlier that day.

While at the new bar adjoined to the back room, a man who seemed intimately familiar with the bar recommended a tequila drink made with fresh jalapeno.  Although I was suspicious, the sincere tone of his voice convinced me to give the drink a try.  Turns out the spice was balanced out to create a complex and thoroughly enjoyable drink.

As it turns out, the man recommending the drink was the executive in charge of operations at the company that owns the Matrix.  He proudly told us of the rather impressive feat of remodeling.  Rather than closing the bar for months to remodel, contractors did much of the behind the scenes work and preparation during the day.  They meticulously planned and staged the redesign.  With the swiftness usually reserved for Hollywood set construction crews, they managed to tear out the old furnishings and install the new in a mere four working days.

Then we met an editor from a local music magazine who offered to take us to a party where the musician BT was going to be DJ’ing.  When we arrived, it turned out he wasn’t on the guest list.  He picked up his phone and said he was going to call BT’s manager.  Half way through the conversation, he tried to hand the phone to the girl working the desk as a form of proof that we should be given entry.  She gave him the “are you kidding me?” look and said there was nothing she could do to get us in if we weren’t on the list.  There was a moment of doubt that our new editor friend was really on the level.  After a few minutes of awkward waiting, a couple of guys walked up.  One of them warmly greeted the editor.  He took a step back and I realized it was, in fact, BT.  I tried to be cool and make casual conversation, although I suspect my inner fan boy poked out a little bit.

What we didn’t know ahead of time was that BT was followed by will.i.am of the Black Eyed Peas.  We really didn’t know what to expect.  I must admit that I was blown away by his incredible skills to keep the dance floor moving.  What really put a great cap on the night was that I was introduced to a couple other entrepreneurs with whom I might have cause to work with in the future.

And all of this happened in one night where we took the plunge.  I was honestly thinking of staying home that night.  I thought of my father’s words about being in play and decided to see where the night would take us.

Today I took the opportunity to watch Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution.  I think you should too.  This has to be one of the most important shows on television today.  It’s entertaining while teaching (or reinforcing) the vital role that food plays in our lives.

Even though America is the number one economy in the world, we aren’t even ranked in the top ten with regards to health.  Our life expectancy ranks at a very disappointing 38^th in the world.  Those statistics are a direct reflection of how we take care of ourselves.   One thing we do every day is eat.  What we eat on a daily basis has a cumulative effect on our lives.  As the maxim goes, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

One of the things that surprised me most about the show is how often Jaime “fails”.  The first episode shows exactly how difficult starting a revolution is.  He’s met by resistance and skepticism at all sides.  He starts off simply trying to get the elementary school kids to NOT eat pizza for breakfast.  The cooks in the kitchen resist the change, the school doesn’t think his food meets the guidelines, and the kids don’t want to eat it!  Through perseverance and creative thinking, Jamie manages to overcome the challenges. It’s a great lesson for anyone who wants to make a big vision come true.

Maybe you can make engaging television that can change the world.

You might be surprised to know that Ed Hardy is a real person. Not only is he real, he owns a modest looking tattoo parlor, Tattoo City, in the North Beach neighborhood of San Francisco, just a few blocks from where I live. Ed isn’t taking any customers at the moment, but you can still get inked by some of the artists who studied under him.

There is a fantastic pizza joint in the neighborhood, rather plainly called Tony’s Pizza. I recently wrote a review over on Yelp. I saw a pizza box above the hostess stand that appeared to have Ed’s work on adoring it. I asked the bartender if it was a spoof or did he really created the art. The bartender said, “Yes, it’s him. Ed is good friends with Tony’s business partner. He comes in to eat at least once a week.”

He went on to tell us the box art is part of a new special collaboration and fund raiser for the pizza shop. As of today, you can buy Ed Hardy’s signature pizza, a simple concoction of cheese, sausage, mushrooms, and peppers. It comes in the pizza box featuring Ed’s design and $4 of the purchase price is donated to charity.

Of course, my curiosity got the better of me and I asked what Ed was like as a person. The bartender shrugged and smiled as he responded, “You know… Ed’s a real nice, genuine guy. He’s very down to earth and personable.” I smiled. That answer didn’t surprise me considering how unpretentious Ed’s shop looks from the outside.

It would seem that Ed Hardy doesn’t share much in common with many of his customers. The woman sitting next to me asked the bartender if Ed Hardy liked Jon Gosselin. The bartender’s brow furrowed and he shook his head. “No, he does not” he replied sternly.

Although many of the customers of Ed’s clothing might be the very epitome of douchebags, turns out the man himself is pretty damn legit.

If you want someone to be interested in you, you must first be interesting.

I wouldn’t have predicted that my friend Amanda and I would have spent last Saturday night at an exclusive house party up in the Hollywood Hills, followed by skipping the long line at the hottest new club in Los Angeles.  Yet that’s exactly what happened.

And it all started with a joke.

The Man, The Myth, The Legend

First a bit of background Neil Strauss is the author of a rather famous book called “The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists.”   He was a rock critic who was painfully shy and considered himself unsuccessful with women.  That was until he plunged himself into the underground world of Pick Up Artists (PUAs), a group of men dedicated to the fine art of attracting and seducing women.

After the book, Neil started up a website called the Stylelife Academy.  Under the auspice of how to pick up girls, it seemed he was actually out to teach men how to be more confident and interesting.

I found his theories intriguing, so I signed up for his newsletter.  (The full story is in another blog post.)

Last Minute is the Best Minute

Fast forward to last week.  Neil decided to throw a party for the third anniversary of his website, Stylelife.  An email went out to the whole list.  The challenge: Explain what you would get the website/community for its birthday.  The reward: An invite to an exclusive LA party.  The catch: Bring a girl.  This was a party, not a pick up event.

Ah yes, the joke.  Immediately, without hesitation, I forwarded the email to my dear friend Amanda who writes a blog titled “Dating is Miserable”.  I suggested that going to this party might make for a great blog post or two.  So we worked together to craft the finest answer we could.  After all, what would you get for a website that was out to teach men how to be successful in all aspects of their life?  Simple:

For Stylelife’s birthday I would get it a fine suit, a well-mixed cocktail, and a blow job from the coat check girl and her sister, but you know… only if she’s hot.

We joked about what would happen if we got in.  The invite clearly instructed us to only reply if we were serious about going.  We were only 65% serious about going.  We did it for the laughs.

Everything was good fun until the Friday evening.  Around 7pm, I’m at my local Bourbon Appreciation Club meeting and catching up with some friends when I happen to glance down at my phone.  I have an email from Neil’s marketing manager saying we were invited to the party.  Then came the kicker.   We were invited to first meet up at Neil’s house before going to the club.

An Irrefutable Offer

Without a second of hesitation, I called Amanda and told her the news.  I believe her incredulous response was something along the lines of “Shut the fuck up.”  I merely replied, “Check your email.”  Amanda said she would call me back in a few minutes.

30 seconds later my phone rings.  It’s Amanda.  She says that we can’t not go to this party (the bad grammar was entirely intentional).  Did we really want to remember that time we turned down the opportunity to party in Los Angeles with a famous author and a bunch of professional pick up artists?  That’s not a story you want to tell your grandchildren.

So we did the responsible thing.  We reserved a car at 8pm on a Friday night, cancelled our weekend plans, and packed a bag.

Enter the Hollywood Hills

On our way down we started to imagine what kind of situation we were getting ourselves into.  Amanda expressed concern that party would be packed full of sleazy douchebags that would hit on her all night long while strippers and porn stars did coke off each other’s asses in the background.  I started to wonder if this was a PR stunt and they rented out a huge house up in the hills that would soon be packed to the gills with desperate wannabe PUAs.

The reality couldn’t have been further from those mental images.

We had some trouble finding the place in the twisting roads of the Hollywood Hills, so we rang up the marketing manager and he met us outside.  We walked into a beautifully architected home that seemed perfect for entertaining guests.

There couldn’t have been more than ten people when we arrived.  Neil was carrying on a light conversation when we arrived.  We were introduced to Neil.  He warmly greeted us and introduced us around.  Then he invited us into the kitchen where he first offered us homemade beef jerky and then proceeded to mix us both drinks.  Let it be said that Neil Strauss knows how to make a good first impression.

So much for that “huge rental house” theory I had.  As it turned out, most people seemed to know each other.  The original email spoke true; only a very few select people were invited to this party.

We spent some time mingling with the other guests and playing with some of the clever toys laying around, like the Mindflex Levitating Ball game.  Around 11, Neil came around and said we should head down to the club before things got too crowded.  Again he was very conscientious about his guests.  Neil told us he was headed down to the club first to get everything set up.  He said we were on the guest list and shouldn’t have any problems getting in.  However if anyone had a hard time getting in, Neil said we would rally everyone and go to another place nearby.  The simple sentiment that the guests were more important than the venue went a long way.

No Line, No Waiting (Sorry, Lindsay)

When we approached the club, the line outside looked pretty impressive.  There were plenty of good looking people who were waiting to get in.  There was a moment of curiosity as Amanda and I approached.  Neither of us go to nightclubs very often.  What is the etiquette?  There are two lines?  Which one do we wait in?

When in doubt, ask.  We approached the nearest bouncer and asked.  We were directed to a very large and stern man with a clip board.  He checked the guest list, checked our IDs, and then quickly ushered us in with three sentences strung together: “they’re at a big table inside, don’t know where, should be easy to find”.

Wow.  This club was everything I had imagined it would be.  The design was sleek, dark, and modern thanks to the Edison-style lights and deep-mahogany wood trimming in the main room.  We didn’t spend much time in the billiards room, which seemed brighter thanks to a light grey motif.  You would expect a place that hosted the Victoria’s Secret party (and refused entry to Lindsay Lohan) would be a sexy and classy joint.  We were not disappointed.  Plus they had one of the best DJs I’ve heard in ages.  He really knew how to mix a set that kept the dance floor moving all night long.

After a while, the party dissipated as the couples started pairing off.  Amanda settled into her drink and, as the designated driver, the night had finally hit that surreal point where everyone else in the club is clearly having a different experience than you are.

Epilogue

We wrapped our night with Amanda whipping out her phone and recording us walking through the parking lot to “prove” her sobriety.  She then got very excited to tell me exactly how the lyrics of Ke$ha’s music was like breakfast cereal.  I pulled out my own phone and started filming as well, knowing full well she would be tempted to delete it upon morning review.  And no, you will probably never see either version.

Wow.  That could have been five blog posts (or an entire chapter in a book).

This story surely beats the one we could have told about that one time we passed on going to LA for one night for some website party.  Thanks to everyone in LA for being so awesome.  We had a blast and cannot wait to party with everyone again.

P.S. The rockstar weekend continued.  We managed to go to another party Sunday night, literally within 20 minutes of getting back to San Francisco!  But that… that is another story for another time.

Many years ago, someone told me about this underground internet community that revolved around picking up women.  My mind instantly filled with images inspired by the seminal film, “Night at the Roxbury”.  I pictured awkward guys dressed in cheap velour who bobbed their heads to some unknown beat while repeatedly being shot down by every woman in the club.  My natural curiosity combined with a keen sense of shadenfreude demanded that I investigate.

Let’s be honest.  This internet community contained plenty of wannabe Casanovas obsessed with finding the ultimate pick up line.  However, many of the contributors proposed a more common sense approach: Live an interesting life, take care of your appearance, and be sincerely interested in other people.  The most popular authors were teaching a course in “How to be a Strong, Confident, and Genuine Man” for guys who didn’t have a strong male role model during their formative years or lacked the self-confidence to apply what they knew.

Shortly after I started reading, the message boards lit up with news that someone was writing a book about becoming a Pick Up Artist.  He was an insider.  He was someone who hung out with the best of the best.  People were frightened.  This underground community was about to exposed to daylight.

Emotions ran high.  Some people felt betrayed.  The most insecure community members who relied on the tips, tricks, and tactics to meet women were convinced that at soon as the book hit the shelves, every woman in the world would see right through their carefully crafted veneers.  The hucksters were outraged that their bad behavior might be exposed.  Perhaps most importantly, many people were terrified by the irrational fear of never being in the presence of a naked woman ever again.  The faithful few preached words of calm and said, “Remember, if you are not a pretentious douchebag or a nervous coward, people will like spending time with you.  You will get still laid.”

I picked up a copy of the book in the first week.  My curiosity grew even stronger to find out what it was like in the “early days”.  As an outsider, I never took part in any of the so-called Lair Meetings or went out to sarge at clubs.  My curiosity was piqued by the stories of someone who threw himself into the lion’s den.  The author, Neil Strauss (a.k.a. Style), wove fascinating tales of friendship and road trips, of seduction and betrayal.

To paraphrase the philosophy of the entire book in one paragraph, Neil proposed that the best way to “be successful with women” began with being successful in your own life.  Being successful doesn’t necessarily mean fame and fortune.  Those are outside indicators of interior qualities like vision and passion.  Knowing where you want to go in your life is highly attractive.  Money happens to often be a consequence of clear vision.  Talking passionately and proudly about your interests is attractive.  If you don’t have something you’re proud of, maybe it’s time to take up a new hobby.

Honestly, it’s the best advice you could get or give.  Go buy the book.  It’s a hell of a read.

My friend Keane is like my personal social networking advisor.  He encouraged me to set up a twitter account and blog for my company, Deluxis Entertainment.

Neither Keane nor I are the type of person to just let things be “good enough”.  As soon as the company affairs were established, we started talking about reviving my personal blog as well.

My life is full of curious events and fantastic happenstances.  Perhaps they will entertain you.

The first tale coming down the pike is a rather curious story about last minute road trips, a party in the Hollywood Hills, and front-and-center action at the hottest new club in Los Angeles.  Look for that one soon.

Last weekend, I was hanging out downtown San Francisco waiting for my friend.  We were about to partake in one of the finest burgers that our fair city has to offer.  As I watched the world go by, I saw a late model Ford Police Interceptor approaching me.  The side searchlights were still attached.  All other markings had been removed.  No light bar across the roof.  No decals on the side.  The driver was a middle aged man with a couple days of stubble on his face and an ill-fitting stocking cap on his head.  He did not fit the mold of a current or retired law enforcement official.

Then the car rounded the corner and I caught a glimpse of the bold decal that adorned the trunk lid.  Check it out for yourself: http://bit.ly/6ffhHd

They have an official website with very little information and featuring a much more stylish picture of the vehicle in question.

My father suffered a catastrophic hard drive failure a few weeks ago.  He lost many files, including some old pictures from many years ago that he had scanned into the computer.  Thankfully he sent me a copy of those on CD shortly after he scanned them in.  I found that disc this morning.

I took a fun trip down memory lane, looking at two-decade old pictures of my cousins.  I just visited many of them down in Arizona recently.  Seeing how the years had changed us all invoked a very special kind of nostalgia that I haven’t experienced in years.

It reminded me of a couple of things.  One is that we should be taking more pictures.  You, me, and everyone you know.  Carry a little pocket digital camera.  Use the one on your phone.  The best camera in the world is the one you have with you at the time.  Capture those moments.  They will be more special to you a decade or two down the road.  Your kids, grandkids, parents, aunts, uncles, and friends will all appreciate it down the line as well.

It’s so easy to get caught up crossing off items on your to-do list or being frustrated with that guy in another state who isn’t doing his job properly.  You can always be thinking about that party coming up this weekend or what you did last night.  Pictures help you get back t those moments which really matter the most.