I’m sure many of you ask yourselves “Why the hell would someone want to work in advertising”? Contrary to rumor, we are not diabolical fiends, praying on consumers faults and manipulating them into purchasing things that they don’t need. Pop culture paints us as sex-hungry womanizers, who drink three martinis and spout off brilliant taglines in our everyday conversation.

Hmm. Well, most of those aren’t true.

While it’s easy to knock the advertising industry, there must be something appealing about it, otherwise, why do young professionals flock to ad schools across the country in order to learn the business? Why do those same youngsters take low or non-paying internships at prestigious firms only to spend their time cleaning out the supply closet instead of learning practical skills?

Getting hired by an ad agency is one part talent, two part right-place, right time. Then you need to learn how to survive in an ad agency, a task that I’m yet to find a manual about. There is no guided tour. I never had an Obi-Wan mentor to provide me wisdom until he/she was struck down by Lord Vader (or a Senior Marketing Director. Both are pure evil).

When our Jr. Art Director asked me to fill out a questioner for an ad copywriting class, I happily obliged. It was the first time I’d ever been asked to provide career advice of any kind. It also allowed me to define how I approached my work, beyond “writing” or “starting at the page”.

I figured that you, dear reader, might find the questions and answers I provided interesting. If anything, you’ll get insight into my ticks and oddities of an advertising professional (worth the price of admission). Yet, understand that your free-range Copywriter or Associate Creative Director isn’t insane, evil or even manic-depressant. No, we’re just people talented in the ways of pictures and words. Sometimes, it’s therapeutic to dive into the hows and whys of our craft.

Self reflecting on ourselves is good. It reminds us why the hell we work in advertising.

Where and/how did you learn your craft?

I didn’t study advertising or went to portfolio school. I graduated with a degree in film, then set of to Hollywood for fame and fortune. I spent a few years working in television animation, but wasn’t doing anything creative. I’ve always been good at creative writing, so when I moved to Texas I started learning about the craft of copywriting, which is a discipline that’s different that just being able to write creatively. From there, I got a job writing on-hold messages, which I used to springboard to a small agency, and eventually led to me to my current medium sized agency. It’s nice. They pay me to write. Supposedly, everyone likes me too. I think that’s due to the M&M’s I keep on my desk.

But, make no mistake, I’m still learning my craft. You’re always learning, and seeking knowledge.

Who are some current copywriters you admire?

My initial introduction to copywriting was by reading Luke Sullivan’s “Hey Whipple, Squeeze This” book. But, unlike my favorite scriptwriters or baseball players, I can’t really ramble off names of favorite copywriters. We’re writers, not rock stars. There’s a certain autonomy to our work. That said, I admire every copywriter’s work. It’s not easy creating something at grabs our attention, makes us laugh or moves us to buy something.

Who are some of the hall-of-famers you admire? Any historic ad campaigns that have great writing that should be aspired to?

Hall-of-famers? Sure. Wayne Gretzky. Ted Williams. Larry Bird. I can’t say I look up to Burnett, Ogilvy and those guys. I’m not an advertising historian. As for historic or memorable campaigns with great writing, I think that’s hard to answer. Some of the most memorable ads have very little V/O or copy. Apple’s “1984” or “Think Different” spots. The old Nynex ads, Mini Cooper, Maxell. For me, it’s more about the “great idea” than the “great writing”. You find the great writing when you find that awesome idea.

What’s the greatest thing you do to help yourself come up with ideas? Any technique that everyone else finds odd, but works for you?

Advertising is an immensely collaborative environment. I enjoy working with a bunch of people to brainstorm ideas. That said, I’m a very introverted worker. I like taking the information that’s passed around and playing with my Ticonderoga #2 and notepad or computer. I’m big into isolating myself to think. I’m not anti-social, but I like being alone with my thoughts for a while. Lunch break walks, long commute, sitting in the bathroom. Just getting away from the blinking cursor or notepad is helpful. I like having a well thought out idea to throw around rather than a rambling “ok…what if it was” notion.

How do you “edit” your work?

I’m not sure I have a process of “editing” myself. For me, it’s more of “does this copy have the correct voice and tone of what I’m trying to say?” If it doesn’t, then I tweak until I think it sounds right. I’m a big fan of letting other people read my copy. It’s not that they’re editing for me, but that’s how I gage message clarity. I think of everything I present to other agency people as a first draft. Does this make sense? How can we tweak the message? It’s way more difficult to edit an idea than tweak copy.

What’s your favorite piece of copy you have ever written?

My favorite pieces of copy are the cover letters and thank you notes that have resulted in my employment. I also wrote a spec radio ad for an R.E.I-like store where it sounded like the people were talking about a sex shop. Clearly, I have issues.

Can you share any advice for me and other aspiring copywriters?

Be a good writer, not just a copywriter. Writers write, even when they’re not at work. Write a blog, novel, screenplay, or weird “Twilight” fan fiction if that’s what you’re into. It will teach you so much about word choice, tone, and clarity. Also, have a life outside of advertising. Be passionate about something other than your job. You’ll realize that being a well rounded, multi-dimensional person lets you tap into truths and emotions that add a richness to your work. That said, your “job” doesn’t define who you are, your ability to write does.

Also, invest heavily in a jar or dish of candy for your desk. People think twice about ticking off the “candy jar guy”.

I’m beginning to re-think our weekend Yard Sale strategy.

The Craigslist posting is up. The neon green (can’t miss it from outer space) poster boards are ready, as are the numerous objects that once held a special place in our hearts, yet are now ready to be sold at a fraction of what we paid. The wife and I are prepared for our 5-hour (7am to 2pm, no early birds, please) nostalgia sale. Come strangers, rummage thru that which we wish to vanquish.

As the sale draws near, I’m beginning to think we should let people into the house and allow them to make offers on anything that catches their eye. Everything is going to end up in the sale anyway…why fight the inevitable.

It’s weird how we consider ourselves “owners”. I own a car. I own a house. I own a desk. Ownership implies that we hold onto things for an indefinite period of time. Yet, every few years we find ourselves upgrading our cars, televisions, iPods and appliances. I understand that innovation drives commerce. Mp3s are a hell of a lot more convenient than dragging around a box full of old 45s.

The curse of children is that they grow so fast that clothes, shoes and toys have a small shelf life. But we can’t help but be sentimental towards objects. I don’t want to see the Baby Einstein Miss Caterpillar out on the sale pile. Yet, with Christmas right around the corner, I know that a whole new influx of new toys will be arriving. The irony is that these new playthings will also face the same fate as Miss Caterpillar…doomed to make the inevitable trip from the living room to the garage, to the sale pile. It’s like “The Green Mile” trip for stuff. Nothing returns to the house once it disappears into the garage. Ever.

Growing children needs aside, I try to be better about the crap I buy. I’ve set a personal mandate to not buy something unless I’ll use everyday, or could help us bring in more income (or it prevents me from showing up to work naked). DVD and music spending has been slashed. So long to $45 Disney coffee table books that I’ll only read once. Clothing and accessories are rare. McFarlane Sports figures are history.

That said, I’m eying my home office Wal Mart $150 cheap o desk for replacement. It was built for a desktop computer and monitor, complete with keyboard tray, shelves storage and very little work space. Six months after buying it, my computer monitor died. I switched over to a laptop, which freed me from the desk. The problem is that I can’t write from a chair or couch. I need sit up, rest elbows and type away. I NEED to write at a desk. Ergonomically, my office desk is uncomfortable. The kitchen table soon became my office desk.

Sara and I were at opposite ends of the computing spectrum. She was desktop bound, yet comfortably content to compute from the couch. I had the freedom to compute on the can, yet needed a desk. My home office is cozy and comfy in a man-child decorating sort of way. With Sara stuck at the desktop, I was a nomad with a laptop.

Now that Sara has moved from desktop to MacBook, I can finally reclaim my extremely uncomfortable desk. Seeing as my only talent is writing, I can semi-justify getting a new desk unto which I could practice my craft.

My search for a new, comfortable yet stylish desk led me to West Elm, where I found a nice looking Sawhorse workbench desk that sports an equally extravagant price tag of $549. Expensive, but Sara and I have gone through cheap desks and bookcases as if they were toilet paper. Paying a bit more for something of quality that will, ideally last for a long time seems like a good idea. Alas, the major sticking point is said $549.

For the past year, I’ve earmarked a bunch of collectibles and stuff that I’d like to sell on eBay. Knowing that people pay $45 for old issues of Tiger Beat, I’m confident that somebody might find my collectible baseballs and GI Joe comics worth bidding on. Even if everything I have earmarked sold, I don’t think it would reach the $549 for the desk. This leads me to consider selling some of my prized possessions that I have traveled with me across the country. My childhood toys that take me back to a place a long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.

My vintage Star Wars toys.

For years, I’ve held onto my prized childhood possessions, in the hopes that I’d be able to properly display them. Since they were packed up in New Hampshire, they’ve sat in two large boxes. They have waited in storage sheds and garages, waiting until that day when they’d take their rightful place on a shelf or encased in glass. Nothing less than an act of Congress would make me consider jettisoning them.

So, they sit there. In the garage. Amongst the other stuff we need to get rid of. On equal level as the lawn mower, Christmas decorations and bulk packages of toilet paper. The Christmas decorations get more house time. Luke, Leia and the AT-AT Walker sit stuffed away, holding the exact same value as tiny pairs of socks and outfits in which my first child wore.

Apparently, sentiment means nothing as the days go by. Times change. The dark side isn’t so dark anymore.

A 20% off sale, brings the desk down to $439, a much more attainable number. I might be able to clear that if eBay hounds are interested in Disney sericels and Hard Rock Café jean jackets. I’d sell all my baseball cards for $50 if people still bought baseball cards. I might not need to sell my Star Wars stuff. Yet I’m a fool to keep thinking they’re valuable hand-me-downs that I’m just “care taking” for Casey and Kieran. My sons will never find the same sentiment in them as I did.

We sell our sentiments for pennies on the dollar at yard sales. Yet, for the misfit goods, it’s a second act. One mans trash is another mans treasure. Perhaps this is the best moment for getting rid of my Star Wars trinkets. Indirectly, a desk will help me provide for my family more than those toys ever will. I’ll always have the memories, the fun of reenacting my favorite scenes those toys.

A quick look on eBay confirms that many people are detached themselves from their Star Wars collections. Yet, there seem to be very few bids on those collections that are out there.

Perhaps memories are the only things we “own”. Everything else seems virtually worthless.

As a former theme-park worker, you’d think that the State Fair of Texas would be a no-brainer. And, after hearing of the park’s iconic Big Tex when I worked on “King of the Hill”, I was intrigued by the possibilities in Dallas. Growing up, fairs weren’t much of a Brown family destination. We were more your theme-park family, although we did attend the 1982 World’s Fair in Knoxville (the one with the Sunsphere, for you “Simpsons” geeks).

As Sara’s 35th birthday grew closer, we decided that a trip to Dallas to see Mary Poppins would be the perfect gift, as well as a needed break from the kids. The Theater at Fair Park is, ironically, conveniently located on the fairgrounds, so we’d be treated to musical theater and time at the fair. I snagged tickets 6 rows from the stage (goodbye college for Casey) and booked a room. We were set. Nothing could damper the mood, not even if one of the biggest college football games of the year took place on the same day.

Oops.

Neither the wife or I are college football fans. We didn’t go to big universities with NCAA athletic programs. To suddenly start rooting for a team we have no vested interest in is akin to rooting for someone else’s kid in Babe Ruth league. And yet, we found ourselves attending the Texas State Fair the same day 96,009 Longhorn and Sooners fans would be squeezing into the Cotton Bowl fun.

Undaunted, we arrived in Downtown Dallas around 10:45am, a good 15 minutes before game time. Assuming that most people would be at the game, we found ourselves waiting for the brand spankin’ new DART rail Green line along with those 96,009 running really late fans. With the DART system being completely overwhelmed, our two mile journey from downtown to the Fair took almost 90 minutes.

Many adjectives spring to mind when one things of the Texas State Fair. Obese is one. Fried is the other. Not that there were large amounts of fat people, but obese in the sense of excessive. It’s like they complied every imaginable food, carnival game, carnival ride, merchandising booth… and weren’t satisfied. Even though it’s outdoors, there’s no room to breath. I’m not claustrophobic, but I was at the fair.

The other adjective, fried, is what the fair is known for. Every possible delicacy is lightly battered, dipped in hot oil, and offered up for public consumption. You had fried Oreos, fried Twinkies, fried moon pies, fried pecan pie, fried chicken, fried cheesecake, deep fried peaches & cream, fried peanut butter cups, and the mother of them all.. fried butter. Just hearing those two words in the same sentence makes me conjure up visions of Paula Dean happily tossing packages of Land O Lakes into giant vats of oil.

Fried Pecan Pie

I’m not the healthiest eater in the world, but I kept my batter intake to a mere corn dog. Sara opted to try the fried pecan pie, which garnered mixed reviews. I guess going to the State Fair and not eating something fried is like going to Legal’s Sea Food and ordering chicken. My doctor and my arteries would be proud of me.

After soaking in the atmosphere, we headed over to the Music Hall to our 2:00 “Mary Poppins”. The Music Hall gets my vote as the Worst Possible Theater I’ve Ever Been To. A gorgeous feat of architecture on the outside, the lobby and hall itself are tragically designed in “1972 Renovation” . The massive hall is a black box with seats. No design, no architecture. My garage has more ambiance.  The orchestra bit rivals only the Grand Canyon when it comes to width. While we were 6 rows from the stage, the performers seemed like they were in Ft. Worth.

Thankfully, nothing mattered when the show started. “Mary Poppins” was (using the cheap line) practically perfect. It’s not a scene-by-scene recreation of the movie. On the contrary, many of the memorable scenes or settings from the film (Penguin waiters, Horse racing in the park, tea parties on the ceiling) are gone. The musical merges the original novels with the notable songs in a way that, frankly, comes off better than the movie in many ways. The roles of George and Winifred Banks are fully fleshed out. The Banks children are brats instead of victims of circumstances. Bert becomes the narrator, not just the comic relief. The familiarity is there, and it’s a great show.

Major props to the choreographer on two particular numbers. “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” is a dizzying display of “handy” work (those who have seen it know). “Step In Time” is also an test to synchronizing yet differentiating 25 performers on stage in a large number. It really worked. By far my favorite number was “Feed the Birds”. It got really cold in the theater during this performance. It’s the only reason why I’d become overwhelmed with goosebumps. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

The only blemish on the performance was, sadly, the audience. I’m used to seeing shows in Boston, New York and Los Angeles, where people make an effort to dress up at the theater. In Dallas, dressing up means Tony Romo jersey (worn by a woman) or Velour track suit. The young couple sitting next to us thought it appropriate to tweet during the performance. If Sara had felt better, I think that iPhone would have been tossed into the orchestra pit. And finally, the curious case of the people who exited the performance before the curtain call. Between the ugly theater and ugly audience, future performances at the Music Hall are under review. If we see “Shrek: The Musical”, we’ll see a night performance on a day OTHER than the Red River Shootout.

Won this after playing Whack A Mole

Remember those 96,009 people that rode with us TO the fair? Well, they all wanted to ride AWAY from the fair at the same time we did. Hoping that the line would die down, we decided to wander the midway. This was your carnival on steroids featuring all your favorite rides, complete with toothless Carnies. Remember the Hurl-O-Whirl, Tilt-And-Puke, Vomit Comet, Swinging Barf Machine, Death Wheel and Let’s Just Drop You 900 Feet Swings? They’re all at the fair. The impossible to win games? Yep. Sara didn’t let me see the 1500 Year Old Alligator. Bitch.

When we returned to the DART station, we were faced with a dilemma: Wait in a 90 minutes line for a train, or walk 2 miles back to the car. Even though she’d been fighting a cough and virus for the past week, Sara never complained once during that walk back to downtown. Keep the extra $8 DART and buy more trains.

In all, the State Fair of Texas wasn’t horrific. As we wallowed with the burnt orange and maroon-red masses, we commented that this might be a fun place to take the boys when they’re older. It’s something you need to see to fully understand.

To sum up, it was a Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious weekend. Yes, I went there.

If you’re going to spend time with your kids, you might as well dump hundreds of gallons of water on them.

Rare is the day that each member of the Brown clan is gathered around the same table or piled into the Civic. Dinner is (usually) over by the time I get home from work. I drop off at the day care. Sara picks up. I’ll take Casey to the lake while Sara runs to the grocery store with Kieran. Movie going takes place in “Morning Ralph. Morning Sam” type-shifts. She hits the 11:15 am show, while I hit a 9:30 pm showing. Divide and conquer.

It’s not that we don’t want to spend time as a family. It’s just that the activities we do together are, as they say back in the old country: Lame. I pitied the poor furniture salesmen who tried to up-sell us on couches as Casey threw fits about not being able to perform his Cirque du Soleil-like routines on display models (he has an exclusive performance at “O” at the Bellagio through October). Dinners out can be delightfully tolerable or an act of public torture. I should feel bad about shoving my iPhone in my son’s face so he can watch “Wall-E” for the millionth time while I shove my five alarm fire burger in my mouth. I don’t.

As you can see, getting the four of us together takes an act of congress. Or a theme park.

Central Texas isn’t known for its plethora of amusement parks. Longhorns, football stadiums and WalMarts, sure. But for those of us weaned on $5 churros and stroller parking, we have Six Flags and Sea World. Seeing most members of our party wouldn’t opt for Goliath and other amusements (damn height limits), Sea World is our park of choice.

Unless you live inside the Magic Kingdom, then your kids don’t get exposed to the craziness of roller coasters or gigantic costumed characters. It could be the coolest thing they’ve ever seen, or something that gives credence to their wild monsters in the closet tales. All you can do is strap them in and see how their diaper looks afterwards.

For Casey, it was time to prove he’s Evil Knievel in pull-ups.

I vividly remember the time my parents had to drag me, literally, onto Big Thunder Mountain. Not sure if it was my first roller coaster, but there’s something about being terrified that sticks with you. While the Shamu Express is no Space Mountain, Casey was more than happy to take on his first coaster. I’m guessing he didn’t quite know how to feel on the ride, since he neither cried nor laughed. Guessing it was that fun sort of terror you feel when eating a McRib sandwich or watching “Clean Sweep”.
On the other hand, the cargo nets were extremely terrifying. For his mom. Keep in mind that Casey gets intimidated crawling around those playground contraptions at fast food joints. You can imagine the terror in Sara’s face as her spunky three year old climbed a 40 foot cargo net, then proceeded to crawl around the rickety and dangling web of crawl tubes. Not once did he stop and cry for dad to climb up and get him. It’s one thing to be headstrong. It’s another to crawl around tiny spaces and battle 6 year-olds, all the while dangling above the concrete.

Amongst the dolphin shows and walking penguins, the part of Sea World the entire family is able to partake is the Lost Lagoon Waterpark. Granted, Sara and Kieran usually stay in the kiddie pool for the duration of our visit. Just the fact that all four of us can wade around the same pool qualifies as family time.

It’s fun to watch Kieran waddle walk through the pool, unsure of where he is or how he got there, like a UT student on 6th Street. Climbing on a fiberglass starfish or turtle seems to come naturally to him. Him and a wading pool are a perfect fit. The same can’t be said of his baggy swim trunks, however.

As it turns out, big brother is a bit too big for the kiddy pool. The wave pool seems too tame. So, on our past few trips Casey and I have spent our time at the Splash Zone, a three story fun house that serves one purpose: dump as much water on you as possible.

Splash Zone constantly pummels you with water from every direction. You walk thru water, dump water onto others and in general, soak yourself more than humanly possible. As Casey climbs up and down the stairs in his bright orange life jacket, you can see his tiny brain taking in the absurdity of it all. He seems to get the harmless fun of being drenched, of spilling water onto the unknowing passersby.

The joy of Sea World is that it’s one of the few things that my boy and I can enjoy together. He can’t sit though nine innings of baseball like I can. He doesn’t quite get video games. Keep in mind that Casey and I share the “Must Be Doing Something This Very Minute” disease. Many people consider watching TV, typing on the laptop and listening to their iPod at the same time “multitasking”. I call this “a slow evening”. In many ways, the fact we can spend a few hours in the water together is a huge milestone. Thanks to Sea World, the four of us are able to spend a few quality hours together.

Yes, we could just set up the sprinkler in the backyard and save the gas money and admission fees. Sometimes you need to get away from the house.

It’s instant fun. Just add water.

Ollie picked me. I didn’t pick him.

When I entered the Glendale Animal Shelter back in 1999, I didn’t expect a cat to leap up and announce that he was coming home with me. But when the tiny black cat climbed the cage and scratched at me with his small claws, there wasn’t much left to say.

Named after the legendary animator Ollie Johnston, Ollie was my very first “living on my own” companion. Heck, there was no way I could keep a plant alive. A cat was much easier. He didn’t need much attention, just food, the occasional belly rub and litter cleaning. It was just the two of us living the bachelor life in a tiny Glendale apartment.

Ollie’s favorite companion soon became a stuffed seal, dubbed “Mr. Seal”. There was no logic as to why Ollie chose Mr. Seal as his toy. You could hear him at absurd hours of the night howling as he carried the stuffed toy around the apartment. Perhaps it was a lion/cub thing.

His other favorite companion was my ankles. Or hair. Sometimes it was my whole leg. The feistiness that attracted me to him in our first meeting stuck around. Ollie was even the first and thus far only cat I’ve flown with. He accompanied me to Boston one year, soaking in the New England atmosphere. I guess being placed in a bag and shoved under a seat with an allotment of 3.5 feet of space can be too much for a cat.

The one thing Ollie got plenty of was food. Early in the morning or late at night, the cat would eat and eat and eat. I joked at calling him “Rock” because he was so solid. If he leaped into a sliding glass door, he’d probably shatter it.

Over time, other friends arrived for Ollie to play with. Samantha, Sara, Tigger and eventually the boys. Each one was a friend and a fighting companion. The throw downs between Ollie and Tigger are stuff of WWE legend.

We’re not really sure when Ollie started losing weight. With two kids and careers to manage, checking on the cats doesn’t become second nature. But when he stopped using the litter box and stopped eating, we knew something was wrong.

A trip to the vet’s office confirmed that Ollie was suffering from kidney failure. There were more extensive (and expensive) procedures that we could try, but they wouldn’t “cure” him. He would die from this.

We took the weekend to think about it. We started giving him an IV along with dietary food, which he kind of liked, but the though of losing our cat loomed over us. Friday night we made the decision to put him down on Monday. We’d give him a peaceful weekend at home before heading off to the vet.

But then a strange thing happened. He bit us. There was spunk, vigor, energy. You couldn’t tell that this cat was sick. A blood test revealed that, by normal readings, this cat shouldn’t be alive, much less be this active. So Ollie stuck around a few weeks longer. He wasn’t ready to leave.

Every morning and night over the past month I held Ollie down as Sara shot an IV into his back for fluids. It was hard for us to put a cat down who was so full of life. Secretly, we hoped that Ollie would fall asleep one night and never wake up. He wasn’t suffering. We were suffering because we’d have to make the tough decision, albeit the right one, to end Ollie’s life.

As the weeks went by, Ollie’s conditioned worsened. He stopped eating. He stopped fighting us with the IV needle. As you ran your hand over his back, all your could feel was bones. Samantha and Ollie knew what was going on. So did we. And on Saturday, June 6th, I brought Ollie to the local animal hospital.

It’s a strange thing to put an animal down. You’re talking a creature’s life into your hands. As we waited in the exam room, he rubbed up against me and tried to leap down to the floor, unaware he had mere minutes left to live. The vet came in and administered the shot that would put him to sleep. Slowly, he became less active. The rubbing and wandering stopped. He finally laid down, placed his head into my palm and drifted off to sleep.

There was no way that I’d consider just ditching my cat and heading off. No animal deserves that. I watched the vet insert the injection into his leg and waited for the end. There was no gasp. No movie-like theatrical last breath. I didn’t even notice his breathing stop. In no less than thirty seconds, he was gone. The vet checked for a heartbeat and confirmed there was none. Shorty after 11am, my cat was dead.

I was welcome to stay with him for as long as I needed. I had really said goodbye to him weeks earlier when we first thought of putting him down. I kissed my cat on the head, rubbed him for the final time and left.

There’s no burial or jar of ashes for Ollie. Just a picture featuring him enjoying the view from the porch back at my old home in New Hampshire. Once we find a spot, we’ll place Mr. Seal, as well as his collar and tag by that frame. It’s quiet not hearing him howl at night. Tigger and Samatha stick closer to us now, having realized that their playmate and friend is gone for good.

I won’t say Ollie’s in a “better place”, because the best place for him was here, with people that loved him. Of course, if where ever he is feeds him, he’ll be OK. RIP Ollie.

Oscar preditions.  Left out the foreign language and shorts, since I never know that the heck any of those are. Nothing too in-depth in terms of comments. Oh, and I’ll get most of these wrong.

COSTUME DESIGN: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. 

Nice job of costumes through the ages. 

ORIGINAL SONG: Jai Ho from Slumdof Millionare. 

Listen to that song and you can’t help but wish EVERY movie ended with a Bollywood dance number.

CINEMATOGRAHPY: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. 

In Spanish, “Fincher” means “dark and gloomy cinematography”. True.

ART DIRECTION: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. 

Nawlins’ has never looked so…Southern.

MAKEUP: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. 

If nothing but for the younger 18ish Brad Pitt.

ORIGINAL SCORE: WALL-E. 

Another brilliant Thomas Newman score.

VISUAL EFFECTS: The Curious Case of Benjaim Button. 

If you’ve seen it, then you know why. 

ANIMATED FEATURE: WALL-E. 

Duh.

SOUND MIXING: WALL-E

Sound carried most of the movie, allowing animated robots to portray emotions that many actors can’t reach.

SOUND EDITING: WALL-E

Again, brilliant use of sound. See above. Dark Knight was just too…loud.

FILM EDITING: THE DARK KNIGHT

From the funeral scene, to the “will they blow up the other ferry” one, brilliant creation of action and tesnsion. Why the heck this isn’t best picture is beyond me.

DOCUMENTARY FEATURE: Man on Wire. 

Because, it’s the only one I’ve heard of? 

ANIMATED SHORT: Presto. 

Pixar’s best short since Geri’s Game, in my opinion.

SCREENPLAY, ORIGINAL: WALL-E

I’m well aware that “Wall-E” won’t win everything, but i’m picking it here. Sadly, the money is on “Milk”, which didn’t blow me away.

SCREENPLAY, ADAPTED: SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE

For a standard “boy meets girl, boy loses girl” plot, the question-flashback-answer storytelling was excellent.

ACTOR, SUPPORTING: Robert Downey Jr. in “Tropic Thunder” 

Just seeing if you were paying attention. Heath Ledger in “Dark Knight”.

ACTRESS, SUPPORTING: Penelope Cruz in “Vicky Christina Barcelona” 

Going with the consensus on this one. 

ACTOR, LEADING: Mickey Roarke in “The Wrestler”

A great performance. And, Hollywood loves it’s comeback stories.

ACTRESS, LEADING: Anne Hathaway in “Rachel Getting Married”

Not even naked Kate Winslet could get me into “The Reader” or any of these other movies, though I have “Frozen River sitting here”. Anyhoo, going with an upset here. 

DIRECTING: Danny Boyle for “Slumdog Millionare”

Not a big fan of frantic editing and shaky cinematography. But Boyle pulled it off. 

BEST PICTURE: Slumdog Millionare.

I saw this the first weekend it opened in Austin, and have been a fan ever since. It will win. That’s my final answer. 

The last time I checked, there were around 5 million blogs about the Red Sox. And when you compare what I write about the Sox to what those sites write about the Sox, my blog is better than 15 of those blogs. Hey, sports writing isn’t my forte, and I’m comfortable with that. This isn’t a Red Sox specific blog either. If it was, I’d feel pretty bad that I’d writing articles comparing rookie season pitch velocities of Clay Buchholtz, Aaron Sele or Dana Kicker. Bonus points if you know either of the last two guys. 

With Spring Training a mere 27 days away, I just wanted to chime in on the bizarre off season of my beloved Red Sox. Judging by the speedy rate of blog entries here on ROTW.com, this might be the only post of the season.

2009 Off Season Review

Jason Varitek- How has this guy NOT fired Scott Boras yet? The Antichrist Agent makes Jason turn down TEN MILLION DOLLARS in an arbitration offer, because (supposedly) Jason will be in high demand this off season. Well, it’s 27 days before spring training and nobody has made an offer on a 35 year old catcher who hit .220 last season and looked lost at the plate in the playoffs. 

I’m not going to talk smack too much here. Jason Varitek has been the heart and soul of the team for years. He’s sure to get a shot managing in the Red Sox system down the road. He’s a Red Sox legend. BUT, I don’t want him on the team anymore. The Sox would have eventually needed to move away from him, and nows as good a time as ever. The WORST thing that could happen is the Sox resign him, he gets a standing O when he’s introduced on Opening Day, and then proceeds to whiff with the bases loaded in said game.  161 more games of “I told ya so”.

Lastly, for a guy who was trumped as having Harry Potter-like wizardly skills with pitching staffs, NOBODY wants to give up a draft pick in oder to sign him for those skills. Telling. 

Yankees -  I wasn’t shocked when the Yankees signed Sabathia, Burnett, Teixeria and whoever happened to be walking past Yankee Stadium on any given day. They have Damon and Matsui and their eroding skills, they have no center fielder to speak of, and they still have A Rod. 

After 2004, I really stopped worrying about what the Yankees were doing. They have a shiny new stadium and a payroll that could buy GM. If they lose their first Spring Training game, Joe Girardi will be hung from the facade at Legends Field. No pressure. 

Rent-a-Wreck pitchers - In the wake of the Yankees spending spree, the Sox could have easily waved $70 M at D-Lowe. Instead, they made two signings that are low risk, high reward. In 06 and 07, Penny won 16 games, and started the All Star Game in 06. Smoltz won at least 14 games in 05 to 07. Before then, he was doing nothing but nailing down 40+ saves for the Braves. 

Both players are battling injuries. And while Theo has made these type of low risk, high reward pitching signings before (Wade Miller, Fatolo Colon, David Wells), it hasn’t always worked out well. Theo DID sign Matt Clement, and I will never let him forget that. The difference between the Clement signing to these guys, is that Penny and Smoltz are only on the books for one year. And if the injury bug hits, there’s plenty of guys like Masterson, Buchholtz and Bowden who can start in a pinch. It will be interesting, or a disaster. 

Junichi Tazawa- Nobody seems to know anything about this guy except that he’s from Japan and idolizes Diasuke Matsuzaka. Is this going to be a Daniel Russo/Mr. Miyagi thing? Does this bump Okinawa from the “guy we brought in to keep Daisuke company” pedestal?

New Uniforms - Approve of the road. Disapprove of the road alternate. Already own the alternate cap.

Manny Ramirez- If the guy had simply shut the hell up and played baseball he would probably have another World Series ring and would have $20M in the bank for the 2009 season. But no, Boras did his thing, and convinced Manny that teams would be throwing themselves at him with multi-year offers of $30M per year minimum. Apparently, not everyone loves Manny being Manny. 

Here’s why I hate following baseball: players and their obsessive greed. Is there REALLY a difference between $20M and $30M a year? What could that extra $10M possibly get you that the other $20M couldn’t? Cripes people, just get the medium popcorn at the movies…you’ll never finish the jumbo one. 

Ramon Ramirez - DID YOU SEE THAT PITCH RAMON made? Naw. Doesn’t have the same ring to it. 

Rocco Baldelli - Due to the fickle nature of players and teams, I’ve always resisted buying a jersey with a current players name/number on it. Imagine all the poor souls who tossed or mothballed their Damon, Nomar, Manny, Pedro or Nixon jerseys. My favorite player retired in 1996 to run his own “golf course” and I’ve never gotten rid of my two jerseys with his name/number on them. And I never will. Why should I? 

I’ve followed Rocco Baldelli since he was called up to the majors in 2003. I even saw him play the Sox at Fenway that year (also known as the infamous game where my friend Glen wore long underwear on a 75 degree day in Boston). I ordered a Tampa Bay Rays player shirt. Drafted him really high on the fantasy team. He was compared to JoeDimaggio and was a Rhode Island native. How does a Sox fan NOT like this guy?

His medical issues arrived in 2005 and was forced to miss the entire season. He played off and on over the next few seasons due to “metabolic and/or mitochondrial abnormalities“. At any rate, it was hard to follow someone who never played. 

This off season, Rocco became a free agent. I became giddy when rumors involving him and the Red Sox popped up. How often is it that your favorite player from another team could actually JOIN your favorite team. 

Rocco signed a one-year deal with the Red Sox on January 8th. He chose to wear #5, the number of my last real “favorite” player on the Sox, mister Nomar Garciaparra (as I type this, I’m wearing my Sean Casey shirt…more a tribute to my son than a one shot bench player. Still, $30 well spent I say). 

Now comes the dilemma. When I sell enough of my crap on eBay and can afford to get the new road jersey, do I get Baldelli on it? With a one year deal, he may not be around too long (and with Bay,Ellsbury and Drew in the lineup, there’s no real room to play). I could also go the Sean Casey route and get another one and done shirt. I suppose it depends on WHY we get players names on our jersey. Do we get them to be trendy and h honor the sexy new guy (Ellsbury in 2007) or the stable veteran who may not be around too long (Varitek, Papi, Lowell). 

Rocco is a New England guy playing for his “hometown” team while trying to play through a  possibly treatable medical condition. If you look at Rocco as a “player”, then getting his jersey isn’t worth the money. But if you look at Rocco as a human you can’t help but honor the guy by wearing his jersey. A dilemma for another day.

Where they finish - As of now, the Sox look like a solid 3rd place team. However, Theo has until July 30th to assemble the team he wants. The Rays could be the Colorado Rockies. CC could show up at 300lbs. It’s baseball…you just never know. That’s why we watch 162 games and pray you follow your team through October.

Here’s the skinny…

On Feb 10, 2008, legistation will go into effect that will make it ILLEGAL for any item intended for use by a child age 12 that was not produced/created before that date to be sold unless it’s cerified to not contain a certain amout of lead. 

You can read a little more about it  here . Basically, parents won’t be able to sell old baby clothes, cribs or toys at yard sales or cosignment stores. The bill makes it seem like we can’t even give stuff away. Either we keep it or toss it into the landfill. Perfectly fine stuff will be tossed away.

It’s not just baby stuff. Any item indeded for a child 12 and under. This includes vintage Barbie dolls and the two boxes of Vintage Star Wars toys (circa 1977-1985). They can’t be sold on ebay.

This whole thing stems from that problem Mattel had with lead paint on toys from China. I certainly hope Mattel lobbied FOR this legislation, forcing us to buy new toys everytime. But, I digress.

No guilt trips intened, but this is going to put lots of consignment shop owners/employees and eBay sellers out of work. If you care to help writting to your local government-type person, go here .

If you send an e-mail, there’s a spot you can write your own thoughts. Here’s what I put down: 

At a time where our economy is in chaos, families are worried about keeping homes and/or jobs and many people are struggling to make ends meet, I fit it disturbing that my government seeks to take away an income source for businesses, as well as forcing hard working Americans to spend more money on “new” items when used or gently used items were suitable only days before.

How is it that a crib, bouncer, playpen or piece of clothing be considered safe and usable on Feb 9th, but unsuitable and illegal on Feb 10th?

This bill will force thousands of child consignment stores to go out of business, putting more people out on the street, while cutting off a resource for parents to give their child a new outfit or toy. This bill doesn’t just affect parents, but thousands of people who sell items at trade shows and online auction sites like eBay. There is a huge market for vintage dolls and other toys. While adults are the ones selling Barbie and Star Wars toys, these items, (being intended for 12 year olds), would not be allowed to be sold. Many people make a living simply off selling vintage toys on online web sites. This legislation would force them to stop selling and cut off their income. How can this be allowed?

Beyond buying and selling used items, consider the environmental impact of this legislation. As it stands, parents will not be able to sell or give away furniture, clothing or toys. With no options available, people will simply throw these items into the trash. Almost none of these items are recyclable, therefore landfills will receive tons of extra trash. Most of the things thrown away would have been perfectly safe for use by a child. This legislation would incur a tremendous environmental impact that could have been avoided. We have only just begun to see mainstream recycling programs take hold and make people more aware about how trash affects the environment.

This legislation would be a HUGE step back. We will see the future envisioned in WALL-E sooner than we think.

This legislation NEEDS to focus on stricter standards and testing on lead in future goods and consumables. Simply throwing away everything won’t solve anything..

While this legislation make it illegal for my wife to sell that Star Wars junk when I pass away (and isn’t it fun to have the law on your side beyond the grave), this bill is going to put lots of people out of work and make it hard for low income familes to provide for their childen. Old toys deserve love too. Have we learned NOTHING from “Toy Story”?

A brief recap of the year that was 2008 in the life and times of yours truly. Despite a minor bump in the road, it was, as Frank said, a very good year.

January

I use my $80K film degree and make a five minute short film starring my son and my good friend on the lucrative budget of $47.50. Entered in the Alamo Drafthouse’s Filmmaking Frenzy, Sideways fails to impress the judges. Our problem was that we took it too seriously, even through we had a toddler drinking “wine”. 

February

The Patriots are 1:15 away from winning their fourth Super Bowl and a perfect 19-0 season. Tyree makes the most amazing catch. Shock. More plays. Touchdown. Giants win. I can’t say I was in shock over this loss, nor did it really hurt. I’d become so used to seeing my teams win, that losing doesn’t exactly sting. Still, a 16-0 season means nothing if you don’t win the game you’re SUPPOSED to win. 

March

Casey turns two, yet still fits in size 18 month pants. His birthday is celebrated a few days earlier on St. Patrick’s Day, as he attends the Boston Celtics vs. San Antonio Spurs game. His grandparents attend as well. Wearing his green KG jersey, he is the hit of the arena. Celtics win 93-91. 

April

After months of outlining, I begin the process of writing my first screenplay. It’s my first attempt at writing one after years of WANTING to write one. With a May 31st deadline to enter it in screenplay competitions, I write 4 hrs a night for the month. Rewrites ensue.  Friends give it thumbs up. Ultimately, it never advances in the competitions. Probably should have had some people read it before entering it. Live and learn. The next one will be better. 

May

Kieran Scott Brown arrives on the 13th. He screams for 14 consecutive hours after being born, then hardly makes a peep for the next few days. He sleeps through the night, even a hail storm mere feet from his room doesn’t wake him. Casey has no idea what he’s in for.

The parents and the boy(2)

June - The multi-faceted month.

Boston - I travel with Casey to the land of my birth. It’s a whirlwind tour of New England, as he visits such icons as Kittery Trading Post, Hampton Beach,the Pawtucket Red Sox, Foxwoods Casino, Larry’s Clam Bar, New England Aquarium and Fenway Park. Relatives and friends meet him up close. We also attend a wedding where Casey dances up a storm just before he attempts to send the wedding cupcakes crashing to the floor. 
 
The Browns Arrive - My parents flew in to meet Kieran and Co. Coincidentally, the Red Sox were in Houston the same weekend. Who knew?

They're happy becase the Sox won.

Wall-E - I attended a midnight showing of Pixar’s latest before the Houston trip. FILM OF THE YEAR.

Celtics - If the wedding I attended had been a week earlier, Casey and I could have made it to the Duck Boat parade. No, I’m not bitter. Still, I drove home from Boston during Game 4. I flipped it off on the road, thinking there was no way they could come back. Arriving back at my Uncle’s place, I watched the comeback victory in stunned silence.

Da Gahden

July - The month I was “relieved of my duties”.

The most difficult part of losing my job wasn’t that moment where I was told I was being cut loose. We all dream of going out with guns a blazin’ when we’re let go, but I remained calm and collected. It sounds morbid, but part of me was relieved. I didn’t hate my job, but I knew I needed to begin exploring my options.

Telling my wife about my job loss wasn’t all that bad either. Granted, it’s not the easiest thing to do. “Hi honey, I lost my job. What’s for dinner?” I kept myself in check and diligently looked for work while helping out with the kids. I enjoyed hearing Sara’s graphic depictions of what she’d do to my former boss if they ever met in a dark alley…or H-E-B. 

The WORST part is that job hunting makes you feel sorry for humanity in that barely ANYONE returns a call or hits “Reply”. You feel much like Wall-E….abandoned, alone and lonely..questioning what you were put on Earth to do (perhaps it’s why I respond to the movie so well). A few people where gracious enough to meet and chat with me, and I couldn’t thank them enough for their time. It was a difficult two months, but wasn’t the worst thing that happened to me this year. 

August - The worst thing that happened to me this year (a.k.a. working as an usher at the UT football games).

In an attempt to get some sort of income into the Brown household, I signed up to be a part-time usher at the UT Longhorns games. Having done my share of crowd control and being a pigskin fan, I figured, “Why not. How bad could it be? “ 

After working my first game, I vomited into my hat on the busride from the stadium to the employee parking lot. That’s how bad it was. 

Honestly, it wasn’t vomit enducing work. The worst part was that it was an 8-hr shift, usually in the sun, with only a 15 minute break for “dinner”. Including commute time to the parking lot and stadium, it became a 12 hour day. Some of my co-workers weren’t exactly “quality”. It wasn’t worth the $8 an hour. I cringe when I hear “The Eyes of Texas”. 

I will say this, at the end of the first game I worked at, I did field duty for the last two minutes of the game. After the game ends, but before leaving the field, they gather in front of the Longhorn Band and sing  ”The Eyes of Texas”. I woked the band section, so the team was gathered behind me for this last sing along. There’s something cool about 300 lb. linebackers singing the fight song mere inches behind me. Something I’ll aways remember. 

September 

On a whim, I applied for an opening with a ad agency in San Antiono. I had no luck in Austin, but figured I had nothing to lose. I never expected to get a call for an interview. I never expected to get a job offer. I never expected that I’d meet my co-workers at an evening at Esther’s Folly’s on 6th Street…before my first day of work. I never expected to want to THANK my former place of employment for giving up on me.  But you know what they say about least expecting and stuff like that. 

October

The Sox are back in the playoffs. I venture to the local Red Sox bar two watch games with friends Travis and Scott. The Sox lose both games. I blame myself. Watching Game 5 alone at home goes down as one of the most exciting games I’ve ever watched. Sara gets her first “new” car, a Honda Civic. I drive it to San Anonio three times a week. Casey finally catches onto the whole Halloween concept. He aquires WAY too much candy for a two year old. Even Kieran gets boatloads of sugary sweets.

December 

Nothing screams Christmas quite like a water park strung up with lights. With that in mind, the fam attends the Schlitterbahn Hill Country Holiday. Can you be disappointed in something you didn’t have high expectations for? Both boys find plenty of booty under the Christmas tree. I decide to return the one gift I was looking forward to receiving. Glen flies out from California for a visit. We dine at Austin’s best places for BBQ, tex-mex-hawaiian and pizza before heading up to Dallas to see the Anaheim Ducks play. They lose. Glen leaves, vowing never do to this again or until airfare gets to $200 round trip. We close out ‘08 with a trip to the Zoo. 

On Dec 28th, I get my iPhone. After a few hours, I wonder how I the hell I made it though the other 362 days without it. 

Happy 2009 everyone.

Happy 2009 everyone.