Horror Comes in Twos

Hey Guys, I was looking through drafts of things I'd written for the chop and I came across this. I wrote it on my second weekend in LA, just after coming back from Aaron's Campbell apartment. It's unposted writing, so I thought I'd add it in for you all. I'll try to come up with something more current soon. I was thinking about recounting our old neighborhood on Highmoor road. We'll see if I come through, but for now, here's innocent, pre-LA Zach:

Beloved Lee Family,

Once again it is time to address you, if only now because I don't know when I'll have the chance again.


So in no particular order:


This city they call Los Angeles. It is so unique in so many ways, which no one ever gives it credit for. Most probably because all those unique things chop extreme log, but I digress. I describe this place to friends in Austin, Kansas, and even Chicago, as a regular city that some giant hand squished down and smashed flat. It covers so much land, that I actually hit L.A. freeway and signage 60 miles out of the "city" on my way back from San Jose. It's really a network of small cities. Nowadays, when somebody mentions L.A. to me, they're referring to the county, not the city.
As for the list of chops, well, let's just say it's a work in progress. How can I not begin with traffic? RIDICULOUS! Seriously, this is the first place I've seen where they've actually reached the limits of our current method of personal transport. They're actually going to have to develop minority report vehicles or e-slingshots or something just to make transit work again. So wow. But it's the little things that make this place interesting, and distinctly different. A short list of things that Zagat's won't tell you about: First, having the letter A, B, C, or god forbid, D or F on the front window of every food serving establishment in the State. I can't tell you the peace of mind I get knowing that the food I'm about to eat is not going to make me beef later. And only for the added cost of about a billion percent. "And as Californians, we must work togetha to fix da mess made by our congressional girly men" I will not, repeat, will not vote the same man into office as the one that starred with Alyssa Milano in Commando. Won't do it. Can't make me.


Speaking of can't make me...

You can't make me live in Aaron's San Jose apartment. And that's not to say I didn't appreciate you letting me stay there last week, because I did, but come on bro. Seriously, just to air out Aaron's laundry without his permission, you guys gotta hear this. First of all here's the Aaron-Damon living unit shopping method: Step 1. Visit one location. Step 2. Sign contract.
So needless to say, they live in a corner apartment on the first floor of a complex that not only has no fencing to block out the viewing pleasure of the public, but exists on the one main street of Campbell, CA. So people walk their dogs past one window, then turn the corner and walk past another for the SAME apartment. So on shopping, F+. And then, did you guys just let the movers dump shit wherever they decided, and then keep it there as though it was supposed to be there? Because that's the only way I can explain a coffee table turned on it's end, with two of the legs as the base and the other two as COAT HANGERS! And certainly it would help me deduce the reason as to why there is a twenty seven inch televison within a foot of an easy chair and ottoman, and 90 degrees to its left no less. I tell you this not to anger you, but to urge you to take pride in your place man. It reflects so directly on you and I think you may not realize that. Or you don't care, but you owe yourself and your friends better than that. Read an interior design book. Seriously. Put down the chaos theory of economics book that Cakes sent you, and pick up an interior design for dummies. Even if you pull five nuggets of info out of there that work for you, it was worth the price of admission. On that note, I'm glad nopaypal is going well, and I have no doubt you're taking care of things. MAKE TIME to focus on the quality of your environment, and it will please you again and again to come home to it. A couple of weekends of hard work and a few bucks will facilitate relaxation for months or even years to come. Okay, enough of that.


The drive from LA to San Jose and back.


So I have bought a 2003 Honda Civic, and I wanted to take it for a spin and to visit Aaron for a weekend. I was completely unprepared for the breathtaking views of the California county. Think mountains, but entirely covered in grass. Just short, brilliantly green grass that covers the whole mountain with no bald spots. And in certain places, low flying clouds zip over these mountains of the Shire and dust them with snow. It was awesome, until I stopped to gas up. I was fifty miles north of LA, where it was seventy degrees, and I got out of the car in a t shirt. So after poking out the cashier's eyes with my bullet point nips, I was on my way. It was only thirty degrees there! But it was gorgeous, as were the views coming downhill on about six different mountains. And I saw a sunset over the pacific ocean in San Luis Obispo that could outdo any artist. I'll stop with this only because I took some pictures, which I'll send. They speak louder than I can.



Finallly, I'll cut to it, if only because I'm exhausted and I need some sleep. Work is great guys. I'm cutting every day, I'm around tons of creatives, and they like me. I'm in like Flynn, yknow? Today was an easier day just because we (the spot's producer and I) delivered our first version to the head of DVD content, and subsequently to Disney. Our DVD head had one revision, and it was to something I had already done, but my producer made me change. Then Disney had only one revision, once again reinstalling a shot that I had in my original cut before the first producer saw it. Anyways, it was done very early on, so I had a creative meeting with the DVD head and the AV production director about my next project, which is an audio commentary for yet another Disney kids' flick. Hilarious stuff though. The actor sits down in front of a mike and watches the movie, recording his comments. I got the raw reel of one of these commentaries to edit down and lay over the flick, using his best comments. All the kid talks about is how they were drinking the whole time and joking about how one of his costars was sleeping around on set etc. etc. Hilarious, like I said. Disney's lawyers gave me a 3 page edit list of material that is not to be used. So I have my own edit bay right now, but it blows. It was just set up for PA's to digitize, but it has been outfitted to be a functional bay until all the construction is done in two weeks.

I'm gonna dive back in now, but rest assured, the water's warm and my eyes are open for sharks.

Love,
Z

I SWEAR I'm not making this up!

Okay, so it's been a while since I wrote, and family, let me just tell you that it was worth the wait. Maybe 5 years ago, I joined a stupid daily email service on a dictionary website. Doctor Dictionary, true to his word, writes me up once a day with a new vocabulary word. All the better for me to belittle those less vocabulous than me (I made that one myself).

Most of the time, I either know it already or it's a retarded word that I'll never use. Sometimes, however, I get a little nugget of goodness in my otherwise coal-ridden email box. For instance, last week, I was presented with this jewel of the english language: Nosegay. NOSEGAY! For those of you who don't know, a nosegay is a bouquet of flowers. It would go like this:

"Patrick?"

"Yes, Bruce?"

"I know you're angry with me because I borrowed your pink J Crew turtleneck sweaterrrrr. "

"Uh, YAH."

"So I brought you this nosegay of posies as a way to say I'm sorry."

"Oh, Bruce! Let's celebrate with a reach around!"

Seriously, that's the only way I can ever see that getting used. Let me tell you one thing I haven't been doing lately: Constantly repeating the word "bouquet" in conversation, just wishing there was SOME synonym I could use to mix it up a little. Nevertheless, we've got it. It's an official word, and Webster would tell you the same thing. He'd probably flick his wrist down after he said it too. Nosegay. Un-frickin-believable.

But I digress. That was not the reason I decided to post tonight. Tonight, I received the best word not only in the history of Doctor Dictionary, but in the history of the entire English language. It is so good, that I have to cut and paste it verbatim from my email. Drum roll please....

----------------------
Word of the Day for Tuesday December 6, 2005

logorrhea \law-guh-REE-uh\, noun: Excessive talkativeness or wordiness.
----------------------

That's right fam. LOGORRHEA!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!

Just imagine the practical implications. A family member drones on about something totally annoying, ridiculous, whiny, or otherwise unacceptable. But, with the help of Doctor Dictionary, we can call them out.

"Pardon me kind sir or madam, but YOU are suffering from an INTENSE case of explosive LOGORRHEA!"

This would be immediately followed by the tradtional Logchop MotionTM, but the chop will be accompanied by a distinct fart sound effect.

NOTE: this noise is to be made only with one's mouth. This means you Double A. Seeing as how you already have both the chop and fart sound in professional athlete conditon, I expect you to hit the ground running on this one.

That is all. Had to share. And tell me that's not the best thing you've heard all week.

Z

For my bored family...

He's the godfather of soul, if the definition of soul is a fifth of Wild Turkey.

Ode to Doritos

Okay, so I agree Ma. Lauren has managed to slip remotely beneath the radar at times, but only because Aaron was too busy riding his dirtbike around the yard, and I was crying that people weren't paying enough attention to me. WAAAAA! Oh sorry, old habits die hard.

Lauren Lee is the f-n coolest. There is no doubt. I find myself bragging less about Aaron, and now it's all about the woman formerly known as my lil sis. That's right, she is woman, hear her roar (whatever the hell that means). On the record, for a brother, a little sister is officially a woman when she finally has her mature womanly sensibilities. When all her parts, mental and physical, come together to form the wonderful whole that mom always said they would. Off the record, Lauren became a woman the day I slept with someone younger than her. Cause otherwise I would be a perv. A big, big perv. So congratulations Laur, you got bumped up.

But enough about me. In fact, let's never speak of that again. Today's 'dote is the extended version of a wonderful card I got from Lauren for my birthday. Made my day. She penned a fantastic little note that reminds me exactly how lucky, no, blessed I am to have this amazing family. The outside of the card wishes me a happy birthday. One that's so happy that I go into silent laugh mode. And then on the inside, Lauren alluded to a story that made her laugh that hard. And reading over the note, I went into full-on, no holds barred, tear-flowing, silent laugh mode. I realized that I would have to relive this story for all of you to read....

....It was a fine Friday evening at 2510 Highmoor. If you'll remember, I was a big tool, so I spent my evenings playing video games. I must have been about 12, making Lauren 8. I had rented this super cool game called Strider. It was....FABULOUS. Super graphics, really exciting, and like I said, I was a big tool, so I was totally into it. I hadn't left the room since dinner. I had a two liter of coke, I had a giant bag of doritos, life.... was.... perfect.

All of a sudden, the floor began to shake as some over-caffeinated family member bounded around the house and right by my room. Mom threw my door open, and dropped the dreaded little sis into my care.

"But Moooooooooooooooooom. She's gonna buuuug me! She won't shut uuuuuup! I'm in the middle of something really impooooortant!"

"Zach, you'll be doing the really important lawn tomorrow morning if you don't let your sister hang out with you while I read my book." (Let the record show that I DID let her hang out, and yet I still had to do the really f'n important lawn the next day.)

"Oooooooh. Okaaaaaaaay."

Mom had left me with the beast. She had no idea what I was in for.

"Zach? ZACH?!"

"Ya? (not paying attention)

"What if the sky was purple?"

"....."

"Zaaaaaaaach?"

"WHAT?!"

"What if the SKY was PURPLE?"

"Ugh. Then it would be purple Lauren. Be quiet, I'm on the last guy, and if I lose, it'll take me an hour to get back here."

"Okay. Hey Zach?"

(I just pretend not to hear her.)

"Zach?"

(I'm not budging.)

"Zachzachzachzachzachzachzach...."

"WHHHHAAAT?"

"What if Teddy was named boogers?"

"Argggghh! Lauren!"

I had just gotten killed at the last possible part of the game so Lauren could muse the possibility of naming our shitty kitty after the snot on the end of her index finger. I took a moment to breathe, eat a couple of doritos and figure out exactly how to get Lauren out of my hair without pissing mom off.

"What if I get your markers? You can draw the bad guys in my game. Won't that be fun? Huh, won't it?"

"Sure," Lauren said, as she reached for the same doritos she had seen me eat only a second before.

I got up. You had to hand it to her. Here Lauren hadn't been in my room fourteen seconds, and I was totally frazzled. She wasn't just under my skin, she had done a triple flip half twist dive in the pike position under my skin. She done it with Larzee style, like no one else could. I tromped into her room, considered twisting the heads off her barbie dolls, grabbed her markers and some paper, and marched back to my one true love in the world, nintendo.

"Here you go, Laur. Draw the bad guys. Draw them reeeeeeally quietly."

"Moffffaaay, " she said as she chewed on a handful of chips.

Over the next hour and a half, I couldn't pat myself on the back enough. In one swift move, I had taken Wile E. Laurote, and turned her into a docile Picasso. The What If game had ended in only two rounds, then a world record, and I was back to my game. I played to my heart's content, staring at the pixels until my eyes hurt. Between Lauren and I, there were only crumbs left in the doritos bag. I was just amazed at that too. "Damn, I'm not even too full. I must have been hungry." Serves me right for paying too much attention to the damned video game. If I had looked back once during the night, I would have seen that Lauren was averaging one dorito for every swish of her marker. Eventually she passed out next to my bed, on the sleeping bag I had put down for her. I thanked God for the extra hour of quiet, played my game a little more and passed out thoroughly contented.

I awoke the next morning to a mysterious odor. This was something I had never, ever smelled before. It was noxious, weirdly spicy, and good gracious was it EVERYWHERE. I looked over to my right where Lauren was sleeping. Hmmmm...she's wasn't there. It seemed this strange smell had been enough to rouse her from her slumber. Perhaps she was trying to get to the bottom of it. Well, I CERTAINLY couldn't go back to sleep, so I rolled out of bed. I rubbed my eyes, and looked down at the spot where I had played video games only hours before.

There on the carpet, in the relative size and shape of Asia Minor, was the weirdest orange-y brown stain you've ever seen. To this day, I don't know why I couldn't put two and two together, but I didn't. Instead, I got down on my hands and knees and looked at this stain really close. Then, I picked at it with my fingernail. The quandry continued. What the heck was this? Where had it come from? And one by one, the facts of this unsolved mystery slid right into place...weird smell...no sister...massive continent-shaped stain on the carpet....and Lauren had eaten a whole.....bag.....of....DORITOS!!!!!!!EWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!! IT'S BARF! IT'S BARF! LAUREN BARFED DORITOS ALL OVER MY FLOOR!!!! SHE PROJECTILE-VOMITED AN ORANGE CONTINENT OF STINK IN THE ONE PLACE I CALL MY OWN!!! EEEWWWWWWWWWW!!!!

I screamed as I raced down the hallway, locked myself in the bathroom, and took a patented Aaron Lee Hour Shower. I walked back to my room, held my breath, ran in, put on undies and a t-shirt, and stormed out.

That smell took at least a month to be even halfway bearable. It was hoooooorrible. It had many subtle layers that only someone who spent multiple hours with it would know. And for those of you who don't remember, we had that easily stain-able light blue carpet in the house at the time. You couldn't have picked a more stark color to puke, Lauren. Every person who ever came over and saw my room would ask if I had spilled a giant bucket of paint or something. "No," I'd say, " I just have a sister."

Yep, I do have a sister. And despite the fact that on a cool evening in September, she barfed her body weight in spicy tortilla chips all over my bedroom floor, I freaking adore her.

Ass groove

You know when you buy a couch, perhaps what you thought was the perfect couch, and when you bring it home it just isn't comfortable? You find yourself forever shifting to and fro, perhaps thinking that if you build up enough static electricity, you'll shock yourself comfortable?
And just when you start thinking, "Hey, this couch is $*&#@@ uncomfortable!", something magic happens. You find your ass groove.
The ass groove is that spot in the couch where you have sat for weeks to months on end, and it now perfectly cups your twin krispy kremes.
Where am I going with this, you ask? Well, I did not purchase a couch that has recently become comfortable, so this isn't literal. In fact, I still need a loveseat, so if you know of a deal, pass it along. No, the ass groove I refer to is the one I am slowly impressing upon the city of Los Angeles.
Truth is, it hasn't been entirely comfortable until recently. Even now, I'm not all the way settled in. But I can see definite progress in my grooving, and that my friends, deserves notation.
My new place is now clean, if not furnished. I have put everything away, and now only need a few items to make this hideaway totally mine. Initially, I thought I had made a huge mistake in signing this lease, but I have warmed to it considerably of late, and now realize that I made the right decision. And that, my friends, deserves a PHEW!
Work is still work, but I continue to absorb more responsibility and with that, more power. A huge project that I have been working on since March finished this week, and it could not have been more stressful. If something could go wrong, well, let's just say Murphy and his law can kiss my EN-TIIIIIRE ass. Nevertheless, the project did finish, and with it came new and exciting experiences. I sat in on a few sound mixes, where I had final approval on all the elements. Also, I have been running edit sessions for a couple of high level Disney clients. It seems Kaethy (yes, that is how you spell it) really trusts me, and of course that feeling is mutual. To sum it up, I am becoming extremely involved in Creative Domain's operations, outside of sitting in an edit bay and kicking out spots. And my observation tells me that such a thing is unusual. Most editors do sit in their bays and cut spots. And while I find myself doing that a lot of the time, I also find that I am being used to represent the company as well. It has been a progressive few weeks, and with that flow comes the eventual ebb. But I feel confident that at the end of my contract, still a long ways away, I will be extremely valuable to CD.
And to complete the trifecta, I have finally met some friends that I enjoy spending time with. I'd still like to have at least twice as many peers as I have now, but the seeds are sown. It feels really good to find some enjoyable times out here. 4th of July weekend could not have been more fun. I met a little lady friend as well, but she was only visiting, not staying. Of course we really had fun together, making the temporary nature of our relationship all the more annoying. Maybe that's why we felt safe to just enjoy each other. Who knows?

Finally, I was at a sound mix yesterday, and had to wait awhile while dubs were made. So I took care of a longstanding want and need. I called Granny. She sounds so strong, and despite what I hear from the Ma, really positive and outgoing. My guess is that Gran lays off all the umms and errs and I just don't knows on Ma and gave me all the "age doesn't matter, it's how you feel"s. We had a great talk, and I came away feeling centered and humble. Seriously, we have a great family. We're terrible long distance communicators, but a great family nonetheless. I may not have belief in bible "God", but I do believe that we are all a thousand time blessed. I love you all so much.

All my best,
Z

Lazi-lee

HEY!

I will now stand upon my soapbox and deliver what seems to be a totally necessary wake-up call. No one is writing except mom and myself. And yes, she and I both know we are the witty, verbose members of the family, but come on. I have been working the most ridiculous hours in world history this past week, but I continue to check The Chop almost every day in the hope that you all have written in. Aaron, yea, I know you're busy. I do. I really really really really really really do. INCLUDING sleep, I have spent 65% of this week's hours at Creative Domain. Not to mention the fact that I will be at the office Saturday and Sunday. So I can relate. It takes zero committment to write an email, and basically that's all this is. MAKE THE TIME. Lauren, seriously, WTF! Sure would be nice to hear how my sis is doing. Sure would be nice to hear how cool it is to live next to Wrigley field. And Pops, holeejeez! Why I remember back in aught-2 when you told the fam about your camera. Maybe you didn't get the memo that this shit is free. No really, FREE!

Let's not get to the point of having to schedule turns with Log Chop. I can't believe I feel like I have to say this but you should WANT to write. Who are you gonna tell about that rash on your leg if not your fam? Okay, besides the doctor.

Here's the latest from Zachville. And I'm calling it that cause Zachywood sounds like a really bad pet name for my wedding tackle.

Okay, so I haven't signed a contract yet at Creative. I'm on a list of people with which the CEO must negotiate contracts, and my number hasn't come up yet. I am completely unconcerned, as I sat down with the Executive VP a few days ago and she assured me the day was quickly approaching. Keep in mind, she broke the news to me prematurely that I was going to be promoted, because she was excited for me. So I'm cool with it for now, but if I don't sit down with him by next week I'm going to start to push.

Not that I've had time to worry about it anyway. I have been working on a bunch of stuff these days: special features for The OC season 2 DVD, some crap Disney Channel movie called Halloweentown (Gag me with a pumpkin), Scrubs, Are We There Yet? (an Ice Cube family movie), and a bunch of sizzle reels. Sizzle reels are those things you see during home video previews that say "Make sure to check out the rest of the Warner Bros. Home Video Collection" and then proceeds to show you some snappy montage cut to Electric Avenue by Eddy Grant. They're both cool and lame. It's cool because you really get to flex your edit muscles. You get to do a lot of quick cuts and effects, and you can choose any music you want. On the bad side, it's not really material that anyone ever sees, or wants to see. But whatever, work is work. As a company, apparently we're busier than ever before, so that's what necessitated the crazy week.

In my oh-so-ample free time, I've been able to trim my nails once, ummm... ooh I got to check my email last tuesday,......

I'm kidding, but it is a little silly. You can see why people burn out. Actually up until the last two days, I have been getting back in the gym to try and balance my lifestyle. And every weekend I go to the beach and lay in the sand for a couple of hours, which is borderline therapeutic. I've been car-pooling to work with another editor named Anthony, who is a totally solid guy. You can tell he'll be my buddy for a while. He and I are really similar, and really different, which is as good a formula as any for a friend. Jeremy I'm sure says hi. Things are fine between he and I. He's a little more set in his ways than one might like, but you can't change who people are. So instead I've been getting out of the shoebox...I mean apartment, a little more to provide some breathing room. I don't want to paint the wrong picture though. Jers is still my boy.

I'd love to have more to report. Oh, there is a girl I have been talking every now and again, but of course she currently lives in Chicago. I'm not into the long distance thing at all, so we've kept it casual, but the conversations are good. As far as travel goes, I'll be in Austin for Memorial Day weekend, I'm planning a long Chicago trip in August, and hopefully I'll find some time to get away between those dates. I work with so many people, and each one has their own story. I'm thinking of writing about somebody different each time, just as a character study more than anything.

Alright guys, I'm gonna bounce. But keep in mind: We are your only family. Keep us in the loop.


P.S. - Did you know the new pope was a Hitler Youth? It's true, look it up. Also, did you know that you can actually see the Area 51 installation on Google's new satellite maps? REALLY cool stuff to be seen. Oh, and this Michael Jackson stuff is straight up ridiculous. Even Hollywood is shaking it's head. Which is kind of like an alcoholic crackhead gambler telling a hooker that she's immoral, but I digress.

Love,

Zach

Tax Time

Fehhhhh-family,


It most certainly is my turn to post. So although it's midnight on Monday night, I will still do my duty as member of Team Lee-ogchop. Speaking of which, the brainstorming phase of the new logo is over. I will have a first draft to Aaron for our website very soon.

Like I said, this story is called Tax Time.

----

What do you put on your W-2?

It's an interesting question you have to ask yourself every time you do your taxes. This year, I get to write 'Editor' for the first time. It feels good not to write 'Student/Waiter'. Much better ring to the former, I do declare.

It makes you think about what it is you're doing for a living. For some people, it's a realization that they aren't doing what they want to do. For others, an affirmation. The latest version of Donald Trump's Wife must giggle each year when she writes 'Husband-Humper' or 'Keeper of the Dick' on her return.

But I digress. I wanted to let you know about a certain group of individuals that must laminate their tax forms each time they do them, just so the tears don't make the ink run. As they work outside my office, I observe them everyday. Here's what a person in this group's day is like:

Person A: (yawn) wooeeee, I am tired. Sure was a long night of beating myself with a hammer. Well, guess I better get out of bed and get to the office.

Person A hops out of bed, does NOT shower or do anything even remotely hygenic, and proceeds to don what looks like a life-size Elmo costume that some giant used to wipe his ass. As if this costume couldn't get worse, he cinches his Elmo torso with a fanny pack. Because god knows Elmo needs to have his Blockbuster card.

(fade to black)
---

From here, I don't know how they get to Grohman's Chinese Theatre in Hollywood. These people CANNOT afford cars, nor should they be licensed, so I just don't get it. Nevertheless, they somehow get from their apartments (RVs) to Grohman's. Then they loiter about as people invariably come to take pictures of cement, which still astounds me. Then this complete waste of carbon leans into people's pictures for tips. As if I wanted a memento of the time I met Elmo after he found crack. Actually, sometimes people want to take their picture. Most of the time these guys just bug the shit out of somebody until they start leaking one dollar bills. So far I've seen Elmo, Catwoman, the female Shrek, Legolas from Lord of the Rings, Hellraiser, a midget dressed as Chucky, and damned if there aren't at least two batmen, supermen, or spidermen on any given day. Once, the spidermen got in a scuffle over whose territory was who's. We had our own little Discovery Channel reenactment, right there between the hobos on Hollywood Blvd.

Anyways, that's what these people do for a living. They come back all the time, sometime taking the day off to fit their mouth for a shotgun. So the next time you fill out your taxes, just think of the 70 year old lady I saw today dressed as the saddest damned Charlie Chaplain anyone has ever seen. Yes, we all work hard. But this year when you write down your job title, get down on your knees and thank God that you don't write what these people write:

'Actor'


ZL
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