I am a writer living in LA. I perform at the UCB.
My friend and I created DEALBREAKER and we wrote a book about it. I make videos too. Oh, and I
Tweet. And if that wasn't enough, I'm on Vyou.
DEHorwitz@gmail.com
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Ignore This
So I don’t know if ADD is a thing. I mean, it’s clearly a thing, but how real of a thing? All I know is that I got up at 9 to write and I have spent literally three hours on the internet doing nothing. I watched some music videos. I picked up the smaller of the two cats that live in my apartment. I put her down because she bit me. I can’t get the fuck out of my own way today. I desperately want to get some stuff done. I used to write a long run on sentence to job my brain into getting ready to write, but I have decided that I like syntax too much to do that anymore. I’m struggling to keep typing but I really want to keep going so that I’ll eventually start writing the things I need to write. Here is a list of things:
- Ghostface Killah’s Ironman album is still amazing.
- Jokes about hipsters have reached critical mass. When was the last time you saw a trucker hat or a bandana anywhere but in a sketch video about hipsters?
- Irish Spring makes deodorant now. Get on that shit if you want to smell like a sex waterfall.
- An Anti-Valentines Day party is like the movie Valentines Day: Too many people acting atrociously, and you’ve got to get black out drunk to enjoy it.
- All older actors should be having as much late career fun as Liam Neeson.
- It’s funny to say Leslie Nielsen instead of Liam Neeson.
- I really miss playing the drums. I’m sorry that sometimes I drum on tables to deal with it. There truly is nothing more annoying.
- The sympathy card section of my local grocery store is really terrible. Sympathy cards in general are terrible. I would like to sell one with a flower on the front and the words, “Sucks, bro” on the inside.
- I wish Facebook would let you comment on a new friendship, because every time a guy and a girl became friends I’d write, “Hope this leads to sex!”
Okay, now I can start actually writing.
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The Internet Romance That Almost Was
Oh man. They say love happens when you least expect it, and that could not have been more true today. Funclara3@aol.com wants to chat, OUT OF THE BLUE! And I’m all, uh… YEAH I APPROVE. So we get to talking. You know, the usual: 22/F, she’s just hanging out, chatting, and then she drops it: SHE’S BORED. I’m thinking come on Dave, you’re a master conversationalist, WOW her! But before I can even dig into my go-to topics like stamp collecting (*SIKE I totally talk about rock bands as my go to edgy opener with ladies), she drops a bomb: sexy girls stripping? UM… YES PLEASE! If it sounds like a dream come true, you can put emphasis on the dream part, because before I knew it, she was gone! Man this is just my luck too. Clara, if you’re out there, I’ll be waiting, and my status is definitely AVAILABLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1
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The Worst Thing: Waking Up With a Headache
So, I’ve been awake for about 3 hours. I have been trying to convince my body that it feels fine. I’ve been doing everything in my power to carry on like business as usual. I’ve been reading, writing, eating cereal with FRESH FRUIT (mild brag), and talking to my dad on the phone (i’m sensitive). So, you ask, did it work? Do I feel fine?
NO I DO NOT.
And here’s why: I woke up with a headache. Not a hangover, mind you, but a regular old, garden variety headache. The kind of headache you get if you’re out in the sun too long or it’s 2pm at work and you’ve been staring at a computer all day and your boss is an asshole and there were no bagels left when you got in that morning. Just an awful, nagging, headache that would have been completely warranted if you spent the previous night binge drinking light beer out of a hockey trophy and intentionally staying as dehydrated as possible.
That’s why I hate my fucking brain. I didn’t drink ANYTHING last night, save for a shitload of water. You know what the wildest thing I did last night was? I GOT FROYO. Yeah, frozen yogurt. A small dish. And I didn’t even finish it! I barely cracked the 1/2way mark on that shit. You know what I did when I came home after being out last night? I drank a glass of water and I read. YEAH. A BOOK. Fuck you, brain! Where were you 2 nights ago when I drank a ton? Where was my hangover then? OH, I know: I drank a ton of water and paced myself because I OUTSMARTED MY OWN BRAIN AND NOW IT’S EXACTING REVENGE ON ME.
Let me say this to my old chunk of gray matter up there: you’re on notice pal. You want me to fuck up? It’ll happen. My birthday’s coming up. I always drink too much on my birthday. But don’t punish me for NOT drinking too much. Don’t trick me into thinking I have a hangover. Don’t make me question what I did the previous night, as if I accidentally confused a quart of whiskey for chocolate sauce and poured it over my meager helping of frozen yogurt or took a liter of vodka to bed with me instead of Brita water. This means war, brain, and this is the kind of war that neither one of us is going to win.
