Chris Kelly

A Conversation With A Friend From High School In Which We Each Think We're Talking About A Different Horrible Part of My Life

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Kelly) — Sat, 19 Sep 2009 02:33:00 +0000

HS FRIEND: Hey Chris, long time no see. What has it been, eight years?
ME: Must be. Long time.
HS FRIEND: How are things with your family? I heard awhile ago about what you all are going through. I am so sorry.
ME: Oh it's okay. It's been pretty rough, yeah. But we're hanging in there.
HS FRIEND: Wow, so it's still a problem?
ME: Yeah. I mean, it's not going to get better. We're kind of just doing the best we can.
HS FRIEND: Oh, I thought for sure your mom would have gotten better by now.
ME: No. I mean, she's not going to. But it's okay. It is what it is.
HS FRIEND: And your dad?
ME: He's sad obviously. Really sad. We all are. My sisters, my dad, all of us.
HS FRIEND: Your sisters? I thought your sisters didn't care.
ME: Umm...what? Of course they care! Everyone's really torn up about it.
HS FRIEND: Oh, I thought they were okay with you being gay.
ME: Oh. Wait. What are we talking about?
HS FRIEND: You coming out to your family. I know your family was having a hard time about it.
ME: That was six years ago. My mom's actually totally fine with it now.
HS FRIEND: Oh, that's so great to hear! Wait. What were YOU talking about?
ME: Oh, now she has terminal cancer.
HS FRIEND: Oh. Oh my god. I'm so sorry.
ME: It's okay. This has been hilarious.

In the future, I'm only going to be writing to my new blog, which you can find here:

www.chriskelly.tumblr.com

Hello

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Kelly) — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 21:32:00 +0000

This is a blog I'm keeping about my mom. I feel weird promoting it or directing people to it, but if you want to read it, you may. It's mostly a project for me, but she is a great woman, so if people want to read it, why not?

Reasons I Love My Mother

I'm Going To Be Single For The Rest Of My Life

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Kelly) — Thu, 11 Jun 2009 21:13:00 +0000

I just cannot seem to pull it together.

For the last sixteen days, I have been filming for work almost every waking hour of the day. I have been walking around in a half-awake stupor, leaving contact lenses in overnight to save me the three minutes each morning of having to put them in, allowing me to sleep in a three precious minutes longer. On top of that, I recently moved, and I have yet to find the time or energy to take my clothes out of the large black plastic bags I shipped them in. So there my clothes sit, in six trash bags, crammed into my closet. Every morning I literally dip my hands into one of them and put on the first two things I pull out, hoping to god one is a shirt and one is a pant. One morning, the second thing I pulled out was a scarf, and I had a good five second hesitation, wondering if I could wear it as a shirt because I was too tired to dip in again for another option.

Not only that, but I have been sleeping in my clothes. Unless something literally has feces smeared down the front of it, I have been able to find a way to justify wearing it because its "not that dirty". In all fairness, I've been spending my days mostly in the dark shadows of the ONN set, surrounded by people who are equally tired and lazy about changing their clothes. It's not uncommon for me to be in a conversation with people on that set where people see who's gone the longest without showering or wondering if washing one's face practically counts as a half-shower.

Two days ago, the first thing I pulled out of one of my trash sacks was a pajama shirt. It's a V-neck I never wear out in front of people because I don't have that sort of douchey, sculpted chest that would make me want to buy and wear a V-neck. It's actually not even that deep of a V, but just the idea of wearing it makes me worry that everyone around me is thinking, "What does he think that V is doing? Is it supposed to be showing off something? Because I can't find it." But I put it on anyway, then spent the rest of the night tugging at the back of my shirt, trying to pull the V back, so it was more of a shallow V. But then the back collar of my shirt was too low and it exposed the neck zit I had/have. It was a constant struggle.

Sidenote: One time I went to get a haircut and the woman was shaving the back of my neckline, then stopped and said, "I can't quite finish. You have a zit back here I'm going to have to shave around." Really, hairstylist? You couldn't have let me just leave without that little piece of information? Am I really going to notice a small portion of my neckline being uneven? It's clear from the zit that I don't go back there much.

But anyway, the second thing I pulled out of my sack the day of the V-neck was a swimsuit. I didn't give it a second thought before putting it on. Plus, I didn't have to wear underwear!, I thought. That's how much of a mess I am. I justified it to myself by saying it was summer and I'm from California, and for all people know I easily could have just come from the pool. Within minutes of getting to rehearsal, everyone was like, "Is that a swimsuit?". I personally didn't see what the big deal was. But everyone was legitimately concerned, asking, "But what if you met someone today, someone you found attractive? And you were wearing that swimsuit?" To which I thought several things:

1. I'm not going to be meeting anyone.
2. No, really. I'm not going to be meeting anyone.
3. If I were to meet someone, I still would probably find three reasons to hate them in the five seconds it would take them to think, "No, that couldn't be a swimsu--".
4. I want to end up with someone who would be down with wearing a swimsuit as shorts when you're having a long, hard week and you don't want to put any work into looking like a person.

Then I went off on a long-winded day dream about meeting my life-long partner in this life while wearing said swimsuit. We would laugh about how off-kilter I was, about how I was just one sidestep away from having it together. He would be charmed. I would be discreetly pulling the hot mesh from off my ballsack because I forgot swimsuits have netting. And then we would kiss. And that would be that.

Then yesterday, I had to go to a concert at Radio City Music Hall, and about an hour before going, I spilled coke all down the front of my shirt. I had already been wearing it for two days, so it was on its last leg when it was doused in my drink. So I walked across the street to H&M to buy a shirt. That's how lazy I am. I would rather pay money for a new shirt than just do laundry. So I put on the shirt, and it was perhaps the first clean thing that had touched my body in weeks. I felt so good about myself. An hour later at dinner, I realized the tag was still on, hanging from my armpit. And I had just ridden the subway with a coworker for 30 minutes who HAD to have seen it, but didn't say anything.

But now the shoot is over. I'm going to do laundry tonight and take a good long shower. And a good long look at myself. That's probably the more important of the two looks.

If you see me, please give me a hug.

Moving Day

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Kelly) — Mon, 01 Jun 2009 18:39:00 +0000

The best way to describe this weekend's
moving-day experiences would be by allowing
both of yesterday's manic-depressive voices to speak:

I'm moving! I'm so excited! What a fresh start this will be. I'll gather up all my stuff - not that much really; it shouldn't take any more than four hours. Five tops.

Where the fuck did all this shit come from? Why do I own the collector's version of Apples to Apples in a giant 10lb box? Why do I still have this printer from college I never once opened because I didn't want to ever have to spend time setting up a printer? Why is there a clock with no batteries under my bed? Where did that come from? Motherfucker!

I think I'm going to paint. You know, it'll take awhile, but in the end, it will feel much more like home. I'll stay up till 4am painting, but it'll be fun. I'll put on some music, buy pizza, and just relax and paint, paint and relax.

I forgot about the motherfucking two-coats rule. And this room has a BORDER near the ceiling? Well, I have to paint that too. Goddamnit, why do I have to be so fucking meticulous? Did we just break the stove when we stood on it to paint? They really should build these to stand on! What if you were warming up a hefty stew? Then what, stove? I couldn't possible weigh more than a hearty stew!

Oh look, while we're moving all our stuff in, we get to meet all the people in the building. There's a girl who also went to UCI, a couple of seemingly attractive people, and children! What a fanciful arrangement of people. It's as if there's one of every type of people in this building. Except rich people. Look how the children play!

Get the FUCK out of my way, kids! You're really going to play on your scooters up and down the hall while I'm carrying a motherfucking mattress past? MOVE THE FUCK OVER!!!

You are pretty adorable though. Your name is Nathaniel? That's cute. What was that you asked, Nathaniel? What am I doing? You mean with all these boxes I'm bringing in?

MOVING, you DUMBFUCK KID! And I have never been more sore in my goddamn life. Look at you, all young on your scooter. Well you know what, life is hard. Pretty soon you grow up and you have to do things like move. You wouldn't love that scooter so much if you had to carry it up three flights of stairs while little kids played on other scooters at your feet!

Ooh, this giant TV my roommate inherited from a friend of his is going to be great in our living room. It's humongous and shows will really look great on it.

Oh what? It's 150lbs and not a flat screen? And it's lopsidedly-heavy? And we have to carry it up 50 stairs? No one has known pain like this before! Motherfucker! What does it look like when you burst a blood vessel in your hand! Is THIS what it looks like?

Ahhh, at least we're all finally moved in. It was a long day, but I really love this little place. Ahh.....

Oh fuck, is that a cockroach?!?

A New Onion Video I Wrote

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Kelly) — Tue, 19 May 2009 05:09:00 +0000

I wrote the script for this video. Hooray!

Police Slog Through 40,000 Insipid Party Pics To Find Cause Of Dorm Fire

Three Reasons Why I Love My Mother

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Kelly) — Fri, 08 May 2009 17:43:00 +0000

1. My mom wanted to know if this was the last season of LOST a few days ago, and when I said no, she replied with 'What?! So we are STILL not going to know what's hiding out in that forest?". This woman has clearly not watched the show in years, and even when she did, she would watch it from the kitchen while she made dinner, hearing only every other line and talking over the entire episode with rhetorical questions. I watched one episode with her once and these are questions she asked (from the kitchen, unable to hear - but not see - the television):

- What? WHAT? I don't think so. What?

- Really? REALLY? I don't get it. What? Really?!

- Who's this now? What is going on? Why do people watch this show? Who is this? Is this the same guy from the other scene? Where did he get that bullet wound?

- I don't know what is going on. The plane crashed again? How many times is this plane going to crash? What? WHAT? Who, what?

2. Every time I go home to visit, we see a movie as a family. My mom thinks its fun to see a movie on Christmas Day and other holidays. She has terrible taste in movies. For awhile, she made certain SHE chose the film so that it was something everyone could see, even though my youngest sister was 16 at this point. However, for all her trying, the movies we went to always ended up being not only the most awful film currently in theatres but the most horrific. It didn't get better than when we saw Mr. Brooks (I think on Easter or something). In the first 20 minutes, a naked woman is shown fellating a man, before being shot in the back of the head by Kevin Costner, who then kills the man, and positions them in sexually grotesque positions to be found by police.

Then there was the "family movie" she chose because it had teens in it. Everything was going well until one teen lit himself on fire and we watched in real time as his face melted off his skull.

3. She is wonderful and brave and lovely.

Hangin' With Mr. Cooper

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Kelly) — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 17:39:00 +0000

My parents visited this weekend and as we walked through the Upper West Side, we passed by Richard Kind, who played Raul Reiser's friend on Mad About You. To jog your memory, this is his face.

When my dad passed by him, he was almost compelled to stop him and say how much he liked his work opposite the famed Hunt/Reiser comedy duo from 1992. He asked me if celebrities like that. Now while I'm sure Richard Kind would have been flattered to be called a "celebrity", I told my dad it was probably best to just keep walking.

Then my dad asked me if I remembered "Hangin' With Mr. Cooper". Apparently while in Santa Monica last week, my dad saw Mark Curry, who played Mr. Cooper, in a Starbucks. He was so excited, that when he saw him again in the parking lot, he drove up to him, rolled down his window, and said, "I just wanted to let you know that I loved your work on "Hangin' With Mr. Cooper". At which point, I'm assuming this guy was either assuming he was being mocked (again) or his year was completely made better by my father.

I just like the idea of my dad stopping a man who's most famous role is from a shitty TV show from 16 years ago to tell him how much he "appreciated his work". I bet Mr. Cooper went home and told his kids (that he probably has custody of every other weekend) about it!

Sweet

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Kelly) — Thu, 12 Feb 2009 22:22:00 +0000

I think this video is pretty sweet. But this kid is only like barely autistic.

Also, is it bad that I would have been more touched if he was like crazy autistic?
I was ready to cry but then I watched him talk, and I was like "Oh, that's not so bad."

Also, what the hell is wrong with this coach? If you tell an autistic kid to do something 100 times in a row, isn't that exactly what they're good at? Why did he wait so long to put this kid in?

I'm Just Like One Of Those People That Like Writes Blogs Sometimes

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Kelly) — Mon, 26 Jan 2009 20:15:00 +0000

One of my least favorite genres of people are the ones that start sentences with "I'm just like the type of person that...".

If you saw the last sketch show I was in, you saw a scene I wrote with my friend Jill about just these types of people. But I can't let it go. They are all over the place. When I was on set last week, I heard someone say, "I'm just like the type of person that like always uses their cell phone." Oh, really, idiot? Really? You're one of those crazy rare breed of people I often hear tell of that, in 2009, use their cell phones a lot? Really?

I hate when people try to co-opt some insignificant detail that all of humanity shares as some sort of special thing about themselves. Because it's never something like, "I'm just the type of person that is [something actually unique or impressive]"; it's always just some arbitrary non-thing that everyone does or is.

Here are some recent ones I've heard in my life. There's many more, but these come to mind:

"I'm just like the type of person that like NEEDS my weekends."

"I'm just like the type of person that gets like so tired after a long day."

"I'm just like the type of person that like can't always be on, you know? I just can't always be on."

"I'm just like the type of person that is like super trusting until you do something to make me not trust you."

What else? What else, people? You might as well tell me you're the type of person that needs to like inhale oxygen in order live. Or that you're the type of person that like NEEDS to consume food when you're hungry or you'll like die.

Someone once said they're the type of person that has like a really good sense of smell. Guess what? I bet they're not. I bet their sense of smell is exactly like mine: average. I bet you they just decided they were going to make that part of their personality; make it something that's "totally them", when it's nothing. It's nothing.

I'm actually not in a bad mood, despite how venemous this post was. I guess I'm just like one of those people that like sometimes are in a good mood and sometimes are not?

An Open Letter To Battlestar Galactica

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Kelly) — Sat, 24 Jan 2009 23:56:00 +0000

Dear Battlestar Galactica,

I am writing this after finishing Season 2.0 of you. I have spent the last six months hearing about how great you are, and after a miniseries and about 20 episodes, I can say this: you are decent. I think you could be great though, BSG, if you called yourself Battlestar Galactica: 5,000 Cylons, and every episode including the revelation that there's one more cylon than everyone previously thought. For example, I think every episode should be structured exactly like this:

1. Lights up on the revelation that there's actually one more
cylon in the fleet than they thought.

2. Cut to two attractive Galactica crew members
fucking somewhere on the ship.

3. Right as they finish, one of them realizes that
the other one is actually another cylon.

4. They do battle.

5. Cut to the cylon being imprisoned,
and as he/she is behind bars,
the attractive non-cylon says:
"Well, at least we know who all the cylons are now."

6. Cut to the cylon smiling knowingly, sexily.

7. End episode.

Basically, I want every episode to just involve your beautiful cast members having sex, finding out one of them is a robot, and then doing battle. Is that too much to ask, Battlestar Galactica? It's just that when some of your actors playing cylons talk about wishing they could feel love, I get a little queasy at the terrible acting and the stilted writing. And when Lee Adama starts talking I start thinking I'm watching an 8th grade play inexplicably set in space. So let's cut the nonsense and the extra dialogue, and let's just get right to the fucking, the cylon-revealing, and the battling. Okay?

Also, one last thing I don't understand, Battlestar Galactica, is why everyone on your show is so desperate to get to Earth. There are like a hundred of you floating around in space, and all of you are beautiful. Take it from me, Battlestar Galactica: I LIVE on earth and you are not missing ANYTHING. Have you SEEN the people we have down here? A lot of them look like this:

Also, Gaius Baltar is just a whiny, snively version of Desmond from "Lost".

Love, Chris

P.S. I am also going to spend the next 8 hours of my night watching you, Battlestar Galactica, so take everything I just said with a grain of salt. You know I love you, BSG.

My 10 Favorite Movies of 2008

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Kelly) — Fri, 16 Jan 2009 19:03:00 +0000

1. The Dark Knight
I love this perfect film.

2. Rachel Getting Married
I believed every moment of this movie.

3. Milk
Even though I hate gay people, Sean Penn's reaction when Prop 6 failed was pretty great. Though I could have done without him seeing the signs for that opera in the window's reflection as he died.

4. The Wrestler
This ruined me.

5. Revolutionary Road
I think a lot of people will not like this. For me, it was great writing and great actors screaming at each other for two hours. It's all I need in my movies.

6. Wall-E
My mom didn't like this movie. Nor does she like Star Wars or Happy Potter. When I asked her about Wall-E, she said "Oh, I don't like those movies about robots and wizards and beep-beep-boop-boop." Fair enough, mom. But I thought this movie was sort of magic.

7. Frost/Nixon
After The Wrestler, this was the best boxing movie I saw all year.

8. Slumdog Millionaire
I don't know if this makes me a pedophile, but the little girl in this movie is one of the most gorgeous people I have ever seen.

9. Iron Man
I guess I just like this so much because I can like relate...y'know?

10. Burn After Reading
This movie surprised me about every 10 minutes. If this slipped under your radar, like it probably did with most people, go find it.

Pull It Together, CNN

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Kelly) — Mon, 12 Jan 2009 15:44:00 +0000

A Christmas Play

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Kelly) — Mon, 29 Dec 2008 05:58:00 +0000

On Christmas night, I was given perhaps one of the greatest gifts of my lifetime.

I got to watch a fifteen year old Thai boy perform a lip-synched Christmas show in a suburban living room full of older white people, while dressed like a girl.

That was a long, confusing sentence, huh? Let me back up.

On Christmas night, my friend Eddie said that he was too tired to hang out, then called me five minutes later saying, "Just kidding, there's something you need to see. I'll be there to pick you up in ten minutes." He took me to his uncle's house, where he and his husband have been housing a foreign exchange student.

This year's student is Joe, a fifteen year old Thai boy, who considers himself a girl in a boy's body. Okay. I'm on board with that. Then Eddie tells me that Joe announced to his host-family and their entire extended family on Christmas that he would like to perform a 20-minute Christmas show for them in their living room. They obliged, and what followed was one of the most heartwarming, bizarre 20-minutes in recent memory.

So to set the stage a little more, Joe's audience was made up of about 15 people, all white, many middle-aged or older, including Eddie's 80-something grandfather. We all gathered in a tiny living room, and I had the unfortunate distinction of sitting on the floor, right in front, literally inches from the performer.

The show began with Joe, coming out in a girl wig, pink shirt, stuffed bra, and a blanket-used-as-a-skirt. He passed out programs for the evening. I saved one, and this is what it read:

Joe's Cristmas Show
Merry Cristmas

Track list (show 20 minutes):
Introduction - The Christmas Song
***Remember Our Own (Thai Dancing 4 Style)***
Encore - SURPRISE!!!!

So before I break down the show for you, section by section, let me say that the most hilarious, frightening, and insane moment of the show was the moment I realized it was all going to be lip-synching. This "20 minute play" was literally him just standing (or dancing) in front of us, while lip-synching into a stick of deoderant being used as a microphone. I was so close, I could hear the subtle sounds of his moist lips opening and closing as he lip-synched to the music. That's how bad.

Part 1: Introduction - The Christmas Song:

This part was lip-synching to Celine Dion's cover of "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas". I shit you not. Joe sat there, dressed as a girl, and pretended to sing as if he were Celine Dion six inches in front of me. The moment it began, I thought I was going to literally shit my pants. I tried looking down to hide my laughing, but when I did, I would just see his size 10 men's feet sticking out of his blanket-dress and I would laugh even harder. I finally got my shit together and thought about how hard a life this kid will probably have, and I was grateful that he was in a home that was accepting of him. As bizarre as it was, most people were very gracious to him, so I didn't want to seem like I was mocking him. And even here, let me be clear: it was and is hilarious, but it was also still one of the most endearing things I have witnessed.

Also, sidenote, this kid's entire room here in America is covered with Celine Dion posters. I'm just saying.

Part 2: ***Remember Our Own (Thai Dancing 4 Style)***

So this part lasted ten minutes. He got up and danced to Thai music, lip-synching all the way. And boy did he dance. He danced and danced and danced. This was the part of the program where some people's fears started to subside. Some of the peripheral family members there were wondering if this would be a G-rated show, what with this 15-year old boy strapping on a bra and blanket-dress. Understandably, they were worried. But Part 2 showed that aside from the shock of him being dressed like a girl, it was a really vanilla performance. Until...

Part 3: Encore: Surprise

This encore was very much a surprise. After the traditional Thai dancing, interlude music continued playing as he rushed upstairs to change. When he came back down, he had a sheet over his head, and as he turned his back to us, all we could see was that he was wearing jeans now. That is until we saw him pull off his jeans with his feet. Then he threw off the sheet, turned around wearing just tiny shorts, and started gyrating to Britney Spears' "Circus". Yep.

He pulled a chair up onto the stage - again just inches in front of me - and stood on it. Then dropped onto it and proceeded to grind it. Then he threw one leg up into the air and stroked it seductively, before rubbing and fondling his fake breasts. He danced and lip-synched to this for the entire 4-5 minutes of the song. It was at this point that one family member, Linda, left. It was, perhaps, one of the funniest things I have ever seen in my life. To be sitting in this suburban living room in Sacramento on Christmas night with a bunch of older white people, as a little Thai lady-boy gyrated to Britney Spears, was more than I could have ever asked for.

I hope this kid has a good life. And I hope to one day include this in something I write. I know that I will.

Merry Christmas one and all!

An Onion Video I Wrote

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Kelly) — Wed, 10 Dec 2008 22:47:00 +0000

I wrote the idea and the script for this new Onion News Network video:

President To Face Down Monster Attack, Own Demons In Action-Packed Schedule

Celeb Sighting!

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Kelly) — Wed, 10 Dec 2008 16:16:00 +0000

I don't get star-struck really. Or at least, I tell myself and others that. But then how do I explain that today I saw the guy who makes the three cent stamps from one of my favorite movies of all time?

I walked past him on the street. Then went back to him and told him that I love his three cent stamps, that I have to use them every time they raise the postage.

He looked at me, probably stunned, then said "Hah, thanks." Then he walked away. Probably to go buy some nightcrawlers. Oh, Norm.

If you don't know what movie I'm talking about, never you mind. It's been an exciting morning!

I Am In TIME. Sort Of. Sure. Let's Say So.

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Kelly) — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 16:39:00 +0000

So my friend sent me TIME's annual collection of Top Ten Lists.

I was looking through it when I saw that one of the videos I wrote for The Onion was listed as the #7 Internet Video of the Year.

I am so, so very proud to take my place in history. Right above a 3-year-old talking about Star Wars and below a hamster on a piano.

Because, let's face it, I will never write anything as funny as that hamster on a piano video.

HOW'D HE GET ON THAT PIANO?!?

Why I Just De-Friended My Mom's Friend's Daughter, Who Is 18, On Facebook

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Kelly) — Mon, 08 Dec 2008 21:41:00 +0000

Her (public) status message:

Caitlin Michelle Young is Happy 9 Months BABBYYYY!!! te amo mucho, and you are sooo sweeetttt!!!!

His (public) comment on her status message:

When I saw you I was afraid to meet you.
When I met you I was afraid to kiss you.
When I kissed you I was afraid to love you.
Now that I love you, I am afraid to lose you.
happy 9th months baby.
i love you

10 Things I Learned In Hawaii

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Kelly) — Mon, 01 Dec 2008 07:23:00 +0000

1. I am making a mistake by not living in Hawaii.

2. Hawaii is Disneyland but without rides. By this I mean that it looks like a fake version of real things. The palm trees, though real, look like fake versions of what real palm trees look like. Same with the water. It looks like a Pixar-created representation of water. Too blue to be actual water. I guess I'm just so used to everything looking shitty, that once everything looks natural and clean and nice, the only way my mind can justify it is to think "This must be Disneyland".

3. "Mahalo" means "thank you". On the way to Hawaii, my sister incorrectly guessed that it meant "cheese". I told her the two words she would hear the most would be "aloha" and "mahalo" and so she surmised "cheese" must come in 2nd only to hello/goodbye. I'll say this about my sister: she is pretty.

4. If you spend a week sleeping on the foldout couch in the communal living room of your family's condo, you will spend 80% of your day enjoying Hawaii and 20% of your day figuring out when the hell you're supposed to masturbate.

5. When you are talking to people on the phone while walking the beach and they say "I can't hear you", and you say "Oh sorry, that must be the crashing of the waves at my feet", they won't laugh, even if it's clear you're trying to sound like a jerk on purpose. Jokes about being in Hawaii are never funny; they are grating and awful.

6. There are only two career paths I can take as far as my extended family is concerned: I can either be on Saturday Night Live one day, or I can not be. There is no in between. I tried explaining I'm more of a writer, to which one uncle said, "Y'know, we all turned on the SNL last week to see if you were on it. You weren't." That sentence, which doesn't make sense for reasons innumerable, is all that is repeated at me when I try explaining what I DO do for a living, which I still think is pretty interesting.

7. It is illegal to pet sea turtles. I learned this lesson after spending my afternoon petting sea turtles. Breaking the law has never been so fun! Except every night that I spend smoking marijuanna.

8. I am the annoying liberal asshole in my family. Which is still better than being the other 99 conservatives, but still, I did have several out-of-body experience where I found myself looking down at me and shuddering. For starters, I spent the week reading "The Audacity of Hope". I would bring it to the beach, even when I knew I wouldn't be reading it, just because I enjoyed the idea of my family casually seeing it on my towel. I would place it face down though, so it would look like I wasn't trying to show it off. Plus, that way, they had to say something casual like, "Oooh, whatcha reading?" I was very careful about getting in debates with my family; every time anyone made any sort of comment that remotely seemed political, I had to bite my tongue so as not to be that annoying Obama supporter. And a lot of those moments came up; if someone asked someone else to pass the salt, I would quickly figure out a way to bring up Obama, then immediately squash that urge.

9. Parasailing is fun. Especially if you can calculate exactly what time is on the East Coast and mentally picture all your friends either bored at work or cold on the street at that exact moment.

10. I will never be this tan again in my life, and I have to constantly fight the urge to lift up my shirt at people and say, "Look! Can you believe this!?!" It seems cocky, but it's more genuine surprise that my body was able to do this. I have to hold onto it while I can; already today I saw a little bit of peeling on my left arm, and literally whispered to myself "Oh no."

Why I Don't Play Games With My Extended Family

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Kelly) — Mon, 01 Dec 2008 01:11:00 +0000

11-year-old Cousin: Would you rather....be an Indian or a Black?
Grandpa: I'd rather be dead.

I Am Going to Hawaii...

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Kelly) — Fri, 14 Nov 2008 15:36:00 +0000

...and almost no one is supportive of this. I wouldn't be either; I would be mad at myself and think I didn't deserve it. And I don't. When I tell people that I am going to Hawaii, I see the most forced expression of joy on their faces. I know this false joy. I have experienced it many, many times in my life. Like when my friend Cody tells me that she can't hang out this weekend because she's going to Berlin. I smile, but secretly, discreetly, a giant invisible hand in my mind is reaching out and slapping her across her face.

I remember seething with jealousy a couple months ago when my sister Katie was invited to Hawaii with one of her friends on a whim. At this point, she already knew she was going before Thanksgiving with our family, but here she was getting to go TWICE. I was afraid she was turning into one of "those people". You know, those people that just always seems to be traveling. Those people that are always just casually like, "When I was in Morrocco earlier today...". Those people that travel with the same frequency and ease that I eat chips and salsa in my boxers while watching Top Design.

So I was terrified that my sister was going to turn into one of those people that just always casually falls into traveling opportunities. Luckily for me she got caught shoplifting the week before her trip and my mom wouldn't let her go. The little idiot tried stealing some sunglasses the DAY BEFORE her 18th birthday, and since she was a minor, my mom had to come and pick her up. Hilarious.

My mother was outraged, but moreover, she looked back on more than 18 years of being Katie's mother, and tried to pinpoint all the ways in which her failure as a parent had led to this moment. I tried putting it in perspective to my mother by saying "She's being a dumb kid. But isn't this also just really hilarious?" Apparently not. My mom took away my sister's Hawaii trip and forced her to volunteer at my dad's school for two weeks, cleaning dirty classrooms before the school year started. Hah.

But now she IS finally getting to go to Hawaii. Unless she steals something tomorrow. I wouldn't put it past her. I am so excited to go I can not even say. I have never been, nor have I done much traveling in the last couple of years in general; I have pretty much been working non-stop. So this will be a nice change of pace.

People have been giving me suggestions on things I should do while I'm there; something about waterfalls and hikes and stuff. To be honest, the only thing I want to do is go to one of those pools that have a bar in the middle of it, swim out to the bar, get super drunk, and then swim around drunk trying not to drown. I heard tell our resort had one of those pools, but then recently was told that our pool was under construction, meaning this whole trip could crash and burn before Day 1 is over.

I May Or May Not Be In This

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Kelly) — Wed, 05 Nov 2008 21:37:00 +0000

Obama Win Causes Obsessive Supporters To Realize How Empty Their Lives Are

hi.lar.ious

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Kelly) — Wed, 05 Nov 2008 20:58:00 +0000

By now, we've all seen that CNN had people that were holograms on TV last night, right?

CNN - on the night of the most important election of our time - interviewed Jessica Yellen while she was a HOLOGRAM and then asked her the tough questions of the night, like "How did they make you a hologram?"

If someone from 1920 were transported to last night, and they saw the screen shot below, they would literally not know what the fuck was going on or recognize any of those words.

"Will.I.Am Via Hologram"

To see the full clip, in all of its ridiculous majesty, go here.

YES WE DID.

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Kelly) — Wed, 05 Nov 2008 17:45:00 +0000

Like my good friend Lee Rubenstein said, last night was our generation's moon landing.

And then some.

Last night, like everyone has already said before me, was just wonderful. Even today I can hardly get work done. All I want to do is read quotes and speeches and sound-bites about last night and cry. I want to walk down the street and smile at people and look around and think "enough of these people voted to make a black man the President of this country." I walked to work today looking around, so thankful that everything around me - the people, the buildings, the everything - was now going to be under the leadership of Barack Obama. I shit you not, even though it made no sense, I was so happy that I saw a chipmunk and thought to myself "Barack is even YOUR President, too, little chipmunk!"

(Don't look for sense in that. You won't find it.)

I bought a couple newspapers today, and there was a line to buy them. There was an older black woman in front of me buying 10 Daily News'. She turned to me and said they were for all her grandchildren, even the ones that hadn't been born yet. I smiled.

And then cried in her face.

When I started writing this entry just now I worried about sounding dramatic or cliche or trite, but that's another thing I have liked about all this - it doesn't matter, because everyone else is feeling the same way. Being in my apartment last night with 40+ friends was incredible. I will never, ever, ever forget last night. It became apparent pretty early on that he was going to win. He got Pennsylvania, no doubt in large part because of the calls I had made the day before (you're welcome America). Then he was up in Florida and up in Ohio (by a lot). We all started to do the math: all he needed was California, which was a foregone conclusion. We knew that 45 seconds later the polls would close there and they would call it for him and that would be that.

Then came the jumping.
And the hugging.
And the screaming.
It was wonderful.

When I took the train to California last December, I met a guy from Denmark, and we spent about 3 days on the train having the conversations strangers have when they know they'll never see each other again. We talked about politics and religion and America's place in the world. Back then, it seemed like a foregone conclusion that Hillary would be the nominee. But we talked about the idea of a black president, and regardless of race, the need for a change - SOME change - so that America could be welcomed back into the open arms of the rest of the world.

I haven't talked to him since, but we remain Facebook friends. Today, he messaged me to say this:

"The excitement this morning in Denmark is on electric levels too.
Hope you enjoy your moment of victorious revolution."

Seeing it written like that - "your moment of victorious revolution" - made it really sink in. That's exactly what this is: a moment of American revolution. And it feels wonderful. Aside from the political and policy differences that have made themselves apparent in the last few months between Republicans and Democrats, what gave me the most heartache was the race-baiting and the fear-mongering and the lies and the banking on the fact that America was willing to vote out of fear or ignorance. To see that last night, regardless of all the seemingly insurmountable noise, Americans got out and said NO to all that, makes me so, so finally proud of this country. To see black people and white people, young people and very old people, gathered around sobbing at the sight of the first black man elected president, only decades after MLK and Selma and the Civil Right movement, is enough to make me break down and cry - probably for weeks and months to come.

And seeing Barack walk out with Michelle and his daughter last night was one of the most beautiful things to witness. So were pictures like this:

I'm really grateful I got to see this, and really grateful that people who needed to see it even more than me got to see it as well.

The great work begins.

HOLY SHIT!

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Kelly) — Sun, 02 Nov 2008 01:16:00 +0000

You guys HAVE to listen to this. Two radio DJs in Montreal got Sarah Palin on the line and pretended to be French President Nicolas Sarkozy. She goes along with it for SIX MINUTES.

This is the very best thing that has happened in this entire election season. What a fucking idiot.

http://www.dailykos.com/storyonly/2008/11/1/151958/557/831/649050

The Onion On Charlie Rose

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Kelly) — Thu, 30 Oct 2008 19:40:00 +0000

A couple people from The Onion (News Network) were on Charlie Rose Last night.
If you want to hear something that made my day - nay, week - nay, year - fast-forward to about 5:25. One of the segments that I came up with and wrote is mentioned.

I called my mom immediately. I feel like a five-year-old about this.