BUSTER'S GUIDE TO PHARMACEUTICALS

SO AS SOME OF YOU MAY KNOW, I'VE BEEN ON SOME MEDICATIONS FOR MY "MENTAL HEALTH." I'm not going to tell you which ones, you nosey fuckers, but if you feel as stagnant as I do occasionally, here's what you need to know, in ascending order of narcotic goodness. Also, at the end we can reach the Valentine's Day Conclusion begun yesterday!

THE MEDICATIONS

These are the fellows that you take to feel better generally. They're medications, not drugs, so you have to take them for about two weeks before you start feeling the effects.

1. Abilify - This is a mood-stabilizer. I used to have rage issues (see Christian Bale for some insight), so I started taking this and got a lot more zen. I was initially prescribed too high a dose so I turned into a Zombie and started having memory problems, but on a lower dose and in conjunction with meditation, I started feeling a lot better. Now I don't even have to take them! Tell your doctor you have rage issues and these will be yours.
   
2. Lexapro - My Main Man. Very stable and calming, I took these for generalized anxiety and depression, and I still take them. They're pretty good, just elevate your mental state to one where you're not constantly thinking about hypochondriacal symptoms like Ebola, AIDS, and the black plague.
   
3. Wellbutrin - I don't have too much experience with this one, but from what it sounds like, it's a kid version of Abilify. It's an antidepressant, and also takes a while to get going. Mellow, but not really noticable in the dosages I was taking.

THE REAL SHIT

1. Klonopin - The baby Vicodin. Vicodin's a little dated, so this is a nice alternative that comes on fast but leaves just as quick. I took 14mg of these yesterday over the course of two hours and all I felt was a little buzz. Happy, if you will. I churned out like two and a half pages on my screenplay and life was groovy.
2. Xanax - My favorite. As I've stated before, this is the bliss pill. But it's also very dangerous. I completely forgot that I watched "Balls Of Fury" the night before, despite my dad asking me questions about it. He looked at me like I was crazy. It was also responsible for my DUI and the destruction of my laptop. But when you take it on your own, in your room, with some amazing music and the iTunes visualizer going, then you will attain nirvana.

Above all, please be careful with these meds. They can make you feel great, but they can make you feel awful and descend into madness and black out. So use caution.

In other news, I've decided to go off my anti-anxiety medication and replace it with pages for my screenplay (which will rock your socks off; it's epic). I'm like 18 pages in, and I'm writing diaries for my characters, working on my resume and generally, and genuinely deciding to be a more proactive person. Fuck this lazy shit. I'm getting my ass a job, even if I have to sacrifice my dignity, but it'll be worth it. I'll be able to pursue my actual passions - writing, singing, acting, directing, painting, trying new foods, cooking traveling, enjoying life and absorbing every goddamned thing out there. I'm feeling good this morning, and you should, too. You have control. Find your passion, make shit happen. It's not easy, but the rewards are unquantifiable.

Hope you're all well,
--B

P.S. OH YES! THE GIRL! I reflected on it today, and I've decided candidate number three is the best call. Either way, I win. I value her friendship the most, and what's a relationship without friendship? Also, she had the balls to kick me out after I put the moves on her out of loyalty to her midlife crisis having boyfriend, so points for that. And she's probably the raddest girl I've ever met. She's not without her negative points, but she's amazing and I genuinely want to be her friend. If something romantic evolves out of that, then fantastic, but I'd rather have a lifetime of adventures with her than a couple random hookups. Thanks for the feedback Cristina, Bella, and Toni. Candidate 3, if you read this, you've won my Valentine's Day letter.

Today is going to be a better day than I thought.

VALENTINE'S D(ISSAR)AY

TOMORROW, AS I'M SURE YOU'RE ALL AWARE, is Valentine's Day - that hallowed day of expressing affection to a member of the opposite sex (or same sex, if that's your thing), where lovers rejoice in the adoration of their partner, where one can give something lavish to their sweetheart and get rewarded with excellent sex. BUT THAT IS ONLY FOR THE LUCKY FEW.

What about the rest of us? The downtrodden, the ugly, the broke motherfuckers? Or even worse, those of us who are hopelessly in love with more than one person (three at the moment, in my case)! Two of them are taken, one is emotionally unavailable. In a touch of insight into me, the first problem generally doesn't matter all too much. I think if a bond exists between two people it'll hold up despite temptation, and if they slip, then it's a sign that things aren't working out.

But in the mean time, what the fuck do I do tomorrow? Do I send them all letters that I've lovingly fashioned from red construction paper and poetic flattery? FedEx them flowers? Call? None of them are my girlfriend, but I'd happily give a finger to be with them. So it begs the question: Which one do I send my special Valentine gift to?

Let's introduce the candidates before we make any hasty decisions.

Number one is a girl who I feel a deep, deep bond with, despite her being everything I'm not. She (like me) has had her heart broken, but on a deeper level than most of us can understand. Specifically, her fiancé was cheating on her with a 19-year-old and left her 30 thousand dollars in debt. Consequently, she's working her beautifully-proportioned ass off to get out of hock, and while we've had some hook-ups (encounters?), they've been all too brief or poorly-timed to get them to mean something real. Also, she doesn't trust men at all at the moment (or at least, that's the excuse I've been given. She's not terribly forthright). When we hooked up on New Year's Eve, she actually cried while we were kissing because that was the night (a year or so prior) that her boyfriend had become her fiancé. Fucked up, eh? But I still keep coming back to her, in a way that almost makes me feel like a stalker, but we always have a really good time together and I feel a very deep spiritual thing going on with this chick.

Candidate numero dos is a bookworm I picked up while I was buying some underwear at the Gap. She is sophisticated, she's got a wry wit, and she's an amazing lay. Unfortunately, she has a boyfriend who she's got a two-year history with and she's addicted to the drama that that entails (our little triangle, that is). So I'm assuming that in her mind, she wants to perpetuate this little cycle of fucking me and loving him. A year ago, I'd be totally cool with that - sex on call without having to deal with an actual relationship? Sweet. But now, I think I'd rather be the guy who gets the love than the guy who gets the sex. Both would be ideal.

Now, the last candidate is an odd number. We grew up on the same street and by happenstance, we were at a party over the Christmas holidays in our hometown together, and she said (in this rich, cigarette-husky voice), "Hey. Didn't you live on my street?" We talked for a bit and she turned out to be pretty cool, then we took to each other like a match to gunpowder. We talked for about three weeks non-stop and I enjoyed the shit out of every conversation, taking opportunities to rag on her much-older boyfriend and generally having a laugh about the most random things that came to mind. We were remarkably similar - funny, odd people with a penchant for being unique and not conforming by any means necessary, who are also quite fond of the drink.

Then we met up in LA, and I took her out on a "faux-date" (read: friend date) then we went back to her place at around three. I put the moves on her, and while it seemed like she was enjoying it, we were really stoned, at her boyfriend's friend house, and she ended up asking me to go. Normally, I'd just say I blew it, I shouldn't have kisssed her, etc, but here's what's fucked up: SHE SUGGESTED HOOKING UP WOULD BE FUN. I showed restraint, for fuck's sake! People, do you know what that means for me!? So after about a week of awkward we started talking again, and now we're back to flirting/friend stuff. She's still indecisive about her boyfriend, but from what it sounds like, they're at very different stages in their lives (15-year age gap, anyone?), and she should probably split with him and be with somebody else who's at a similar spot. Preferably me. I really dig this girl.

EDIT: I should point out that candidate #3 is somebody I really appreciate as a friend, not just a romantic interest. The other two are girls I'm in love with, but #3 is somebody I could be cool with on a non-romantic level as well. Not that I wouldn't want to be friends with #1 and #2, just that I have more in common with #3 and I value her friendship.

SO I SUBMIT TO YOU, GENTLE READERS (assuming anybody reads this tosh): Who should be the object of my affection? Feel free to leave comments, concerns, feedback, etc. If somebody could write something in ebonics, that would be wonderful (That bitch gotta get her shit together, leave her man, and get with you, muthafucka!).

In other news, I went back for a second interview at the Banana Republic at the Grove. It would be a sweet gig because it's really close to home and I love the clothes, but the interviews really take a lot out of me. I like to think I can be myself around other people easily, but it's hard for me to act like I don't need the job. By the same token, nobody's doing great right now, so holler if you hear me on the economic note.

Anyway, a merry Valentine's Day to all, and may you be blessed with a lasting, passionate, movie-style romance! For now, I'm going to buy myself a bottle of Johnny Walker Black and mix myself some Johnny & Gingers and drink myself into a stupor, pass out, and pray I get a call back from BR tomorrow. Ta for now.

WORD OF THE DAY

SO DON'T ASK, but when I wake up, I occasionally get a word stuck in my head and muse on it for anywhere from the first half hour I'm awake to the rest of the day. Some words are good, and philosophical, and thought-provoking (like "Paragon" or "Monolith"), while others are funny ones like "clam". Others still, however, are nasty. The word I woke up with in my mind today (and I pray it's not a little shape of things to come) was discharge. Isn't that a fucking nasty word? Anything you put in front of it makes it gross or bad. Vaginal Discharge. Arterial Discharge. Rectal Discharge. Discharged from your job, motherfucker. See? The word "Discharge" is pretty much responsible for .0001% of the world's suffering and unpleasantness. So in conclusion, if we stop using it altogether, we'll have contributed to a better world.

One word at a time.

BUSTER HANDS OUT CORPORATE JUSTICE

Note to the Reader: it is very early, I am hungover, on my laptop in some strange person's room, and I don't know where the coffee is and they're still fucking asleep. Please don't judge me.

SO I JUST STARTED using my actual URL for Champagne & Apathy, and by god, after purchasing the domain name and following the steps detailed by a "customer service agent" (read: some doddering old fuck who doesn't know how to turn a computer on, let alone tell you how to get your website up and running) when my URL was redirecting to Google, the problem was not resolved.Fortunately, the man was not from India. I immediately get irate when I get connected to Indian people who seemed to have faked their TOEFL and ask me to "Please repeat, sir." But I would almost prefer that to the stuttering, vacant-minded, faux-authority-on-all-things-internet, "We've got you covered" Verizon scumsucking corporate douches I had the misfortune to be connected with. The first genius told me to type in the wrong info. Thank you very much, I said, happily waiting for the two to 48 hours I might have to wait to be over so my site would be on line. Naturally, my site started hitting Google instead of Champagne & Apathy's blogspot site. Then I send them an e-mail wondering what the fuck's up, and I include pictures of what's happened, etc.
Their customer service agent tells me that it's perfectly normal, and the problem will rectify itself. "Okay," I say, irked. Next day, I check the site, and voila!

FUCK ALL HAS CHANGED. CHAMPAGNEANDAPATHY.COM STILL = GOOGLE.

I send my last civil letter, explaining the problem in FULL DETAIL, and get a canned response that says - get this - "It's not a GoDaddy problem," that apparently their forwarding is "working perfectly."

Attached is my message of fury to these degenerates along with a response from poor Donald C. Be sure to click it so you can see it in its full glory. PACE.

BUSTER CALLS THE OSCARS (Or, As I Like It)

SO IT'S AWARD SEASON, and the nominations are in. Being the son of a Director, I have stacks and stacks of screeners I've filled my days with since my DUI-imposed house arrest, and have a pretty damned good idea of who's winning what. Since I'm not interested in most of the films that are up, let me just say this before I call my picks: Watch Milk.

Now let's dive right in, shall we?

NUMERO UNO: BEST EDITING
I know, I know, nobody gives a shit about this one, but if you watch Milk, you'll see that this is an integral part of moviemaking that's often overlooked by the general public (read: You, Motherfucker). The intercutting, the flashbacks, the timing, the transitions, all perfect and spot-on.
Call It: Elliot Graham for Milk.

NUMERO DOS: BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS
Taraji P. Henderson in Benjamin Butthead. She's come a long way from Baby Boy's pivotal scene. "LEMME SMELL YO DICK, NUGGUH!"

NUMERO TRES: BEST ACTRESS
Honestly, I don't really give a shit about this category, A. Because I'm Sexist, B. Because all of the movies I've either not seen or were total shit. Consequently, I'm going to write in my choice for this category with NAOMI WATTS IN FUNNY GAMES. That movie was the creepiest god damned thing of all time, but Naomi played the part of a hostage/housewife to a T. Check it. But as for the actual award, I have no idea.
End Thoughts: No Clue.

NUMERO CUATRO: BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY
If Slumdog Millionaire had been an original screenplay, it would've been a lock. The flashbacks, the structure of the gameshow as a narrative device, the funny, sad, beautiful parts that characterize that film are amazing. But it was based on a book, so the award goes to Dustin Lance Black (who according to my friend is "a little cocksucking hottie") for his epic work on Milk.
Win Win Win: Dustin Lance Black for Milk.


CINCO CINCO CINCO: BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR
This one's kind of a coin toss. I'd love to see Robert Downey Jr. get a win for Kirk Lazarus, given that it's one of the funniest, movie-making inside-joke jabs at another actor, and it was such a ballsy move to wear fucking blackface in a major motion picture, but again, politics rears its ugly head and pretty much hands this one to Heath Ledger for two reasons. One, he gave a great performance in spite of all that hammy bullshit lip-licking, and Two, THAT NIGGA DIED! Tragic overdose takes a star before his time, and all that jazz. I think this one's dependent on who receives his award posthumously. If Michelle Williams accepts it for him, or if they can get his daughter to say a few words, or his parents, it's a lock. If they can't figure out who to book for the acceptance, then it's RDJ, baby.
Bottom Line: Heath Ledger as the Joker.


NUMERO SEIS: BEST ACTOR
This one's kind of a toughie. Given the politics behind the Academy Awards, it's difficult to judge the call based on outright performance. Try as they might to say that performances are subjective, I know that it's based on who's sucking enough metaphorical dick. Should it be based on performance alone, the award would go to Sean Penn's beautiful, enchanting, captivating characterization of San Francisco Supervisor Harvey Milk. But fuck, Sean, you already won in '03 for that mediocre Mystic River! So it tips the scales a little bit in Mickey's favor for his heartbreakingly honest Randy "The Ram" Robinson, but he already got his Golden Globe, so fuck him. All I know is that if Brad Pitt wins for his down-home southern drawl and CGI masked performance in that shit-streak of a film Blah Blah Blah Benjamin Button, I'm gonna shave my head and climb a clock tower with an assault rifle and take potshots at people driving BMWs.
Tally Up: Sean Penn as Milk.


NUMERO SIETE: BEST PICTURE
Best Picture is soooo fucking hard this year. As 2008 progressed, I really only left two movies going, "Wow, that fucker better win." Those films were, in order of my watching them, Slumdog Millionaire and Milk. The truth of the matter is, I generally hate most Best Picture winners. I hated Crash, hated A Beautiful Mind, was bored shitless by Chicago, and LOATHED Million Dollar Baby. But lately, they're getting good. The Departed was fucking B.A. and made me go get into fights for kicks and No Country for Old Men made me weep because I knew I'd never make a film that good. But Slumdog and Milk were both really, genuinely well-made films. Since I've been to India but I've never been gay, I'm gonna go with the former.
CHECKMATE: Slumdog Millionaire.

Ladies and Gentlemen, keep in mind, I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about, I'm just highly opinionated. That said, enjoy your Oscars!