All roads lead to Foam

When I was a kid, I wanted to grow to be a ninja. Or at least a superhero. Well, that really just meant I wanted to be Batman.

I dedicated my life to pop culture: watching movies and cartoons, reading books and comics, bringing my mind to the absolute pinnacle of human potential. However, I didn't do the same for my body. I did some working out with my father, took various martial arts classes, and even learned a bit of gymnastics. I didn't devote myself to it. I was an amazingly fit nerd, not too physically coordinated, though I did a lot of walking, which kept me in shape.

As a geek I know this: superheroes train, a lot. The X-Men had the Danger Room, and many other heroes had some sort of training ground to help simulate the types of territory they may dispense justice within or ground they may cover during a chase. When I was a kid, my dad bought twenty acres of property. While he had very specific plans for much of it, one thing we talked about was building an obstacle course. One step on my way to superhero-dom. Well, that never actually materialized, but we did get a trampoline, and I used that to good effect.

Lately, I've been going to the gym quite extensively. Four or five days a week running and weight lifting. Still not reaching the levels of Bruce Wayne or Matt Murdock, but above average for a geek. But it's training, and for a more realistic purpose. Last year I was introduced to mud runs, which found a special place in my little nerd heart.

For those unfamiliar, a mud run is an obstacle course through some rough back country. You run over fields, through woods, and up and down hills. While many races share some common obstacles, such as wall climbing, there is a theme that sets aside some special obstacles for a particular event. And, as the name suggests, there is always mud. You will not come out of this clean. 

This past Saturday's event was the 5K Foam Fest. It's a bit on the easier side that the ones I've done before, but still an exhausting challenge. As with most events, team participation and costumes are encouraged. For a would-be superhero, I'm not much into the theatricality of it all. Instead, I'm there to challenge and push myself. I'm there for the competition, which is my own form of fun.

Foam Fest starts with a nice little jog across a pasture, before heading into the woods. Five foot wall climb, no problem. Crawling on your belly through a mud filled trench, no sweat. They didn't even use barbed-wire on this course, as most others do. Easy! Ouch... Some of the ropes over the pit that keep you crawling are electrified! More running. Another, now eight foot, wall. Here's something new: the spider forest. Ropes tied tree to tree like spider webs that you have to jump over, duck under, or a combination of the two. Football practice-type tire run. Where is all the foam?

Eventually, after a tough hill climb, jumping over trees, we come a halt. There is a line to ride down the ginormous slip-n-slide. And it's foam powered! Many took the ride and wiped out at the bottom, me included. But I was up and running again without injury. Then, more foam. A giant ball pit filled with the stuff. A human car wash, which had foam over six feet high and gave me my first mouthful of the nasty tasting stuff.

More mud, more hills, more obstacles, and even more foam at the finish (including my second mouthful). I'll admit it wasn't all running. During the later uphill portions I did some power-walking. I got passed by some folks, but passed others. But I never stopped, I continued to push. I completed the course in just under fifty minutes. My best time for such a race, but when you get down to the numbers 4 miles per hour isn't that impressive. Next time I'll do better...

Besides, nothing better than a good mud bath.

Getting some more Leverage

Sunday afternoon saw me downtown in the Lloyd District, dressed in a suit complete with tie. I joined a group of about thirty others of similar attire. Aside from our clothes, we were a diverse crowd: men, women, young, old, tall, short. As random a subset of humanity as you are likely to see anywhere, but we were all of a common purpose: to be anonymous.

Ah, the mostly glamorless world of being an Extra. This would be my sixth time performing this little hobby. The fourth specifically for Leverage. This time we were a group for business professionals walking about the street.

The Leverage crew had taken over most of the Lloyd District with the exception of the mall. It was a like a 10 block section of town, just so we could cross streets unmolested. Most of the work was pretty tame compared to what I've had to do in the past.

It started with simply walking across a parking lot, as if we are just arriving for work. We cross the lot, back to beginning, cross again... Then they decided that we were a little fast forward. I had been walking from "my" car (with my Prop Cup-o-Coffee!). The reset had me most of the way to the building. What does that mean? That there is enough time to turn me around and send me back to the car in the same take. Like I got to the building and said WTF?! I'm at the wrong address!

I always try to have a little story to my part.

In the next scene I had to walk into the same building, but from a different direction, and I had a walk partner, Lynn. She, even in her fabulous high-heeled boots, was shorter than my son (sorry Lynn, I'll love you forever!), so I had to walk at "a measured pace". Nothing too fancy here, just walking toward one of the stars of the show (we're probably over her shoulder when you watch the episode).

Then we broke for lunch. Guess what? We are filming the last episode for the season. You know that means? A very fancy meal. They were serving lobster tail! But our handlers said "You guys won't get to eat that fancy food, just stick to the middle table and the salad bar." Just before heading over, they hammered in the point: "Fancy food: not for you." Then as soon as we get in line: "Oh, yeah, you can have fancy food."

But I don't eat giant sea bugs. It has claws. A lobster is a giant, underwater, scorpion with no stinger. It's anatomy is the same as most of the things we squash around our house, only much larger. It's like a caricature of a roach. I can't believe that anyone eats anything so low on the evolutionary chain.


Anyway... I had the filet mignon. So I was satisfied.


Later, the handlers were looking for the person with the shortest hair. Currently, I need a haircut, so didn't qualify. I was pretty much willing to shave my head, but I think they were kidding when they asked who would do so... maybe. Anyway, someone else got the job: here, put on this police uniform. Then he got to get in a police car, with a STUNT DRIVER. Color me: jealous. They did a small stunt of a screeching u-turn to chase down a getaway van. 


Next, we had another outdoor scene of people just walking about. But I got to cross the street! Why is that special? Because the stars of the show were standing on the island in the middle of the street. I walk touching distance from them in the shot. I'm bound to be super famous after this, I'm sure. 


For the final shot of the day, everyone stands in a line to enter a "theater" for a showing of Macbeth. Guess who's taking tickets? Your's truly, of course. 


In the end, I had grabbed way more than my fair share of Chocolate Chip and Peanut Butter Granola Bars from the "Crafty Cart", was more liked than the Korean dude (who was getting on everyone's nerves, including mine), and stood in line behind Timothy Hutton at the fancy food line at lunch. Victory all around. 

Attack of the Killer Tomatoes

Tomatocalypse

Tomatogeddon

Words I used to describe this event before attending, but how do you prepare for something like this? What exactly am I talking about?

Well, on Saturday I attended the Portland chapter of the Tomato Battle. When I first heard about this, through some web discount site or other, I knew it was something I had to participate in. Looking at the pictures on the site, I was guessing this would just be an epic food fight. Oh how naïve...
It's not until you arrive on site and see the mountains of tomatoes that it starts to sink in. How did they get here? Well, all those fruits and veggies you buy from the store can only sit on a shelf, at the warehouse, or in a crate for so long before biology starts to get out of hand. So they get donated. Then, splat, there they are,unceremoniously dumped from a truck. And these puppies are RIPE. Shortly after the mountain makes an impression, the scent makes a more lasting one. It was rather warm this weekend, and I'd swear these things were fermenting right there in the parking lot.

There's some pre-action live music and costume contesting (I didn't dress fancy, didn't even really cross my mind). Most dressed to be silly, some went with a tomato theme, such as a group of "softball players" with their jersey's marked with the names of various species of tomato. Some took a historical spin and played off the Roma. But the most inspired were the Bloody Mary ladies, whipping folks with celery.

But then came the main event. Hundreds of us were funneled into the tomato cage, and told not to start throwing until everyone was in. I nabbed a spot next to the largest mountain (center in the photo above) and grabbed a couple of these not quite rotten fruits, as others were doing the same. I was only slightly disgusted by the thin white coating. Mold? Fungus? It wouldn't matter shortly. Then a couple tomatoes flew through the air. And like any classic food fight, it snowballed into chaos from there.

I hadn't really considered what this was going to be like. I discussed it with a fellow combatant as we marched in, who mentioned he wished he'd brought a cup. Not for drinking, but for protection. Sure, I said, this will probably be a little on the rough side, a bit like being hit by a water balloon. Yeah, but not one of those overfull, almost pops just throwing it kind. But one of those barely filled, have to really chuck it to break it kind. And they are full of jell-o instead of water. My only protection was sunglasses, which is no protection at all. Because when this battle gets going, you are covered, head to foot, every square inch, in ketchup.

There were a number of greater hazards I had no concept of, going in. One, red tomatoes = weird water balloons, green tomatoes = rocks. Those green suckers were numerous and painful, plus they didn't break on contact. Two, sunglasses + tomato paste = blind. But I found that wiping the glasses off with my tomato soaked shirt was actually somewhat effective. Goggles are the way to go really. Three, ketchup is slippery. Especially when you're standing in 4 inches of it.

It took no time at all for most of the tomatoes to be nothing but mush on the ground that you would just scoop up and throw indiscriminately around. I'd shout "Nothing personal, but take that!" and lob a handful behind me. On more than one occasion I misjudged the depth of the juice and nearly scraped the nails of my fingers on the asphalt beneath.

Once there is nothing left but a mash of jelly, your relationship to it changes. You start treating it like sand or snow. I made a tomato angel pretty early on. Many people laid down to get buried in it. The next thing you know others are sliding on their bellies like penguins across the ice. Of sliding into home, hoping the umpire calls "safe".

Truly, it's the most disgusting thing I've ever done. It smelled worse than you are imagining. It resembled what the aftermath of Hannibal's Battle of Cannae must have looked like: ankle deep in red slaughter. Oh, and I haven't even mentioned the taste of it, because yes, it will get in your mouth. Sweet and Sour! And it stings the eyes. But I continually wondered what it was doing for my skin. The vitamins! And what a conditioner! Such body and hold!

Sometimes you would be hit unintentionally and some would say "sorry". I could only respond with "I signed a waiver, and that means you can't tell me you're sorry!" Such was the camaraderie. And the sensuality. Something about getting covered in food really brings out a certain kind of animal with people. That, or the fact that there were so many of us that you are constantly rubbing against someone else, and things sure were slippery.

And as I hosed myself off after nearly two hours of battle, in cold water and a setting sun, I could only think that I'd love to do this again next year.

Portlandia, land of fun

So, I've been thinking about writing this blog for a while now. But I'm so busy doing all this fun, crazy stuff that I have little time to sit down and talk about it. Well, f- it. I'm going to make time, rather than wait for it to come to me. That's one thing I've really learned in the past couple years, if you wait until you have the free time to do something, you'll never do it. You have to plan. You have to say to yourself that "I'm going to do such and such at this specific time" (hopefully you're plans are more concrete than that). Then stick to that schedule, it's the only way you'll get anything done. And remember, no one is advocating for you. You have to be you're own motivation.

Enough with the poster quotes.

I'm going to start this blog off with what I did yesterday. You see, I have a job. I tell other people how to get Photoshop to do the things they want it to do. It's not what I dreamed about as a kid. It's not what I went to college for. But I like it nonetheless. However, for a long time I wanted to make movies. Usually that meant writing or directing. I went to college to learn computer animation so I could make digital effects. Although I've moved in a different career direction, I still have a great love of movies. I watch them as often as I can. I love going to the theater on premiere night. I love watching movies in foreign countries without subtitles. And I am still fascinated by all the behind the scenes techno-babel.

So yesterday, I had another opportunity to work at my side job. From time to time I get to be an Extra. It's a mini-dream come true. I get to watch as something is created. It's the same kind of thrill as opening the box of a jigsaw puzzle or turning the newspaper to that blank crossword. Being on the set of a TV show is cookie dough to me. The finished product is great, but the process of getting there is half the fun.

I've been an extra a couple times now, and it's mostly minimum wage work, but I don't do it for the money. I get to watch the lighting crews set up the scene, to see actors rehearse and flub their lines, to ad lib. Watch as a director makes order out of chaos. And most importantly, I get to be on TV!

This time around I filmed an episode of Portlandia for it's third season. I love this show for it's great ability to stereotype all of the friends and strangers I've come to know since making PDX my home. As I tell my out of town friends and family, this show is a spot-on depiction of what Stumptown is like.

When you are an extra, you are generally given very little notice of where you are going to shoot, or when. You are asked to wear something specific and to bring extra options. If you fail, they still have the wardrobe department to back you up. This time around, my second option was the preferred costume. But I can't really say why, as we signed an NDA, but it had to do with product branding. Other extras were wearing brand conflicting materials and had to ditch them. They didn't like my shoes (nothing personal, just not what they were looking for), so I was given a brand new pair. At the end of the day, when returning the shoes to wardrobe, they said "keep 'em". Score! Free pair of fancy athletic shoes.

There were 8 or 9 extras for the shoot (I wasn't sure if one guy was an actor or not, plus we were at an open gym, so there were lots of "civilians" running around). I got to work very closely with the lead actors of the show: Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein. Let me just say, they are great people to work with. Fred constantly thanked us for our patience and for helping them create the shots. It was interesting to find out that the show (or at least our skit) was unscripted, the director would shout out a general direction for the scene to move in and the actors would just roll with it. Each take was unique, very little overlapping dialog. I'm sure it's an editors worst nightmare to mine the footage and assemble it. Or it might be a dream to have so much material from which to create something. Actually, video editing was one of the things I liked learning most while in school.

We filmed at a gym, but I was surprised by the amount of exercise I got. So when you see the episode and were watching through a window as Fred and Carrie fight, those arms pumping iron are mine. Later we all did a cycling class together. We biked a lot and we biked hard.

I don't know when my episode will air, but I'll be sure to let all my friends and family know when I do.

Tomorrow's adventure: Tomato fighting.