It's pronounced "Webelo."
Herein lays a self-congratulatory official posting of an Arrested Development spec script I wrote back in the New York days. For you laypersons, a "spec script" is an episode of a popular television program one writes and then forces others to read late at night while under the influence of powerful spirits.
Actually, there's more to it than that (in theory), but this blog is nothing if not anti-educative. So if you accidentally stumbled upon this page researching spec scripts, (A) your search engine must really suck hard, and (B) don't rip off my script's jokes. Go here instead and make me proud.
This script was intended to fit neatly inside the early parts of the 2nd season, somewhere around the "Amigos" episode. If you don't know what that means, I'm sorry but we can no longer be friends. This is not the final draft (you'll notice a few capitalization mistakes and this version's final montage is utter garbage because I didn't know how to write them yet) but I'll stand up and fight for it.
One Ms. Jennifer Arndt deserves no small amount of gratitude for her help with writing the script, as pretty much every word of it was intended to make her laugh.
So: here it is.
I encourage your inner editor (probably an asshole) to offer commentary, criticism and any other honest assesements. Of course, as per my strict policy of unrepentant self aggrandizing, any criticisms will be summarily ignored.
Actually, there's more to it than that (in theory), but this blog is nothing if not anti-educative. So if you accidentally stumbled upon this page researching spec scripts, (A) your search engine must really suck hard, and (B) don't rip off my script's jokes. Go here instead and make me proud.
This script was intended to fit neatly inside the early parts of the 2nd season, somewhere around the "Amigos" episode. If you don't know what that means, I'm sorry but we can no longer be friends. This is not the final draft (you'll notice a few capitalization mistakes and this version's final montage is utter garbage because I didn't know how to write them yet) but I'll stand up and fight for it.
One Ms. Jennifer Arndt deserves no small amount of gratitude for her help with writing the script, as pretty much every word of it was intended to make her laugh.
So: here it is.
I encourage your inner editor (probably an asshole) to offer commentary, criticism and any other honest assesements. Of course, as per my strict policy of unrepentant self aggrandizing, any criticisms will be summarily ignored.
Unfortunate Juxtaposition
WGN just ran a promo touting the "New WGN America: TV You Can't Ignore."
It was all pretty impressive until the next promo was encouraging viewers to tune in to the 12:30am Becker.
The Cubs are getting bitchslapped by the Orioles by the way.
Along those same [waist?]lines, Lou Piniella's gut is a thing of beauty.
"Jesus, Lou, are you smuggling a fucking medicine ball?"
It was all pretty impressive until the next promo was encouraging viewers to tune in to the 12:30am Becker.
The Cubs are getting bitchslapped by the Orioles by the way.
Along those same [waist?]lines, Lou Piniella's gut is a thing of beauty.
"Jesus, Lou, are you smuggling a fucking medicine ball?"Please add alternative captions in the comment section below... it was going to be "Jesus, Lou, did you fucking eat Alan Trammell?" but thought it may prove too esoteric (he's the bench coach and one of Ingrid's greatest heroes).
[expletive deleted]
A word of warning for those of weak knee: I will no doubt find it necessary to use profanity from time to time when describing the daily goings on of my rich and phrenetic life. If you find such digressions disturbing or in any way offensive, I suggest to hang out with others of like mind.
Here's a quick test: "Whilst shaving my head this morning, my ancient and ever-dulling electric razor almost lopped off my fucking earlobe."
Taken aback? No? That's good. That's fucking good.
I bet you hesitated to click on that hyperlink. Not to worry; I vow to never knowingly direct you to any sites of dubious content. Actually, don't click that last one lest you feel compelled to further investigate. Under no circumstances should you do so... it is without question the worst thing that's ever happened.
Here's a quick test: "Whilst shaving my head this morning, my ancient and ever-dulling electric razor almost lopped off my fucking earlobe."
Taken aback? No? That's good. That's fucking good.
I bet you hesitated to click on that hyperlink. Not to worry; I vow to never knowingly direct you to any sites of dubious content. Actually, don't click that last one lest you feel compelled to further investigate. Under no circumstances should you do so... it is without question the worst thing that's ever happened.
The BumperSmash Charter
As many of you by now know, BumperSmash is (and will forever remain) the appellation and future home of the most delectable lunchtime treat in the rich history of starch-based foodstuffs. Don't let the eponymous nature of this blog fool you; I fully intend to pursue the financial windfall that will supervene the grand opening and subsequent franchizing of my brainchild. Until said time, however, I've decided it wise to lend its name to my new blog as a shrewd attempt to lay claim to the BumperSmash empire.
While blogging can not provide the toothsome, even curative smashed potatoes that future generations will associate with BumperSmash, I fully intend to offer many challenging observations and Circean tales of daring heroism in their stead.
Most will involve dong jokes.
While blogging can not provide the toothsome, even curative smashed potatoes that future generations will associate with BumperSmash, I fully intend to offer many challenging observations and Circean tales of daring heroism in their stead.
Most will involve dong jokes.
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