Once My Looks Go, I've Got Nothing

The pilot of Steel & Marsilio was in the can and, minor glitches aside (for example, I thought I could watch the broadcast premiere at my parents’ San Jose home…turns out there’s a reason it’s called Cupertino Public Access), we were off and running. After a brief respite to bask in the glory of our accomplishment (read: get drunk and watch the pilot over and over), Garrett and I set to work planning our second episode. The idea was simple: as much as we liked the first episode, we were conscientious of its flaws and sought to improve our overall product. In a sense, the second episode was a beefed up version of the pilot. It followed the same basic structure, but with a host of changes that, in large part, added to the overall experience. There was a brief, mildly surreal intro, followed by a lengthy opening credits sequence, just like the pilot, but this time the credits sequence had a discernible plot (in this case, a gangsta/drug dealer vignette) that ended

With the upcoming release of the Steel & Marsilio: Season One DVD, several people have expressed curiosity as to what exactly Steel & Marsilio is all about. This, in conjunction with a puzzling lack of interview requests, has spurred me to pen a series of articles about S & M ’s rich history, as well as its bright future. Without further ado, allow me to present Part One of the Steel & Marsilio Companion. I may as well start in the halcyon days of my youth, before Steel & Marsilio (as a televised program, anyway) existed. Garrett Wroblewski and I met in 1999, when I was a senior and he was a junior at Monta Vista High School in Cupertino, CA. Destiny, for whatever reason (ed. note: Money. It was money) led post-graduation Joey to De Anza, the local community college, and Garrett followed me there soon after. Though in the interim year we hung out quite a bit and collaborated on some things (a skit wherein we played the biggest Kriss Kross fans in the world, co

Events of late have made me wonder whether or not my reality has been supplanted by surreality. I don't know, perhaps it has something to do with my recent propensity for 48-hour waking periods, or maybe the oddness is some sort of a ripple effect from Mountain Dew releasing three x-treme new flavors and KFC dropping the gloriously apocalyptic Double Down sandwich within such a short time period. Regardless of the root cause, when I went to go see A Nightmare on Elm Street yesterday, I found myself sympathizing with certain characters in the film, not (only) because I was molested by a groundskeeper, but lately I've been questioning what is real and what ( wait for it... ) isn't. For example, in what universe does the following make sense? I recently picked up a 10-pack of plain white Hanes crew socks, since the ones I have been wearing were purchased some time in the early aughts and are beginning to show their age...as in, I attempted to put on a sock and had it tear a