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It’s been a week or so since we filmed the Real World 20th Awards Bash in LA, and I know I have to discipline myself and just write about it. It’s hard to write about the reunion because there is so much about the past that I have to explain before I can talk about the present. And who really wants to spend hours writing about the past?

Plus, it’s hard to write about something that could potentially be so juicy. If chose to write about my day-to-day dramas over the past 5 years, it would read like a transcript of This Old House. Here I have a rare chance to write about something like a Hollywood insider, but there’s nothing more exhausting than writing a play-by-play of the night’s drama. Plus, these people are my friends, and it’s not right to exploit them so I can get a few thousand more visits on my website.

Now I’m just going to type and see what I can come up with…

Real World Reunion vs. High School Class Reunion

A Real World reunion is essentially a high school class reunion except a little more complicated. My theory is that there are 4 Stages you go through on your path to your first class reunion.

–Actually, before I write any more, I should say that nobody likes to admit this stuff, much less write about this one their website. We were all fragile in our passage through high school, and it’s hard to feel cool by stepping back and analyzing that part of your life. It’s much easier to be confident as an adult and act like high school wasn’t that big of a deal.–

But I’m in Stage 4, so I don’t mind writing about the subject…

• Stage 1: Get me out of here! This begins in your last years of high school or shortly after you graduate. This stage is entirely a reaction to the self-absorbed kids who act like the social ordeals of high school are the biggest thing in the world. You cannot handle the ugliness of cliques and the silly games of popularity. You believe that you belong somewhere else where you will thrive. I would never come back here for a reunion! Why would I want to relive this at a reunion?
• Stage 2: This is why I’m hot.* This stage begins a couple years after you graduate when you have accomplished things as your own person. You’ve got new, cooler friends who understand you more.** You still replay those social games of high school in your head, except insert your new self into those same situations because you now have the upper hand. Although there’s a big desire to go back and show “them” what who you’ve become at a class reunion, it’s a greater temptation to ditch the whole event because your too cool. The hope is that your absence will add to your mystique.
• Stage 3: What’s going on here? After you graduate college you promptly get hammered by grown-up realities of jobs, dating, bills, traveling, etc. You are too busy to mull over high school. Years pass.
• Stage 4: Let’s get along. You realize that you have more in common with your high school classmates than you ever would’ve imagined: you grew up together. A reunion is something you don’t want to miss. You’ve been through enough real-life trial to understand that the spats you had in high school were trivial. A reunion gives people a chance to reconcile with others and make peace with their past. In a bizarre twist, these old classmates become your new best friends.

*Stage 2 is when 90% of rap songs are written and recorded. These guys in their early 20s have a microphone that allows them itemize their success (in no vague terms) for all their peers to hear. For more information, listen to all rap released since Puffy recorded “Mo Money Mo Problems.”

** By default, everyone upgrades to “new cooler friends” after high school because your age group is growing up and maturing. The irony here is that your new cool friends might be the “them” that someone else loathes from high school.

My So Called Life***

I know these stages because I passed through all four stages for three times. I went to my first high school as a freshman, and then spent my sophomore and junior years my second high school. I left that school my senior year to be a full-time student at a local college. So my “high school memories” were spread over three campuses with three unique groups of peers.

Everyone is different. Some people will be in Stage 1 and never come to a reunion. Some people may sit in Stage 2 way too long. These are the girls who get plastic surgery in time for their 20th reunion, or the guy who leases a Porsche three weeks before his 10th reunion. You have to wonder if some people hit Stage 3 and become so overwhelmed by the trials of life that you’ll never see them again.

Me? I arrived at Stage 4 when I turned 22. By then I had been through the big dramas of being on a reality show, and I looked back at my teenager years with friends as a blissfully simple time. In part 2 I’ll write about the new drama.

*** “My So Called Life” is a reference to the short-lived teen drama in the 1990s starring the young Claire Danes. Her crush on the show was a hunky Jared Catalano played by the actor Jared Leto, who is now the lead singer of 30 Seconds to Mars, a reasonably successful rock band. If they handed out awards for 1990s people who’ve done pretty well doing something new, Jared Leto would get 2nd place. Billy Ray Cyrus wins 1st by a landslide.

In the early 1990s, Snoop Dogg and Dr. Dre introduced gangster rap to MTV with their G-funk anthems “Nuthin’ But A ‘G’ Thang“ and “Gin and Juice.” The videos were pretty straight forward: a day in the life of Snoop and Dre being cool hanging out with friends and the ladies in South Central LA.

But the real stars of the videos were 1960s Chevy Impalas with hydraulics that made the cars bounce. I had never seen anything cooler in my life. I turned 16, and I bought a ‘61 Chevy with every intention of adding hydraulics. (My plans were ruined when no mechanic in my rural hometown in the South knew what “hydraulics” were.) Although my hoopty never worked out, I’ve always admired Snoop’s ability to pick cool cars.

Here’s the problem. Earlier this week Snoop’s newest album came out, and he’s looking G in from of a Datsun. See for yourself:

That’s a Datsun 510 Wagon from the late 1960s or early 1970s.

An original ad promoting a few of Datsun’s finest automobiles.

Don’t get me wrong, Datsun made some cool cars. The Datsun 510 makes a vintage Japanese racer that wins respect at a car show. Datsun also made the original Z cars that were reintroduced early this decade as the Nissan 350Z. But Datsuns cannot be gangster cool.

My guess is that Snoop was stoned on the day of the photo shoot, and he thought he was posing in front of a ‘64 Impala wagon.

Kids, don’t do drugs!

I’ve stumbled across some cool trucks that are for sale here in the city. Last week I found a late model convertible Chevy truck on eBay. This week I found this tasteful 1963 Chevy Truck for sale over on MarkBarbee.com.

First, take a look at the original concept drawing. This is the kind of stuff they taught us at Georgia Tech…it makes me want to bust out my tools and start drawing. It’s rare that a finished product looks so close to the original drawing. Most drawings are sensational and cool, but unrealistic to fabricate with a real car body. But here they got it right.

The idea.

The reality.

The minor difference don’t amount to much, but they are worth pointing out. They removed the “parking lights in the hood”, something Chevy should’ve done before the truck ever left the factory. They used a stock grill instead of the Rolls-inspired grill in the concept. I would’ve liked to see them make the bumper as it was in the concept sketch with the concrete-scraping crease along the lowest portion of the bumper.

Here’s some more photos:

Notice the smoothed-out tailgate and the deleted bumper.

To make room for big rims, you have to remove the inner fender well. Now the top of the wheel rises well into the engine bay. Other classy details are leather seats and suicide doors.

To pull off this ride height requires a lot of reworking of the frame. The photo below shows all the modifications beneath the bed. Typically, the gray frame would be pretty flat from front to back. But here, the frame rises up and over the rear axle to allow for the low stance. The two yellow boxes are batteries for the airbag suspension.

Beneath every cool truck is an unexciting foundation.

Let’s talk about the bed, because that’s where all the magic happens. First, the wood looks fantastic juxtaposed against the chrome strips. This is the pinstriped suit of the auto world. Second, the leather panels tucked around the perimeter are subtle, yet luxurious. The inset frame of stitching gives it an extra detail. A poor man’s version is to paint the bed to match the interior. (Take a look at the Datsun truck in a previous blog.) Lastly, you’ll see that the fenders rise just to the top of the bed because the rims are that big and truck is that low. On a stock truck, you’d might see 10-12 inches separating the two.

Well done.

Chevy got low low low. That’s the University of Phoenix Stadium in Glendale, AZ, home of Super Bowl XLII.

The glamor shot.

Summary: Big Rims Save Lives

Big rims have saved many vehicles from the junkyard, including this generation of the Chevy truck. Throughout my childhood, guys were only interested in the generation that came before and after. (Check out ChevyTrucks.com for a detailed history with photos.) But this generation didn’t have many fans because it’s body was so wonky. If you wanted to describe the truck like it were a person, it had a big head that goofy glasses.

But big chrome rims fill out the fenders and allow the truck to have better proportions. The trucks that were once forgotten are getting dragged out of desert junkyards and into the welder’s shop. Just look at how this 1963 Chevy looked on day one.

Fall from Grace. Copyright Reuters

News broke a couple days ago that the FBI busted New York governor Eliot Spitzer for using prostitutes. After reading the headlines this morning, I wouldn’t be surprised if he will resign before I am finished writing.

The moral of the story is obvious. I doubt anyone respectable blogger or political columnist will warn readers of of the wrath that awaits hypocrites.

At this very moment Spitzer’s opponents are popping the cork of champaign bottles to toast to his self-inflicted political death. On the other side of the street, supporters mourn beneath confusion and betrayal. As for me, I don’t know much about his voting record or state initiatives, so I have to take this story in it’s simplest form. My only response is to be sad with him.

I am sad for Spitzer because his fall from grace is nothing but sad. It’s sad for his family. Sad for the state of New York. Sad for opponents of the sex trade. Sad for the Democratic party.

On this day last week, his future was bright with a fighting chance at becoming a future president of the United States. Now he’ll spend the next decade of his life tangled in regret and anger.

This was first published on my blog on Suns.com:

The Suns had a big win over the Spurs on Sunday. Sports writers have documented every conceivable thought about what that dual meant in the highly contested Western Conference. I have nothing significant to add. So instead, I’d like to talk about the fans that escaped death-by-Shaq in his heroic Superman flight into the stands.

For those of you who didn’t see the game, Steve Nash missed his shot and Shaq sprinted towards the sideline to grab the rebound. The drama began about a half second later when it became clear that Shaq had run out of court but wouldn’t give up on the ball. He planted his feet squarely, then bounced up and over two young boys in court side seats, threw the ball back on the court, and then smeared a dozen adults in rows 2-5.

He landed much like a pole-vaulter crashes on his back into a pit of fluffy sponges. Except this pole vaulter was Shaq, and the fluffy sponges were ordinary people enjoying the game. Those of you who fail to have compassion for these people don’t understand Shaq’s size. He is 7 foot 1 inch and weighs 325 pounds, roughly as large as the refrigerator in your kitchen.

Take a few seconds to look away from the computer and size up that big fat fridge in the other room. Now imagine that refrigerator flying at your head. Yeah, that’s pretty scary. The scene was so outrageous that the entire US Airways Arena erupted. (An energy that carried through the final seconds of the fourth quarter.) Shaq struggled to pull himself up from the knot of fans and got back in the game.

A few minutes later, one of the fan-victims got a primetime interview with ABC. Another sustained an injury to his lip, but he’s expected to be at the next game in top health. But the real winners in are the two young boys who sat courtside. Why? Because they get to tell this story for the rest of their lives.

To help you understand where I am coming from, you have to first understand how much males enjoy telling stories about themselves. The most popular man stories will include one of the following:

1. Almost dying. It doesn’t matter how you almost died. It’s just cool that you came close. (See Gladiator, 2000.)
2. Someone saving your life. This is great because guys like loyalty. If someone saves your life, you owe them a big one. It gives your life purpose. (See Sandlot, 1993.)
3. Fighting a bear. I don’t think I have to explain this. (See Legends of the Fall, 1994)
4. An encounter with a celebrity. Most women are content with just meeting a celebrity, but men won’t be satisfied unless it’s a bizarre or absolutely ordinary experience with a celebrity. Let me give you an example. Bizarre means that you saw Michael Jackson hold his kid over a hotel balcony (2002.) Absolutely ordinary means you stood behind Sean Penn in a long bathroom line in a New York City nightclub, or going bowling in Los Angeles with Nsync. (Both of which happened to me, 2000.)

The two young boys have the ultimate story because they got numbers 1, 2, and both sides of 4. While the grownups only get a week to tell their story to jealous and unimpressed coworkers, these little guys have at least ten more years before they graduate high school. This story be retold to eager audiences of close friends, new acquaintances, and future girlfriends.

In twenty years when these two boys are grown men, one of them will meet Shaq at a charity event downtown. He’ll stand at the foot of Goliath and recall the details of the big Suns/Spurs game back in ‘08. Shaq will chuckle at the memory, and then point to his 5th NBA Championship ring and remind them that it was a good season with the Suns, just like he promised.