episode 7.079-There are 3929384 results for Not You.

in hindsight, i'm not sure i approached this whole "internet thing" very responsibly. there were always initial warnings to using your real name for everything, but it isn't until later that you really understand why this is such a good idea. Google my name and all sorts of information pops up. i used to think this was something to be proud of. Have almost 2 pages on Google dedicated to stuff that you actually are involved with? Sounds awesome, right? Especially with this sudden surge of other Steve Pappins all across the world. Ha-ha, suckers, I bet you're reading this blog post right now after Googling yourself, and you're coming to realize that I am the one true Steve Pappin and you are clearly a secondary Steve. Don't worry, i'll have need for my Steve Pappin army in the near future, so stick around, and by all means, keep googling yourself. Or are you really Googling me? That's my ultimate goal. All the Steve Pappins in the world will attempt to Google themselves, but what they won't realize is that they're actually just Googling me, and that their name does not take Internet Priority. Undoubtedly the relevance of ones existence will soon depend on ones Internet Priority, and I have to say that mine is pretty high.

However, to return to the beginning of this topic, there are some pretty severe consequences to being of the highest Steve Pappin priority. Essentially, all my previous work, whether it's shitty, or monumentally shitty, is readily available for other Steve Pappins to look at and mock. There may even be cases of a particular Steve Pappin being like: "WOW, this sucks, glad I'm not this Steve Pappin." This scenario has actually been a fantasy of my own on occasion, although I will admit, if i give anything i do a good couple of years to ferment, i (myself, not necessarily anyone else) can begin to appreciate the work that i once thought was monumentally shitty, and can now place it in the more appropriate: just shitty section.

for example, this little gem:

I mean, for 48 hours worth of work? We did this on no sleep! That is special effects editing I did there, people!! And, DAMN, I love that fucking haircut! Curse you, brother, for giving me the best haircut that no one paid minimum wage (plus tips) at a SuperCuts can imitate! Woe is me. Where was i? Yes, yes. Seriously, not bad for 48 hours. And after seeing the actual winners of this particular festival...i'd say we had a pretty damn good chance of snagging some bitchin awards, like Cinematography, Editing, or Best Hair Cut. Maybe even Most killer purple shirt. But don't take my word for it, see for yourself:

Now the dude who Googles his own short films is going to find this splooge, and be all: "WOW, this sucks, glad I'm not this Steve Pappin...because he's an asshole who thinks his shitty romance is better than my super hero comedy gold." Whatevs. I'm over it.

Lord, let me get back on track. Ok ok, Internet Priority...Fermenting Projects...Haircut...ah yes. Anyway, so i'm on this topic simply because i recently realized how absolutely terrible my current demo reel was. I mean, the Back to the Future worked, and there were some pretty solid shots that I don't mind being on my reel, but there were also some pretty embarrassing moments that really made me look bad. And I was all: "wait, demo reels aren't supposed to make you look BAD, so clearly, something must be done." This bad demo reel was also accompanied by a pretty awful looking website that took forever to load and didn't really serve much purpose. So, I popped both of those pussy...pussy? pus-ee. Like pimples. Man, is that a word? And how have I not come across this literary problem before this point? You can't make the word pus an adjective without encountering an awkward situation in which you don't know how to spell it without embarrassing your mother...huh.

I popped both of those internet pimples **full of pus** from existence. (That simply doesn't sound as good, but I got better shit to talk about) I've since begun the reconstruction of

www.stevepappin.com

it's hip. it's minimalist. it's universal. it's impossible to edit because i don't have a PC! You'll notice the original template first. It's a red explosion of sorts, before my image covers it. Yeah. Pain in the ass, I know. From there, you can view my new and improved demo reel! It's hip. it's minimalist. it's universal. it doesn't make me look like an idiot! Maybe it does. Dunno.

This reconstruction will lead me into my new life as an Angelino, where my dreams of making movies that inspired much conversation in the midwest, are what make me a boring cliche in a city of 10 million others just. like. me! Gone are the easy days where I could strike up conversation with someone based solely on the fact that they're wearing a Back to the Future shirt. Now, I have to spend more time lying about what I do to people sporting "People Who Make Movies Fucking Suck" shirts...this, and the entire city of LA seems to be comprised primarily of people who are my age and came to this city to follow their dreams...but all this happened 10 years ago. Now, they're hot parents with hip babies who tend to be very bitter towards me.

In terms of work, there seems to be some of it. Once you get it, it's very easy to get more and more. But only if you're a young, cute, female, and it helps if you don't really need the work because your parents are loaded...that tends to get you lots of work. Whoa..is that me being bitter? I'm afraid to turn around for fear of there being a baby with a better haircut than me and a sexy wife waiting for me to take her to the farmers market...where is someone younger than me that I can berate? Just joshin'.

Honestly, LA is treating me pretty damn well. I eat organic and the corner store has glass bottle cokes. There is a hill I chill on nearby with a great skyline and walking trails. Dodgers Stadium is right down the block, and my Toyota Pickup is fucking awesome. There are mountains on my drive to the store, and pupusas at every Saturdays Farmers Market (the girl recognizes me now). Work comes steadily enough to keep knocking out months worth of rent and my music library is consistently growing. I get lots of sun and apparently smell pretty damn good.....I've never felt more like a speck of dust.

episode 6.003: Steve, Meet Chickens, Chickens, Devour Steve

Annie would want me to post this...can't put it on Facebook, because that would be too narcissistic for my liking...maybe someday she can...

Background: my second day on the farm, and the first time I volunteered to feed the chickens.

Mission: Get the Layers (brown) out of the Broilers (white) pen. I'm pretty sure while Ben and Annie were away, the chickens weren't well fed, because I've never seen them so vicious since I took over the job...

episode 6.021: Pappin Pizza Night: Belize Edition

I thought it would be a great idea to make some pizza in the jungle, seeing as how I was pretty much done with the usual rice, beans, chicken, and whatever else. So, since we had (most) of the right ingredients, I began the Pappin Pizza Night....or maybe I should say Day...because it certainly took the entire second half of Monday..Anyway: here begins the adjusted and improvised recipe for

Pappin Pizza Night: Belize Edition

First of all, i was told that the cuisinart we had at the house would work for dough. That was misinformation. After about a minute of simply moving around flour. The "decision" was made to hand knead the flour into dough...then the rest of my day disappeared. We added the yeast concoction, and the rest is history...

and then...the realization sets in. The consequences of my choice to be chef for the night came crashing down...

15 minutes later...

to end all montages:

Finally, i reached a point where the dough seemed to resemble that which mom used to pull from her Cuisinart. However, the issue of my hands practically becoming a part of the dough was a little disconcerting. Had I killed the yeast? Was the night doomed to experience a crispy crust pizza? Dunno. What I did know is that we had no pizza sauce, and I had to run to the Chinese to get some more tomatoes for enough sauce. We placed the bowl with damp cloth in the sun and ran out to get some coca-cola (an absolute must with pizza) and tomato paste, praying that the dough will have risen by the time we get back. Well...as you can imagine, after all that kneading, sweatiness, and probably a little blood, the dough was...

BEAUTIFUL!! Risen wonderfully. TAKE THAT, SKEPTICS! So, next was the sauce concoction. I started strong with pureed tomatoes, and some tomato paste (which was all the Chinese had). Then, out of absolute ignorance and desperation, I frantically began throwing in whatever I thought might work. I'll try and recall as much as I can, but I'm pretty sure Steve Pappins Pizza Sauce Concoction looks a little something like this:

1 Can of Peeled Whole Tomatoes

1 1/2 Packets of Tomato Paste (for consistency)

3 cloves of garlic, (smashed as best as you can, but large clumps of garlic adds character, and a fun little mini game of fishing them out later)

8 leaves of chopped basil

Silver Dollar pile of diced onions (against moms orders, sorry mom)

Smidgen of Salt

Fleckle of Pepper

Heres where things get weird:

Sprinkling x3 of Sugar

2 Glooples of Honey

No Oregano (because I don't have the nerve to borrow from the neighbors)

More tomato paste just because

Taste, then add more of whatever you can find. Let sit on back burner.

Apply to rolled out dough:

So, the next step in the process is to slowly realize that everyone around you would much prefer a lot of vegetables on their pizza, so at this point you must collect whatever you can find and have your sister sautee them as quickly as possible. Slowly apply cheese to stall while vegetables cook. Be sure to add too little cheese, so you're required to apply more mid-baking. Then, apply vegetables bitterly to whole pizza, realizing that you probably won't enjoy your first pizza because it has been tainted by chunks of supposedly nasty vegetables. Oh well. At least it looks good:

Insert into oven, being sure to mention 550 degree temperature that your mom recommended, and have everyone scoff. Then try and figure out how hot 250 celsius is in fahrenheit...consider it close enough, and close door. Be sure to open the door every 6-7 minutes in impatient anticipation, and butter the crust, just like Breadeaux does, because breadeaux is awesome. Remove from oven when pizza looks DAMN SEXY. See below for visual representation:

As seen above, place pizza on visually appealing platter for additional flair. Inevitable masses will begin to hover around due to smell and hunger, and prepare for insisted documentation of your glorious event, and all those who wish to devour your masterpiece. Again, visual representation:

(smile awkwardly big and remember, YOU are the hero)

set the table and cut with scissors, due to lack of pizza cutter, and watch others enjoy, because you're busy fixing and putting in the second pizza, which will arrive late enough to be considered "second dinner". Drink cokes and bask in the glory you have earned.

They loved it, by the way. Some considered it the best meal they've had in Belize. My thanks go out to my mom, Kraft Mozzerella Cheese, for exporting to Central America, and my bloody knuckles.

Success.

episode 6.018- dinner

What happens when you decide to stay an extra month in the jungle.
Tasty.

episode 6.015- Does that smell like a new chapter?

Well well well. Another page turned in my life. Steve Pappin = College graduate. Bachelors of Science in Film and Television Production. Full Sail is a thing of the past, as it will remain for quite some time. Until they invite me back to revel in my acquired glory. Bam.

Here I am in Belize. If I hadn't extend my trip, I would be on a flight home right now, probably about to land in snowy Cedar Rapids. However, I'm here for another week, and we hit the Cayes (kees) this weekend. I told you I would try and blog as much as possible, which I have been doing, only through facebook, then I realized that some of you have given up on the whole facebook thing, and since it is very likely that Annie and Ben have broken down on the road about 10 miles out (fairly certain the clutch went out on them, since it was going out on me earlier today, and they should have been back over an hour and a half ago), I could be alone here in the jungle as the light fades for quite a while, so here I am to give you a crash course in my last 2 weeks out of the United States of Amurica. Check it.

We arrived in Cancun, Mexico on a Sunday. There were a lot of tourists, and we promptly got on a bus to Playa Del Carmen. I do not deny that this was a good choice. You hear a lot about Cancun, but all it amounts to is a strip of very expensive, kitschy (word of the day) hotels with pools that have "ocean views." Playa del Carmen is still pretty touristy, but a little better than Cancun. Anyway. It was Super Bowl Sunday, so the most American bars (those that served buffalo wings and french fries) were the most packed, and the ones that didn't serve those things only had Super Bowl en Espanol...so, that was a little difficult. It started with 2 Tecates, which is this relatively tasty Mexican beer. We ordered some "tacos" and what arrived was some dry pork wrapped in a thick tortilla....what is this bullshit? Where is my lettuce? Beans? Tomato? I mean I wasn't expecting any Potato Oles, but C'MON! Not even any red sauce. This pissed me off. So, we ditched that bar with the Spanish commentators and shitty tacos. However, the rest of the night I was in search of more Tecate, and no one else seemed to have it. Whenever I would ask, they would chuckle and say "oooh, no Tecate" what is this? You don't serve Mexican Beer in mexico? Or is it like an inside joke, Tecate is the Natural Ice of the Yucatan peninsula? I don't know, but I wasn't in on the joke, and this upset me. Mind you, at this point my head was getting pretty heavy, so I didn't care much AT ALL. At the next place we drank more (mother, close your eyes, father, sorry :D) And before I knew it we were on a beach cheersing tequila. Definitely my first tequila experience, and I ended up sucking on a lime a lot longer than most would consider "manly."

The beaches are very pretty.

But there is no easy snorkeling, which is my primary goal when in the ocean. On the plane ride in, I watched a bunch of dolphins playing in the Caribbean just off Cancun's beaches. That was a nice introduction to Mexico. Then you hit the bars and their tacos are a joke. Of course, there is always the possibility that I didn't venture inland enough, and I wasn't eating what you might call "indigenous tacos" But honestly, give me Tex Mex any day, mmm-mmm.

Okay, moving on. So. I'm pretty sure the rest of Playa Del Carmen was the same. Hit the beach the next day, got burnt. Splotchy burnt. The kind of burnt you get when you apply sun tan lotion as if it were done by your overly excited dog...that was unfortunate. You have to be careful with Playa, because you can find some pretty cool places stuffed back in the corner, but if you follow the main flow you arrive at Papa Johns and Converse shoes, which is a bit of a blow to it's authenticity, and you wonder if you're really experiencing another country or just safely wandering through one of the many splotches of the American Tourist Empire.

Eventually we got on a bus for Belize City. This was a 9 hour bus ride with the first leg playing Spanish Dubbed Premonition with Sandra Bullock. Oi vey. Not the kind of movie you want to watch for the first time in another language. That and Martian Child with John Cusack. Sheesh. I also noticed that the actors available for Spanish dubbing must not be very expansive, because I'm fairly certain that the voices used for John Cusack and Sandra Bullock's dead husband were the same dude...and another thing: can't they get someone with a REALISTIC sounding voice? Is that too much? Not all White American men with brown hair sound like they can perform the bass portion to any devastatingly dramatic opera, ya know.

We got to the border, and as we were funneling off the bus at the border to get supposedly get our passports stamped, some dude comes out of nowhere and tells us that we don't have to get off the bus.

So, of course, I don't.

Myself, and about 6 other tourists of other countries walk back to their seats and the dude demands us to give him $20 U.S. to cross the border.

So, of course, I do.

Then, after a subtle signal from the bus driver (tapping his watch with an eye on the border patrol) the dude bolts before gathering his next 30 dollars from Ben, and some other money from tourists who put up a fight.

So, of course, I've been fucked.

Lost 20 bucks, and most likely, when I return to Cancun via Water Taxi, the Mexicans will demand another 50 dollars for not getting my passport departure stamped on the way to Belize. Oi. Annie had a very hard time grasping the con she was just exposed to. I caught on relatively quick. What are you going to do? Lesson learned: No matter how bad of an idea it may seem, always go to the guys with automatic assault rifles to do your official business, and never listen to random dudes who insist on making things more "convenient" for you...

After passing some shopping malls at the border of Mexico, we pass in to Belize, and immediately there is a change in scenery. You certainly wouldn't find any shopping malls in this country. The bus we're on now certainly isn't as impressive as the last bus showing Sandra Bullock movies, and it also contains the shady bus driver that deals with gypsies ripping of tourists. We stop outside a school or something, and a bunch of people pile on. One gentleman sits down beside me, and then a family with a husband, wife, and child get on. We travel down the road a bit before it becomes apparent that I'm sitting next to the "chivalrous gentleman" He taps me on the shoulder and says: "I'm going to let the lady sit" Oh sure! That sounds good, way to go man! So I awkwardly stand in the aisle, where other Belizians are already standing, and he let's the mom sit down. I think all is settled, and I sort of make my way back to my seat, when from about waist level her son pops up, his big brown eyes looking at me. Of course. He just looks at me. I look to his mom. This feels like a century, but surely it happened in a microsecond. Then I pause and make it look like I was simply shifting my weight (when i was actually making my way back to my comfortable seat that I'd been sitting in for the past 7 hours.

"well, are you going to sit?" I say.

He gives me a big smile and I feel good about myself, until I realize that I might be standing in this aisle for the next 2 hours of this trip. I simply make Annie scoot over (much to Ben's dismay) and we spend the rest of the ride like this. It just figures that I get stuck next to the gentleman. Sure, I perhaps I should have been the one to sacrifice his seat, but hey, man, I'd been on that bus for the past 7 hours, and I was tired.

We got off the bus at the Burrell Boom junction. The weather is nice and the air is pleasant. After a couple minutes, a school bus arrives and picks us up for our trek to Bermuda Landing, then to Rancho Dolores. If you'd like an adventure/crash course in Creole Linguistics, I highly suggest bumming a ride on a Belizian school bus. Apparently there was a very long conversation about gambling on Cricket matches, but all I could pick up was "Saturday."

That bus dropped us off at the last bus stop on the way to Rancho Dolores. He promised the arrival of a White and Black bus that would take us to Rancho, but I was a little skeptical. Lo and behold, that white and black bus did show up, and it was another 15 minutes of dirt roads until we reached a half built bridge over a very still river. Everyone got off here, and there was another 2 mile walk back to our farm. Thankfully, Raymond, a tour guide here, was there to pick up his son Rickman (er something) so we got another ride all the way to the farm where a bunch of people awaited our arrival with Chicken Tamales. This was to be my first "Belizian Food Experience" so, I made sure to quickly finish my Belikin Stout (the official beer of Belize, very tasty) and unwrapped the giant steamy pile of corn and stewed chicken. Woo. I did fairly well eating the chicken, and could enjoy the corn sauce. But as soon as the chicken was finished, I was floundering as I sifted through the clumps of tortilla in search of something with a little consistency. Otherwise it was like a warm baby food. Very tasty, I'm sure, but too much of that one texture begins to tickle the gag reflex, and the last thing I want is to drop my jaw and uncontrollably bellow as I fight back vomit. It's a mental thing, really.

It was a very enjoyable meal, otherwise. Lots of smiling faces and lantern light. Very peaceful. I was already very much into the idea of Belize. That night I fell asleep on the couch with a comforter and fully clothed. This was a bad idea. Within hours, I was sleeping in a puddle of my own sweat. Unfortunately, I couldn't simply throw off the comforter, for the bugs had found me and knew that I was a fresh, sugar filled blood suck prime for the sucking. So, I had to keep the comforter over my head, but even then they would manage to wiggle their way under and surf my ear canal with their high pitched buzzings. Oi.

After those couple of days it was a lot of driving into town to either get vehicles, food, gas or whatever else was necessary. I was very quick to discover Sugar Coca Cola in glass bottles, which was fantastic. We gathered bagels and cream cheese, some Macaroni and even some Froot Loops. However, I've been able to eat most of what was cooked. A lot of chicken. Recently, a French couple arrived and offered to cook Ratatouille...which was interesting. Apparently the one piece of vegetable I discovered I could stomach turned out to be Zucchini, which I thought was surely my ultimate nemesis when it came to vegetable adversaries. I piled them off to the side, and picked one at a time whenever the French cook would look at me, almost offended that so much remained on my plate. She did seem relieved when I would stuff the watery squishy cube into my mouth.

Sleep has been rough these past couple of days. The howler monkeys have moved in close, and a rabid dog has been circling the perimeter of the farm, which bugs the hell out of the dogs here, so they bark all night. Then the rooster feels it necessary to join in on the chaos, so he cock-a-doodles any time things start to settle down. Man, it gets noisy. But the rabid dog is gone, and i believe the howlers have moved on, so quiet nights might return. I have more to say about going west towards Guatemala, but this post has gotten exceedingly large, so I'll spare you until later.

Keep in touch!

Episode 5.834- Sneak Preview

Not much here. But perhaps a taster for things to come? Yesh.

Episode 5.833- My Calling?

I've been spending most of my day working on final project for audio
post production. I've been spending most of the last week in a state
of the art dub stage helping audio post finish Box 304. I think I
really like audio post... A lot. The difference sound makes in a
production is monumental. Box 304 is almost a whole new movie. You
simply can't ignore power like that.

Production sound is cool, but it's nothing to being a sound editor.
I'm digging it.

Episode 5.765- Finishing Touches

So, I've been visiting the dub stage to help with the soundtrack for
Box 304, and since I want to get back into splooging for my trip to
Belize, I thought I might post an update for all you dry mouths out
there... Plus, I'm doing all this from my iPhone, so it adds a certain
novelty to the whole process...don't hate my yuppie tendencies these
days...

I of course asked how badly I could mess up the entire project by simply fiddling with whatever I could find, and they just sighed..

Pretty cool stuff. Finally I get to use something they actually showed us on the tour. Month 21 of 21...classy.

S. PAPPIN 02/07/10 Itinerary

It's official. I'm going.