SAG Eligible Actor with Demo Reel
Actor Reel
Those Lips Trailer (Director/Editor) “Teammates” Trailer LATEST: Tagged on Accident sketch The Cheesestick Adventure Disconnection (DIY Film Festival 2013 Winner: Best Dramatic Short) Filmmaker ReelDISCONNECTION is also now on NUVOtv’s NU POINT OF VIEW: Steven Krimmel/Kristine Gerolaga Interview
Donkey Kong Bladder
A lot of kids have the experience of pissing their pants in public at least once. I’m talking about the “post-potty training” elementary school years.
It’s embarrassing because you think you’ve done all the required training, you have the skills to hold your shit in, but you can’t help yourself and you end up feeling like you haven’t grown at all.
The only time I pissed my pants in public was deliberately. Of my own free will.
The year is 1994, I’m 6 years old, and I’m in Toys “R” Us playing the shit out of Donkey Kong Country on the Super Nintendo Entertainment System kiosk. It was amazing.
The graphics. The epic soundtrack. The buddy system gameplay. I loved it. At that moment I became passionate about all things Donkey Kong.
I also happened to drink a lot of Diet Coke beforehand, so I was holding it in. I became too caught up in the game that I decided I was not going to ask to go to the restroom even though I knowingly had to go. I thought, “Fuck it. I’m going to beat this mine cart level and then piss my pants.” And then I do it. For real.
And I was barely 6-years-old, so I don’t think I actually thought “fuck it.” But it was definitely the feeling of “fuck it.”
And my Mom gets pissed (angry), makes me feel ashamed, but it wasn’t a traumatizing experience at all. I anticipated her anger and I knew I was going to get a bad spanking, but it was oh so worth it. It was me and Donkey Kong for life.
So if you’re willing, if you’re open, amenable, to piss your pants publicly in order to do what you love. Then you’re doing the right thing. Thankfully I learned to piss before doing things of importance, so I will not piss my pants right now to prove a point.
My defiant act of urinating in public was a truly memorable experience. And so was the experience of Donkey Kong Country.
And Donkey Kong Country 2: Diddy’s Kong Quest and Donkey Kong Country 3: Dixie Kong’s Double Trouble!
Just all of them. The new ones are great too.
Mama Drama
Writing from 2 and a half years ago when I was in a long-distance relationship:
My mother… interferes in other people’s drama. She thrives on it.
Somebody’s teenage kid gets arrested or into drugs, somebody is cheating on somebody else, my mother wants in on all that gossip. She wants to know “how she can help” when it’s none of her business. This includes my own problems that really should not be any of her concern. I get into this fight with my girlfriend a few days ago at my parents’ place. My mom takes notice.
My girlfriend and I have short tempers, so we go all out like the trashiest of trash. “F*** you. F*** you. Go f*** yourself. Go f*** your mother.” That’s when my Mom comes in. Perfect timing and almost a planned entrance. She breaks through a ceiling window like Batman and then all of a sudden it’s a sitcom.
Mother:”I heard someone call my name!”
*APPLAUSE*
She sees we’re both mad as hell. I’m a grown man (I tell myself), but my mother will literally push my girlfriend’s face toward mine to try and get us to kiss and make up. Telling us to “make peaces” with her thick Nicaraguan accent. To hug it out. Saying stuff like “Oh Steven, don’t make me cry.” To up the drama. And my girlfriend and I are still both mad at each other, so we still won’t do it after my mom says that. It’s like my girlfriend and I are little kids. Like brother and sister even. My mom pushes us closer and we’re moving our heads away. “No! I don’t want to!” But my Mom is persistent and won’t let this go until we hug.
It’s the most sexless hug I could ever give to someone I have sex with.
Pop Culture Enthusiast and Klutz
From a year and a half ago:
My brother LOVES comics. I do too, but he collects them. And as a collector he likes to keep everything in great condition. He keeps toys in packages, but of course has another set to play with. He also keeps his comics wrapped up in their mylar sleeves, acid-free backing boards, and corrugated storage boxes. And he kicks my nuts anytime I lose a backing board or bend a sleeve because even though that’s not the comic itself, the protection needs to be protected as well. So he’s cautious when he lets me borrow stuff because I have the tendency to just stuff those things in my backpack. I’m dangerous…
The other day I was looking at the “Severed” graphic novel at the S******* bookstore in Los F****, that just so happened to be signed by one of the most famous comic book writers of today, Scott Snyder. He’s fucking amazing. His “Batman: Court of Owls” run is amazing if you comic folk haven’t read it. I hold the book open with one hand and with my other hand begin to take a picture of the autograph on my phone to send my brother. As I do this… I bend the first page of the autographed book because I dropped my phone and quickly caught it with the hand that was holding the graphic novel page open.
This is a perfect condition autographed comic book except for one bent page next to the autograph. Who wouldn’t that bother? When I sneaked (or snuck. I think snuck sounds better) out of the bookstore, I did so wrenched in guilt. I am so, so, so, so, so SORRY Scott Snyder. And to the bookstore. Please forgive me. Seriously.
I think we all get a little OCD about those things. If I had continued to purchase that graphic novel (A graphic novel I already had and read. It’s really good.), I would’ve been haunted and tortured by that bent page. There have been too many occasions in my past where I had opened up a DVD/video game box that I had cared about and and as I was taking off the wrapper I made a deep scratch or little opening in the plastic cover. This results in me staring at my mistake for hours (or weeks) and am too ashamed to trade out the recent DVD purchase for another one (My Kill Bill Vol 2…).
Another reason why my brother deservedly wants to kick me in the nuts: There are so many comic books to catch up on and I read them while at work or on set. I can sleep anywhere though, so when I’m tired and comfortable, I will knock out. Which I have, with a borrowed comic book in hand, and the consequence is me letting it fall right into the mud. I’m just a mess… Continue to judge me.
I don’t collect like my brother, but I did used to collect and let my friends borrow movies. I liked to share what I love too. Back when no one was streaming and we only shared physical copies of them. Lots of DVDs and VHS tapes.
But sometimes, when someone was unsure if they were going to make the time to watch the movie, they would try to return the DVD to me. But I was insistent on not letting them return it until it was seen… So I never got a few back.
This includes losing a DVD copy of The Crow that was actually my brother’s and not mine… I am a shitty brother. This shittiest. Everyone has a right to judge me harshly right now. Other than these incidences, I’m a pretty standup guy. Or I try really hard to be.
My brother really got on my ass about getting him another copy of The Crow. This was 8 years ago. I saw a copy of it the other week on Blu-Ray and I thought I’d get it for him as a surprise bonus Christmas gift. So I get it to him and apparently he already bought it on Blu-ray himself. He bought it on Black Friday with some other movies and even told me about it… Not only that, but 6 years ago, apparently I had already gotten him a replacement copy of The Crow on DVD. And I ALSO didn’t notice that it was the French translation of The Crow. The French version of the title and synopsis were on the front and back of the box cover art… I just didn’t notice… Because I’m a fuckup. And a lucky bastard to have such a forgiving brother. Love you, man.
Update: My brother has a graduation ceremony from San Jose State at the end of the month. I can get him The Crow as a graduation gift? Thoughts?
Fart Shame
All the kids were gathered on the carpet and sat cross-legged for kindergarten story time. My teacher called sitting cross-legged “Indian style” and I don’t know if that politically incorrect term is still being used in kindergarten classrooms today, but I’m going to give my non-white teacher a pass.
And when some kid uncontrollably began to (or decided to) fart in the middle of story time, everyone turned around and disgustedly responded “Ewww!” in order to make the farter feel immense shame. The farter was the one who did not turn around with the others. That was always the case.
But when I was the culprit, I turned around along with the rest of them because it threw the other kids off. They never knew and will never know it was me. I felt pretty smart for pulling that off, but it didn’t stop me from feeling immense shame.
My dumbass third grade self had an embarrassing strategy for avoiding fart shame. I carried this strategy on through the rest of my elementary school years and I still reminisce and regret. I’d fart and I’d be sure or unsure if someone had heard me, so to cover my ass I’d make fart noises with a chair or with my mouth for a ridiculously extended period of time. I had to bring attention to myself in order to show everyone that I most definitely did not fart and that I enjoyed being obnoxiously interruptive by making immature fart noises.
I was always unsure if I convinced anyone, so I would overcompensate. I wanted and needed to convince my peers that this is the kind of noise I made all the time.
When I notice someone else make fart noises with their mouth after hearing something that I’m pretty sure is indeed a fart, and I smell it too, I know that this foolish noisemaking is a cover-up. And I judge them.
Tangent: I’m at Comic-Con waiting in line and I see some girl trip and fall. I mean, it wasn’t that embarrassing because people accidentally trip and stumble out of clumsiness all the time. Especially at Comic-Con. It was nothing to feel ashamed about… Sort of. I, personally, would probably be a little ashamed.
What was embarrassing was the fact that this girl acted like it was worse than it was. I witnessed the seconds of thought-process it took for her to realize that she should cover-up her embarrassment of falling by acting like she sprained her ankle or some shit. I felt bad for the boyfriend who was going along with her act as the girl pretended to not be able to stand up for a good 5 minutes. She wasn’t a particularly gifted actress too. The boyfriend was just befuddled because there was absolutely no way she fucked her shit up like how she “acted” like she fucked her shit up.
So I’m calling that girl out. And everyone who sucks at covering up their shameful acts. I’m not stopping you from being ashamed because you probably should feel some sense of it. I know I would. Just don’t lie to me.
Save Me From Hell or Saved By The Bell
Writing from 2 years ago and before moving into a new place:
Sometimes I just want to be left alone. I don’t want to bother anyone, so that way they don’t bother me.
At the house I currently reside, I don’t even want to talk to my roommates. I don’t want to see them, I don’t want to know them, and I would like to be told in advance when they’re going to be at our place so I don’t have to accidentally run into them.
So far, so good. I get to go home and be left to myself. No established relationships and therefore no possible drama.
But I have this roommate that causes me a lot of internal drama. He watches a lot of TV and he watches a lot of the same TV. I mean the guy does not branch out… because it’s Seasons 1-4 of “Saved By The Bell” over and over again. He doesn’t want to move on to The College Years or The New Class. Or even the TV movie. So I think I’m in the minority when I say that I’ve grown to fucking hate that beloved show of the 90s.
I’m sure it has some rewatch value, but not as much as my roommate lets on. What makes it worse is that he’ll just leave it on the DVD main menu and let that theme song run and run and run and run. And because it’s the menu, what’s going to play is not the whole damn theme song but the same small portion of it. I’m trying to sleep or get work done and bleeding through his door is “When I wake up in the morning And the alarm gives out a warning And I don’t think I ever make it on time. By the time I grab my books And I give myself a look I’m at the corner just in time to see the bus fly by.” And it’s not alright because I’m SLEEPING.
And I’m one of those people that have those reoccurring dreams where they’re still in school, haven’t graduated yet, and is taking their finals. And I’m still having those dreams. Except now it’s at Bayside High School and I’m stuck there and can never leave.
I’m not sure if he’s asleep or busy and letting it run. But maybe he just loves that theme song so damn much and has to leave it on the DVD menu loop until he’s satisfied. Just sitting in his chair, nodding along, lip-syncing it out, says to himself, “Wow. That was great. I just cannot get enough of the brilliant ‘Saved By The Bell’ theme music composed by Scott Gale.” Or he’s out of the house and could give a fuck that I can hear it clear as day.
And I’m never going to find out because I don’t want to knock on his door and ask him to show some consideration and turn the volume the fuck down. Because that would mean that I have a problem with him. Therefore, we have a relationship, he knows I know his name, and that we have a problem. And any time I do something in the slightest that bothers him, he’ll think it’s out of passive aggressive revenge for the torment he’s put me through. And that’s absolutely not what I mean to do. But he’ll make damn certain I never miss that theme song out of spite and the “Saved By The Bell” cycle will never end.
I’m not out to Zack Attack this guy. I never wanted to Zack attack anyone. So I’ll deal with Zack Morris, Screech Powers, and the character that Mario Lopez plays until the day I pray comes along when he politely asks me, “Is the volume bothering you?” And I’ll reply, “What? Oh. That? Maybe a little, but don’t worry about it, dude. I can barely hear it…” Except when I wake up in the morning and the alarm gives out a warning and I think I’ll never make it on time >:)
Update: I was kidding about the above. Only pretending that I didn’t know Mario Lopez plays A.C. Slater… as if I was above that. I’m not…
Apologies To Those Who Exercise and Cook
Writing from the time when I was in a long distance relationship (2 years ago):
So I have a thing against working out. I don’t think it’s very cool. And it is strange to be biased against all that because eating right and being healthy is good for you. There is actually nothing wrong with wanting to be physically fit…
But as good as it makes those physically fit people feel, it really really does make other people feel bad. Especially when they want to eat what is supposedly and arguably shit food that actually tastes great.
Which is the lesser evil? To make people feel okay within their own skin or living a long and healthy life? I think it’s me being turned off by people who are so fucking showy.
I see someone run without their shirt on and I automatically think, “Fuck you. You think you’re better than me. Put a fuckin’ shirt on.” I’m sure they’re good people deep inside their hard chizzled exterior.
These cybernetic organisms. Living tissue over metal endoskeletons. but I’m just telling you it makes me uncomfortable… but I do it. It’s disgusting, but I work out. I pretend like I don’t, but yeah… this is like a confession for me. I don’t go to a gym. Can’t do it. It costs money and I’m surrounded by other people working out and then all of a sudden it feels competitive and I’m just not a competitive person. I need to be left alone. People don’t need to see me do that shit. I feel guilty enough doing it, so don’t judge me if I’m not doing it well.
I do it in secret. I wake up way early in the morning before any of my housemates wake up. I do a routine of push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups, basic stuff. And I’m always in a rush. I need to get all this done before anyone wakes up and leaves their rooms because I only have space to do this in the living room… Because I’m living in the living room. Now I’m always listening intently for foot steps and door knobs so I can run straight to bed like I wasn’t doing shit. Cause’ when I’m caught, I’m like a deer in headlights. And it’s odd because I’ll be right out in the open. Completely exposed. Vulnerable. You know. Feel naked, but I’m not naked. It’s just something I don’t want people to see.
I have been caught outside of someones door. I get caught on all fours heavily breathing, shoot up onto my feet, and walk quickly back to bed. I maybe mutter that “I was looking for something. Let me know if you find it. See ya. Have a good day.” I also tend to do this secret exercise routine around cooking breakfast. I’m self-conscious about cooking too (surprise, surprise), but I don’t want anyone judging if I’m cooking wrong because it’s not something I was trained to do in my youth.
I only eat when no one’s home or when everyone’s eyes are closed. And I mean that they’re sleeping. “Sometimes I wish the world was in a continuous game of hide and seek”… I just don’t want anyone watching me do it.
So I’m cooking eggs and as I’ve got eggs on the stove I start my push-ups and all the rest of those demeaning tasks. So I eat and after I do that there’s even more working out. Now the working out has to be surrounded by another activity like cooking because working out is boring. And so is cooking. I try to make good on a boring activity by putting another boring activity on top of it. They cancel each other out. So thankfully I don’t have the patience to wait for things to cook because then I’d be out of shape…
Important detail of my self-conscious exercise routine: I’m in a long-distance relationship with my girlfriend, Kristine, and I leave the Skype video chat on as we sleep overnight. She sees my alarm go off when I wake up in the morning to workout, so I tell her I’m cooking eggs and I’ll be right back. I never ever tell her I’m working out.
So when I come back to the laptop she sees me breathing heavy. I’m a pretty bad breather (whatever that means), so the breathing is really heavy. And I’m a pretty bad sweater, meaning I’m sweaty. She asks what I was doing and I just refuse, absolutely refuse to admit I’m working out. Due to this repulsion against the notion of health..
So she thinks I get crazy worked up when I cook eggs. I won’t give in and tell her, but it must look odd as shit.
Every time I rush back:
GF: “What were you doing? Jesus.”
ME: *Breathing. Breathing.* “Cereal, baby. Eating. Cereal.”
She thinks she knows what I’m doing. but she has no idea… It’s the most deceiving thing I do in this relationship.
Priests, Pilots, and Advertising
Writing from August 2013:
My Dad is a little older, a little more grumpy, and he was a little bit excommunicated from the Catholic church when he divorced from his first wife… This means you are no longer Catholic.
At least dropping Catholicism is what you’re supposed to do. Our priest didn’t let my father forget that when he was rejected from taking part in communion (eating and drinking that bread and wine). But given that my family consists of bad Catholics, my father tags along with them to church.
So we’re at the Catholic church mass for my cousin’s quinceanera and I am MIND BLOWN that this quinceanera even happened. My family doesn’t have a lot of culture and there have been no girls in my family whatsoever. Just the many boys who are either named Michael or Peter. Or Pedro. Which is Peter in Spanish.
We have 1 Pedro, 1 Peter, and maybe two Pedro/Peter “either/ors.” No Miguels though. Just Michaels. When it comes to alternate Latino names we’re not with that Miguel shit.
We had the first and only girl in my immediate family 15 years ago. This really is a family that was solely boys, so the family decided “Fuck it. We’re going for it. This 15 years of age thing is special and we should finally introduce some culture into this cultureless American-washed Nicaraguan/Peruvian family.” This resulted in the big budget quinceanera.
And (back to my dad) as the priest is going over the mass, my dad is doing mass interruption, like movie interruption and Mystery Science Theater 2000.
For the uninformed, this is someone in the audience (or a group in the audience) talking over what is usually a bad movie or what is popularly considered a bad movie. Because if it was a good movie we should all have enough respect to shut the fuck up. But we’re not talking about the church of cinema, we’re talking about “real” church.
So my dad is doing the mass interruption/mass audio commentary and he’s making comments and taking shots at the church for getting a 2 for 1 deal. It’s pretty hilarious. My Dad is vocalizing, “Wow. This priest is an opportunist! He’s relishing this moment and converting all the kids.” He thinks we are becoming less and less religious in this day and age, but quinceaneras bring all those tweens and teens into the church. A way for the Catholic church to bring in those new believers.
Not a tangent: My dad is a pilot and used to own a little Cessna plane.
He’s been taking me flying since I was a kid and that was always genuinely pretty magical. And from an early age he would always try to sell me on getting my pilot’s license because: “in this day and age, there are less and less pilots flying the friendly skies.” So many pilots are doing whatever they can to get the kids hooked while they’re young. These are the parallels of priests, pilots, and the advertising companies.
I have one more thing that actually is a tangent to tie movies and religion together: I was looking to watch Dumb and Dumber and typed it into the Netflix search bar and it gathered no results because it wasn’t available for streaming. The text below the “No results found” posed to me an interesting question: “Did you mean… Faith and Spirituality?” I’m looking for Dumb and Dumber and Netflix decides to use this as an opportunity to poke fun at religion. I’m not siding with Netflix either… I’m just telling you my Netflix search experience.
Does Netflix hate religion? Your faith and spirituality choices are the documentary Deliver Us from Evil. That movie is HAUNTING and HEART WRENCHING… And I highly recommend it.
Again, this is August 2013. Deliver Us from Evil is no longer streaming and I still highly recommend it.
