My Boring-Ass Life (Revised Edition): The Uncomfortably Candid Diary of Kevin Smith (89 page)

Years have gone by since the end of the original printing of
My Boring-Ass Life
, and years had gone by at that point, since the inception of the blog from which the book was derived — a curious development that saw the good folks at Titan dialing back the clock on our species’ greatest strides in new media communication by shaping the blog into its analogue equivalent: a book. We figured it’d sell five thousand copies at best, but look very cool on our respective shelves.

When it became a
NY Times
Bestseller, we were so flabbergasted and ill-prepared, we just about shit blood. I was no J.K. Rowling, so we really never expected the book to chart anywhere, except maybe a
Cracked.com
“8 Worst Books by Quasi-Celebs Whose Time Has Past” article. So thanks to all who bought a copy, and thanks if you bought
this
edition, too.

Some Dennis Hope moments to look forward to...

Looking back on what was, in retrospect, a year and change spent pooping and watching TiVo’ed
Simpsons
and
Law & Order,
the book closes with a two-parter about my brief acting turn as hacker Warlock in
Live Free or Die Hard
, and a post-shoot phone call from the flick’s star, Bruce Willis, asking if I’d wanna work on another flick with him, in a directorial capacity. At the close of the essay was my assessment that I don’t make Bruce Willis movies. As I write this, I’m five days away from wrapping a Bruce Willis/Tracy Morgan flick currently shooting under a title that’s sure to change (I’ve been titularly-challenged as of late):
A Couple of Dicks
.

In this updated edition, you’ll read pieces from the making of
Zack and Miri Make a Porno
, back when we had hope that it could break us out of our $30 million box office ghetto. Nearly a year after the theatrical release, that childlike naivety still embarrasses me: our theatrical grosses were far from record-breaking. So while I love
Zack and Miri
, I’m not the same guy who wrote those blog pieces; older me is much wiser (and more experienced) than year-ago me.

He’s also far more stoned. After watching
Zack
under-perform, I swapped cigarettes for marijuana and checked out of the rat race for a while, blazing like a fourteen year-old metal head. I can’t say I really re-embraced weed, because it’d never really been a big part of my life before then. My
work
, sure: I made what most folks dismissed as stoner flicks. Ironically, however, I didn’t really smoke that much before or while making them. Now? I don’t make stoner flicks anymore (Jay and Silent Bob have left the building), but I do wake-and-bake daily. And while that sounds counter-productive, consider this: while transitioning to a total burnout, I was able to land a gig directing a Bruce Willis flick for Warner Brothers, tend goal for the first time in fifteen years in a street hockey tournament, write a twelve-issue comic book mini-series, and play NY’s world renowned Carnegie Hall, selling it out. Not trying to tell people how to live their lives, but Kids? Smoking weed will
totally
improve you. Seriously. Don’t believe the hype: weed makes you
blossom
(not to mention goofy, fun and very social).

I don’t blog as much as I used to. The addictive, speedy Twitter accomplishes what the blog used to: giving folks a glimpse into my boring-ass life. I used to write volumes; now I fire off multiple missives in easy-to-digest 140-character bursts. Back in the day, I’d write ten thousand-word pieces about an anal fissure; today, I’ve built a small army of a million-plus followers typing far, far less. But fear not: one day, I’ll go back to blogging. Life is cyclical, and if you’re around long enough, you get to fall in love
again
with long-since back-burnered people and things that used to mean worlds to you. This year alone, I’ve immersed myself in all things hockey — an old passion of mine I’d been neglecting since
Clerks
kick-started my career — and got back into writing comics.

Yes, everything’s different now... as well as the exact same.

— Still only wanna fuck Jen.

— Still making movies.

— Still watching TiVo.

— Still shitting lots.

But leafing through the book now, it’s kinda quaint. The guy who wrote all those words had no idea where life was gonna take him in three short years. Now I’m kinda looking forward to the third revised edition of
My Boring-Ass Life
— if for no other reason than simply to see how (in the words of Mr. Miyagi) different-but-same life gets. So I’m gonna keep harassing Titan about updating and expanding
My Boring-Ass Life
every few years; because, like the flicks I’ve made, the book’s a little snapshot of a moment in a weird-but-wonderful life that I’m still not sure is my own. Plus, it looks cool and respectable on my shelves next to the Batman and Mysterio statues.

But what about the people out there who have zero patience? The kind of folks who flip to the end of a book and read it in advance because they can’t wait to see how it ends? If we’re really gonna just keep expanding editions of
Boring-Ass
, who knows how long it’ll be before they get to the author’s
true
end?

In deference to those who can’t wait for it, I’m going to include an extra special super bonus here: I’m gonna write my final blog entry in this edition’s Afterword. It’ll have to be post-dated when it’s eventually included in some (God-willing) very distant printing, but watch how it bring closure to what’s fast becoming a series of backdoor-books about my (boring-ass) life.

Date/Date/Datey-Date

Today, I died. All this means is my tongue won’t be in my wife’s ass this afternoon. I think.

Thanks, all, for a great ride. Please don’t fuck my wife in my absence, and when I’m buried, please reconsider
Jersey Girl
: it wasn’t that bad a flick. Have a week.

And that’s how it ends: rather anticlimactically, like the third
Matrix
flick. A fitting conclusion to a life squandered on love, laughter, family, good times with friends, bad food, good weed, and TiVo.

And for those of you wondering when I’m gonna have the decency to wrap it all up, this half-life of mine, I say “Courage”. we all know I’m not gonna live very long, so you’ll be able to move on to other interests with a satisfactory sense of completion soon enough. Because if you think I’m gonna be blogging about jerking off onto my wife’s leg while staring at her asshole when I’m fifty, you’re sadly, sadly mistaken.

...’cause I’ll be taking that year off, I mean. Rest assured, should I live to fifty-one, I’ll be back blogging about dong-flogging to a wrinkly, menopausal Jen Schwalbach brown-eye as expected.

I mean, it’s not like I have anything else worthwhile to talk about.

Kevin Smith

4 August 2009

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Z

Affleck, Ben, not being mad at
416

Banks, Elizabeth, could read Bible and make it sound charming
486

Bateman, Jason, is not Zack
475
,

drops performance clinics in movies
476

Battlestar Galactica
, ever-genius new version of
317
-
21

Black Cat
comic book series, realises has not been paid for
311

Bootchies, Snootchie, etymological history of
336

Braff, Zach, refuses to believe Kevin Smith is on phone
8

Canuck Fuck
480

Carnegie Hall, sells out
496

Chase, Chevy, loses all interest in
295

Clerks II
, 8 minute standing ovation for
410

Condoms, custom made
483

Couch, the riding of
17
,
31
,
43
,
58
,
63
,
68
,
75
,
91
,
233
,
245
,
275

D, Tenacious, admits would suck cocks of
200

Damon, Matty, genius of
485

Dawson, Rosario, discusses favorite moments in
Johnny, the Homicidal Maniac
273

Duke, Annie, accosts like crackhead looking for vial
51

Felching
336

Fetal position, Seth Rogen-induced
483

Fisher, Carrie, recites “Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi” speech from memory
408

Fissure, anal, pain of
297
-
303

Fucking dogs, being woken up early by
5
,
12

Garner, Jennifer, buys true junk food for while pregnant
169

Greedo, 12 inch dolls of
293

Griddle, The, five-hour breakfast at
52

Jersey Girl
, remembered as “that other Bennifer movie” by most
309

Jism, arching ropes of
248
, explosion of
405
,

Krispy Kreme Donuts, the stealing of
182

Lee, Stan, vs. Johnny Rotten at Poetry Event
404

Lewis, Juliette, receives massage from
206

Longoria, Eva, regrets mentioning she likes vibrators
409

Mallrats
, original opening of
263
-
72

Man boobs, refuses to show on screen
204

‘Me and My Shadow’
328
-
95

Mengele, Josef, E.T. looks like in comparison to adorableness of Wall-E
491

Mullet, bickers about with wife
69

NEH!, Mewes’s use of as verbal punctuation
331

Nose-picking
416

Ontari-asses
494

Orient, lick-master from the
419

Penetration, double, Mewes prefers
Murder She Wrote
to
353

Penile growth spurt, lack of
429

Playlist, unedited version of
444
-
50

Proctologist’s office, unexpected sighting of Sidney Poitier in
301

Pussy, opts for Peter Parker over
214

Quinnster, Harley, plays tickle monster with
168
,
171
,
177

Revenge of the Sith
, genetic predisposition to love
66

Rickman, Alan, Mewes memorizes entire script to avoid pissing off
343
-
4

Rogen, Seth, practically blown by Kevin
478

Schwalbach, Jennifer, tugs one out to nude photos of
21

Scully, face licked by
80

Sex, anal, tips on
416
-
9

Siegel, Joel, Fozzie Bear laughs at, not with
420

Skywalker Ranch, reluctance to fart in
396

SNIKT!
451

Snoogans
37

Spielberg, Steven fucking, Rosario

Dawson chooses his camp over next movie by ‘donkey show guy’
473

Springsteen, Bruce, willingness to take bullet for
208

Strip Clubs, perils of
397
-
401

Sweat, fat-ass, visible from space
37

Talk-backers, AICN, fireside chat with
278

Tarantino, Quentin, bullshits with
140

Tetris, plays while taking a dump
210
,
216
,
217
,
223
,
231
,
236
,
247

Threesomes, fall-out from being involved in
312

TiVo, aka “The ‘Vo”
most pages
2
-
321

Tongue, once could reach tip of cock with
493

Veronica Mars
, falls in love with
249