Running Scared - Online Game Preview
or - Presenting a free online game where you can eat box

For those who don't already know, I work for a production company here in L.A. We have a movie coming out on February 23 called Running Scared. Its directed by Wayne Kramer who also directed the fantastic film The Cooler. It's a good movie and evidentially, its gonna be even a better online game.

Check out the shitty interview on the link below. It's from entertainment website ign.com. The interviewer is crap but that's not what's amazing about it. Things get very interesting about 2 min. 30sec into the spot....please watch. This game is going to be a internet phenomena, not so much for the gameplay but for the advancement of online beef diving. This game, I warn you, will be for the 17 and older set, which, as we all know, is fantastic.

Click here to watch one hell of an interview with a surprise twist.

Running Scared Trailer

Chinese Food Last Evening- By Jeff Mauro



Today I will most likely shit blood.


-jeff mauro

A MILLION LITTLE REECE'S PIECES.

An exerpt from the gripping new Memoir* by JeffMauro

The Hondo rattled over the empty street. It was A.M. I knew that from the croissandwich crumbs on my vest and the frosting on my cheek. My watch was gone.
Please hold on just one day. One. Day. Said my Tummy.
The Tummy. It was still there. Good.
The driver? The driver was blurry. FOCUS. FOCUS. There he is. It was my daddy.

We are we going?
TO THE ZOO.
Zoo?
Yes piggy.
Dad was mad.

Sleep coming fast.
I pick at the crumbs on my vest, dip them in the frosting chunks on my cheeck and put them in my mouth. JUST. ONE. BITE
The bite was indeed a bite but not like the biting that was done last night. BITES. DONE. RIGHT.
The fuzz started erasing from my mind like a fudge factory fog that lifts into the horizon. Last night was a reality. Sleep. Dream

ME. Two buckets of rib tips. Cupcakes with egg. cheese. cheese. bacon. I can't feel my toes but I feel it slide down my gullet. Dizzy, things getting hazy again. I need a boost. A lift. Something to make me normal again. Please Dad.
No. Son.

I awake. I was full a minute ago. This moment. I am famished.
I check for more crumbs, frosting, spit laced with last nights turkey sub. All Gone.

I want a sandwich. I want an Enormous Sandwich
I want cavatelli in a vodka sauce. I want to actually do a jackknife into a turtle pool filled with cavatelli in vodka sauce. I Need Salami. A whole salami that the length of a clipper ship. I want to sail my salami in a river of mustard. No Skipper. Not enough for Skipper. Just me and my Salami ship.

Dad, I need to stop by the market.
No Son.
Dad, I need to stop by the market.
No, Son.
Dad, I will crush you.
Yes Son.

White Hen Pantry was bright in terms of light and emotion. Dad watched in the wings as I filled my arms with snowballs, kippered beef steak, dove bars, generic cheetoes, frozen patty melt. not time to reheat.

Dad paid. I ran. Into the car to inhale my oxygen. The frozen patty melt went first. Downed. Cold and hard. Congeled frozen globules of fat melted in my BUSTED mouth.
GONE.

Snowball. Gone. Generic Cheetoes. Gone. Beef Steak. Gone. Dove Bar. Saved. For later.
Content, filled and complete I gazed out the window at the passing limbs and branches of trees I have not seen before.

We ain't going to the Zoo Dad, are we?

No Son. We ain't.

I sat back in my seat, stared back out the window and fell asleep. On my Dove Bar. With Almonds.

This was the first chapter of Jeff's new Memior. More excerpts to follow.

* DISCLAIMER. Despite some editing and name changes, all content in "A MILLION LITTLE REESE'S PIECES" is indeed truth. If you don't believe me, please see the PROOF BELOW to see what the main character USED TO LOOK LIKE. SCROLL DOWN.


AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Jeffrey with Random German Dude. Thats not alcohol
in his hand folks. Thats EggRoll juice.

Introduction of the Weekly Top Six List.

I am a man attracted to many things. Breakfast, Sticker Books, Cash, and Boobies. But most of all, my absolute favorite thing is a Top Ten List. Therefore, today I am creating a top six list and will make this a frequent Friday Special here on jeffmauro.com. Why Top Six? Because Six is a far superior number to Ten and it was also the name of my breakdancing crew in grade school. Ahhh, I can smell the crew now...........

Jugbone: "you'all bastards part of the Top Six Crew."
Jeffrey: "you know we is, so quick bitchin Jugbone."
Jugbone: "Lets break"

Top Six Crew. Circa 1986

Please trust that I am indeed a great authority on most topics relating to food, music, and dance. Feel free to rebut my gospel, just don't expect me to cave in. Remember, I am a charter member of the Top Six Crew and should not be tested.

Today's Top Six List:

TOP TEN MENU ITEMS WITH COMICAL NAMES THAT NO ONE EVER ORDERS:


6) Steak Diane
This culinary wonder was hit back in the old days of Gimlets and Flapjacks. Today it is simply a queerish item to be ordering, especially in the presence of a lady.



5)Beef Wellington
I have enjoyed this in the past, I will admit that. However, I would not recommend ordering this dish when there is no designated driver. Why? Because it is essentially battered steak and the human system can't tolerate such a combo.



4)Shrimp Tasty Sizzle
This goes for any Chinese dish involving mangled English descriptions within the title i.e. chicken happy joy, crunchy lobster fun, or 100 wishes beef with brown sauce.



3) Clam Sandwich
Believe you me, this is not a wise choice when you got a hankerin' for clam based cuisine. My Papi used to tell me "Ahh, to mix the bread slice with ye mollusk is to yield thee devil into the boat." Word Papi. Word.



2) Pudding
Especially banana pudding. When faced with dilemma of ordering a gobby bowl of funky pudding or a molten chocolate cake with handmade gelato and candies galor, you should always go with the latter. Pudding is for the dinner table at home and/or special babies with dirty faces.



1) Clams Casino
Clearly you all guessed this minutes ago. Have I ever tasted Clams Casino? No, but I can assure you they are not delicious. Casino's are very fun. Clams are questionable. Together they are a precursor to a arduous sweaty night of shitting blood.



There you have it. The inaugural Friday Top Six List. If you talk shit, see what happens

CLICK ME TO SE MY CREW'S POTENTIAL

Good Morning all. Third big day for me. Hope you enjoyed my article yesterday, it was very difficult to be so frank and open. But I am sure you all understand that this is how I do business. Do not expect me to be some kind of fluff writer or bunny tamer. I am a man. A strong robust man.

Also, please allow me to apologize for any grammatical and spelling errors. Until I can afford a editor, you will have to deal with my mediocre technical level. Spelling has never been easy for me. Hell, I even remember how I lost the big third grade spelling bee. Lets take look.....

Teacher: Alright Jeffrey, your word to spell is Kite. Go.
Jeffrey: Kite. C. I. T. E. Kite
Teacher: You chubby fuckstick. Please leave.
Jeffrey: Whore.
Teacher: What did you just call me Jeffrey?
Jeffrey: Whore. H.O.R.E. Whore.
Teacher: Lets make love.
Jeffrey: Yes mam'.


All true. I swear.

Check out this Jeffrey rocking a spelling bee so hard, he takes a hard dip. CLICK ME.

Commuting Bliss-
or (How I learned to love my Hondo Accordo)

*Signifies brilliant footnote below

My car is a 2000 Hondo Accordo. 4 Doors. Rough grey leather seats. Sun Roof. Crusty ass floor mats, and a stunning passenger-side quarter panel dent that I refuse to repair. He* is a supple road goat who guides me in my daily battle verse an imbecilic squadron of California** roadtards. Like a pudding snake, Hondo weaves in and out of traffic with such prowess that big sunglass wearing trucker hat hoes can't help but to lick there chops. Sometimes I drive so hard and cool that I require a pre-turn palm licking to ensure maximum hand to steering wheel grip. This move may seem excessive to some, but for me, it is a daily necessity in my constant street fight. Before yous' guys begin calling me sally pants, please understand that my commute averages an hour each way. Now some of you back in the Chi that commute into the City from Aurora, Joliet or some other boon factory might be faced with a comparable jog. Sure, you too are in the car for an hour or more but unlike me, distance is covered. My ass goes 14.7 fucking miles in one hour. GAY. See below for a detailed google map of my route.

A stupid 14.7 miles in one hour. Mr. McMathmaster can you compute my average daily speed? Yep, 14.7 miles and hour! Zinger.

Enough of this rant, I didn't spit genius to winy wine like a toasted whore. I posted this to celebrate the fact that after 2 years in this town I have achieved maximum in-car tranquility. Now some of yous' guys might be thinking that the cause of my new found in-car happiness might be a blast of doob***, a upgraded car, or a new labradoodle puppy riding shotgun. Nope sister, my bliss is a direct effect of my new surpluss of in-car entertainment, or what I've shortened to the rock hard name of car-tainment.

I don't even make cell phone calls while commuting anymore. I SIMPLY DON'T HAVE THE TIME. Why? because of the barrage of sick options on my god damn dashboard. Count em'. One (1) direct IPOD hookup and One (1) brand new Sirius Sportster Replay Receiver, complete with REMOTE FUCKING CONTROL. FUCK YEAH!

Between my award winning**** collection of music on my POD and the panty-removing amount of entertainment available on Sirius, I now pray for red lights and Korean motorists. "What is this bullshit, no traffic! Come on!" I turn my car in the morning and are now fully prepared for what ever the 134, the 101, Coldwater, or Little Santa Monica throw my way. Bring it on cockslider, bring it on.

Being a Stern fan, I not only get to catch him in the morning and on the afternoon replays but I can pause his live feed in order to call me moms. When I suddenly slam my clamshell celly closed, I get to return to my program or song and then rewind, fast-forward or pause, AGAIN. So much more than talk too. They have a Jam station devoted to stuff I jammed out to while baked and chubby in high school and college. Soul-Town spins monster motor city deep cuts. Left of Center plays music for people who like ferrets and finger blasting. How about some Sinatra and Prima, hit up #113 on the unit and consider you passenger’s panties removed. Every damn thing imaginable.

All this wonderment does not come without consequence. Now I am dealing with intense fallout from the car-tainment bomb that was dropped on my dash. My Wifey keeps jawing that I don't call her no more. Countless voice mails saying, "hey Bro, where the hell you've been, we going to get a Beef in Anaheim." Do you need a lift Jimmy? Well don't expect to be talking the whole time, Daddy's got a date with technology. Why deal with the outside world when I'm straight as a bean and happy as a clam? I just don't care anymore.

My tires are very low, but I just don't have the discipline to get out of my car and fill them up. The windshield wiper fluid light has been on for a month. This fact is ignored dispite the fact that my windshield is spackled with water spots-the world is barely visible. My personal relationships, health, and saftey are slowly disintegrating. Things may become dangerous soon. Car-tainment is coming in between me and my loved ones. Car-tainment is strong. Car-tainment loves me more than my wife and parents. Car-tainment has pretty hair and soft lips and delicious titties and s..........

Pictures of the setup tomorrow.

footnotes
*My Hondo is a man. When referring to modes of transport, Dudes are always using feminine pronouns. Boo to you. My car is a dude and he is rocksteady. I am quite positive my car was forged in Cleveland and has gotten into several knife fights.

**I use the term California lightly. My Midwest instinct says that majority of the drivers on the road in CA are indeed from Billings, Montana and/or Playa del China.

***Occasional hitters will be smoked, of course.

****jeffmauro.com Ipod Content Award 2004.

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