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Author: brian


My First Love

“Are you prude?”

This immature, awkward, and offensive question was unfortunately the line I gave before I got my first kiss. Coming from a 7th grade boy who had never heard the word prude until about an hour ago, and didn’t really know what it meant, this might have seemed cute. My girlfriend who stood about an inch or two taller than me leaned over and planted one right on my lips. It was in the B quad of Valley View Jr High School during our 5-minute break between classes. I turned around and strutted to my next class while the Bee Gees hit song Stayin Alive played in my head. ” We’ll you can tell by the way I use my walk I’m a woman’s man no time to talk . . .”

The Incident

Last Thursday I attended the Downtown Los Angeles Artwalk. Every month the galleries in the neighborhood open their doors late at night for pedestrians to come in and enjoy the new art exhibits. The streets and sidewalks are packed with an eclectic mix of people. There are punk rockers, suites, bums, cops, hot chics, old chics, chics that are really dudes. There’s live music and tiny food vendors selling things like home made cookies with names such as ‘Your Mother’. So one might try a sample and then look to their friend and say, ” Mmmmm your mother is goood!”

The Wheelchair Bicycle

Out of the 26 years I’ve spent on this earth, year 15 was the worst. You’re old enough to drive, but not without an adult in the car. You can’t do anything fun because you don’t have any money. You can’t get any money because you can’t get a job. You’re too old to build little ramps for your bike and skateboard. You’re too old to have sleepovers and make little forts where no parents are allowed. Thus, you’re left with very few things to do.

One summer, between 9th and 10th grade, I found something particularly unusual to occupy my time. For two weeks, I volunteered at a wheelchair sports camp. It was run by my church and my parents strongly encouraged me to do it. “It will help you get work next year when you’re looking for a job, and it will look great on your college application” they explained. Which as it turns out couldn’t have been more right, McDonalds and Moorpark Community College were very impressed with my resume.

My Sleeping Disorder

Unlike the vast majority of my friends, I’ve never gotten a DUI. This is not to say I’m not a heavy drinker. I contribute this anomaly to my willingness to pass out anywhere and everywhere. A couch, a love seat, recliner, hardwood floor, truck bed. These are not only satisfactory places to lay my head when I’m drunk, but lofty promises that will surely close a deal if I’m on the fence about attending a local house party. In very rare occasions I have slept in such situations as: a neighbors front lawn, a rooftop, a stairway, and a restaurant booth.

LOST is like Gilligan’s Island on Acid – Anonymous Blowhard

I recently got into an argument with a friend trying to defend one of my new favorite shows. LOST. While explaining to him that it’s basically the reason I started a netflix account, he gave me a look. It was a I haven’t seen 2 minutes of the show but I’m going to formulate some kind of opinion on it look.

“LOST is just Gilligan’s Island on acid”, he condescendingly explained to me.

The Popcorn Story

It’s a week before my senior show. If my roommate comes back from Vegas early he will have a heart attack from seeing the shape our apartment is in. Dirty dishes in the living room, tubes of paint and brushes scattered around the kitchen cabinets. It would not be unusual to see something like a dirty shirt, a half eaten bowl of top ramen and a stack of notebooks and papers all lying together. I like to think of it as controlled chaos. It may look like a mess to an outsider, but I know where everything is.
After 48 straight hours of painting I decide that my brain needs a rest. Being in art school is kind of like being in Vegas. You have no set schedule and no real concept of time. I look over at the clock to see what number it has. 1:00. I look outside my window and given that it’s dark I assume it is 1 a.m. I call my friend Vivian to see if she wants to see a movie with me. It takes a little convincing but she decides to come by after I promise her that popcorn will be involved. This turned out to be a grave mistake.

Growing up on MJ

In art school about 5 years ago, we were asked to do a painting on someone we admired. The guidelines were there were no guidelines, the more abstract the better. I chose to do MJ. At first I thought of doing some epic montage of him in his different stages of life. This got frustrating because there was no still image I could create that would come close to capturing everything I love about him. So instead I decided to do a piece on what MJ is to Brian Pratt. Not to the world, not to the world of entertainment, but to me.

10 Things I Hate About Fast Food Restaurants

1. The Personal Touch.
I think the name FAST food is self explanatory. I’m not looking to make a new friend with the person taking my order. Why is it when I walk into a Baja Fresh and order the nachos grande, the guy at the front prints out a little receipt that says order number #34, and then asks for my name? Confused, I tell him Brian and he gets out a little pen and takes the time to write out my name on the store copy receipt. Then instead of using the efficient, mistake free number system, they call out my name in the middle of a crowded restaurant over a muffled pa system, and the name Brian starts to be mistaken for Ryan, Byron, Myran, Jennifer O’Brien, etc. Not to mention any other Brian’s. You don’t need to know my name and I don’t need to know yours. I’m Mr. Large nachos and a medium soda, and as far as I’m concerned the name on your tag can just say “dude” or “man”.
” Hey dude have they called 134 yet?”
” Not yet they’re on 131″
“Thanks man”