Jake Fogelnest

About eleven months ago I started doing a live webcast from my apartment on Friday nights.  I didn’t really tell anyone I was doing it, I didn’t plan anything ahead - I literally gave it no thought.  I’d just put up my home telephone number, pick up the phone and see what happened. 

Tonight, for reasons I don’t quite understand… my idiotic webcast will have been watched by over 1,000,000 people.  We’ve got OVER 9000 (!) views left to go before we hit 1.000.000 so tune in starting at 7:00 PM (EST) and watch the countdown. 

http://www.stickam.com/jakefogelnest

As per usual, I have nothing planned ahead.  I’m just gonna do what I do every week.  Invite people to call me at (646) 484-5323 and see what happens.  I hope to see you there!

I’ll be doing another stupid live webcast tonight at 7:00pm.  Call me on my home telephone number: (646) 484-5323.  You can watch the webcast by just staring at this box right here…

…but it’s more fun if you enter the chat room and stuff.  That way you can talk to me and all the maladjusted teenagers from around the world!  

Spread the word by re-tweeting, re-blogging or re-whatever-the-fuck you damn kids do today with your internets and your CB Radio and your voodoo spaceship technology. 

I will be doing my LIVE idiotic webcast from my apartment tonight at 7:00 PM (EST).  Every friday thousands of maladjusted teenagers call my home telephone number (646) 484-5323 so we can talk about absolutely nothing of any importance.  Watch this tremendous waste of time, energy and bandwidth right here:

Better yet click here and enter the chatroom!  There’s six spots for people to broadcast using their webcams.  If you’re a ridiculously attractive female or dressed up like a panda bear or something - show yourself!

Also, I imagine tonight there will be some discussion tonight about our new friend Lynn DeLucca!  YAY!

Call-In LIVE (646) 484-5323.  Enter the Chatroom here on Stickam.

I do a live web broadcast from my apartment every Friday at 7:00 PM (EST).  Call-In LIVE at 646-484-5323.  Watch it here: http://www.stickam.com/jakefogelnest

It’s way more fun to interact with rather than just watch.  Go to my Stickam page here: http://www.stickam.com/jakefogelnest

Have something to say?  Join the chat room filled with maladjusted teenagers!

Have a webcam?  Throw yourself on screen!  Young ladies take note: the “age of consent” in New York is Seventeen and strictly enforced!

Also check out this thing where you can ask me questions anonymously and read my answers.  People are getting weird and pervy on it and it’s fantastic: http://www.formspring.me/jakefogelnest

Yes, Jake Fogelnest is live on the web… because the internet is awesome!

I had kind of a rough night.

Around 3:45 AM my apartment buzzer started going off.  Some asshole was hitting it over and over again in that annoying “shave in a haircut” rhythm.  I opened the door to find a really drunk and hostile James Cameron standing in my hallway.  He was NOT in good shape.  Cameron burst into my apartment, sweating and talking a mile a minute.  He seemed really pissed off, ranting incoherently about his ex-wife.

When I asked him the perfect logical question of how he managed to get from the Oscars in Los Angeles to my East Village apartment so quickly, he grabbed me by the shoulders and shouted,  ”RICH PEOPLE HAVE DIFFERENT RULES!!!”

Cameron walked over to my desk and began pouring a mound of coke out.  ”I swiped this from Quentin!” he exclaimed proudly.

It was at this point I was really starting to wonder why I had let James Cameron into my apartment in the first place.  I had never met James Cameron before.  Ever.  I’m not even particularly a fan of James Cameron.  Don’t get me wrong, I think he’s a fine director and everything. But having him in my apartment, doing blow in the middle of the night after just losing at the Oscars was a bit much. Honestly, the whole thing was a little frightening.

“Hey, let’s make a movie!” Cameron shouted. “Let’s make a movie right now! Take your shirt off!”

At first I refused his request.  However James Cameron is a very persistent man and a powerful director. He can be amazingly convincing when he’s passionate about something.  Even more convincing when he has access to a taser gun, which was the case in this situation.

“TAKE YOUR SHIRT OFF!” he screamed, zapping the taser.  Cameron then broke into maniacal laughter for a solid seven minutes.  I’m pretty sure it was laughter.  It could’ve been tears.  I’m honestly not sure if he was laughing or crying.  it was this high pitched, girlish whimper.  Very disconcerting.

Cameron took out one of those Sharpie markers and started to put all these little red dots all over my chest.

“Mr. Cameron,” I asked nervously.  ”What are you doing?”

“Motion capture!”

Before I knew it, James Cameron shouted “Action!” and was filming me with his cell phone.

“Pretend like you’re running away from a giant bear!  No!  Pretend like YOU’RE the giant bear and you’re running away from a space dragon!”

That’s when I heard a loud “pop” sound.  James Cameron stopped suddenly in his tracks, fell to his knees, slumped over and passed out — COLD.   Sticking out of his ass was a small tranquilizer dart.

I turned around to see a large biker dude with a ZZ top beard casually walking into my apartment, whistling.  The biker gentlemen bent down, picked up James Cameron and threw him over his shoulder.

“Sorry for the trouble.” the Biker said and then calmly left my apartment with a comatose James Cameron.

I locked the door and went back to sleep.

Rough night.