Do you call your girlfriend every time you see a D-level celeb on the streets of SoHo? Well, John Sellers is laughing at you. Or possibly mad at you. This inimitable writer (GQ, TimeOut, and a book about arcade games) and angry blogger has dined with Gary Busey, gotten his hair done by the Queer Eyes, and still finds time to get ticked off about the most minor of things (e.g., "My ears are all stuffed up. Can't hear a damn thing. Fucking ears!"). After the jump, he talks about beating Jack Black at thumb wrestling and his own personal refusal to give in to a losing argument.

Age: 34

Occupation: Writer, angry blogger, lover of Ho-Hos

Location: Park Slope, Brooklyn

1. After spending countless minutes reading your blog, I still am having difficulty ascertaining what it is that you do. Perhaps the residuals of your book Arcade Fever: The Fan's Guide to the Golden Age of Video Games" are keeping you in the greenbacks and free from work?

When I'm not reheating Chef Boy-R-Dee ravioli on the preferred front right burner of my stove, I am a writer of magazine articles that lean toward the nostalgic or the self-immolating. (See my experience throwing a "cuddle party" in September's GQ for proof of the latter.) I set up Angry John Sellers last December because I thought blogging would be a more enriching procrastination tool than memorizing the baseball statistics of the World Champion 1984 Detroit Tigers. Unfortunately I learned, as so many bloggers have, that this is not the case, because I've merely compounded the procrastination problem. Meanwhile, if you want to know how many hits Lou Whitaker had with runners on first and third with less than two outs in that magical year, I'm your guy.

As for the residuals for my Galaga-lovin' book: I had planned to use the massive proceeds to fund my dream start-up, THIMBLZZZ!, a magazine for sewing enthusiasts between the ages of 18-34. But that idea's currently on hold due a recent downturn in the demand for Congo Bongo nostalgia.



2. You once saw Spiral Stairs of Pavement at a bar and went up to him to ask whether he was a millionaire. Turned out that, no, he's not a millionaire. Are there any other questions you are dying to ask celebrities?

I am still shamed by the Spiral Stairs effrontery. Why would I do that to someone I respect (even if he is responsible for "Hit the Plane Down," Pavement's worst song)? I can think of only one question I'd like to ask another celebrity, and it's for the actress Emily Watson: "Wanna play croquet?"



3. Writing has always struck me as a good hobby. But more and more people are taking it seriously and trying to use it to pay the rent. What does this tell us about our collective eighth grade teachers' constant-positive-feedback influence on our development?

Where did you go to junior high? I had a teacher who, when offering up an item of praise for each of the 30 students at my tiny school's graduation, told the packed room that "John Sellers never gives up in an argument, even when he knows he's wrong." Is that positive feedback? I'm not sure. (It certainly is true, though, damn him.) I think far fewer people should attempt writing; they should apprentice at bakeries instead. The world just does not produce enough crullers. It's a real problem.

4. You've dined over lobster with Gary Busey. Is he, quite simply, as delightfully pixie-ish as he appears on that show "I'm with Busey?"

He's more like a Smurf — "Say-it-don't-spray-it" Smurf. My glasses were coated with lobster chaw after that one-hour lunch at the Reel Inn in sunny Malibu. One thing that was delightful about him, though, was his insistence on calling me "hoss" and "pardner."

But it makes me think of other celebrity encounters gone by, most of which occurred back when I was the TV editor at Time Out New York. My three favorites: 1) Watching George Dzundza's face as I briefly choked on a salmon puff while talking to him at a party in Pasadena. 2) Bowling with Weird Al Yankovic, primarily because he stole the shoes. 3) Trying to pick up women with SNL's Chris Kattan and striking out, in epic fashion, all over Manhattan.



5. Word origins are interesting. In an interview you did with Jack Black, he used the word "shitballs." Are celebrities the ones who invent new expletives, or is this something ordinary citizens can do as well?

It should be noted that Jack Black coined that phrase after I whupped his whiny, "The Neverending Story III"-starring ass in a best-of-seven thumb war. I think most expletives worth knowing come from movies that have been edited for television (best example: Repo Man's "You're all a bunch of melon farmers!"), although in college my ordinary doctor friend Chris once yelled "jive-ass fuckers" when his shower water suddenly went white hot. I use that one quite a lot.

John Sellers' Top Five Hateful Things Occurring to Angry John Sellers at 3:19pm on 9/10/04

1. Yogurt breath

2. People who say "disorientated"

3. Dropping your toast on your bare foot to start the day, butter-and-Marmite side down

4. Britney Spears' boyfriend

5. Ads like those on NPR and BBC America that have listeners or viewers praising the very station you are tuned in to, as if you don't already know why the hell you like their fucking programming