On my 35th birthday I spent the day in bed watching Netflix, unable to face the world in a wallowing self-indulgent haze that I do tend to get in when I allow myself to think about things. This past Friday on my 36th birthday was nothing like that.

I’ve never been particularly overjoyed about my birthday. I remember my 16th birthday when I locked myself in my room wanting to be left alone to read and listen to music. But 36 here filled me with happiness. Not just resignation at the fact that I am unable to stave off Father Time. But there I was smiling.

Friday itself was pretty nondescript. I had to take my grandmother to her acupuncture appointment, went to Souplantation for lunch, catcalled shirtless guys and guys in tank tops screaming out, “AY! PAPI CHULO!!!!!!!!” Picked up grandmother, made dinner and watched movies. It didn’t matter that I was not in the middle of a raging orgy filled with all sorts of snortables spread in a hedonistic buffet. That I wasn’t being plugged in every orifice with oozing turgid penises ready to explode its life force into me.

I am past that now. That is to say, I am too damn lazy to plan anything like that. If I happen to fall into such a situation, I won’t turn it down by any means.

On Saturday after getting steaks at Damons, I went back to Catherine’s and Tyson’s homestead for cake. We looked around, wondered if we should go out to a bar, decided sleep was better and I was home by 11. The scary part was that I am all right with this. This is 36.

On Friday, we lost a friend in Joe McDonnell. Tom Hoffarth did a great job of eulogizing him in his Sunday column in the Daily News, an effort I’m not going to try to duplicate. But I did want to talk about what he meant to me.

I first really got into sports in a big way in the early 2000s. Listening to “The McDonnell-Douglas” show he co-hosted with the Press Telegram columnist Doug Krikorian really educated me in the history of LA sports and what was going on in the scene. He was among the first people in town to pick on Frank McBankrupt McCourt and his lack of actual money when he tried to buy the Dodgers.

It was fun listening to him kick people out of LA, razz Doug and his producers, bemoan about everything and anything. This show was a must-listen for me everyday. Then there was a change in management at KSPN, they fired Joe and Doug and in an instant it felt like all of the passion in sports radio left the airwaves.

When I started getting into the Dodger Stadium pressbox in 2009, I had seen Joe around, but I was too shy. I bought into his “Big Nasty” persona and was scared of irritating him. I heard his on-air near fight with Petros Papadakis. Joe was only around sporadically at that point, so I didn’t have to worry about him all that much.

But by the time he started coming back regularly in 2011, I finally had that balls to talk to him. I was sitting next to him in the back row of the Dodger Stadium pressbox. One of the challenges was waiting out the throngs of people who would stop by to talk to him: Bill Plaschke, Lon Rosen, Steve Futterman would be the regular visitors. Finally, around the seventh inning, he had a moment alone, and I reached out and said, “Excuse me, Joe. I’ve been a huge fan of yours for years. This is a thrill.”

We had a proper conversation, albeit short since we both had to work. I found out what a lot of people in the sports media already knew. Joe was not nasty at all. He was perhaps the nicest person you could meet in the industry.

He was working with FoxSportsWest.com at this point, which meant he was coming to the games regularly again. Most horrifyingly, however, was that he was reading my stuff regularly. He liked it. He told me he loved my bio blip on the LAist website:

There is nothing to know about Jimmy. He is a filthy whore who has ODed on every drug possible. The fact that he has the will to wake up every morning is a miracle unto itself. His love for the Dodgers came back in 2001 when catcher Paul LoDuca hired him for a blowjob. He aspires to be that lady in the anti-smoking PSAs who smokes through her tracheotomy hole. He’s an Aries who enjoys crossword puzzles and calculus problems.

One day, I forget what the hell he were talking about, but I told him that my mom as a typical Korean owned a liquor store in North Long Beach. He asked me where exactly. I told him it was on the corner of Del Amo Blvd. and Long Beach Blvd. “Was it called ‘Del’s Liquor’ by any chance?” Yes, yes it was.

It turned out my mom used to be his liquor dealer!

I told my mom about his death on Friday, and she told me this nugget. One night my uncle was closing up the store. He was slowly doing his thing while Joe was in the store getting his booze. Somehow my uncle didn’t notice a 700-pound man still in the store and locked up. Joe realized he was locked in the store, so he found the telephone and dialed the police. They called my mom, and she came to get him out of the store. Yes. The Big Nasty got locked in my mom’s liquor store.

Sometimes life folds neatly upon itself, and I’m still astounded by this coincidence.

I know he had a tough time with his health over the last several years. Yet he kept on with his head down and kept trying to plow ahead.

I know he loved his wife Elizabeth and always felt he was a lucky man to have married her.

I know he loved the Lakers, the Dodgers, his friends, his fans.

I know I will miss the man.

I really wanted to like Maps to the Stars. David Cronenberg is a genius, and even some of his “misses” are compelling to watch. But Maps is a flat trite story that is saved by the performances of its actors.

The movie opens with AGATHA WEISS (Mia Wasikowska) asleep on a bus going from Jupiter, Florida returning to Los Angeles. Having been committed to an institution after setting her house on fire with her little brother (Evan Bird) drugged up and locked in his room, she returns to seemingly seek forgiveness and atonement as one of her steps to recovery. Thanks to a Twitter friendship with CARRIE FISHER (herself), she gets a job as a personal assistant (chore whore) for HAVANA SEGRAND (Julianne Moore) who is trying to reprise her dead mother CLARICE TAGGERT’s (Sarah Gadon) role in the cult classic “Stolen Waters.” Agatha’s brother BENJIE is now an enfant terrible child actor who has just gotten out of rehab whose father is a television psychologist DR. STAFFORD WEISS (John Cusack) and mother CHRISTINA (Olivia Williams) is his manager.

Bruce Wagner’s script wants to be a biting Hollywood satire with all the predictable ingredients. Pretty ingenue travels to Hollywood. Bitchy actress whose career is in decline. Self-absorbed psychologist. Child star who’s starting down the road of excess. Liberal drug use. All of this paved with the work of enablers.

What makes this aspect of the story remotely bearable are the performances of the actors. Julianne Moore won the best actress prize at Cannes last year for this role. While she could have taken it to camp, she injected some new blood into the role by channeling a little of Lindsay Lohan. There is a charming scene where Havana calls Agatha upstairs to her bathroom and asks her to go to Whole Foods to get some laxatives because she was “backed up because of the Vicodin.”

Wasikowska is the glue to this film as Agatha connects all the strands together. Her Agatha is alternately vulnerable, innocent, scheming and psychotic. Rather than being over the top, she hits the right notes in every scene.

What makes the film disappointing is the supernatural thread that is treated superficially. Havana is haunted by her mother. Benjie is haunted by a girl he visits in the hospital at the beginning of the film who dies shortly thereafter from non-Hodgkins lymphoma. Halfway in the movie when Agatha finally meets Benjie, she says, “Benjie. There’s this script. I can’t explain but you’re a part of this beautiful mythological script.” While Benjie thinks this is yet another script he’s being pitched, Maps probably would have been better if it focused more on that rather than a convenient plot device.

Speaking of plot devices, I’m still wondering why Towncar driver JEROME FONTANA (Robert Pattinson) was written into the script. Was his function only to serve as point of conflict between Havana and Agatha?

This could have been a much better movie, and with Cronenberg, I was expecting a lot better.

9. What are your musical tastes? Provide examples.

My musical tastes can be all over the place. Lately they’ve been a bit more experimental with COIL and EINSTURZENDE NEUBAUTEN. I’ve also been listening to a lot of industrial music like SKINNY PUPPY and FRONT LINE ASSEMBLY. The rock-and/or-roll does move me too, like SLEATER-KINNEY and PJ HARVEY. The only time I really touch pop music is when it really challenges society and genre like MADONNA’s Erotica or anything by DEPECHE MODE. Of course there were the 90’s-00’s indie bands like UNWOUND, MILEMARKER, DEERHOOF, LIARS. Oh and 80’s college rock like BUTTHOLE SURFERS, SONIC YOUTH, BIG BLACK, SACCHARINE TRUST, MINUTEMEN, HUSKER DU.

“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCK!”

“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCK!”

7. Do you find any of our tenets objectionable? If so, which and why?

Again, since it’s been a while since I’ve read The Satanic Bible, I don’t remember finding anything reprehensible.

8. How many years would you like to live?

No more than 65. Sooner if I’m sick or feeble. And that’s a maximum. I’ve learned through taking care of my grandmother that I don’t want to linger. Dallas Aunt and I talk about this all the time, and she has some stupid idea that we have no choice in the matter. Of course we have the choice.

In my mid-30s I already have back and leg pains. Constantly. Things only get worse as you get older, and if it gets too bad, see you I’m out of here.

The problem with the second week of Majors is the obvious one: there just isn’t as much tennis going on. Well since I didn’t write for several days, I’ll just take this time to catch up on things.

Rafael Nadal’s surprising exit: It’s not that surprising that Nadal lost in the quarters. What was shocking was how Tomas Berdych completely manhandled Nadal in the first two sets. Berdych kept attacking Nadal’s forehand, and Nadal has no answers except spraying balls into the net. Or, more shocking, he just didn’t get to some shots.

It was a thorough demolition: 6-2, 6-0. The ESPN blokes said that the second set was only the fourth time in Nadal’s career that he lost a set at love. It was shocking that pointed to some obvious leg troubles. Nadal took some sort of painkiller or anti-inflammatory in the second set which kicked in the third, but what was done was done. Berdych won the third-set tiebreak 7-5, and it was like watching a car wreck.

Venus Williams and Madison Keys: Two of the bigger stories for Americans during this fortnight has been Madison Keys and Venus Williams. For years, it has been a waiting game to see when Venus would retire. She hadn’t been past the fourth round of a Major since the 2010 US Open, and she hadn’t looked the same since being diagnosed with Sjögren’s syndrome in 2011. But she looked different this year. She won the tournament in Auckland and looked just as good as during this run.

Yesterday, she ran into the 19-year old Madison Keys. The big-hitting Keys has been talked about for the past couple of years as the next player to vault into the top of the game alongside the Williams sisters. Madison has never been past the third round of a Major, yet you couldn’t tell that as she blasted Venus off the court in the first set. Despite suffering a leg injury in the second set and being down 3-1 in the third set, Madison pulled it out.

Now she gets to face Serena Williams in the semifinals. What a prize.

Semifinals: On the men’s side we have a rematch of Novak Djokovic and Stan Wawrinka which should be magical. And there’s the Tomas Berdych v. Andy Murray match. I don’t know how much analysis can be done with these four except to say any of these four can win the whole thing. I honestly don’t think you can pick a favorite. It’s that close.

On the women’s side, there the all US Serena-Madison matchup and the all-Russian Ekaterina Makarova-Maria Sharapova showdown. I really think we have another Serena-Maria final with Serena winning. Did you see her takedown of Dominika Cibulkova yesterday?

For a couple of weeks in June to July 2001, I was crashing on Madd’s couch. I needed to get away from Santa Barbara badly, and my pathological inability to plan my life combined with my falling out with my family meant I left Santa Barbara with almost no safety net.

So there I was going from temp agency to temp agency looking for a job. One afternoon, I was watching the Wimbledon coverage on NBC and saw Pete Sampras’ fourth-round match. Damn I couldn’t stand the guy. True he was a legend, but I really hated the serve-and-volley. It was very boring to watch, much like trying to watch the Michael Jordan dominated NBA. Zzzzzzzzz.

Sampras was 29 years old and defending his seventh Wimbledon championship, but there were signs he was starting to slow down. He lost to fellow American Todd Martin in the fourth round of the Australian Open, but there he was on the grass courts of Wimbledon where he was king. Of course he could dispatch some Swiss teenager seeded 15 in the fourth round.

To be honest, I didn’t pay much attention to the match until after the third set which this teenager won 6-4 to go up two sets to one. Hm. Federderr? Must remember that name especially if he does the impossible and pull this one out. After Sampras took the fourth set in a tiebreak, this kid somehow pulled the match out. Roger Federer beat Pete Sampras. At Wimbledon. And broke his 31-match win streak at the All England Club. Holy shit.

That’s when I became a Federer fan.

It’s been fun to watch his ascension to the top, his two years of near-perfection, his fighting to remain at the top with the coming of Rafael Nadal and Novak Djokovic. I want Roger to remain that 2006 version who went 92-5 and won 12 titles. In my mind, I believe he still has that in him. And despite what we witnessed yesterday in his match against Andreas Seppi, I still believe he has that in him. I saw him play near perfect tennis against Milos Raonic in the Brisbane finals a couple of weeks ago. Sure he has lost startingly in the majors before, but he had mono. A bad back. There was always something else in my mind that hindered his championship form.

Andreas beat Roger last night 6-4, 7-6 (5), 4-6, 7-6 (5). On match point Roger actually hit what would have been a forehand winner approach shot, but Seppi hustled and lunged for the forehand hitting a passing shot down the line.

One thing I can’t do is make anymore excuses for Roger. I can’t live in denial anymore. We are witnessing the final act for Roger.

I don’t know what it was, but I wasn’t all that compelled for Day 4’s action. I’m going to blame Amy Poehler because I spent most of last night reading her book Yes Please in one fell swoop while tennis was going on in the background. So I guess I was distracted.

Disappointing wasn’t the day’s action — it’s best used to describe both the 17th-seeded Frenchman Gael Monfils and the Polish 2013 Wimbledon semifinalist Jerzy Janowicz. Both players should be top-ten players. To his credit Monfils was a top-ten player during most of 2011, but Janowicz got no higher than 14 after his 2013 Wimbledon breakthrough. Both players are tall, have great serves and are athletic as all hell. But it is what happens between the ears that does them in. So their second-round match last night was going to be equal parts exciting, frustrating and unpredictable.

After Janowicz won the first set 6-4, he fell apart. Forehands spraying wide, ill-advised drop shots, awful execution all gave Monfils the second set 6-1. It continued into the third set when Janowicz was broken twice. It honestly looked as if he was done. But he managed to break Monfils twice to force a tiebreak which he lost meekly 7-3.

As Janowicz started playing better, Monfils started to crumble a bit in the big moments. It wasn’t so much that he was making a bunch of errors, but Janowicz was coming up big in the crucial moments. Janowicz broke Monfils twice in the fourth set and needed only one break to move on to the third round to face Feliciano Lopez.

Sure there were other matches. There was Victoria Azarenka climbing back to form after a lost 2014 beating the eight-seed Caroline Wozniacki. There was the American Coco Vandeweghe beating the Aussie veteran Sam Stosur. We saw Lleyton Hewitt lose steam to Benjamin Becker. But this Monfils-Janowicz match just stuck with me.

I’ll just blame Amy Poehler.

Sam Groth beat Thanasi Kokkinakis in the all-Aussie matchup, and Nick Kyrgios beat the Croat serving machine Ivo Karlovic. Sure they are good stories, but they pale to what nearly happened to two of the giants in the game.

I am not a fan of either Maria Sharapova’s or Rafael Nadal’s game. For Maria, it wasn’t until I watched her in person at the 2011 BNP Paribas Open in Indian Wells that it dawned on me: she has no idea how to construct a point. All she has is power, and she relies on that to get out of whatever jam she might find herself in. It’s really annoying.

Maria was losing badly to Caroline Wozniacki in the semifinals of the tournament, and a tournament volunteer who was a Sharapova fan sat next to me. Watching the match in person, I saw Maria his a forehand error after forehand error after forehand error. It was awful to watch. Early in the second set of the 6-1, 6-2 drubbing, that’s when it dawned on me that Maria didn’t know how to construct a point.

Similarly yesterday Sharapova was in trouble against the 150th ranked qualifier Alexandra Panova. After breezing through the first set 6-1, that’s when the errors caught up with Maria. After only eight unforced errors in the first set, Maria hit 23 unforced errors in the second set losing 6-4. It was more of the same in the third set as Panova quickly got out to a two-break lead.

As always, Maria stayed the course trying to power Panova off the court. It worked. Panova’s serve failed her, and what were errors earlier in the third set became winners.

Maria pulled out the match 7-5 in the third set, and it was actually pretty awe-inspiring. Putting my prejudices aside, it was a remarkable thing to watch Maria escaping two match points in the 12th game of the third set with booming forehand winners. But it leaves me to wonder what Maria could have done if she tried to get to the net more. Or try a slice? There’s no denying Maria is a great player, but it’s frustrating.

Equally frustrating is Rafael Nadal. I’m all for giving it all, but if you want to survive you can’t do that for every point. Like Maria, it seems like Rafa subscribes to a see-ball-hit-ball ethos with very little thought in between. That’s why I’m not surprised he’s gone through all the injuries he’s gone through at the age of 28.

Against Tim Smyczek, the American ranked 112 in the world, Rafa fell ill at the end of the first set.

“At the end of the first set, I start to feel my body very bad, very tired. I don’t know,” he said in the postmatch conference. “I was worrying crazy. Then when I was serving for the third, almost throw up. So was terrible feeling, no? I suffered too much on court for three hours and a half. I was suffering a lot. Too much.”

Despite almost having to do the unthinkable and retiring the match, Rafa played through it and found a way to win 7-5 in the fifth set. “In terms of physically, at the end of the match I started to felt little bit better.”

I don’t like their games, but man, what we saw yesterday were two examples of greatness.