So the director of the show asked me to give him a ride home on Friday. His car was in the shop, there were tons of issues and he had to catch a six o’clock flight. So, I took off from Glendale at 2:30 to drive him to Santa Monica.
This was a bit of a drive and we hit heavy traffic (shocking) along the way. It was about four when I got him home and figured I’d just call it a day and head home since it was better than driving all the way back to work just to get my stuff and leave again.
Stuck on the 404 I got a call from a fellow PA, saying they were looking for an editor next week. I should call them right away and say I’m interested. So I call right up. I'm told I’ll need to prove my speed so I should come in for a quick sample edit.
I get off on Sunset and haul ass back to work. I made it in record time, busting into work sweaty and jacked up on nicotine.
They toss me in an editing bay and point to two assignments to test me. I whip through them in record time and they like the clips. So I should be set, right? Well, they are short handed in the PA department and have to think about it. They’ll call me during the weekend.
This morning I get a call and it’s someone from the assignment desk. Fingers crossed, I answer. As you can tell from the title of this entry, I didn’t get it. As a matter of fact they didn’t even mention it. All they said was I need to be a runner on Monday night. The shift runs from 8pm until 6am. Holy shit! Seriously? Yep.
I felt a little bummed for a while, but have settled in with the idea. It’s fine, no big whoop. There will be another time and I’ve already passed the audition.
What really bugs me is they didn’t even say, ”Listen, we really need you to do this instead.” or any kind of excuse. It was simply, here’s what you’re doing on Monday, so get ready to go do it. That’s what really bums me out. I wasn’t even properly rejected, just glanced over.
Ah, there is no business like show business.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Thursday, June 21, 2007
McGrath’s Poop
So I’m at work and we share an office with that show "Extra". It’s like "Entertainment Tonight", but even more irritating.
So I’m in the bathroom taking a leak and there is a guy in one of the stalls. I’m assuming it’s a guy since it is the men’s room. Otherwise this would be an even more exciting post.
So the toilet in the stall is flushed and out steps the host of "Extra", Mark McGrath (I’m not sure if this is how you spell his name.) For those f you who are musically challenged, McGrath was (is?) the lead singer for the band Sugar Ray. They had a few hits in the late 90’s early 00’s. Now this guy is the host of "Extra"? How the hell does that happen? You’re rockin’ out on stage with your shirt off and someone says, “Hey, that guy would be a great host for pabulum television.” So it happened and there he was washing his hands next to me.
Seeing him does not impress me, I was never a big fan. I do want an answer to the career change, but I decided to be polite. Then I think of a few things that would make me laugh.
Stuff I want to say:
1. “Man, after a good dump I just wanna fly.”
2. “You know man, every morning I have to take a crap too.”
These are of course references to the two big hits that saturated radio back in the day.
Then I remember the one that would be honest.
“Hey, Mr. McGrath, I’ve got a friend up in the Bay Area who is just in love with you.”
“Oh yeah, what’s her name?”
“Todd.”
This is true, Todd had a huge man crush on Mark back in the day. I don’t know if it’s true today, but I find it funny nonetheless.
Anyway, I simply nod and say, “How’s it going.” He says nothing, apparently a bit ashamed to have proven that even famous people have bowel movements. Then he scurries out the door. I wash my hands and leave.
I thought for a second about checking the bowl for McGrath’s remains and maybe bagging it up to send to Todd, but then I realized dry ice and shipping would be too much for a joke, so I went back to work and decided to share this toilet humor with my readers.
So I’m in the bathroom taking a leak and there is a guy in one of the stalls. I’m assuming it’s a guy since it is the men’s room. Otherwise this would be an even more exciting post.
So the toilet in the stall is flushed and out steps the host of "Extra", Mark McGrath (I’m not sure if this is how you spell his name.) For those f you who are musically challenged, McGrath was (is?) the lead singer for the band Sugar Ray. They had a few hits in the late 90’s early 00’s. Now this guy is the host of "Extra"? How the hell does that happen? You’re rockin’ out on stage with your shirt off and someone says, “Hey, that guy would be a great host for pabulum television.” So it happened and there he was washing his hands next to me.
Seeing him does not impress me, I was never a big fan. I do want an answer to the career change, but I decided to be polite. Then I think of a few things that would make me laugh.
Stuff I want to say:
1. “Man, after a good dump I just wanna fly.”
2. “You know man, every morning I have to take a crap too.”
These are of course references to the two big hits that saturated radio back in the day.
Then I remember the one that would be honest.
“Hey, Mr. McGrath, I’ve got a friend up in the Bay Area who is just in love with you.”
“Oh yeah, what’s her name?”
“Todd.”
This is true, Todd had a huge man crush on Mark back in the day. I don’t know if it’s true today, but I find it funny nonetheless.
Anyway, I simply nod and say, “How’s it going.” He says nothing, apparently a bit ashamed to have proven that even famous people have bowel movements. Then he scurries out the door. I wash my hands and leave.
I thought for a second about checking the bowl for McGrath’s remains and maybe bagging it up to send to Todd, but then I realized dry ice and shipping would be too much for a joke, so I went back to work and decided to share this toilet humor with my readers.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Job
So I start my new job tomorrow. It’s a gig for the new show (blank). Yep, I’ve totally sold out and am working for an entertainment gossip show. That’s the way the cookie crumbles when you’re trying to survive in this town.
It’ll be an educational place though. I figure I’ll make some contacts and get up to speed on how other parts of this industry works.
The down side is I’ve got to be there at 7am! That really sucks. It won't be bad in July when we move to the new offices which are right down the street from me. I’ll be able to walk there, which will be nice. But for now I’m driving out to Glendale. That means getting up at 5:45 for the next couple of weeks. I don’t think I’ve done that…ever. So a new yet groggy adventure starts.
It’ll keep my mind off the fact that I’m swimming in lava right now.
It’ll be an educational place though. I figure I’ll make some contacts and get up to speed on how other parts of this industry works.
The down side is I’ve got to be there at 7am! That really sucks. It won't be bad in July when we move to the new offices which are right down the street from me. I’ll be able to walk there, which will be nice. But for now I’m driving out to Glendale. That means getting up at 5:45 for the next couple of weeks. I don’t think I’ve done that…ever. So a new yet groggy adventure starts.
It’ll keep my mind off the fact that I’m swimming in lava right now.
Friday, June 08, 2007
Heart Fillet
It’s tough to open your heart to someone. It does tend to feel like that moment in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom where Mola Ram pulls the guy’s heart out. Totally exposed and you try to keep everything at a PG-13 rating. Sometimes though you just have to bite the bullet and figure that being tossed into a pit of hot lava will be the easy part.
For me, before making that plunge I have to weigh a lot of things first. Why am I doing it? Is it because I don’t want to be alone? Is it because I just want to be able to check off the relationship box on the list and move on to other issues so I can salvage my existence and say I’m living a full life?
I know I’m not doing it to get laid. I’ve fooled myself enough to pretend that caring about someone isn’t worth the woes of trying to fake love. Plus it’s gotten really hard for me to even use that word. (Note, I’m not in love (I don’t think yet)), I’m just looking at the road in front of me.
What happens when the other person seems to not give a rat’s ass about me or just isn’t willing to make that move. Well, that may be a good thing. Best that someone be rational while I go volcano swimming.
Let’s face it. I’m not anyone’s first choice; I am after all some pretty damaged goods. Self-aware damaged goods but damaged nonetheless. I find it amusing because it's hard for me to fathom anyone not being damaged. It’s just my perspective of life. Every box of ‘Nilla Wafers has that damn wrinkled tear on the edge and you just need to find the one that sounds the fullest when you shake it. So I guess we can remove a few points from the self-awareness column. I'm not saying any of this to be down on myself, even though it sounds like it. Some people in this world are mentally healthier that others. I fall under the others catagory, not a big deal. I don't mind it, neither should you.
So to sum up:
1. Opening up to someone is hard because I fear rejection.
2. I like Indiana Jones and the Tempe of Doom more than the average viewer.
3. Not everyone is damaged and that’s a good thing.
4. ‘Nilla Wafers are a tasty treat especially when dipped in ice cream.
I think I’ve pretty much solved of my problems now. I’m actually just in need of cookies.
For me, before making that plunge I have to weigh a lot of things first. Why am I doing it? Is it because I don’t want to be alone? Is it because I just want to be able to check off the relationship box on the list and move on to other issues so I can salvage my existence and say I’m living a full life?
I know I’m not doing it to get laid. I’ve fooled myself enough to pretend that caring about someone isn’t worth the woes of trying to fake love. Plus it’s gotten really hard for me to even use that word. (Note, I’m not in love (I don’t think yet)), I’m just looking at the road in front of me.
What happens when the other person seems to not give a rat’s ass about me or just isn’t willing to make that move. Well, that may be a good thing. Best that someone be rational while I go volcano swimming.
Let’s face it. I’m not anyone’s first choice; I am after all some pretty damaged goods. Self-aware damaged goods but damaged nonetheless. I find it amusing because it's hard for me to fathom anyone not being damaged. It’s just my perspective of life. Every box of ‘Nilla Wafers has that damn wrinkled tear on the edge and you just need to find the one that sounds the fullest when you shake it. So I guess we can remove a few points from the self-awareness column. I'm not saying any of this to be down on myself, even though it sounds like it. Some people in this world are mentally healthier that others. I fall under the others catagory, not a big deal. I don't mind it, neither should you.
So to sum up:
1. Opening up to someone is hard because I fear rejection.
2. I like Indiana Jones and the Tempe of Doom more than the average viewer.
3. Not everyone is damaged and that’s a good thing.
4. ‘Nilla Wafers are a tasty treat especially when dipped in ice cream.
I think I’ve pretty much solved of my problems now. I’m actually just in need of cookies.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Ash Photo
So my mother sent me a picture of Ash today.
It’s pretty odd, I haven’t seen him in close to nine years and haven’t seen a photo of him in about seven.
He looks a lot like his mother, thank god. He also reminds me a little bit of Edward Furlong before he became a drugged out idiot several years back (Furlong, not Ash). I think you can see it around the nose and mouth.
It’s pretty odd, I haven’t seen him in close to nine years and haven’t seen a photo of him in about seven.
He looks a lot like his mother, thank god. He also reminds me a little bit of Edward Furlong before he became a drugged out idiot several years back (Furlong, not Ash). I think you can see it around the nose and mouth.
Saturday, June 02, 2007
The Blake Booth
Quick Recap:
Bonnie Lee Bakley was murdered in the parking lot of the Italian resteraunt Vitello's in 2001 after finishing a meal. Her husband, actor Robert Blake was accused of the murder.His alibi was he had forgotten his gun in Vitello's and went back in to get it when someone decided to shot her.
This is not only an odd alibi, but so fucking nuts it has to be true.
Blake was accused of the murder, put on trial and acquitted in I think 2004, maybe 2005.
Present Day:
Thursday night I was given the esteemed please of sitting in the booth at Vitello's where this soon to be separated couple shared their last meal. I sat on the side where Mr. Blake sat. Now I want to say, for the record, I can totally see forgetting your gun there. It's in a darker corner of the restaurant and the side of the cushion where I perceived he had set his gun for safe keeping was lost in shadow. There is no coat/gun check, so accidentally leaving it in the booth is totally plausible.
The food was passable. It was maybe one notch higher than an Olive Garden, but way lower than Milano's in Tiburon.
So why did I go? Well, morbid fascination really. It's that weird thing about trying to connect with death, visit the mind of a potential killer, to sit where the star of Electra Glide In Blue sat, all sorts of reasons. Plus, I was hungry.
Bonnie Lee Bakley was murdered in the parking lot of the Italian resteraunt Vitello's in 2001 after finishing a meal. Her husband, actor Robert Blake was accused of the murder.His alibi was he had forgotten his gun in Vitello's and went back in to get it when someone decided to shot her.
This is not only an odd alibi, but so fucking nuts it has to be true.
Blake was accused of the murder, put on trial and acquitted in I think 2004, maybe 2005.
Present Day:
Thursday night I was given the esteemed please of sitting in the booth at Vitello's where this soon to be separated couple shared their last meal. I sat on the side where Mr. Blake sat. Now I want to say, for the record, I can totally see forgetting your gun there. It's in a darker corner of the restaurant and the side of the cushion where I perceived he had set his gun for safe keeping was lost in shadow. There is no coat/gun check, so accidentally leaving it in the booth is totally plausible.
The food was passable. It was maybe one notch higher than an Olive Garden, but way lower than Milano's in Tiburon.
So why did I go? Well, morbid fascination really. It's that weird thing about trying to connect with death, visit the mind of a potential killer, to sit where the star of Electra Glide In Blue sat, all sorts of reasons. Plus, I was hungry.
So, What’s Up?
AZ ADVENTURE
I was in Arizona over Memorial Day. It solidified the theory that you can never go home again. It was never really my home, just a place where I lived for a few years. It had it’s ups and it had its downs, but overall it was a nice experience.
I was staying at my friend Laura’s house. She is the owner of dogs. Three dogs. Three very large, I mean big, dogs. I am not one of those people who sees a medium sized dog and claim it as large. I am not a fan of those toy dog things that seem to be so prevalent in Los Angeles. Whenever I see one, I feel like seeing what my punting skills are like. Anyway, back to the big dogs.
Two of them are greyhounds; she’s a greyhound freak. She has the Greyhound taxi sign on the side of her car and if I rummaged through her closet, which I pondered, I’d discover a t-shirt that reads, “Greyhounds do it with speed”.
She also owns a dog whose breed I can’t pin down. It falls under that, skittish but want to play, confused breeds.
So, I’m sleeping and I do one of those late night shifts in sleep, open eyes to adjust moves that I’m common of doing. Staring back at me with her head on the pillow is one of the greyhounds, Fortuna. This caused an instant reaction for me. See, Greyhounds have very long pointy-heads. Paint it orange and it looks like an orange traffic pylon.
(Fortuna as she looks regularly...
...and with traffic cone on head. You will notice that the color is really the only difference.)
They also have eyes that are large and look pinned back. My depth perception was off due to mid-sleep shifting and I get the impression that an eight-foot long dog head is staring at me. I jump a little, but Fortuna doesn’t move. She just keeps her head on the pillow and follows me with her eyes.
This was apparently the dogs way of playing alpha with ma and letting me know this was her house. Then she closed her eyes, stretched her legs out to jab me in the side and went back to sleep. Crazy fuckin’ dog.
VAN ON FIRE
I was back in CA for one day when a van outside the apartment decided it was time to end its run on this planet and mysteriously catch on fire. We smelled the smoke inside and started looking around to see if we were on fire. Went outside to see if the complex was on fire and discovered the van blazing out on the street. Fire trucks could be heard a couple of blocks away and all of the neighbors stood around, too close, watching it burn. The owner didn’t seem to be present and I think we were all around waiting to see the owner react more than we were there to watch the fire go out. Unfortunately all we got to see was the van melt down and not its owner.
The firemen were very nonchalant when it cam to putting the fire out. They stood around moving slowly to hook things up and looked bored when the hoses finally started up.
Overall, very uneventful, but it reminded me that I was really back in Los Angeles.
I was in Arizona over Memorial Day. It solidified the theory that you can never go home again. It was never really my home, just a place where I lived for a few years. It had it’s ups and it had its downs, but overall it was a nice experience.
I was staying at my friend Laura’s house. She is the owner of dogs. Three dogs. Three very large, I mean big, dogs. I am not one of those people who sees a medium sized dog and claim it as large. I am not a fan of those toy dog things that seem to be so prevalent in Los Angeles. Whenever I see one, I feel like seeing what my punting skills are like. Anyway, back to the big dogs.
Two of them are greyhounds; she’s a greyhound freak. She has the Greyhound taxi sign on the side of her car and if I rummaged through her closet, which I pondered, I’d discover a t-shirt that reads, “Greyhounds do it with speed”.
She also owns a dog whose breed I can’t pin down. It falls under that, skittish but want to play, confused breeds.
So, I’m sleeping and I do one of those late night shifts in sleep, open eyes to adjust moves that I’m common of doing. Staring back at me with her head on the pillow is one of the greyhounds, Fortuna. This caused an instant reaction for me. See, Greyhounds have very long pointy-heads. Paint it orange and it looks like an orange traffic pylon.
(Fortuna as she looks regularly...
...and with traffic cone on head. You will notice that the color is really the only difference.)
They also have eyes that are large and look pinned back. My depth perception was off due to mid-sleep shifting and I get the impression that an eight-foot long dog head is staring at me. I jump a little, but Fortuna doesn’t move. She just keeps her head on the pillow and follows me with her eyes.
This was apparently the dogs way of playing alpha with ma and letting me know this was her house. Then she closed her eyes, stretched her legs out to jab me in the side and went back to sleep. Crazy fuckin’ dog.
VAN ON FIRE
I was back in CA for one day when a van outside the apartment decided it was time to end its run on this planet and mysteriously catch on fire. We smelled the smoke inside and started looking around to see if we were on fire. Went outside to see if the complex was on fire and discovered the van blazing out on the street. Fire trucks could be heard a couple of blocks away and all of the neighbors stood around, too close, watching it burn. The owner didn’t seem to be present and I think we were all around waiting to see the owner react more than we were there to watch the fire go out. Unfortunately all we got to see was the van melt down and not its owner.
The firemen were very nonchalant when it cam to putting the fire out. They stood around moving slowly to hook things up and looked bored when the hoses finally started up.
Overall, very uneventful, but it reminded me that I was really back in Los Angeles.
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