"Monet's unknown masterpiece...Dogs At Cards. "
Yeah, that was UHF. "Ghandi II--this time, it's HIS way!" The movie I'm quoting this post is great too. Dogs at cards, oh yes.
We shot some footage last night. Great stuff. We also shot some today. We had Damian dolled up in a black trenchcoat (pleather) and Zack in a kung fu outfit (wide sleeves, little knots through the loops) and we did a chase/fight down a set of stone steps, across a bridge, down another set, and onto some railroad tracks and off into the distance. Tomorrow I hope we do some talkng scenes, and possibly some more fighting on the rocks out on the river near the tracks.
Installment 8--check the previous post, I edited in a segment.
I flipped the thief onto the bench opposite me, using his forearm as a lever. "I'll make you a deal: bring me up to date on the who's who of the Gate City crimminal underground. I'll give you a nice shiny copper."
I turned my wrist deliberately. I was still holding his arm. The ratty little man grimaced. "Ok, you twisted my arm."
I loosened my grip. "Start talking."
"All right. See, Jimmy the Jew is Knocker for the Shadows right now. Zoomaster Xachary is Main Pimp. Shithead Sean just assasinated Matt the Jewel, those clans have been at war for a while now...I'm in hiding, myself--I was one of the Jewel's Shivs when the bad shit went down."
"If you've told me false you'll have a fresh reason to be in hiding--and I retired off my bounty hunting money."
"Since I can't take your money I'll get your drift."
"You get to drink from the FIRE HOSE!"
The quote on the previous post was from my shitty reality show.
The drive up to Richmond was technically uneventful, but it had some interesting points. For one thing, I finally had occasion to tighten the nut on my driver's side windshield wiper. I was probably something to comment on, standing on the side of the road, shirtless (it was DAMN hot) tightening this thing with a goddamn pair of pliers. So then I got back in the car, turned on the wipers, and it loosened up immediately. I pulled off at the next exit to get out of the rain. I tightened it up enough that it worked, but by the time I got out on the highway again, the rain had stopped. Of course. Also obvious, I had picked the one exit that made it damn hard to actually get back on the interstate. So I got back on the interstate, like I mentioned in the last fuckin' sentence, and tuned into the most idiotic radio show ever. This guy seemed to think that gay people were taking away from the war effort by assaulting the sanctity of marriage. Well, hell, I'm kinda skeptical about marriage in the first place, so this ain't the best argument with me. Who gives a damn? A guy in China married a Barbie doll once, I shit you not, though he divorced her pretty damn quick--she was too stiff in bed, and she just lay there. I could go on, but basically, the guy was an ultra right wing neo-Nazi conservative, you get the idea, and an idiot.
That wasn't much, though-I was on a road trip with my family once, with the addition of my grandmother. Dad bought a Ford. If you can avoid this, do so by any means necessary. Dad is apparently forced to buy Fords because, one, it has enough seats that everybody doesn't have to sit directly next to anybody, but even then that large car can become a fucking small space pretty quick. We had Grandma with us, so the her and the two people sitting next to her were pissed. Two, it has enough towing capacity for all the shit that Dad hauls.
Anyway, we were driving not-so-merrily along when the car starts to vibrate. Dad starts pulling over, and the vibration increases to shaking. Then there's a great lurch and the car tilted to ojne side. I looked out the window and observed a wheel bouncing into the median. "Huh." I considered this, "That can't be good." I looked down and saw the axle sparking off of the asphalt. I considered this as well. "Mother of holy fuck!"
We took the rest of the day to get the car and trailer towed, and the only dealership around was a Ford outlet. We pulled out with another damn Expedition, this one with a DVD player. Funny thing, the transmission on that one blew out on Dad on his most recent trip.
I spent Thursday, or it might have been Friday, scouting locations, meeting actors and tech people, and also playing video games. These are all theater people, and they all badmouth each other behind their backs, I'm trying to get used to it. These two guys disagreed with each other on a production issue (foamcore combat swords) and told me radically different things. The same thing they both told me was that is it was an ego thing--with the other guy. Hoo boy. I can't wait for the male-female drama.
"Fine." I hoped that Alandria had packed some rations for the road. "Just show me the accomadations."
Let's skip over the part where I tell you all about getting our stuff and going to the room with the flea-infested staw mattresses, shall I? We'll get right to the part where Kahnrad and I slunk back to the barroom and started gathering information.
I was deep in my cups. My shoulders were hunched and my eyes were hooded. There was a small pile of silver and gold on the table in front of me, obviously meant to pay off my tab.
Well, actually it was bait, as the thief who made a grab for it discovered when I caught his wrist in an iron grip.
You might have figured it out--I'm kind of in a hard place with this story. I really don't know why I stopped them at the tavern, it just seemed like they shouldn't have reached Gate City in the first day. But you don't talk about all the boring stuff. Sure, you write in implications, but you don't actually describe it all. Anyway, I wrote myself into a plot point that I've got to make up. We'll see how I handle it.
How About A Goddamn Intermission?
Just checking in to let you all know that while I will do my best to update you all, there will be a break from your regularly scheduled doses of storytime and quote goodness (though I'll probably sneak a few in there for ya).
I am currently finishing up the edit on a short film I recently shot. It's tough going, because I had to be in it do to a shortage of actors and after looking at my mug long enough, I am willing to concede that my acting fucking sucks, or at least clocks in right at mediocre. In future I will endeavor to restrict myself to small bit parts and parts that are easy to play, like "Sleeping Guy."
Tomorrow I am finally driving up to Virginia, so you'll be able to expect some audioblogging. There I will direct a short film, with a full cast (and sort of full crew). This short film concerns the adventures of Sanitational Worker, an incompetent super hero who has charged himself with protecting the great state of Delaware. As a nemesis he has Master Naughty, a villain who got stuck with a bad name because he got kicked out of the College of Crime and Villainy. Backing him up are such diverse characters as Lord Setyourhaironfire and the Pants Queen, as well as Melvin. Sanitational will also be forced to do battle with the likes of Canadian Death Robots and...more Canadian Death Robots.
If you're into sex blogs, you might want to check out this one. Also this one.
is an experience alternating between moments of "Holy SHIT that looks great, this is so awesome, so much fun, YES!!" and "God-fucking-DAMNIT, why won't the piece-of-shit program do what the fucking hell I WANT!? MOTHERFUCKER!"
"Before we start, did anyone leave a stack of rolled up twenties, in a rubber band? Because we found the rubber band."
The previously quoted movies were Pitch Black and Pulp Fiction, respectively. I'm thinking of doing a movie trivia contest, what do y'all think? Perhaps a small prize for the winner, a limerick composed about them or some such. No punches will be pulled, so don't compete if you don't want to win this dubious prize.
Speaking of movies, Vader needs to check this out.
I had an interesting experience the other day. My mother and I were out shopping for stuff to put in my apartment. We filled about two carts full of stuff. I insisted on making Jaws references repeatedly. "We're gonna need a bigger cart!"
We got lamps, a couple of fans, a couple of inflatable beds (one for the apartment and one in case somebody needed a place to crash, plus I could fit the smaller one in my car), cooking supplies, a trashcan, a blender, a toaster oven, a couch (55 bucks), and a bunch of other assorted stuff. That wasn't the exciting part.
The fun part was that there was this really cute girl who kept coming over and asking if we were finding everything we needed. "Pretty much--except that I could really use some pussy right now," as Steve might say. I got to talking with her and she said she goes to ECU, a big party school that was featured in Playboy.
Guess who's plundering Dad's stash?
I asked her if I could give her my number, and she said she had a boyfriend. DAMNIT! I ALWAYS get that! She took my number anyway, and told me that I was her type, which was why she kept coming over.
Hey. I'm somebody's type. Somebody likes me. Wonderful!
And I can't take advantage of the fact. Shit!
My wet dream abruptly took a turn for the S/M-istic as my luscious bed-partner began lashing my buttocks with a whip. Then my dream suddenly had its butt kicked by reality.
I was lying on my face in the back of a lurching, splitery wagon. Alandria was holding the whip, and she was waking me up. This did not bode well for our future relationship.
"Get up. We're stopping for the night, and I need you to get us rooms."
"Why me?" I groaned, picking bits of wood out of my cheek.
"Because you're big and strong and the innkeeper will listen to you."
"He'd listen to you."
"No, he wouldn't. For all he knows, I don't have a head. Go talk to him. Get us a good deal."
I rolled off the wagon, staggering as the blood rushed to my head. A happy thought ocurred to me. If I played my cards right, Alandria and I would have to sleep in the same bed! That would be a shame.
"By the way, if you try and fix the sleeping arrangements you get the floor."
I stumped towards the tavern. My brutal shove slammed its door open. The other travelers looked up briefly and then went back to their drinks.
Dirt floor. A fireplace for lighting that wasn't doing a very good job of it. A barrel of beer and a guy with an apron that was probably cleaner than the clothes underneath it, standing behind a high sort of bench. I guessed that this was the bar. I stooped (low ceiling, and I'm tall) and walked over to the bar.
"I need three beds and some decent food."
"Does this look like a gourmet restaurant to you?" the bartender inquired. "The mash in our beer should be meal enough for you."
Great. A comedian.