It takes a special kind of person that can run late at 12 in the afternoon. I woke late and jumped in the shower, dreading the day ahead of me. I was terrified of George the evil Wardrobe guy. I thought I would never work the show again, which is silly since I made no effort to prevent this inevitable rendez-vous. I pulled my wet hair up in a bun and ran out the door, suit in hand. I became very thankful for the cars going 95 mph on the freeway because it made my 87 mph look slow and legal by comparison, even though the speed limit was of course only 65 mph. Only two things were running through my mind: Please God, I hope nobody gets mad at me, and did I put any deodorant on this morning?
I arrived about 10 minutes late, but nobody noticed and I proceeded to sit on the couch waiting for George to look at my wardrobe. He came eventually and sat down beside me. He complimented me on my British socks and the color of my shoes. He was in a good mood. YES! Happy Happy Joy Joy. AND he was okay with my suit. Listen...I'm not even going to pretend to rationalize his mood swings, but am thankful that he didn't give me a hard time today. Maybe he remembered making me cry last time...or maybe he really is just incredibly moody. Who knows.
During lunch, an hour after I arrived, we had carne asadas and watched the episode that premiered tonight. I love watching the episodes with the cast and crew and spent most of my time watching the lead actor, Mark Harmon, watch himself on screen. He seemed to be enjoying it. Later in the day they had a guy making crepes, but I managed to show some restraint...barely.
After lunch, Hacker the 2nd 2nd was setting people for the scene. He then came right in front of me and Tim the guy I was going to be crossing with. Then the unexpected happened...he let out a loud and long fart. Embarrassed, he turned around quickly and said, "Holy shit I'm sorry." Tim broke up laughing, but Hacker's real concern was me. "I lived with a girl for 4 years and can count on one hand how many times I farted in front of her. I can't believe I did that. Don't tell anybody, okay?" I told him I'd write it on my blog. He thought I was joking.
When I got home at 7:30 pm, my hair was still wet. C'est la vie.
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