Holy crap it’s early. But it’s good to see everyone, especially Liz who has been a part of all of my shoot blogs so far. We get into the rented minivan and Liz remarks that it feels like one of those early-morning excursions to Hasbro.
Todd brought along his own GPS which has some feature where you can pick the accent of the voice information. He has selected Australian and everyone else has named her Sheila. I think Todd just likes taking orders from an Australian chick.
It turns out that Andrea and I have the same knapsack. Or is it a backpack? Either way, that can’t be good. We got it from the same crappy production company when we were on the same crappy shoot a few years ago. But the knapsack is nice so I use it often. This has all the makings of a bad spy film. Andrea and I will be next to each other in an elevator. I’ll get off on my floor but pick up her bag. And then I’ll be stuck with all of her girlie things while she has the microfilm! And then I’d have to kill her. And that would just suck.
Greg M. (there’s also a Greg N. lurking about) correctly points out that the DJs out here talk way too much. These two morons (it might be Mark and Brian) are riffing on whales. They use terms like “humpback” and “blowhole” and discuss about the hole both blowing and sucking. Wacky stuff! Insert slide whistle, bicycle horn, etc. Greg and I start riffing on a morning duo called Banter and Chit Chat In The Morning!
Despite Sheila’s advice, Todd is lost. Wait, he’s not lost. We’re in the right place but it seems dodgy. There’s no one around and no one’s answering the door at the production company. Todd has left us in the van while he scouts the area. No one’s answering the phone. No one’s answering the door. Meanwhile, we’ve pulled up next to a homesless man covered in a blanket. And Todd’s standing outside the van with his computer open. He’s a man with no plan standing outside a van. Someone call Dr. Seuss. And then it turns out that they’ve been in there the whole time and not answering the phone at all. Not a good start to the day.
The prepro is predictably long and drawn out and overthought but we continue to amuse ourselves. For example, the last name of the guy we cast as a psych patient is “Moody”. And a boy named Henry the Third gets to third base with a couch cushion. That’s good stuff.
The director has a lazy eye but none of us knows where to look.
Lunchtime. Fancy sandwiches and pastries. Liz is reminded of the meringue incident in Buenos Aires, where meringue tasted like wet dog smelled. You can always rely on Liz for some bizzaro rationalization like that.
Wardrobe is lasting forever, but Liz is handling most of it. I trust her. I have to. Liz asking me for wardrobe advice would be like my cousin Heshe advising on dieting.
Dinner: Spanish Kitchen. Good food, crappy service.