Friday Photo

Cycloramas must be repainted to white if the color is changed for a shoot.

Note: The link above leads to the Wikepedia definition of a theatrical soft cyc - ususally made of cloth.

Permanently installed plaster wall cycs on film stages (such as the one in the photo) are called hard cycs - a term not included in the Wikepedia definition.

No good will come of this, I fear.

I love me some Fug Girls. I think they're smart, funny and I enjoy the hell out of their site, but sometimes I worry about them.

I was at a trunk show (where a designer shows the new clothes for the upcoming seasons in a retail store while onlookers eat mini-quiches and drink bad chardonnay) last night with The Supermodel, and saw something that I fear will lead to one of my beloved Fug Girls climbing into a bell tower with a rifle.

Which I must admit could be fun, but innocent people might get nasty blood stains on their white formal shorts.

That's right. Formal shorts. They're not going away anytime soon.

I'm sorry girls. I hate them too - but I'm sad to say it gets worse.

This particular designer upped the ante by accessorizing the formal shorts/hippie shirt/dominatrix boot ensembles (dammit, why did I forget my camera) with drapery ties, worn around the necks as pendants.

I'm not kidding.

Oh, Heather. Oh, Jessica.

Please don't do anything rash.

Oscar. Winning. Rap. Group.

Think about that for just a moment.

Oscar.
Winning.
Rap.
Group.

Kinda rattles the brain, doesn't it?

The dreaded video finally materialized, but it ended up being just wrapping it out (my occasional working life these days - just enough money to fuck up my unemployment).

The job was uneventful - they were just shooting the rappers against the cyc so there weren't a whole lot of lights; just a few skypans hung on the pipe grid, and a few lights on stands.

The Oscar Winning Rap Group were polite and fairly well-behaved, as rap groups go - but we got there late in the day, so I have no idea what happened earlier.

Sometimes production decide to 'help' us by giving us a sleep-deprived production assistant. Normally they just kind of wander around in a daze, and we tell them to go pick up C-47s just to get them out of the way.

This particular sleep-deprived PA decided he really had to help us and proceeded to start throwing all the equipment in a big, messy pile in one corner while insisting that the stage guys had told him to 'keep everything tight'.

When one stages equipment, it must be done in an orderly fashion so the guys who come to count it can do the count as quickly as possible. 'Keep it tight' means keep it as close together as possible while still keeping enough order that the guys can work.

That means like goes with like, everything is lined up in an orderly fashion, and cable is laid out so that it can be quickly counted and loaded. Dumping everything into a sloppy pile doesn't help anyone, and it makes the rental house guys who come to count the equipment crazy.

Despite our pleas for him to stop helping, he insisted. My boss eventually had to go to production and get him sent home before he started making extra work for us. We probably did him a favor - I think the poor guy'd been awake for over 24 hours.

We got everything laid out to count, and then went home around 3 am, as the rental house guys wouldn't be coming in until 7 am.

Oh, what the hell. One more time:

Oscar. Winning. Rap. Group.

Fuck him? I don't even know him!

When I got home this afternoon, I opened the mail and saw the strangest thing.

An invite to Joe Francis' birthday party at Magic Mountain ("come party with us.. drinks, food and all rides will be open").

Who is Joe Francis? I had no fucking idea, but a free night at an amusement park is fine by me.
When I called the RSVP line, I got the following message: "The RSVP line is now closed. Don't bother leaving a message, it will not be checked."

So, either I got my invitation really late, or the RSVP line was never open and they just sent out invitations to generate publicity or waste money or something.

When I told The Blonde about it, she said, "Well, fuck him and the horse he... oh, wait. I'm going to that party. Never mind."

Then, after I'd turned on the computer, I saw the same invite on Defamer and learned why Joe Francis can afford to throw a party at Magic Mountain.

Yeek. The guy made his money from porn.

It's probably just as well (I have issues with porn - but, since I know you're all wondering - I have worked on a porn. Once. I'll never do that again unless I get really, really broke), but I love roller coasters and was looking forward to having a fun time on them.

For this morning's non-work related errand, I went back to the podiatrist (his office is in Santa Monica, and it took me over an hour to get there from Hollywood. Fucking traffic) to get yet another tweak on my orthotics (apparently my feet are being difficult), and he was telling me that no one's working now - not even the people who do commercials (they're almost always busy).

What kills me is that some folks seem to always be blindsided by the work drying up, even though it happens roughly at the same time a few times a year.

In the waiting room, a production co-ordinator was complaining to someone on the other end of her cell phone that she couldn't find a job and didn't know what the hell happened. The lady sitting next to her waited until she'd hung up, turned to her and said "It's summer, honey. Happens every year."

How I'm spending my down time.

Saturday found me on a wild goose chase for road bike tires.

The bike I normally ride is a mountain bike but the other day, I was investigating an abandoned house with a friend of mine and, on the back patio, found a Montgomery Ward 10-speed from 70's - it was covered in dust and in need of some work, but I've been wanting a road bike and haven't wanted to spend the money. The problem is that the bike's tires are super skinny and these days, the only bikes that use 1 3/8" tires are high-end racing bikes with appropriately priced accessories.

I'm determined not to spend more than I absolutely have to on a bike that - with a lot of work - could possibly one day be called a rideable piece of shit.

Saturday night I went to see a good friend who's been out of the country for a year and a half working on a documentary in South America - I'd missed her and was very happy to see her again (and glad that she got back safe). We hung out, drank wine, had dinner, caught up, and had a great visit.


So far I've scrubbed the stove, flipped the mattress, caught up on all the blogs that I love to read and never have time for, have watched some DVD's and turned in my draft to the magazine editor (and I've not heard back from her - that's a good sign. When they hate it, they write back immediately).

I'm hearing rumors of a possible music video later this week, but we'll see.