Waistcincher Redux, And Other Tales of Woe

It's been a LONG week. Monday night I went to a friend's birthday party in a little bar/cafe in the East Village, and it got very, VERY drunk out. Tuesday, while I was crawling around on my hands and knees moaning gently, thinking of which of my friends I could trust to come over and put me out of my misery, dear old Grant Wilfley called - back to the waistcincher yesterday.

I was in a bit of a terror, because Sarah and I went to see Harry Potter at the midnight showing on Tuesday/Wednesday...and I knew damn well I wouldn't get home until around 3AM (making a 5;30 in the morning bus a fairly ugly idea). Luckily yesterday's shoot turned out to be a night shoot, which worked out perfectly.

I've never been on a night shoot before, and I'm here to tell you that it's great fun. We were out on the actual, purpose-built set in Greenpoint, Brooklyn (which evidently is now my second home), and oh, my God, it's spectacular. I can't describe it to you because I'm bound by a confidentiality agreement, but trust me - you will DEFINITELY want to watch the pilot (comes out in January, I think) to see this.

But oh, dear - I was called for the bus at 5:30 pm, and waltzed - make that staggered - into the house at 6:30 am. At which point I tried to read the papers and discovered that my eyes were closing...so I went to bed, intending to wake up around 4 pm or so and have an enormous meal and try to get myself turned around to be on the same time as everyone else (with a midnight movie on Tuesday and an all-night shoot on Wednesday, I'm no longer sure what the hell day or time it is). Unfortunately, some blithering idiot set up the world's loudest machine of some sort under my window at 9 am or so - when I'd dozed off at 8. So up I got again, NOT awake. Then I ate something and went back to sleep, only to wake up again...so far today, I've gotten about three hours sleep, and I'm dying.

And I ache all over, and I had to turn the air conditioning on. Last night's shoot involved standing and walking around for the whole damn thing, as opposed to the other two shoots, which were sitting. My cute little lace-up boots are just fine for sitting in...not for standing in, I have discovered. I'm just TIRED. And still hot, because of course, since it was warm and humid last night, we were shooting a winter scene, which meant that on top of the dreaded waistcincher, the blouse, and the suit, I was wearing a larger furpiece than my other one and had my hands stuck in a fur muff. By the time they finish shooting this thing, I think they're just going to have to burn those costumes...

But lovely money with night differential AND overtime (12 hours! Yay! Yawn!).

Meanwhile, one of my straight agencies called today, and they want me to do a 12 hour a week straight job, which they assure me is flexible, and will pay 15 bucks an hour. It'll last until November, and IF it comes off, I'll have a nice little weekly addition to the Christmas fund.

I am going to bed, and if I hear one damn noise outside that isn't the usual run of neighborhood shrieks and catfights, I'm going to run down with a bucket of boiling oil. So there.

Love, Wendy