Dear Life,
I feel like you're passing me by. I was so looking forward to my first summer married to my Hubby. No planning, no parties just us. Going to the beach and sitting on patios and living it up and now I am stuck with this full time job. Don't get me wrong it's a great opportunity; at least I thought it was. But now I think that it was Opportunity's evil twin; Greed. I was offered a full-time job and instead of realizing that I don't do my Joe job because I love it, because I don't. I do my Joe job to pay the rent and give me the flexibility to do the work I love. Right now, I have 5 labours of love waiting in various stages that I don't have time to work on because of this schedule. I went from having 3 days off a week to having 1.5 days off... My creative brain is shriveling, and it makes me sad.
Also let's talk Earhair, a topic we haven't explored for a while. A few months ago I got into some hot water over the casual plucking of an acquaintance. Needless to say it did not go over well. And since then I have been a little bit pluck shy. But now I am starting to think that the universe is punishing me for ignoring my true calling: Heir to the Plucker dynasty. Rogue hairs have been cropping up all around me. On and in co-workers ears. Women with wild blonde and black chin hairs. Coarse hair poking out of neck moles. Long hooked eyebrow hairs refusing to lie down. And all I can do is stare. It's sooo hard. Like being a werewolf but having a dog allergy. It might be driving me closer to the harried edge, if you get my drift.
As for the rest of it, Life; I miss my Puppa-roo and the tip-toe Sushi. I am worried about being left by my BFF. I am getting pressure from girlfriends to premeditate baby plans. As soon as I started enjoying the heat, it slapped my face by dropping 10 degrees. I want to put up my shelves, unpack my books and get the Roddamn boxes out of my hallway. Life, I just feel like your racing past me and no matter how hard I try you won't just pull over for a rest stop, just to stretch my legs. Pretty please Life, I would like to feel like I am driving just for a while. I'd even accept you being a backseat driver or a co-pilot who complains about my driving skills.
Anyhoo, I just felt like it had been a while since we really caught up.
I miss you,
Melicious
P.S. Tell my BFF there are no F's in Arizona, only B's
When I was young and my Bro was younger, my family went on a trip to Florida. The typical Canadian escape over March Break to a place filled with other Canadians off for March Break. My Papa being the efficiency expert he is, forced a 3 day drive into a 2 day window. Which would of course be the best way to start our vacation. My father pushing through Michigan and racing through Georgia, and the 3 of us sleeping for almost everything in between. In a race against an unknown timekeeper, challenging him to stay up all night; stopping only for vending machine coffee and rest stop bathroom breaks. When we arrived in Florida he was tired and grumpy. That much I recall. And what could make a grown man even grumpier? How's about Disney, Epcot and Universal with 2 kids complaining about standing in line and too young to really appreciate the value of a family trip...Ya I think that would do it.
One of the reasons my Parents chose Florida, was the free stay at a timeshare resort, 40 mins from all tourist destinations, a great location with quality amenities and guaranteed property amelioration. After the last few years in the US economy, I guess they are happy they declined, even though they sat through (with us) 2 long winded slideshow presentations and 5 different pushy sales tactics in increasingly smaller rooms. Including: Bribing the children, free tickets to local attractions and lots more exciting and incredible offers. But they obviously didn't know: my family doesn't feel guilty for taking the free shit. That's how they trap those other poor buggers*insert thumb point at the rube next to you.
The most memorable parts about this vacation though was the cheap- side of the highway Croc farm that we went to... Not quite a zoo, not a petting farm, it was a strange mix of domestic and exotic animals. With a GIANT concrete crocodile out front, acting as the doorway to this not so foreign land. It's huge teeth rounded down from the probable sharp points they used to be, before people got all worked up over things like that. The crocodile show was every 15 mins, not very exciting though a burly man in blue coveralls did put his head into the mouth of a small crocodile. The croc was the size of a chocolate lab with a longer snout and tail. Though the safari expedition host empathically assured us, it was very dangerous. He was later selling souvenirs in the gift shop.
On our visit to this park, my Papa's mood improved drastically. We were 6 hours from starting back towards home and he was finally smiling. Starring at a screaming monkey. You know the kind with the pink bums, that have clearly been using rough toilet paper. Papa had put a quater into the turn machines filled with food pellets for the caged animals and was holding a handful of those dried out nuggets. And that monkey was reaching as far as he could while still hanging from his rope, screaming for all that food. Papa throws a pellet. Monkey makes a lame attempt at catching, misses, pellet falls to the floor, monkey shrieks, and holds his hand out for another. Papa laughs, throws another pellet. Another lame grab at the air and another missed pellet. More screaming and angry bouncing- monkey begging for another try to catch another pellet. And so it goes, throw, swat, scream, laugh, throw; until my Papa is on his very last pellet. Making eye contact with this high hanging Monkey, Papa says: "It's the last one, you better catch it." With an exaggerated lob my Papa sends that last pellet high into the air, Monkey extends his hand like God to Adam on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, catches it triumphantly lobs it into his mouth, blows a raspberry then sveltely slides down the rope to collect the handful he's missed. Starring at this, it dawns on me, even at that young age. That monkey has tricked my Papa out of his handful of pellets. Pretending the whole time that he was trying desperately to catch those pieces, knowing he could, but if he did, that was the end of the game. That monkey was smarter than all those timeshare sales people put together.
On our way back out the crocs mouth the safari expedition host tells me to pick any souvenirs I want for a dollar. I choose a tiny message in a bottle filled with sand: Beachfront Property. Then clutching it closely, I climb back into the Winstar, saying goodbye to Florida and Papa aims us Norh, towards home. We made it back in 1.75 days, a record for even my driven Papa. But what's the point of a record if you don't keep trying to break it.
Interesting side note. While researching this blog, I learned that southern Florida is the only place Alligators and Crocodiles live side by side. This little Monkey says: who's teaching who?
The following letters are actual advice I've given this past week dictated:)
Dear Melicious;
I am a dedicated life instructor. People come to me whenever they are in a jam and I help them fix it. I am quite happy to give all my opinions for free. Problems arise though when I don't take my own advice. Or stop giving my advice to people who don't want it. Please help me to help myself.
Signed,
Do as I say, not as I do.
Dear Do-Do,
I know that my big mouth can sometimes get me into trouble. The most important thing to remember about your advice: Only give what you would be willing to receive. That's a narrow row to hoe. Being the voice of reason can hurt your friend's ego. My advice is to be brave, be bold, be yourself. Watch out for opinion backlash. Never say anything definitively bad about someone's significant other; it's bound to hurt you in the end. And keep your comments aimed at the positive to avoid hard feelings. It's tough to give good constructive criticism. Speak gently from your heart. That's the best language to learn if you can't stop talking.
Supportively,
Melicious
Melicious,
It's been a longtime since I fell in love. I am worried that my chance has passed me by. All my friends have a special someone, and they have stopped inviting me to dinner parties and celebrations- except their weddings. How do I tell them how I feel and stay friends?
Yours hopefully,
Friends without benefits
Dear Friendly,
Your situation is not a rare one. With most groups of buddies; amis come and amigos. It's easy to feel left out and I know you miss your pal-around time. But maybe it's up to you to suggest a girl's night without partners. Or else borrow a 'Dude' for an evening of dinner party fun. Making sure that 'Dude' is the most annoying and selfish person at the table will remind your BFs of how you deserve someone fabulous. Perhaps even sparking a fun game of match maker that you can work on with your friend? All in all know is that if your friend is a good one, she'll listen to you and try to help you feel more welcome. If she's not? Well I guess that answers itself:$
Heart!
MM
Dear Melicious,
First time writer, longtime reader. I guess my questions is, when are you going to write a book? Something that will really help people live life with a Melicious flair?
Love you long time.
Dear Longtime, Firsttime,
Thank you so much. Its always great to hear that kind of enthusiasm. I have been asked this regularly over the last 4 months, and all I can say definitely is: there will be a book. A thin, flimsy, perhaps even printed at my house, more like a pamphlet-book. Let's hope:)
Keep those eyes peeled,
Melicious
Dear Melicious,
I am a performer and I know how strange this business can be. It has always been my way to learn something new and then after 'mastering' it I loose interest. I was taught that having more skills was the best way to go about expanding my resume. But I am still not landing any gigs.
Suggestions?
Mad-Hacktress
My Mad-Hacktress,
If there is one thing I've learned its that you have to specialize. Focus on the things that will make you the most sellable. Being sorta alright at everything isn't good enough. If you want to stand out, be better than alright. You don't have to be olympic athlete good. Being very good at a few things will always be better for your career. So focus on yourself, focus on your goals and focus on the positive. Other than that career wise and generally in life the only thing you can control is you; and sometimes even that's too much.
Be brave, be bold. Focus.
Melicious
As always boys and girls, I am happy to help and eager to listen. If you're looking for your bees-wax, I've got it over here.
I am a 30+ year old. It took me 3/4 of a year to become alright with that. Getting older and becoming the person I never thought I'd be old enough to be; for example a Mme, changes things. I don't mean that in the dramatic I am getting old way. But at 23 I was convinced that I would never actually be mature. Twenty-three Whoa! was quite frankly a crazy and strange age. I didn't know who I was or who I really wanted to become. The only thing I knew was who I didn't want to be, which didn't help. I knew I didn't want to be alone. And I really didn't want to be scared anymore. I was very nervous. Nervous to have an opinion. Nervous to be myself. To say what I thought, and have an actual full blown personality and all the great and awful things that go along with it. Which brings me to where I am now. Seven years after I was so scared. I am not nearly as scared. But now I have friends who are going through those 23 year old things. And I see their fears, which scares me all over again. But Baby, regardless of the things that scare you, you are who you are... And it would take a lot of time, effort and therapy to change those things.
Dear 23 year old:
My biggest concern; the way you cover yourself up. Painting yourself with thick layers of synthetic skin, protecting you from the world outside. I know you're scared. I can see it in the measured way you talk. The ruler leaning against your phrasing. Taking the wind out of your sails. You deserve more from yourself, and it makes me sad that you don't think so. If you, a beautiful 23 year old don't feel love for yourself at the prime of your life, when you are the most beautiful, natural and lovely creature, what hope is there for the rest of the world? Including the 30+year old woman that I am now. Dear 23 year old, you are so amazing that watching you become a brave and idealistic soul is inspiring the people around you. Please understand that all the best people you know got their hearts broken by people who pretended to love them. That you're not perfect, and nobody expects that from you, except you. You are better than the way people treat you. Your high school friends won't be your only friends forever, and soon you'll get to choose a whole new clique, people who will be your family because they love you, not just because they live in the same school district. But being a grown up will be really hard for the few first years. Kitty says: Hang in there baby.
When I was your age, I was crazy. I couldn't get a grip on the idea of becoming a "member of society". Paying taxes and doing things like cleaning my own apartment. I lived with roommates; which teaches you how to suffer in silence. Grin and bearing dirty dishes and uncleaned washrooms. Girls are not easy to understand at the best of times. Twenty-somethings are even worse. With the climatic apex of living on their own and trying to be grown ups before they really understand who they are...Can I even tell you. I hated myself, I didn't need anybody's help, I covered myself with laquer and expected people to see past it. But you don't need to hide to be seen. You are beautiful and I know you can hear me. Please know when a 30+ says it's going to get easier, that it will. It doesn't stay crazy for much longer. Dear 23, you are young and beautiful, things get better and we will welcome you at our 30+ table because you help us to feel like we're helping:) And Sister Sledge, we are family, because you chose me.
Every month I have 3-5 days when I am a crazy full moon-atic. When this not so pleasurable version of me appears to keep Hubby company, he never takes it well. It also takes him 2 days of me being not so nice for him to realize that it has been 28ish days since I was this mean. So, needless to say he is finally getting the rhythm. I also admit that working 14 hour days, most of which are in Hamilton have amplified these symptoms. Yesterday, I wasn't nice at all. I didn't deserve a second thought, let alone a premeditated ambush of love. But that's what I got. He sniper-ed me with a happy marriage and a grenade of smiles. Starting my day at 4:30am has created a split in our sleeping schedules, some nights he works that late. Our weekends are full of all the errands and all the life we can jam into them. We've been busy. Today as I was waiting at work for my work to start again, I got a text.Hubby: I have a surprise for you when you get home:)Melicious: Ginger Beer!Hubby: Better.Melicious: The Comish has moved out?Hubby: Nah, he's staying...Melicious: Dang. You got me that super expensive nightie from SFYS? (SFYS: Secrets from your Sister, Toronto's most amazing lingerie boutique)Hubby: Nope.Melicious: Washed the Sheets?Hubby: Nope. But I'll do that too.Melicious: Oh geez. I racked my brain trying to figure out why this rainy Wednesday was suddenly so special. Two hours later I saw Hubby's Facebook post: "Melicious is going to be surprised when she gets home" Below this statement friends and relatives posted their hypotheses, I was surprised to see what they thought would surprise me. Thank Rod nobody suggested another FanBoy toy! Then text:
Hubby: 2 surprises.:)
Melicious: Oh dear my love.
Hubby: ETA? Wanna make sure things are nice for you.:)
Melicious: Why?
Hubby: There are 3 surprises.
Melicious: That's a bit much.
Hubby: You're worth it.
I sat at work thinking about surprises. I finished work. I rode home from work thinking about surprises. I got off the bus...then I walked home thinking about...that's right, surprises. Turns out I really love surprises. I should say that again. I REALLY love surprises. Climbing the four floors to my condo I thought some more. Turning my key in the lock, opening to smells of my current favourite food: Saag Paneer Roti. Mmmhmm, dinner is served. Hubby turning the corner close on Jilly's heels, both of them wagging with excitement to have me home. I smile. If this was the surprise- I really liked it. And I smiled. But I came into our nearly new apartment and you know what? It was painted. It was painted in one day. I left and came back and it was painted. The cans had been sitting in our den for the last 3 months waiting for their chance to show their true colours and they did. My house was transformed and I didn't even have to help do it:) BEST SURPRISE ever. My vintage inspired bedroom... I mean OUR bedroom is Bibbity Bobbity-Blue and the den is Buttercup yellow and their both done. Two coats, dry, clean and finished. Boy, was surprised. A huge checkmark for the TO DO list and a giant gold star for the best Hubby I've ever had. My 2 other surprises? Clean sheets and 2 books from my Wishlist. SO, as a representative appointed to speak for this Moon-atic; Hubby please remember she'll be back in a month and you've set the bar pretty high. I love you! I love you! I love you. But that's no surprise.
This having a full time job thing is really cutting into quite a few of my preferred activities. Like hanging out, hanging out with friends, hanging out with my dog, you know important things. What having a full time job is great for is spreading the news. You know that news really does spread, New York, NEEEW Yooork. Sorry, tangent*refocusing hand. The problem is; I am not used to knowing what's happening in the world. I mean hearing it all. Floods and fires and shootings oh my. That's not even to say that whole southern cannibalism thing or foot in the mail business.
It can't be a coincidence that the world is going a bit crazy this year can it? That the four horsemen of the apocalypse are starting to saddle up and ride around our over populated world the way the Mayans predicted? Do you remember partying like it was 1999? Thinking that computers were going to implode and/or take over the world because they had never changed over a century. Well, that was one hell of a weird time too. People buying water, batteries, generators and stockpiling basements; as if it would really help. What did we think was really going to happen...oh right, we didn't know. That was the problem.
Now, let's talk Toronto this past week. There was a shooting in the Eaton's Centre with 8 injured and 1 dead. Rumour has it; it was gang related. And not to seem insensitive but that relieves me, I am slightly less horrified than I would be if it were a run of the mill psychopath who merely wanted to murder some mall shoppers. I feel awful for the injured parties. I also feel bad for the people who work at the mall, as it's been closed for investigation until further notice. Most of those part time employees don't have insurance to cover the lost wages.
The Union super flood? Let's break that down for a sec. It rained so hard and so fast that our Toronto transit couldn't keep the 3 lowest subways from flooding. They were closed the better part of the day. A system that people rely on to get them around the city, what's supposed to be the Better Way flooded like the lower decks of the Titanic. People running for their lives, again...Anybody else see a problem here? Oh, and what goes hand in glove with flood? Fire; that's what. The Ontario forest fires to be exact. The rain was needed to quench that; but Ontario's largest city got it instead. I heard estimates of rain as high as 60 cm...which I think is impossibly high, but my meteorology is a bit rusty.
As for the CDC releasing a statement to the effect that: Hey everybody, it's not a Zombie outbreak. It seems strange that we were worried it was. I will expand on this further, you better believe that we'll talk Zombie Infestation plan soon. But for now let's just glean. Okay, so of all the monsters in the whole wide range of monsters; humans are by far the scariest. Especially humans with a cannibalistic disease that can't be tested for or tracked. That's scary. People eating people, and more and more often. It's just a matter of time before human meat becomes the ultimate in eating locally:$
Alright, alright. Maybe I've seen one too many end of days movie; but it's typically the guy with the conspiracy theory that cracks the code (or dies first). So, maybe I should pick up a coulpe cases of water, some batteries, a shot gun and a good pair of running shoes. Or maybe I should loosen my tin foil hat and take a deep breath. Then again, it never hurts to be prepared.
Weekends suddenly make sense to me. I have been living day to day. Jumping from gig to gig for the past 5 years. Without a steady job- other than this... So, the weekend never meant that much to me. It was just 2 more days of the week that I could be working or waiting for the work to call or sweating that it had been 3 days since I worked, etc ad nauseum. But when you're booked into a steady Mon to Friday work week; the weekend is two days off. Back to back, days where I am my own boss. Not worried about when my next job is coming. It's coming Monday. Those 2 days are allocated to my whim. And with this my first Free Weekend I learned the following things in no particular order.
1. The Horseshoe Tavern is Toronto's best music venue- especially if the band has a fiddle
2. Bone marrow, horse meat and cow tongue taste amazing if the chef knows how to do it right
3. Free beer is the best beer
4. A DJ playing to an empty room doesn't take requests
5. My bike needs a softer seat
6. A rare book doesn't have to be old but it helps
7. Law schools are designed to inspire greatness in their students
8. Sundays are designed for Mommas
9. My Puppa loves me more when I smell like bacon poutine
10. Scotland has born some pretty wicked people
11. Lucy doesn't want to play the game "look I’m a pirate and she's a parrot" while standing out on my shoulder
12. Bye, bye Birdie is wicked- this I already knew but it’s important to be reminded
13. Baby Belle won't play herself and I need to practice
14. Coffee in Paris is cheaper at the bar than at a table
15. New shoes make me feel great and guilty
16. A change of facial and body cream are a gateway to better cheeks; which means better smiling
17. Sunshiney weather brings out my freckles
18. My bike basket is not an acceptable handbag
19. Most people yelling in the streets aren't talking to me
20. Queen St though busier is better than Dundas for now
21. Having reliable people around means you breath better
22. Having a slogan on your shirt; allows people to stare at your chesticles
23. Being dressed up and looking good with someone you love is better than being in comfys alone
24. Having a BFF who is pretty helps to see the beautiful things around you
25. A spring breeze is best when blowing through the new spring leaves
26. I will never stop loving Jelly shoes
27. Rose water smells amazing on me
28. Whenever you get something you actually need. When you get home you'll find you needed 2 of them
29. Freddie Mercury still rocks
30. Stopping to smell the flowers sometimes means actually stopping to smell the flowers
31. Painting your toenails navy; encourages one to hum the Village People
I know, I know these aren’t shocking and amazing revelations, but it sounds to me like I had a pretty informative weekend. I just wish that I was taking a weekend from this- and getting paid again Today :) Ah the dream! Happy Monday to all you daily grinders, and Happy non-specific day of any generic work week to all you freelancers.
As I compose this blog there are 2 sets of fingers in my mouth. No, that's not right.
As I compose this I am fully reclined with a grinder drilling a hole in my brain...nope, still not there.
This blog was written from the comfort of a dentist's chair. As this new dentist, who I liked as soon as I met him, feels around inside my mouth for this dramatic fracture I am blogging in my mind. You know how people say "Go to your happy place." This is my happy place. But that Rod-damned grinding/polishing is throwing my thoughts into a tizzy- Rude. The weird thing is I don't want to talk about the hands in my mouth (though I have mentioned it twice). I don't even want talk about dentists in general, except this: I love Steve Martin. The topic of choice today?
It's you. Yes, you. Stop looking around. No, not that guy, why would it be that guy? I can smell his BO from here. Eww. I digress. Yesterday I spent time with 2 of my biggest cheerleaders- unrelated to me by blood or marriage. People who have chosen my basket for some of their eggs. A weird analogy, but I like it. These two fab folks are wicked sticks. The kind that beat the crap out of low-self esteem and prop you up when you're not too sure of yourself. While Hubby says I may give myself too much credit, it's still nice to hear it from others. There is a very nervous and shy girl under this bravado.*insert Home Alone face
When you're a little person, friendship is a game of proximity. You weren't friends with people you didn't see. That's the way it was. When you grow up, well get taller, friendship changes. You start realizing you can learn something from every friend in your life, near or far. Yesterday's lesson was in loyalty and dedication. These two get me doing all sorts of things I don't wanna do, but they knows it's good for me, so I do things for/with them. And maybe a little bit for me. Being more like them helps me feel better about myself. Is that alright? It almost feels like I am taking advantage of their kindness, and claiming it as my own. I hope they get something from me other than a blog entry:)
Another friend of mine has been teaching me generosity. He's generous beyond merit. It's strange to me- I don't like giving gifts. I am not very good at it. I am not good at it because I am cheap. He reminded me that giving to others is a gift in itself. Giving is the point, and it feels good. That is the reason you give someone something. To give it. But I forgot that. I am not sure if I will ever be great at this, but I think trying is the first step to changing that. Then there's Damnber who splits herself so many ways and still manages to make you feel special. Important. Understood. She is more whole while split than most people are whole. If you can wrap your head around that.
So dear friends near and far, old and new let's remember the lessons we've learned and the ones we are teaching. Oh, this UV light and schmancy glasses mean I am almost done at the dentist, and this blog. Which is a good thing cuz thinking about how special you are is giving me the vapours. Oh no, that's just stray spittle. Talk about grinding to a halt:) (That's a very happy smile. Thanks DDS)
You can pick your nose and you can pick your friends, but you cant pick your friend's nose hairs; your brother's on the other hand that's a different story. Buddy-boy, I know you won't read this, but thanks for pre-approving my telling it:) His actual words being; "I won't read it, so whatever." My brother and I are very similar, though he thinks I am some sort of Golden Child, which is a lot of pressure, cuz I don't like to disappoint, and being the golden child, I am waiting for Eddie Murphy and the "I-ee-i-i-I want the knife". If you see us together, you can tell we're related. We laugh at our own jokes, we laugh before we've even told a joke. We're awesome. You know, we're awesome because we say so. It's a family thing.
Now, Buddy-boy is a tradesman. He works all day with wood and paint and hammers. He breathes in dirt and dust and indignation. He's supposed to wear a mask, but chooses not to. And I think it's for the same reason as I don't like wearing them, they make talking hard. Talking- well, ranting, that's another a family thing. How would the world survive without hearing what we've got to say- luckily, you'll never know, cuz we won't shut up.*insert knowing head nod. So, no mask means- his natural filter- his nose holes, are working OT. (It's unpaid OT as they are contracted under special Ontario Trades apprenticeship program) That being said- I think you can understand where I'm going with this... His nostrils are brimming with rogues- it's like an upside down vase with fuzzy stems poking out. It's amazing.
When he arrived at my house, looming over me, all I could see was nose hair. I was deaf to his words, in my mind what he was saying was: "Hey, sis, you should pluck this. I want you to get rid of them. Please, you're my only hope" What he was actually saying was he's falling in love, which is scary for him but I know it's really wicked! So, before I missed any other important information I stopped him. "Can I get those for you?" Pointing to his schnoze. "Pretty please? You'll look so much, well, less hairy. When your nose hairs start migrating to beard hairs... it's time to take them out." His answer? A resounding "NO!" suddenly Hubby chimes in, "You'd better just let her do it. She won't stop until they're gone". I turn to Hubby smiling, he gets me, he really gets me:) Finally, Buddy-boy agrees. I leap from my seat and reach for the tweezers (which there's a pair in every room and my purse) and a kleenex. Going straight to work, worried he'll change his mind. Buddy-boy tearing up and laughing at the same time. He knows that beauty is pain, just ask his 27 tattoos or piercings and mohawk. Having pulled 6 hairs- one of which I am pretty sure was attached to his brain, he stops me.
"That's good." he says with the matching suppression gesture.
"No, there's only 2 more." I whine,
"No, it's good." Recognizing the tone of his voice as the one that he typically uses before the Green light (green light means all systems Go! No holding back), I restrain myself.
I know that too much of a good thing can be painful, like those Big Gulp slushies no one can ever finish. Having nearly completed my mission, I am nearly satisfied that I will be sending him out into the City like the awesome dude he says he is (and actually is most days). I think for X-mas, I will get him an industrial face hole trimmer, or I'll just invite him over for a spa day with his fav Golden girl, which would actually be like a gift for both of us:)
Yesterday, while lying in a shallow grave getting hailed on, I realized. I love my job. I know, I know, it sounds terrible. And really it is. I mean, it's freaking awful. It's cold and dirty and you have to use unheated port-a-pottys, and you stand around for 14 hours, and your jaw hurts from clenching it in the cold. You have no control over when you'll be finished; no matter how hard or well you work. Generally, you're just uncomfortable and itchy. The film business, ain't purty. There in lies the rub, I love it anyways. I love, love, love it; and it's a good thing I have a union that dictates what I get paid- cuz I would do all this crazy stuff for free- that's how much I love it. FREE!!! I would be a waitress, or a police officer, or a janitor in a movie, tv show or theatre production. The great thing is, I never have to stay the same thing more than a few days. Tomorrow always holds another character.
Here is my morbid dream, which I guess should be classified as a nightmare...I want to play a dead body 7 times before I die, and preferably in the following ways:
1. Blueing Corpse on a mortuary slab with the Y-stitches- I don't know the cause of death, the CSI team are just putting the clues together, there will hopefully be a "flashback" of the murder happening.
2. Falling down stairs- splayed out at the bottom.- Pushed by my jealous lover or a woman who wants to steal my husband and perfect life.
3. A cancer patient or other near survivor.- Not really something I want to do...but if I am playing people dying, this is one of the most likely avenues I'll have to take.
4. Impaled in the gut with a spear or jousting foil.- Going down in a medieval blaze of glory, a peasant woman secretly acting as a knight to save her family's business from a tyrannical Lord or Baron.
5. Eaten by a wild animal, preferably a bear, after a wrestling match.- While lost in the woods, without shoes I stumble into a ferocious bear's territory. He lurches at me from the rustling brush, and we struggle as he slashes and tears, I eventually succumb and the bear eats me, ripping me apart.
6. Swarmed by zombies or dragged away by demons- like in Ghost or Zombieland, with lots of screaming and grasping for help, clutching the hand of someone I know is going to leave me behind, I am too far gone already. I just hope if it's Zombies, my team of apocalyptic survivors shoot me in the head to honour my memory, keeping me from becoming a zombie myself. It's the least they could do.
7. Floating in a pool- eyes open.- a timeless classic, and I would hope it's shot in black and white, from the bottom of the pool. Classic death, drowned in a swimming pool.
All that terrible stuff being said, I would also like to solve a mystery, find a missing child, rob a bank, fly, unite 2 feuding families...okay, okay, let's be honest. I want to do everything. There's not a single thing that I wouldn't do or be. I have always been a glutton for punishment, not real punishment mind you, but working in film might be worse punishment as it's a lot more takes, a lot more angles, and a lot more direction, but I still love it. Why be a anything, when you could be everything?
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