If you don't have a drummer, then why do you have drums you fistful of assholes?

I love summer in LA! Even though it ain't quite summer and it was a bit overcast I still got to ride longboard waves with dolphins. Seriously. Fucking dolphins in the lineup and just me and my friend Beck (not the singer!) trading waves back and forth. Good damn times! Anyway, I surfed, walked the dog, did the laundry and took care of some paperwork. Following that I picked up the Midget and away we go!

She's still dorking it in regards to her English homework but I think the "ignore her until she does it herself" tact is working really well. She bugs me to do her homework and I give her some encouragement to do it herself. Here are some examples: "You don't need help. You're smart enough to do it yourself. Fuck off and leave me be, child!" You get the drift. More importantly, she's geeked on learning how to kill me on Halo 2. Oh yeah, sure, she wants to play "cooperative mode" but really she's just learning the game so she can battle me and win. Devious little bastard, I love her! We played Halo 2 for about 40 minutes while eating Fatburger and suddenly I realized it was past her bedtime. Oops. Off to bed, oh smelly one.

The girl is at the oprey so I'm going to keep watching hunting shows and Law & Order and maybe check out some Internet porn. I hear it's all the rage these days.

Peace out, bitches!

I am not afraid. They are not afraid. You blow up the wagon, you die. Or we kill you pretty soon. But we are amigos.

Hello world, I'm happy about Operation Bowfinger! Look, look what I did today:

That's right, if a deer is 2o yards away from me, which it won't be, I'll freakin' nail that sucker! Otherwise, I'm sure the deer will only feel the odd sensation of having an arrow zip over its back. Then he'll hear me quietly sobbing somewhere farther away then 20 yards.

Or maybe I'll be good at deer  hunting? Who knows. I'm excited though, I can't wait to start my preseason scouting missions to the middle of nowhere. I can't wait to backpack in, set up camp, and start still hunting bored and totally aware deer who, at this very minute, are planning various strategies to outwit and embarrass idjits like me. Damn, it's going to be completely ridiculous out there with me fumbling around trying to find a deer. 

Off to check tide charts for tomorrow. I chose early bedtime over booze so I could go out tomorrow and ride knee high waves. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Peace out, bitches!

It's come to my attention that you're not paying attention, Otto.

What can I say? The 1st AD isn't a 1stAD, she's Dustin Hoffman's personal assistant. The director is Hoffman's kid, not an actual director. The producers, yes, multiple producers, are not producers. They're mini-Hoffman's idiot acting buddies. The art department is on Zoloft. The only real criminals here are me, the DP, my second and the bastards of Grip and Electric. The real criminal, the ones who have been doing this awhile, are done. We're sick of it, we're over it, we're fucking stuck here two more days. Seriously, I just ate at fucking Applebee's for the second time this week because they have beer and they're the only joint open in Yucca Valley right now. What the fuck? By the way, tonight was also the second time I've ever eaten at Applebee's in my entire life. I gotta get out of here. To list the litany of idiocy experienced just today would overload Blogger. Just imagine your job and then think of all of the things that could go wrong. That someone could choose with time and space to make an "informed" decision and then imagine all of those things happening in one day. How would your workplace look? How would it feel? What would you do? Me, I went to my happy place: a break somewhere in Mexico with family and friends and head high waves, an endless supply of shrimp tacos and Pacificos, miles away from the nearest knucklehead with "a really terrific project that you just have to be a part of!" Bah! I need to win the Lotto and buy a spread out in the country and never do this again. I'll put a duck pond in and just hunt ducks and whatnot on my ranch and once in awhile drive back into town and wonder how I ever put up with these jackasses.

Peace out, bitches!

Well I ain't sorry for you no more, ya crazy, psalm-singing, skinny old maid!

Oh my fucking God! Today was one of the dumbest day I've ever been on set. Yeah, me, ten  years in and having worked on 'em when "excess" was a virtue, I just worked on my first of four days on the dumbest thing ever. Here's the skinny: THE Dustin Hoffman spawned a dreaded "actor/director" and he decided to call in some serious chits and got Bud from Repo Man and Remus Lewpin to star in his weird little wannabe Jarmusch short. Cut to the third reel: besides me and a couple of mercenaries, everyone else is a idjit! A fucking goddamn jackass moron dick in the ass douche bag sonofabitch! The 1st AD is wretched and shrill and stupid and almost made me have to bust her head open when she attacked V2.0 for doing her job. Good times for one third my rate!

Ah, I sound bitter and ya know, I am. Seriously! I'm working for a bunch of people who are only getting what they get because their parents actually rolled the dice and came up in the world. I'm currently out near Joshua Tree working for people who were born on third and thought they hit a triple and have no problem telling you why you fucked up and didn't hit a triple! Me! Semi-normal and always on the brink of clock-towering all of these cunts and this is what I'm dealing with on a holiday weekend! I could be doing so much more  right now. It's a holiday weekend and I could have been chilling with the girl and the Midget but nooooo! I'm in the desert trying to help other people who have had almost everything thrown at their feet since day one. What the fuck is wrong with me? Oh wait, I'm fine and the reality is that I'm not as big a douche as I think I am and maybe I should just admit I should be a teacher. What's so bad about being a film teacher? Ah, wait, I remember, film school teachers are failed film makers and failure is not an option- it's just something that happens all the fucking time. Ah, bitter again. That's it, I'm done. I'm annoying myself and whether or not you're annoyed I don't care. I'm done complaining and thus I'm done typing. Without my bitching I'm nothing? Get fucked, I'm just going to watch "Family Guy."

Peace out, bitches! 

I've never seen so many men wasted so badly.

I haven't posted since Monday as I've been physically unable to do so thanks in no small part to the rigors and idiocy of my chosen profession. Yes, a music video ate my baby! I prepped at Camera House on Monday, two cameras and a bunch of lenses, including my soon to be nemesis, the Angenioux Optimo 12:1. It's as big and heavy as a howitzer round but a thousand times prettier and when you have to physically move it between two camera crews spread out along the Venice boardwalk it defies the laws of physics and becomes twice as heavy. Weird. I also prepped an underwater housing for one of the cameras. That was actually fun as I hadn't used one in awhile so it was a walk down memory lane for this old man as I started remembering how to use the thing by remembering a bunch of jobs from days of old. It dawned on me that aside from just being rad, I've been a camera assistant longer than I've been doing anything else. I'm still on the fence as to whether or not this is a good thing. You know, I'm a responsible-ish adult now with a career and a future and 

blah blah blah. I'm boring myself right now. Back to the job: prep takes forever, V2.0 and Fab show up and we all have some yucks and Fab says she knows how to use the underwater housing and I know she's... fibbing. I'd say lying but it sounds mean spirited. Anyway, it was one of the first clues I had that this job was going to be a ball buster.

Call time: 1:30pm Venice Beach. What to do with the morning? Surf was flat so an hour of yoga it was. Then I went grocery shopping at Trader Joe's. Oh what a treat? Ghost and I walked for a bit and we shot some arrows or rather, I shot some arrows while Ghost chilled. Off to work!

The details of it all are pointless but here are some highlights and lowlifes:

Kelly Rowland is hot. I mean, super-nova hot. I'll put it this way, Jay-Z done fucked up. She was sweet, professional, and into her performances and handled the catcalls and assorted buffoonery of her fans very well. I might call her if this Melah thing doesn't work out.

Two units, one set of lenses, one lazy 2nd. That is how you make my  blood boil and my muscles hurt. 

Late night  in Venice is actually kind of nice. The out of town losers and the local lunatics pretty much clear out as soon as the sun goes down. All that's left are drunks and serial killers.

If nothing else, when shooting at the beach please do everyone a favor and rent Gators to haul gear around. While I love nothing more than a long walk on the beach at dusk I prefer doing it without the 65lbs case on my shoulders.

Hydroflex housings are expensive to rent. Renting them for one shot done in the dying moments of the day is usually dumb. This was no exception. I did like the fact that the director liked the way my ass looks in a wetsuit. I also liked that everyone carted Kelly and her entourage off in a truck while leaving the gear on the beach. This allowed my to go play in the surf while at work. Joy.

Wrap time: 1:30am. Just in time for a shot and a beer at the local tavern. Lights out!

The next day was spent lying on the couch and in bed crying from the combination of still pinched C8 nerve group and muscle fatigue from running around like a lunatic. Also, I'm apparently very old now. I did by some new arrows and a deer sized paper target with vitals marked on it. The photo shows an arrow grouping shot from 60 yards. There's one in the heart, which is nice, but the rest are kinda ugly. Look out Bambi, if you stay still for four arrows one might kill you. Hey, it was my first time shooting from that far!

Anywhy, it's Thursday and I need to walk Ghost and eat some form of food and then go prep for a short we're doing out by Joshua Tree. V2.0 is coming with and we'll probably regret doing this but so it goes. My friend is shooting it and he needs help. He's good, he just keeps making odd choices that don't exactly get him further along in his career. Whatever, I'll help him and maybe it'll be fun. Harry Dean Stanton is in it and I think I'm going to bring my cowboy hat and try to get a photo of me 'n Harry. Repo Man forever! Melah might come out and visit and I might stay an extra night so as to go hiking and maybe shoot some skeet. We'll see.

Peace out, bitches!

Names is for tombstones, baby! Y'all take this honkey out and WASTE HIM! NOW!

Bored at The Camera House Update:

So I took a tarot card test at my mom's sight and this is what I got. Read 'em and weep, I am.

You are The Wheel of Fortune

Good fortune and happiness but sometimes a species of
intoxication with success

The Wheel of Fortune is all about big things, luck, change, fortune. Almost always good fortune. You are lucky in all things that you do and happy with the things that come to you. Be careful that success does not go to your head however. Sometimes luck can change.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Peace out, bitches!

You know you're not too funny today, fat man.

On Sunday I didn't quite get my wishes of surfing and sloth fulfilled. We didn't go to our party because our pal didn't take the Midget so instead the girls moped around the house and we had Thai food. Boring. Sunday rolled around and instead of going to the beach we waited for said pal to get the Midget and then Melah and I saw Star Trek. Now I'd already seen it with the bros but dammit if it wasn't just as exciting the second time around! We drank Icees and ate popcorn and then it was off to do the laundry. Oh yeah, full blown Danger Ranger shit for us on Sunday! The Midget had to go to the doctor for an earache so the next thing you know, Sunday is over and we still hadn't cleaned the kitchen out so the landlord could redo the floors. Nothing quite compares to dismantling a huge fridge at 9pm except dismantling a huge fridge at 9pm and having an earthquake hit. That's right, an earthquake. Turns out it was 5.whatever near Long Beach and only one person got hurt. Maybe this will drop housing prices some more or spark an exodus from SoCal. One can hope. C'mon Doc, where's the shrine to simultaneous disasters in LA?

Back at work. Probably going to get crushed tomorrow out in Venice with Mr. Broms and Mr. Akerlund, two wonderful Swedes from back in the day. At least I'm working.

Peace out, bitches!