Le Week-end Passé
Friday: I had my chiropractor fix my aching neck. As it turned out, I had sprained it really bad. He had to manually push my muscles and vertebrae back into place, then did some further adjustments to try and keep them where they're supposed to be. Damn my neck.
I spent the evening hanging out with Mark (aka Dave Navarro who has no thumbs).
I got a call around 2am from Carrie, who asked me to take part in her project for the 24 Hour Film Festival at Point Park. She told me to call her when I got up.
Saturday: I woke up to a text message at 10:30am. It was Carrie begging me to call her ASAP because they needed me. When I got down there, she said to nix my zombie role and spend the entire time putting make-up on a bunch of dancers, as they needed to look like zombies and were probably too incompetent to work an angled eyeshadow brush. She told me to come back in an hour.
I came back. However, all of the dancers were gone. She told me that there was a change of plans, and that they needed me to be a badass zombie and do some ass-kicking. I, of course, was much obliged. I put on make-up, threw on pants and combat boots, and went downstairs. The crew threw me a plain white tee. I slashed it up and covered it with blood, smearing the red leftover slp around my mouth. Then we drove up to Mount Washington to Carrie and Travis' apartment.
When in the apartment, they needed my help to get a few more shots before my takes. I had to help out with sound and other stuff behind the scenes. (It's remarkable how much I learned from dating film majors.)
We went into the basement to shoot my scene. this is where I, the zombie, am set free. I knock over my bowl of slop (because all zombies eat slop) and then attack Carrie, my creator. Now, when I say attack, I don't mean eat her brains. We spent about five minutes just beating the living hell out of each other, only to have her get away in the end. The sad part is that we were actually kicking each other's asses. She picked up a random tree branch in her basement and smacked me across the face with it. Then I took both of my feet and kicked her in the stomach. We wrestled around for a long time, got blood everywhere, and then she forced me off and of her and ran away. As soo as the take was over, the only thing that came out of my mouth was a stream of swear words over my swollen nose that was pummeled during the fight.
I then spent the rest of the morning making Carrie look like she has been beaten senseless. It was apparently extremely believable on film. Carrie, however, did not appreciate having fake blood squirted up her nose and having mud rubbed on her face and neck. She was, however, applauding my zombie performance, enthusiasm over playing a zombie, and make-up skillz, which are nothing new to anyone on that set. From here on out, I shall call her "Carrie: Zombie Ass-kisser."
I haven't seen the finished product, though I hear it's absolutely amazing. Cool.
I ran back to my room late in the afternoon. I had to take a shower, as I was covered in mud, fake blood, and zombie slop from my bowl. Is was fun, however, to have people scream and ask me what happened as I made my way back to my room.
I got dressed for the fetish ball. I wore a black skirt, black button-up shirt, red and black tie, thigh-highs over fishnets, and crimped my hair to make outrageously huge pigtails. It was awesome. I went to the Beehive to meet Josh and Jen, my rides.
I actually, despite the warnings from other people about how boring it was, had a great time at the fetish ball. I met some cool people, danced to a lot of great music, and got invited to the after party. Josh, Jen, and I opted to go to Denny's, instead, as there was hunger abound. I had to drive Jen, as she had been drinking. Everyone knows I tend to play designated driver, assuming I'm not drinking myself. I ate my Denny's eggs, as usual, and came home to crash.
Sunday:I woke up the next morning with a very sore throat. I looked in the mirror and everything was red and swollen, but not looking like strep. In fact, it looked like my tonsils used to before i had to have them removed. Joe and I went to an early lunch.
I went to Eide's with Joe as I felt a lot better after I ate. I picked up Rotersand's "Welcome to Goodbye" album. It's awesome. Not only is the singing melodic and talented, but it had those crazy industrial beats I love, tied in with flowing sounds of string instruments. Some tracks are even ballad-like. Everyone should check it out; it's up in the iTunes Music Store. I also bought some comics while I was there. Some Hellblazer, Dead Eyes Open, and a new one from IDW illustrated my my fav dude Ben Templesmith, called Fallen.
I felt a little achy in the store, so I went back to my room to lay down. Within a two hour span, I had a full-blown fever, couldn't move, and had the worst body aches ever. Joe ran out and bought me lots and lots of Tylenol, which was paired with Claritin, other drugs, and more water than I can drink.
Even now, I still have this throat problem, aches, and unbelievable thirst. I just can't stop drinking water. I have no idea why. I'm going through about a gallon a day, if not more.
I spent the evening hanging out with Mark (aka Dave Navarro who has no thumbs).
I got a call around 2am from Carrie, who asked me to take part in her project for the 24 Hour Film Festival at Point Park. She told me to call her when I got up.
Saturday: I woke up to a text message at 10:30am. It was Carrie begging me to call her ASAP because they needed me. When I got down there, she said to nix my zombie role and spend the entire time putting make-up on a bunch of dancers, as they needed to look like zombies and were probably too incompetent to work an angled eyeshadow brush. She told me to come back in an hour.
I came back. However, all of the dancers were gone. She told me that there was a change of plans, and that they needed me to be a badass zombie and do some ass-kicking. I, of course, was much obliged. I put on make-up, threw on pants and combat boots, and went downstairs. The crew threw me a plain white tee. I slashed it up and covered it with blood, smearing the red leftover slp around my mouth. Then we drove up to Mount Washington to Carrie and Travis' apartment.
When in the apartment, they needed my help to get a few more shots before my takes. I had to help out with sound and other stuff behind the scenes. (It's remarkable how much I learned from dating film majors.)
We went into the basement to shoot my scene. this is where I, the zombie, am set free. I knock over my bowl of slop (because all zombies eat slop) and then attack Carrie, my creator. Now, when I say attack, I don't mean eat her brains. We spent about five minutes just beating the living hell out of each other, only to have her get away in the end. The sad part is that we were actually kicking each other's asses. She picked up a random tree branch in her basement and smacked me across the face with it. Then I took both of my feet and kicked her in the stomach. We wrestled around for a long time, got blood everywhere, and then she forced me off and of her and ran away. As soo as the take was over, the only thing that came out of my mouth was a stream of swear words over my swollen nose that was pummeled during the fight.
I then spent the rest of the morning making Carrie look like she has been beaten senseless. It was apparently extremely believable on film. Carrie, however, did not appreciate having fake blood squirted up her nose and having mud rubbed on her face and neck. She was, however, applauding my zombie performance, enthusiasm over playing a zombie, and make-up skillz, which are nothing new to anyone on that set. From here on out, I shall call her "Carrie: Zombie Ass-kisser."
I haven't seen the finished product, though I hear it's absolutely amazing. Cool.
I ran back to my room late in the afternoon. I had to take a shower, as I was covered in mud, fake blood, and zombie slop from my bowl. Is was fun, however, to have people scream and ask me what happened as I made my way back to my room.
I got dressed for the fetish ball. I wore a black skirt, black button-up shirt, red and black tie, thigh-highs over fishnets, and crimped my hair to make outrageously huge pigtails. It was awesome. I went to the Beehive to meet Josh and Jen, my rides.
I actually, despite the warnings from other people about how boring it was, had a great time at the fetish ball. I met some cool people, danced to a lot of great music, and got invited to the after party. Josh, Jen, and I opted to go to Denny's, instead, as there was hunger abound. I had to drive Jen, as she had been drinking. Everyone knows I tend to play designated driver, assuming I'm not drinking myself. I ate my Denny's eggs, as usual, and came home to crash.
Sunday:I woke up the next morning with a very sore throat. I looked in the mirror and everything was red and swollen, but not looking like strep. In fact, it looked like my tonsils used to before i had to have them removed. Joe and I went to an early lunch.
I went to Eide's with Joe as I felt a lot better after I ate. I picked up Rotersand's "Welcome to Goodbye" album. It's awesome. Not only is the singing melodic and talented, but it had those crazy industrial beats I love, tied in with flowing sounds of string instruments. Some tracks are even ballad-like. Everyone should check it out; it's up in the iTunes Music Store. I also bought some comics while I was there. Some Hellblazer, Dead Eyes Open, and a new one from IDW illustrated my my fav dude Ben Templesmith, called Fallen.
I felt a little achy in the store, so I went back to my room to lay down. Within a two hour span, I had a full-blown fever, couldn't move, and had the worst body aches ever. Joe ran out and bought me lots and lots of Tylenol, which was paired with Claritin, other drugs, and more water than I can drink.
Even now, I still have this throat problem, aches, and unbelievable thirst. I just can't stop drinking water. I have no idea why. I'm going through about a gallon a day, if not more.