Tag Archives: my little movie

Behind the Closed Door, the One We Painted Green

Ahh, another day, another hangover at my desk. I am dry as dry toast, my friends. My shoulders and back ache from doing pull-ups, and my eyes are smudged with silver and black from last night’s shoot. Many people were dressed like pirates for some reason. I have no idea if the script justifies this, because I can’t bear to actually read it, so I just roll along as if in some kind of peyote dream where people are dressed as pirates and talking about galoshes. My favorite line from last night was “What are you gay?” “No, you’re gay…” Who ever heard of a gay pirate?!? When people weren’t quibbling over sexuality, they were being out-acted by a parrot named Marny. Her comic timing was truly impeccable.

Oh but guess what, I have another shoot tonight! Praise be to the Gods of Creative Output! What would I do if I had to spend a Friday night painting, watching a film, or doing anything other than standing around in my underwear looking like a bad date with Courtney Love, reciting “He is a little Pony Bootsie. You’re just close-minded”, for 2 hours so they can shoot it from about 50 different angles. I hope my butt gets it’s own line in the credits. After Marny, of course.



There is a place in Hell Reserved for Me and My Friends

I am still working on this ridiculous film shoot. I did my own hair, makeup, and costume for this scene, which means you should be frightened if I approach you with a lip brush. If I can give anyone any piece of advice, don’t sign onto an indie production unless the director has a short attention span. I have not been allowed to get a haircut since June. Oh well, this isn’t be the first time I got involved in some frivolous undertaking in the quest to Be Like Parker Posey. Normally, this screed would now conclude with a picture of Ms. Posey from Blade Trinity. SO GOOD. But the nation’s nerdballs have not kept up! I have not found any pictures of her, so you will just have to see the movie. Who else could look so sulky in fangs and a pompadour?


Baby I Can Drive Your Car

I have returned from Berlin, and there stood Helen behind the velvet rope at the airport, holding up a sign that said “Morrissey!” It’s a good thing she was there as a witness, because this trawl through the airport has me not only convinced that ugly people have lives, and problems, and pay car insurance, they also go on vacations! Apparently, you can be possessed of a face full of chancres and still zip off to Amsterdam for a Holiday. (and they let you in!) Mouth-breathers with harelips still pack off to St. Tropez. The human spirit is astonishing, ladies and gentleman.

I have not even unpacked or taken my new iBook for a spin (Helen made the Morrisseydance my wallpaper!). ‘Ere I landed, I had to go back to work, and then off to shoot a scene for the My Little Pain in the Ass Movie. I arrive at the set and try not to think of the month’s worth of laundry that I need to do, the giant overflowing suitcase in the middle of my bed, the slides that need to be catalogued, the work that needs to be photographed with my new camera, the new biography I have to write for my gallery website, or the emails yet to send to notify Berlin that I arrived safely. Yes, I thought of none of those things. Good. Then the director tells me that in this scene I have to Drive. A Car. Yes, Drive. A Car. Everyone knows that I do not know how to drive a car! Everyone who has ever helped me move, or travel or go grocery shopping. Hell, even the Liberal State of Massachusetts knows that I can’t drive. I know this is as rare as an individual who has never eaten a hamburger at McDonalds. How did I reach the age of thirty without learning to drive? How did I miss this teenage right of passage? Like a lot of privileges of youth, it just slipped me by. Anyway, I took a cast of three careening down a dark street, screeching to a halt to dump a bloody man out, and tearing off shrieking with mirth. The fact that I needed to be shown where the gas and the brake pedal are, made this rather easy to do. We are going for realistic terror here, people!

So I may be tired, my manicure ragged, and things in general disarray, but I drove a car. Maybe I will even apply for a permit.

In between takes, I got to peer at the debate. I am chagrined to see that Bush has polished up his act enough to appear “likeable” and “compassionate”, so that Middle America will not think about the fact that this is a man unconcerned with the pileups of corpses, who has declared his feeling that captaining a dictatorship would make it easier for him to “get stuff done.” But how much can you really polish a turd? Kerry proved once again that he has a working knowledge of government and an awareness of such impenetrable concepts as human rights (for non-whites!) No matter how much we plead for sanity here at Vomitola, some of you are going to vote for a criminal regime with your own little flag waving hearts. Be our guest.

However, DO NOT VOTE FOR NADER OR WE WILL COME AND FIND YOU. We realize here that a healthy democracy means we have to break this two party jamboree. But the third candidate on the ballot this year exists only as a symbol of that fact. What is more crucial to the vitality of our freedoms, and the right to life of others–a symbolic move toward multiple party elections in the United States, or a Bush-free White House? We leave that for you to determine.*

*we know where you live.



That’s Entertainment!

This is Bob. I can’t really tell you what happened to Bob but I can tell you it was a lot of fun and you should all go and see “Pony Trouble” when it disgraces your local porn theater. The shoot continues to go swimmingly and I have actually picked up some tips for the scripts I am working on. Pine Valley here I come!

In other news, the Smugglers and I did Rollerskating II (electric boogaloo). I love to whirl around the rink, but I think I will never learn to skate backwards. Which is strange, because that’s how I do pretty much everything else. The teen girls at the rink are a frightening species. You take one look at their mean, kohled eyes and their protruding thongs and you know that giving blowjobs is right up next to having a slice of pizza and kicking some bitches ass, in the list of their Saturday night activities. My Saturday night on the other hand included Taco Bell, Orange Julius, and trying on new tiaras at Claire’s Accessories. Maybe I am just simple!


It’s in the Can

Shooting is underway for My Little Porny or Pony Girls, or whatever this movie ends up being called. I play Eve, a psychotic and pouty goth-ish girl who, spoiled by easy circumstances and bored out of existence, heads a thrill cult obsessed with My Little Pony. And things just go awry from there. It has been a lot of fun so far, and there is a lot of talent on this low-fi set. The scenes we have shot so far involve a lot of twitching, screaming, and looking creepy. My acting experience is not much but heaven knows, I excel at those things! And Jude, love, if you are reading, you may be my date for the premier, no? What’s that, “still married?” Well, I’ll call next week. I wonder what James Spader is doing?

Oh where was I? Reality calls! I am thinking of taking a sabbatical from gainful employ, in order to work on painting, to apply for genius grants, and to answer all those desperate pleas for my work, my attention, my opinions! Once I have had some time to finish this dazzling new body of work, and ruin someone’s life, I will be ready enough to consider working again. This time around I want to work in television! We need more incest and underwear on the airwaves! And startling deeds done in impossible footwear. I would share some of my tele-vision with you, but you horrible people will steal all of my ideas. Screw you! Fiends! Churls!

(The part of Lambchop will now be played by Andrea Evans.- ed)