Wicka Wicka

Well Dave and Loren weren’t too happy about the pictures I posted of them. They insist that I repost so that you can see the true them, and not the individuals portrayed in the other unfortunate snapshots. When browsing my photographs to find pictures that captured the essence of Dave, I happened across this little gem:



Now there is Dave in a nutshell. (Yes that's him wielding the shovel.)

Or maybe you can just see them as the cute team they are:



But if you want to see something cool, check this out:



I have finished with my duties as “Production Designer.” You might wonder what exactly a Production Designer does… I wonder that myself. I think I was more of a glorified Production Assistant… but I’ll take the killer title. Now I just have to research that and figure out how to manipulate that into what I actually did. Ah, the life of Hollywood.

I’m sick. I’m not going to lie to you – it’s not pretty. We shot the other day from 1pm to 5am and when I got home (and after we walked poor cooped up Clio) I found that I felt like crap. When I woke up the next morning to go to work, I found that I still felt like crap. And today – wait for it – I still feel like crap. I can only breathe through one nostril, and the other one is a faucet. My throat hurts and I’m slightly nauseous. Whine whine, bitch bitch.

So, on Tuesday it was potluck day at the set and Ryan and I made Crunchy Cabbage Salad (yum!) and brought some fruit salad. As we were walking to the car we saw Shelley (Patti’s neighbor who hired me as a PA for the Celebrity Award Ceremony) and we were chatting with her as we walked. Then, all of a sudden I felt something under my foot and – boom! I was down for the count and the fruit salad had gone flying. I had stepped on a twig and it rolled right out from under me. It might as well have been a rollerskate. My back and my elbow are all scraped up and I think Shelley is now questioning my motor skills.

…And I’m rambling.