When I got home this afternoon, I opened the mail and saw the strangest thing.
An invite to Joe Francis’ birthday party at Magic Mountain (“come party with us.. drinks, food and all rides will be open”).
Who is Joe Francis? I had no fucking idea, but a free night at an amusement park is fine by me.
When I called the RSVP line, I got the following message: “The RSVP line is now closed. Don’t bother leaving a message, it will not be checked.”
So, either I got my invitation really late, or the RSVP line was never open and they just sent out invitations to generate publicity or waste money or something.
When I told The Blonde about it, she said, “Well, fuck him and the horse he… oh, wait. I’m going to that party. Never mind.”
Then, after I’d turned on the computer, I saw the same invite on Defamer and learned why Joe Francis can afford to throw a party at Magic Mountain.
Yeek. The guy made his money from porn.
It’s probably just as well (I have issues with porn – but, since I know you’re all wondering – I have worked on a porn. Once. I’ll never do that again unless I get really, really broke), but I love roller coasters and was looking forward to having a fun time on them.
For this morning’s non-work related errand, I went back to the podiatrist (his office is in Santa Monica, and it took me over an hour to get there from Hollywood. Fucking traffic) to get yet another tweak on my orthotics (apparently my feet are being difficult), and he was telling me that no one’s working now – not even the people who do commercials (they’re almost always busy).
What kills me is that some folks seem to always be blindsided by the work drying up, even though it happens roughly at the same time a few times a year.
In the waiting room, a production co-ordinator was complaining to someone on the other end of her cell phone that she couldn’t find a job and didn’t know what the hell happened. The lady sitting next to her waited until she’d hung up, turned to her and said “It’s summer, honey. Happens every year.”