So, my date was a complete disaster – I was so tired I was unable to be much of anything other than a zombie (skin tone 18% grey, staring into space, breathing through my mouth, responding to attempts at conversation with “unnnnhhhh”).
I think it’s a pretty safe bet that dude will NOT be calling me for date number 2.
The icing on the cake was my Sunday night bout of insomnia which left me further zombified this morning (skin tone 18% grey, staring into space, breathing through my mouth, responding to questions and requests with “unnnnhhhh”).
Luckily, first unit were shooting at the stage, which meant that there was that nifty cappuccino machine at crafty (you push a button, the machine makes a godawful noise, and then spits out something that’s almost, but not entirely unlike a coffee drink).
The downside of sharing a stage with the shooting unit is that we didn’t get a whole lot done – rigging makes noise, no matter how quiet we try to be. We had an hour in the morning before they got there to re-rig some stuff on a truss, but once they started shooting, we couldn’t really work inside anymore (the director’s doing what we used to call ‘full mag takes’. A camera’s magazine – the thing that holds the film before and after it runs through the camera – will hold around 12 minutes worth of film, and each time the ADs called “rolling” it was about that amount of time before they cut), so when we ran out of outside and/or busy work we went home.
Our bosses are trying to keep us busy, because there’s a lot of other work out there and they’re afraid if they lay anyone off, they won’t be able to get them back (they probably wouldn’t, either. I’ve been getting at least two work calls a week, as has just about everyone else on the crew).
We’ve got some stuff to do tomorrow, but it’s all inside (right next to the set that’s shooting), so it’s going to take forever to get it done.
Fine by me – the cappuccino machine will only be yards away, although I’m determined to get some sleep tonight, even if I have to resort to drastic measures (three martinis, or a sleeping pill, or an hour on the stationary bike, or hitting myself in the head with a mallet until I pass out, or some combination thereof).