7//23/13 - "The Stuntwoman"
Blogger's Note: Time. I nearly titled this post "Time". As a matter of fact, I just went back up and deleted "Time" and wrote "The Stuntwoman." Listening to Mason Jennings Radio on Pandora in hopes of finding inspiration for a post that I initially had no subject for, I thought I might write some creatively-stretched reason for the fact that I missed my promised post last week. But as my fingers hovered above the keyboard, I found no heart to pulse my hands into action. And the folk-rock music strumming from my desktop speakers was tugging me in a different direction.
This subject is way overdue, so I've been hiding it in the dark recesses of my mind, back there with my job frustrations, my addictive past, and my MILF collection, until I could find the time/place/reason to dust it off and showcase it on here. I had been hoping that somewhere along the journey of our "How We Met" story that this particular star would twinkle incidentally and an excuse for its lag would miraculously reveal itself. And maybe, as I had just finished editing a couple of my last post's type-o's and redundancies, that is, in fact, what happened.
Anyway, I'm sorry I'm late, but here you go...
I don't do my own stunts. This show's too dangerous to risk the stress and bodily injury that goes with the territory. When the water starts getting too choppy, when the accident is a bit too messy, when the job starts to get too stressful, when the boo-boo actually smarts...
...I call in my Stuntwoman.
No job is too big; no job is too small. Sometimes Amelia cries for a reason that can't be ascertained and despite all our attempts to determine the cause, we come up empty. I yell, "CUT!" The production crew pauses as I swap places with my Stuntwoman (Amelia likes to stay in character, so she continues wailing), and Joanna takes over the job as the show resumes. When Roman's fever starts getting above that comfortable mark and it's the middle of the night and a wet towel I'm using to purge the heat isn't helping, I frustratingly wave away the cameraman and cue in my Stuntwoman (of course, Roman keeps the stage make-up on during the transition, because it's too much work to re-do.) And my Stuntwoman never fails to deliver. (I hired the best in the business.)
Sometimes my Stuntwoman likes to change the script, because she thinks she can do my job. I think it's very arrogant and presumptuous of her, but sometimes she likes to improvise. If my car starts to get knee-deep in discarded fast food packages, if the office has too many empty beer cans decorating it, or if my work uniform has been discarded (momentarily) on the bathroom floor for too long, she thinks she can just ink through the scene and change my part. I usually just roll with it, because I don't like to argue or seem unprofessional on stage. She's lucky to have me...
Sometimes, between episodes, the whole damn show can be pretty stressful. Believe it or not, I have some anxiety issues. When the lights go out and the curtains close, my Stuntwoman sticks around. She reminds me of my role. From her script-book she reveals a picture of the cast to remind me where I am and what I'm doing. The writers really like to toss us into choppy waters sometimes. When the plot starts getting dicey and one too many villains have been written into the story, she'll grab Roman and Amelia and we'll all get into character and practice the comedy scenes. Which is really great, because I'm pretty sure this show is supposed to be a comedy. Those piece of shit writers can really fuck it up sometimes; we may look into hiring a different crew if they keep adding too much drama. (A couple of weeks ago, they added a laugh-track for a test run... talk about stupid!)
Behind all of our smiles and laundered costumes, our Stuntwoman abides. From off-camera, she feeds us when we're hungry; she holds us when we're crying; she laughs at us when we're silly; she assures us when we're doubting. The luckiest day of her life was when I hired her for the part. And I suppose it wasn't a bad decision since ratings are up. But, if ever they should fall, if or when the whole damn program gets cancelled, I suppose I'll just sit with her amid the hollow echoes and dusty props onstage and reminisce. On that episode that Roman climbed onto the coffee table, looked at us defiantly, and peed everywhere (it took three takes to get it right!). On that episode that I swore up and down that Amelia was smiling at me, but my Stuntwoman just insisted that she was pooping! On that episode that Roman dropped his sippy cup in the middle of a quiet crowd at the zoo and yelled "FUCK!" (he improvised that line; we thought it'd be censored for production, but they surprised us and kept it -- we made sure we never used that line again, though). On that episode that Joanna stepped onto the balcony, stage left, wearing her wedding dress and a smile meant for me.
And fade to break...
Blogger's Note: Time. I nearly titled this post "Time". As a matter of fact, I just went back up and deleted "Time" and wrote "The Stuntwoman." Listening to Mason Jennings Radio on Pandora in hopes of finding inspiration for a post that I initially had no subject for, I thought I might write some creatively-stretched reason for the fact that I missed my promised post last week. But as my fingers hovered above the keyboard, I found no heart to pulse my hands into action. And the folk-rock music strumming from my desktop speakers was tugging me in a different direction.
This subject is way overdue, so I've been hiding it in the dark recesses of my mind, back there with my job frustrations, my addictive past, and my MILF collection, until I could find the time/place/reason to dust it off and showcase it on here. I had been hoping that somewhere along the journey of our "How We Met" story that this particular star would twinkle incidentally and an excuse for its lag would miraculously reveal itself. And maybe, as I had just finished editing a couple of my last post's type-o's and redundancies, that is, in fact, what happened.
Anyway, I'm sorry I'm late, but here you go...
I don't do my own stunts. This show's too dangerous to risk the stress and bodily injury that goes with the territory. When the water starts getting too choppy, when the accident is a bit too messy, when the job starts to get too stressful, when the boo-boo actually smarts...
...I call in my Stuntwoman.
No job is too big; no job is too small. Sometimes Amelia cries for a reason that can't be ascertained and despite all our attempts to determine the cause, we come up empty. I yell, "CUT!" The production crew pauses as I swap places with my Stuntwoman (Amelia likes to stay in character, so she continues wailing), and Joanna takes over the job as the show resumes. When Roman's fever starts getting above that comfortable mark and it's the middle of the night and a wet towel I'm using to purge the heat isn't helping, I frustratingly wave away the cameraman and cue in my Stuntwoman (of course, Roman keeps the stage make-up on during the transition, because it's too much work to re-do.) And my Stuntwoman never fails to deliver. (I hired the best in the business.) Sometimes my Stuntwoman likes to change the script, because she thinks she can do my job. I think it's very arrogant and presumptuous of her, but sometimes she likes to improvise. If my car starts to get knee-deep in discarded fast food packages, if the office has too many empty beer cans decorating it, or if my work uniform has been discarded (momentarily) on the bathroom floor for too long, she thinks she can just ink through the scene and change my part. I usually just roll with it, because I don't like to argue or seem unprofessional on stage. She's lucky to have me...Sometimes, between episodes, the whole damn show can be pretty stressful. Believe it or not, I have some anxiety issues. When the lights go out and the curtains close, my Stuntwoman sticks around. She reminds me of my role. From her script-book she reveals a picture of the cast to remind me where I am and what I'm doing. The writers really like to toss us into choppy waters sometimes. When the plot starts getting dicey and one too many villains have been written into the story, she'll grab Roman and Amelia and we'll all get into character and practice the comedy scenes. Which is really great, because I'm pretty sure this show is supposed to be a comedy. Those piece of shit writers can really fuck it up sometimes; we may look into hiring a different crew if they keep adding too much drama. (A couple of weeks ago, they added a laugh-track for a test run... talk about stupid!)
Behind all of our smiles and laundered costumes, our Stuntwoman abides. From off-camera, she feeds us when we're hungry; she holds us when we're crying; she laughs at us when we're silly; she assures us when we're doubting. The luckiest day of her life was when I hired her for the part. And I suppose it wasn't a bad decision since ratings are up. But, if ever they should fall, if or when the whole damn program gets cancelled, I suppose I'll just sit with her amid the hollow echoes and dusty props onstage and reminisce. On that episode that Roman climbed onto the coffee table, looked at us defiantly, and peed everywhere (it took three takes to get it right!). On that episode that I swore up and down that Amelia was smiling at me, but my Stuntwoman just insisted that she was pooping! On that episode that Roman dropped his sippy cup in the middle of a quiet crowd at the zoo and yelled "FUCK!" (he improvised that line; we thought it'd be censored for production, but they surprised us and kept it -- we made sure we never used that line again, though). On that episode that Joanna stepped onto the balcony, stage left, wearing her wedding dress and a smile meant for me. And fade to break...
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