And then there are the days when you work with a child actor. One that is sure of their awesomeness, that idea having been implanted by their cougar mother (who should not be wearing the miniskirt she is wearing, and who should not be flirting with the PAs, but is.) There are days when you hear said child actor, aged 10, laughing about how they crashed their father's golf cart (after mentioning all of the country clubs they belong to) because he knew his daddy would just buy him another one, and then put you on hold while grabbing his iPhone.
And there are the days when you perfect your dick joke telling skills to subvert the ears of said 10 year old and get the sound guys, the gaffers, and the guy sitting behind you holding up scenery to laugh so hard they have to wait to start filming.
Today was all of those days. And when I asked (jokingly, I hope you would know by now) that I required three pure white orchids held to my nostrils every 23 minutes I made a lighting guy bury his face in his lap to hide his laughter. Because they get those people, you guys. They actually exist. I'm glad to not be one of them. Ever.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm polishing off a FABULOUS bottle of Clayhouse Adobe Red (thanks again for the rec, it's one of my new faves) while my kids mop the floors. Ahahaha.
This post is brought to you by reading about slave ships from the 1600s where people were packed in with two feet of shoulder width/18 inches of height spaces for 12 week journeys. Appreciate the life you have, you know? I'll never understand people who are difficult...