Guest Blogging Update and. . .other stuff: 2.26
Downlowlita, formerly Trailer Maker [episode 1.47 on Who Should Join the Crew?], in her tentatively-titled debut post "Trailers & the MPAA: What You Might Not Know." [hint: sado-masochism is not okay for a general audiences trailer]
Let's thank C-List Blogebrity Peggy Archer for her previous appearance. I never properly thanked Peggy, blogstress and crewser/bruiser over at Totally Unauthorized. That's http://filmhacks.blogspot.com for those not in the know. Or you can just click on Totally Unauthorized in my "Blogarama & Quicklinks" section.
Also, I'm trying to get the roomie back for another spot or two, but the poor kid's scared half to death of you people. I told you all to be nice to him and what do you do-- you tell him that he sucks and writes like a girl. For shame. So now I have to hold his hand (i.e.- give his stuff an edit before it's posted) to get him to share his thoughts on the next Bond or the latest summer blockbusters.
In other news, I found out some be-hoochie-fizzle stole my website-- what I wanted to be my dot com. Alas, it was not meant to be. If anyone knows how I can throw them off and reclaim my rightful place at www.assistantatlas.com, I'd be grateful if you share. Isn't there some law against cyber-squatting?
And on the Sloane/office front, I very nearly lost it on Friday. Sloane and I were just kinda joking around at the end of a long day (that script I mentioned in "Sloane Discusses Young Starlets" is finally getting the heat it deserves thanks f**king solely to me) and Sloane ended up giving me some BS about how I'm not really all that useful and instead of just brushing it off, I let it get to me. Seriously, I was holding back angry tears as I stalked out of the building listening to Ray LaMontagne on my iPod. When I got to my car, whether it was due to Ray or Sloane I guess I won't be able to tell, I spent a good two minutes pounding my steering wheel in frustration, hating my life and wiping away nascent tears.
But as soon as I got on the road Famke (the girlfriend, so named for her resemblance to the celeb) called, so I headed over there. She could tell I was upset on the phone, but I said I didn't want to talk about it right now (for fear of more waterworks).
I get over there, walk in and the first thing that happens is she slams the door shut and kisses me. No 'hi', no 'how's it going'-- just right in to the making out. And when I pulled back, offered a smile and was about to ask about her day, she says, "Just shut up and f**k me, Atlas" and smiled.
"Shut up and f**k me."
Have you ever had a woman say that to you before as she pressed her warm body against yours? A gorgeous, sexy woman with a glance that could melt the polar icecaps? It is perhaps needless to say then, that I forgot all about Sloane and his BS and Hollywood and its BS and the entire studio system. It all just fell away like it seems to do in the movies.
It was the kind of lovin' that gives you that smile you can't wipe off your face and that glow that lets everyone know you're gettin' some-- some good some. (insert blush here)
Sorry for the diversion into my private life-- but I figured you might be wondering how I deal with all the soul-crushing disappointment. That's one way. And it's definitely the best way.
Here are some other ways:
Smoking (cigs or green)
Writing a Blog
Seeing a Good Movie