Later, Mike Mike Ian arrived. This is three guys who are also working on the movie. They brought with them a horrible rental car (a Chevy Cobalt?) that Brett had left in Atlanta or something a few days prior. As they settled in, I wandered into the living room, where Priscilla was watching Yo Gabba Gabba with Phoebe, who is one year old. Biz Markie dropped a killer beat for the day. I like that this is a show for children that adults can enjoy as well, but for my money, nothing touches Sesame Street. Holy shit Sesame Street is the best. I entered the United States at the age of 6 and started 1st grade without knowing English, but I had some Sesame Street audio tapes with songs about letters, numbers, and other things. I should see if I can get those on CD or something. I mean, I'm pretty good with my letters and numbers today, but it never hurts to get a refresher.
Then came time for us to return the PT Cruiser. Our gang (the Cruisers) was not named after the PT Cruiser we happened to be driving. It was named after the diapers Brett was buying. But now it was time for that PT Cruiser to go, and not a moment too soon. It's apparently awful to drive, Brett says. And there's no way to roll down the backseat windows. There's no button or even a fucking handle. The driver gets to control everything. There's also a weird towel rack-sized bar on the front passenger-side dashboard. What the fuck is that? And like, the trunk door doesn't seem to have a handle that actually opens the trunk. It has to be opened remotely, I think. I don't know. We just wanted this thing gone. Little did we know the other rental car (the Cobalt) would be an even worse piece of shit.
On the way to return the PT Cruiser, we stopped at Target and purchased a prop coffee thermos for the character of Harry. As soon as we walked into the parking lot, Brett and Chris started smashing it against hard surfaces and scraping it along the concrete, to make it look old. It was all dented and fucked up. Passersby probably assumed we were trying to pull some kinda Target item return scam. Not sure how that would work though. "Hey, you sold us a thermos, but when I looked at it again outside, it was destroyed. What the fuck is wrong with you people?"
Then we drove for two hours to return the car to Dulles in DC. Brett and Chris rolled in the PT Cruiser and I followed in the Cobalt shitmobile. This was a really pleasant drive for me. I listened to all kinds of stations and sang along really loud. I would never do this with other people in the car. Unless they asked me to.
After returning the PT, we went to the Apple Store and bought a new router that was going to drastically improve the wireless signal on the Waterhole Cove property. But if anything, it actually made the signal worse. This is the first night I haven't been able to connect from inside Harry's house. When I finish writing this blog, I'm gonna have to walk across the fucking field and upload it from the main house porch or something.
Then we went to Best Buy and got some SD cards for Marco. Brett also stocked up on cheap Blu-rays. They did have some sweet deals. I saw Blazing Saddles and Twister on DVD for $3.99. This is like Diego catnip.
I took the following photo while Chris and I were both urinating. We were just really upset that this stupid sign made no fucking sense:
For dinner, Brett found a Chipotle on his iPhone. Turned out it was across the street. Brett said to bring the food to the car so we could eat while driving and save time. But we ended up just sitting in the car and eating our entire meal in the parking garage. It was really nice. "I don't like when people watch me eat." [/nicholson] In the car ride back, we listened to Casey Kasem playing off the week's Top 40. But wait-- Casey Kasem doesn't do the Top 40 anymore. So how was this happening? It's because this radio station was playing a Top 40 from 1984. We heard fucking Stevie Wonder's "I Just Called to Say I Love You," Chicago's "Hard Habit to Break," and some godawful single from Eurythmics, who were attempting to stay relevant with some calypso party bullshit. All bookended with Kasem's trademark stilted narration. But the highlight of the show was when he read a dedication from some dude in South Carolina to the four ladies he worked at a toy store with, because he was leaving for college and was going to miss them. The song requested was Joey Scarbury's "Believe It or Not," which he simply referred to as "the theme song from The Greatest American Hero." Fuck that was good.When we got home, Anne cut Chris's hair. Does that bother you? The "apostrophe-s" after Chris, which ends with the letter s? Do you think it's wrong? Which is correct, "Chris's hair" or "Chris' hair?" I looked it up once and it said that, for a singular noun that ends with s, either is correct. But putting the s makes more sense to me. Plural is where you take off the s. Anyway, Anne cut the hair of Chris.
There was initially a snag with the haircut because we didn't have a hair clipper, and the notion was briefly entertained that maybe he shouldn't get a haircut. But I agreed with the school of thought that this haircut was necessary, so I went to get my beard trimmer, which I use to cut my own hair, but it had apparently broken while in my suitcase. The clipper part wouldn't stay on. As I was bringing it to the house through the dark field, I dropped the clipper part and lost it in the grass. But it turns out Mike had a whole hair clipper set that he had brought, so he saved the day. That's when Anne was able to finally cut the hair of Chris, in the back porch, while Brett played the first few minutes of The Royal Tenenbaums on his iPhone. So much craziness, and shooting hasn't even started yet. Day 1 is tomorrow. I am the Assistant Director. You've seen the movie already, so you know the whole thing went off without a hitch. But let me tell you, from your past (which is my present), I was not worried for a second about anyone on this set. These peeps are the real deal. Little did they know the one they needed to worry about was me. I'm a total fraud. I've been faking my way through movie sets. I don't know how to do anything. Luckily, they had no way of knowing this, and they never found out about my inadequacies the entire time we were shooting. When they confronted me the next day about this blog, I told them it was just jokes. And they bought it. I even managed to convince them that I had nothing to do with the brush fire that engulfed the neighboring property a couple weeks later. It was just an "accident." But... I mean, we all knew that house had to go.-Diego
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