September 15, 2008

last night a DJ ruined my life

I've been screaming "FUCK!" at the top of my lungs over and over again for about 2 hours at the request of the director for the Nokia shoot this afternoon. He said I needed it to look pissed off enough. It worked.

He had a goatee and chipped black polish on his fingernails. We hit it off immediately. The hair stylist asked, "do you guys know each other?" to which he replied, "Oh we go go way back!"
She bought it for a second until I said, "It was the black nail polish that won my heart."
Then they proceeded to put 80 layers of product on my head and stand me in front of scorching lights and plexiglass. I had a wholehearted feeling that I should avoid fucking up.

"Phwew. That look at the end, it keeps getting better. Really killer," he said to the PA.
And then naturally I blushed and tripped over a sandbag and knock into things and ruined everyone's life just a little bit. Fuck.

Everyone was so nice and cheerful to me and all the crew knew my name and offered to get me things if I wanted or needed anything. I felt important and significant and like I wanted to be everyone's favorite. This must be what those small purse dogs feel like.

On the other hand,
my throat feels like I swallowed broken glass. I think I'm coming down with something.

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