I was an extra all day yesterday in Tyler Perry's new movie filming in Decatur. Tyler Perry is the dude from Atlanta who usually dresses up like a lady and makes these low-budget films for upscale black women that make huge profits. In this one, he's dressed as a man. In one scene, it was my job to walk behind him as he and his buddies are getting drunk in a bar and discussing how to kill their wives.
Janet Jackson is cast in this movie, but these scenes did not involve her so she was not there. Thank goodness, because I vowed several years ago that if I ever saw her, I would punch her in her stupid right tit for indirectly causing me to get fired from the radio. Since her non-appearance made the point moot, I could concentrate on my craft.
I put my best effort into the role of extra, even though I'll likely only get a couple of seconds of blurry screen time, if at all, and my $75 paycheck has already been spent on drugs and pornography. But that's what being a pro is all about. You do your best even when no one is looking. You execute your skills at the same level, despite the small size of the paycheck. No doubt I was the best extra there on that day, and one day I will get noticed and be back in the limelight again. But for now, I must sit still and wallow in the amateurism that surrounds me.
Another scene had me placed at a table in the bar with my "date;" this young stick with tits who works otherwise as a health club tour guide. Yeah. What's that?
"No I don't sell memberships."
"Do you train people?"
"No, I just give them a tour."
Best I can reckon is she's a health club fluffer. Gets potential male members all excited. She plants in their head the prospect of them coming in to the gym with their new memberships and seeing her everyday, slinking across the floor from machine to machine with the vague promise that if they work out hard enough and get nice muscles, they will have an opportunity to fornicate with her.
During our 4 hours together at the table, sipping on NA beer and white grape juice mixed with Arizona iced tea, we chatted about a lot of topics such as the color of her panties, whether she was wearing any panties, the size of her panties, the cup size of her bra, the size of my private jet, what I would do to her on the private jet. But I did all of this only when the cameras were rolling. It was my character that I created. The bald rich creep who is dating his daughter's best friend from college.
She totally didn't get what I was doing, and asked one of the production assistants if she could switch tables. The answer of course was no, because it would ruin the continuity. So she sat there and sulked and pouted when I tried to discuss interesting topics during downtime, such as the Fired Judges Scandal that's brewing, and the Sub-Prime Mortgage Lender Crisis.
Pretty girls just seem to find out early, how to open doors with just a smile. Yet It's weird how that same girl, who in her real life spends a lot of time and effort manipulating men into buying gym memberships they'll forget about after 6 months, goes on a movie set where acting is now encouraged and expected, and she can't deal with it. Amateur. You can't hide your lying eyes. And your smile...well, that's a thin disguise.
There's this country song I hear on the radio once in awhile and it annoys the shit out of me. It's called "Me and God." I don't mind the sentiment, because I think the world would be a better place if more people talked to their invisible friends. The grammar is correct too, because in the song, the phrase "me and god" comes as the object of every sentence, so it makes sense.
No, what really carves a swastika in my forehead is the hypocrisy of the song "Me and God." If this singer was really into god the way he says. If he and god are really best buddies, shouldn't he be putting god first? "God and Me." There's a pecking order around here. You're a country hick. He's a god. He's first. You're not. If I were a religious person, I'd shout "blasphemer!" or "money changer!" or something outraged like that.
One country station in town does something else I find not just irritating, but puzzling.
Sometimes companies do irritating things such as putting their products in plastic clamshells welded shut that require you to lose a limb while accessing the product inside, but I understand the reasoning behind it. After the Tylenol scare of the 80s, companies went nuts with their safety packaging to ensure that no one could poison their patent meds and food ever again. And then came the rash of memory card poisonings in the late 90s, where people died from eating poisoned memory cards, and the packaging on those got nuts, too. We're at the point now that it's unthinkable to ask people to open a box without a detailed list of instructions.
OK, but this country station is irritating without validity. They advertise their morning show on a billboard with pictures of the two hosts. What's the reasoning behind this? Unless they are very hot--and these two are not, in my opinion--I fail to see how you can do anything but lose listeners after their ideal mental images are shattered forever. Cornpone Calhoun and Mindy look exactly how I didn't picture them. I want to listen less.
Here's some free advice from an expert, radio stations. No ratings advantage accrues to the cast of a radio show when people see giant pictures of them on the highway.
God, is that a cliche of lazy marketing. I think the listeners are well aware that human beings of mediocre to poor physicality quite probably belong to those voices they hear in the morning. The magic happens when they can suspend disbelief. That suspension is suspended once people can see what's going on in the kitchen.
The only exception to this rule is if the radio host has a glaring physical deformity. I once worked with a guy who was missing his left eye. That's the guy you want on a billboard for your station.
"Hey that guy is missing his eye. I gotta tune in to see how that went down." Big ratings.