ZX-Because If I'm Going To Post On A Holiday, Then I Appreciate Those Of You Who Read It On A Holiday

This is not my normal computer for creating posts and for some reason, when I copy and paste ZX's e-mail the font is out of whack, so I hope it doesn't offend your sensibilities much.

Filming was awesome beans. Got there only to
be told by the director that the locations
people had just found out that they
could not discharge firearms after ten,
so my scene which was supposed to be first up
was now...

Well, they didn't know, but I could just hang
out in my trailer until further notice.
This is just the way it goes sometimes,
and I like being on set, so I chatted with
the teamsters and caterers and ate some pork ribs
and carrot cake and made myself comfortable.
Well, as comfortable as I could be with a
nine-months-ready-to-pop pregnancy belly strapped
to my stomach, which I kept accidentally
ramming into people and equipment.


By the ninth hour, after not having filmed a thing,
I was like, "Get this fucking demon spawn outta me!!!"
I guess if I can't take nine hours, I can't take nine
months just yet, but I think that nine month gestation
is just to get used to the idea of not being a selfish
pig and thinking of someone else's needs.
I think I will be a good mother as long as I don't
forget my baby on an elevator or lose it in a parking
garage.

Rather convenient that I got in two accidents in as many
weeks. The Nissan Lady is going to be alright after all.
I had waited with her after the crash, since her car was
totalled, for the tow truck driver to come. Apparently
the aforementioned tow truck bastard told the woman to
"Sue the shit out of" me, and when I called the wonderful,
kind Nissan Lady the next day to make sure my insurance
was taking care of her, she told me that he and everyone
else told her to go for the millions I don't have, but
I seemed like a "decent person," and this was the kind
of thing that could happen to anyone.

I felt a little dirtier about the cosmetic concealment,
but if she's going to be okay, which is the important
part, then I don't really need the
"shit sued outta" me.

I went to take my convertible in from the 16-yr.-old
-smashup and got lost on the way there, convinced
that Oxnard was an exit off of the 405. Well, I
couldn't find it anywhere and ended up being 45 minutes
late and the guy had already left for lunch.

Ordinarily, especially since it was my fault, I would
have just hunkered down with my scripts in their
waiting room with their free diet cokes, but I had to
get home to meet the OTHER adjuster who was coming over
to my house to photograph my I'm-an-idiot-smashup.

So I told the adjusters  "I rescheduled my work to come
here. I have to get back!" The receptionist was nice
enough not to ask what kind of fantastically important
work I could be returning to in a dog-haired covered
sweatsuit, but I could see it in her eye, so I
rescheduled the I'm-an-idiot guy and waited.

Finally, they rented me a car and I tooled home. The
adjuster took photos of the twisted wreckage and I
opened the door to let him photograph the airbag.

There, by the pedals, beneath a piece of the horn which
had ripped free due to the airbag, was the guilty lip gloss.
He snapped away.

I wonder how many pictures the insurance companies have of
wayward cosmetics. I am glad, however, that I was not
putting on mascara.