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On My Way In To The Day Job

Walking on the lot is always a fun experience.  Having grown up with a deep-rooted love and passion for entertainment, it never stops being exciting to pass through the security gate and stand amid sound stages.  As we’ve been on the same lot for a little more than 4 years now, we’ve gotten to know the staff our the humble, but active studio we inhabit.

This morning as I was coming to work I was passed in an electric cart by one of the janitorial staff whom I’ve not met, a hispanic woman in her mid-forties, and one of the groundsmen.  He’s a jack of all trades sort that can be found riding scissor lifts, driving forklifts, or working security posts as the need needs.  He’s a terrifying looking man, about 6 feet tall, round and powerful looking, shaved slick bald with a hot pink goatee, covered head to toe in ornate tattoos.  He often times comes to work sporting fresh bandages on his head and knuckles, and his forehead has more puncture scars on it than I can count.  It was a long while before we discovered he lived an alternate life as a hardcore wrestler, and that he was perhaps the sweetest man you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.

Anyway, the two of them were passing by on their way to points unknown.  He said hi as usual and I said hi back.

The cart stopped a little bit ahead of me, at the women’s restroom across from our office that doubles as a janitorial supply closet.  She hopped out and headed to the janitorial closet door and he stayed in the electric cart, looking over his shoulder at me with a smile.  I waved and said, “have a great day”.  He, big shit-eating grin in tact said, “She thinks you’re very handsome.”  She covered her mouth in shock.  I thought the poor thing was going to pass out from embarrassment right there.  He laughed.  I smiled politely and said, “She’s not wrong.  And she has good taste.”

They both laughed and I continued on in to work, chuckling to myself.  It reminded me why I love the lot we’re on, modest though it may be; there are no strangers here.

Anyway, this brings me to the moral of the story –

Vote Simpson/Hemstead:  When you’re right, you’re right.

And baby, you're soooooo right.

F@ck You Rebecca Black

Friday sucks man.  4 hours of honest sleep and an exhaust-laden drive to work.  At 7:50am I pull up to our parking lot, which is assigned parking.  This is what I see:


Take a guess which spot is mine. Go ahead. You can do it.

So I park a block and a half away.

Goddamn you so much Friday.  You just made the list.

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