Ever notice how it's the little things in life that amuse us so much? More to the point, ever notice how it's the silly little idiocies in life that amuse us more than anything else? Well, this is not as much ''the little blog that could'' as it is ''the blog that enjoys going up the down escalator in your local mall.'' Will it have anything of real importance? No, probably not. But enjoy the ride never the less!

 
Tis But A Scratch!

Today was spent doing 1 of 2 things, though not both of them at once. Either I was lounging around with an arrow electrically-taped to my armpit. Or I was on-set, filming scenes where I got beaten up, with an arrow electrically-taped to my armpit. Though it made for some rather humourous, casual conversations with my fellow disposable vampires:

Me: "So, how've you been?"

Random Disposable Vamp: "Staked. You?"

Me: (gesturing to my chest) "Shot."

Random Disposable Vamp: "Ah. Usual, then."

Me: "Yes, quite."

That conversation probably sounds funnier if you imagine us having English (as in British) accents. Or else trying to fake English accents. Things always sound funnier with English accents for some reason.

Anyhoo, today found me on the set of Stages once again, this time from 9:30am to 7pm-ish. It was a Do-or-Die day for filming, and in more than one way. Not only were we finishing up all the shots of the final battle, where we get to see the film's bodycount jump from 2-3 to roughly 24 in the span of ten minutes. Also, this was the absolute last day we could do anything at Stages; we finished filming our last scene in under the wire at 7pm, and at 8pm the contractors were due to arrive to start rennovating the club. Needless to say, it would shoot to shit any continuity we once had if the club undergoes a major facelift in the middle of a grab-bag of scenes.

Everything came together at the last minute for the cast & crew, which is an amazing miracle unto itself. At the last minute we were able to get Stages procurred, and have all the principle players available for the filming. Not to mention that despite the primary digital videocamera breaking down, our director was able to find another one right in the proverbial nick of time.

And so once more, and happily for the last time, I became Wade, who can also be known as That-Creepy-Depraved-Omni-Sexual-Vampire-Who-Really-Ought-To-Get-Kicked-In-The-Nads-Somewhere-During-This-Film. But that other name's a bit too long for such a little bit of nowhere, so we'll just stick with "Wade".

Early in the morning, my face was paled, my hair was sent all awry, and the arrow was strategically fastened to the side of my chest with black electrical tape (a happy thing, since the undershirt I was wearing also happened to be black). The arrow didn't leave my side, literally, until the end, since my close-up scenes were all done at the end of the day--though I spent most of the rest of the day being in the background, since the battle requires 5-6 near simultaneous melees going on regardless of where the camera's focused.

My hair is still all gelled up in the "Wade" look, which more or less resembles what might happen if I had gelled my hair in the morning, and right at that crucial moment where the hair and gel would have gone from wet and useless to dried/solidified, I sneezed and botched the whole process.

But the real prize-winner for me was the blood. Fake blood, of course. Strawberry syrup, if you wanted to be really precise. Apparently strawberry syrup is a laxative; I'm rather glad that despite having it poured all down my wounded arm (and I do mean poured like a small river), shirt and chin, I didn't ingest too much of it. There is an inherent disadvantage to making it appear that you've been bleeding beneath your clothes, however. Namely the fact that you have to apply the syrup/blood on your skin beneath and beyond the edge of your cuffs or sleeves, to give the impression that it just didn't magically start where the sleeve ended.

Take a moment and follow my logic here: the "blood" is syrup; syrup is sticky, very sticky; syrup being applied to the skin in rather gratuitous quanitites results in both the shirt sleeve and the skin being soaked with syrup; since the syrup is very sticky, it glues your sleeve and skin together like a temporary paste, with your arm hairs trapped helplessly between them; adjusting your sleeves for better mobility in a fight scene requires ripping your sleeve apart from your skin; and this in turn helps to rip the hairs out of your arm.

It hurts. A lot.

Currently my left arm is sporting a lot of reddish holes where my strategically-placed elbow hairs once were. I look like a heroin addict, or else a deforested landscape. Despite the ever-constant injuries as I was repeatedly forced to tear the hairs from my arm between takes, I quite enjoyed the last day of filming at Stages. Unfortunately, time could not afford me to get a disposable camera for today, so alas, no photo's could be had.

There was also a lot of talk today about nipples. My nipples especially, which unnerved me to no end. I have discovered that if you want to make someone shuffle around uncomfortably, say some random thing about their nipples. The remark to me was: "Oh, look! You've been shot in the tit!"

Now such an impressively macho wound as having been hit with a crossbow arrow just above the heart just loses all its impressiveness when the word "tit" is followed close on the heels of "shot in the". I told the offending vampiress so, but unfortunately I failed in making it any less bruising to my ego.

Saying, "It's a manly wound when you get shot in your muscular...something-or-other" doesn't quite work. Especially when she's the one who has to prompt you with, "Pectorals?"

This was quickly followed by her laughing at me having been shot in the tit...and that was quickly followed by her tweaking my other nipple, which was happily still intact. And then she walked off cackling manically as she danced upon the tattered pieces of my molested ego. I feel so violated.

Right now, I'm just sitting back and marvelling at how I'm still grinning like an idiot over this. For as tedious if not downright boring as shooting a feature film is at times, it's still a wonderful adventure. I'm happy to have spent time on it as Wade, That-Creepy-Depraved-Omni-Sexual-Vampire-Who-Really-Ought-To-Get-Kicked-In-The-Nads-Somewhere-During-This-Film. And the best part: soon enough, we get to start shooting all the ballroom dancing scenes at the end of August.

Life may not be great, but it's good enough for me to grin and look towards seeing what tomorrow will bring. And those of you who immediately thought I sounded like the end of an episode of "Hamtaro" should be shot in the tit.

Today's Lesson: it's harder than you might originally think to eat a lasagne and salad dinner with an arrow sticking out of your chest.


posted by Phillip at 6:05 PM