Monday, June 26, 2006

Check-in

Ok I don’t know why the fuck you have to check in once you have already been accepted to a festival…but we decide to play ball. No realize that this is my first festival with the great Yoda…she’s like a personal hit man in publicity situations. I can just sit back and be a stoner and let her run people at me…I mean that was the plan. Needless to say I had a few grand left in the bank, a hot short film and a kick-ass publicist…what could go wrong?

So the festival is being hosted by a certain hotel on La Cienega & San Vincente and let’s just say that the hotel in question is a little bit less than enamored to have to host this festival. And here we come, me and Madame Publicity. We burned one in the car on the way over and I got my crazy directors hat on and I am lookin’ for trouble. I am ready to rep west LA and roll a blunt to show’em how we get down on the Westside.

We get to the table and we are facing a rather larger woman. I mean this sister could send shrieks of fear and terror through the local all-you-can-eat restaurant, no really. So it’s 1-800- nastiness from the moment we get into the closet of a festival office that they are holed up in.

BIG WOMAN
…..yes

COOPRDOG
Hi. I am here to pick up my filmmaker credentials.

BIG WOMAN
Did you register?

COOPRDOG
I believe so. I mean you accepted my film and gave me a screening time.

BIG WOMAN
What’s your name

YODA
Dog, Cooper Dog.

So she begins to flip through this shoe box of stapled papers…I mean c’mon I have seen better organization on the girl scout cookie table…this is a festival in it’s 7th year.


BIG WOMAN
I don’t see your name.

COOPRDOG
Well does that mean that I am dead and no one told me

YODA
..what…Cooper means is in the event that we did not register, what should we do.

BIG WOMAN
You know, I don’t know if I have time for this. You filmmakers need to follow instructions.

Yeah ok…and you need to follow a strict diet regimen but you don’t hear me complaining. Anyway during this stand-off at the wanna be festival office, another filmmaker shows up. She a cute Latina chick, with a real short (that means there isn’t any cussin’ or weed references and that it aims to improve life on the planet – so of course I hate the bitch). Ha, they don’t have her shit either….well welcome to Fuck-you-in-the-ass-film-festival-’06!

Ok so me and Marina, or Lupe or whatever the fuck her name is (jesus…it’s comedy people) are having a make believe conversation about how interested we are in seeing each others film. I mean let’s get real, the chances of me going to see her 12 minute weepy are about as good as my giving up weed for life. And I like weed… I can’t stand her or her romantic bullshit…and she’s still talkin’ about how the film was inspired by true events. Really? You mean you don’t lead a fulfilling life with a man who loves you? You mean your daddies propensity for liquid excitement has had a lasting effect on your self esteem?… I never would have noticed!

It’s at this point that I wanted to take the biggest rip that is humanly possible and see if she would disappear as I killed a few million brain cells. Well before I could even load the bong Fatty-Boombalaty is speaking again. I mean at first I though she was ordering a pizza but then I realized that she was writing out the credentials by hand. Now you know you lead a sedentary lifestyle when you get winded writing out name tags; but that is not the funny part. The funny part is I can see the application that they are using and the font as well. Man I can make credentials way faster than you motherfuckers; but I keep that bit of info to myself and play along.

The give us our filmmakers bags full of advertisements from shitty cd duplication places and I think the read us our rights (You have the right to screen in an empty theater. You have the right to have all you promotional lost until minutes before you screen..)

So we walk out of there and Yoda is on one, she can’t believe how rude the staff is…and I am like “word”. Now if Yoda is gettin’ pissed then I know this is gonna be some shit. And lookee here…lookee here, here comes the festival director, let’s see if she says hi. Man, walks right by us, as if we were fuckin’ invisible or some shit. I’m sorry I thought I was a finalist? Where is all the ass kissing and the young girls who are willing to take it in the ass? Man people have really been lying about what goes on in festivals (and by people I mean Chris Gore). Man is it exciting to be broke and in fear of where your next meal is coming from…I think everyone should experience this!

COOPRDOG

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