Thursday, March 01, 2007

As it stands presently

As it stands presently I am no closer to raising the funding for my feature that I am to perfecting my process of invisibility and needlessly to say we need more research for both. But I have at least another 40 years to perfect the invisibility device in my quest to overthrow the Federal government, the feature on the otherhand…has to get funded this year; or we have to move on to another project. I know, it’s really sad (you could at least pretend to care you heartless bastards) but that’s the way this is going down.

So it’s March and what the fuck am I doing to get money?…any and everything that’s humanly fucking possible. Shit, I got boy scouts sellin’ ass on Venice boulevard, I’m running a protection racket on the Access Para-transit blue hairs (“Hey Gertrude, you’re late on your payments and Sookie (phonetic Spelling) wants his fuckin’ money!”) and let us not forget that Det. Budd and myself are still knocking over the change machines at local Laundromats. And what have we learned? Well, you really got beat on them boy scouts to get’em to show a little flesh and $1K in quarters is like hella heavy…so I’m thinking of changing up our tactics.

There are only a few viable way to raise funding and every one of them involves drug use and blatant lying, so I think I might have a shot. The easiest way to accomplish this is to get someone else to tell your lies as you do drugs. This is not only more efficient but you can completely avoid all of that trying to talk while you are freebasing activity and concentrate on trying to not set yourself on fire. The individual that facilitates this is no other than the executive producer.

Now if you aren’t up to date on your film terms I’ll do a little of explaining. The executive producer is not a producer, per se. Unlike an actual producer who can do shit like return phone calls, buy weed and perjure themselves to give you an alibi; the EP has no real skills other than having money, knowing people who have money or knowing how to get people who have money give large portions of it to you. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a skill set nonetheless, but don’t get it twisted either…I wouldn’t trust and EP to change the water in my fishbowl. They tend to have a completely jaded sense of reality and are more concerned with the types of vodka the bartender has than the fact that he instructed you to park in a red zone since the two of you were “going to be just a second” when you went into his favorite bar to say hello to some of his “friends”.

I’ve been on maybe a dozen EP missions since I’ve moved to Los Angeles and let me tell you they all go down the same way…drunk and disorderly like it will say on the ticket you’ll be appearing at court to attempt to get dismissed. I’m the first to confess that I like the excitement. I mean when you are going out to talk shop as a filmmaker there is always all kinds of shit going on. Jealous husbands, babymama drama, a shoot out…take your pick the climate is always right for whatever wants to jump off. So you can imagine that when I received an email from Fast Eddie - a prospective EP that I’ve been chasing, I jumped at the chance to get back into the game. I was ready to rock the house!

He told me to meet him at ML in Hollywood, it’s off of Sunset and to bring my A-game. Now that does not mean that we are going to talk money. It means that he’s going to chase a lot of women (blindly swing at the with a club is more like it)…and I need to be his wing man. The good news is if the guy gets laid, I get the assist and can use it to lever him to getting me money. The bad new is that Fast Eddie as no game. That means that I going to have laugh at bad jokes and run interference with her friend…yeah, the one with the great personality.

I threw on a fresh pro-marijuana T-shirt (might was well represent my clan if I’m going to participate in this shit) and a dirty pair of baggie jeans and my explorer hat. Now, I’d like to take the time to talk about director clothing. Don’t be one of the Poindexters that goes shoes and slacks. That is not the way my friends. If we wanted to wear professional clothing we would get real jobs. Be the cat that you want to be. Not the guy you think they want to see. Here let me tell you a story. It’s a tale of two aspiring directors; Steven VanderScott and Mookie (VanderScott – C’mon that’s funny, that’s like 1-800-I’MA-WASPY MOTHERFUCKER). Both are trying to get $1.8MM for their features. VanderScott lives in the valley with his wife and his two fine sons. He dresses conservative and he is very polite. The EP brings over a bunch of investors and Vanderfuck fires up the grill and does his little stand up routine of great hospitality and “look at how cool and stable my family is” swagger as he eventually gets around to pitching them, and telling them that this is a movie that America needs. The investors really warm up to him but decide ultimately not to fund him. Now when the EP brings the investors by to see Mookie, he had to lead a field trip into the hood. When he gets to Mookie address he gathers everyone around and says …”Ok, listen up! We’re about to go in, now remember don’t look in his bad eye and no matter what you say- don’t ask about the dead dog in the hallway! If you can remember those two things, then there an excellent chance that no one will get hurt! Capice! The investors meet Mookie in a dimly lit room and watch him scarf down Gummy colas and Green Tea as he tells them that he’s sorry he’s wasted everyone’s time, but he’s decided to not make the film, because it’s probably going to cause the world to end. The fact that Mookie is a fuckin’ lunatic that should be happy that he can find his tooth paste every morning, has no bearing on them. The read his neuroses as a sign of genius and they can’t give their money to him fast enough. What I am saying is you have to look the part and Dockers ain’t cuttin’ it.

I bounded down the step of my apt. and hoped into the Z as she roared to life. I mentally went over my game plan (it’s called get-the-fucking-money). I decided to try to keep a low profile as I approached Hollywood (if that’s possible with a classic Z that’s got headers and twice pipes) and just concentrate on the task at hand.

And what do we have here? Traffic cops on bikes. Is this for real or are they filming some shit here. Jesus they are writing tickets; see I think that you should be able to hit them if they’re gonna pull this shit in traffic. I mean how do you pedal up to a guy in traffic that’s not moving and write him a seatbelt ticket? Where are the rules of engagement? How is that a legal move?

It takes about 4 circles around the block and before I found a money parking spot. I grabbed my satchel out of the hatchback and locked up the Z. Now I do remember him telling me to RSVP but this is normally the biggest bluff in the game. These industry things come together in about 45 min’s and they are never organized. Besides all the people working the door are wannabe’s anyway, so the whole fucking thing is a liars convention and it’s really a matter of playing the conversation to get around this gatekeeper act (get a real job).

I come around the corner of the building (because the entrance is in the back) and there is this huge fucking line. There’s got to be 40 or 50 people standing in line, and there is a list. Well that’s just fucking great. I am of course kicking myself for not RSVPing but what the fuck can I do about it now. Time to start lying.

Here’s a piece of advice about how to get into the bar/party/screening when you ain’t on the list. First of all, don’t stand in line. That just indicates that you know you are a nobody and you are hoping that someone will let you enter cause you’re cute. Well unless you have a vagina that plan ain’t really gonna work. So do what I do and bum rush the list holder.

Now you have to do this in the right order or it’s not going to work so pay attention.

As I approach the front of the line I break out my blackcherry and begin to have a fake conversation.

COOPRDOG

“Hey what’s up…get the fuck out of here. Dude he tried the same shit when we were in principal”

This automatically makes all the bottom feeders in line look at me and wonder what the fuck I am talking about as they continue to watch me approach the dude with the list in his hand. This will be interpreted as street cred. by security because the entire line watched me approach the front of it. Now this is where you need to pay attention; everyone in this town wants a deal and wants to be famous, but even more than that…they don’t want to work for it. LA is the epitome of instant gratification and making nice with someone who is about to blow up is one of the best ways to do that. My job is to appear to be the next IT-boy.

I keep talkin’ on my celli an ignore the first thing he says to me and loudly say “Cooprdog, Big Hit Productions”. The guy is irritated because everyone is looking at him and I’m being a total dick by not getting off my phone as he looks for my name. I watch him skim through the list three times and not find my name. At this point I make a snide comment to my imaginary friend on the phone “well if I ever get past Top Notch security maybe I can do the introductions”.

He then says to me “I’m sorry sir you are not on the list”

COOPRDOG

“What do you mean I’m not on the list! I fucking RSVP’d and all that shit and now you’re telling me I’m not on the list?”

The dude is perplexed he’s attempting to keep his tough guy image up and not screw up his opportunity to ride my coattails to where-ever-the-fuck I might be going. I then up the notch a bit to see what happens.

COOPRDOG

“Hey dude, let me go… they can’t find me on the list so I need to get my mom on the phone or some shit to get up in this bitch! Just order me a Guinness and tell that motherfucker to let the bitch cascade before trying to top it off”.

I reholster my Blackcherry and look him right in his eye.

COOPRDOG

“You know I don’t even know why you guys bother with the whole list/RSVP thing because it never fucking works. Every single time there is an event I have to get like 10 emails from your cracker-jack promotions staff begging me to come and remind me to RSVP…and every time I RSVP there is never the complete list at the door. It’s amazing any films get made in this town. So now what the fuck do we do, Sherlock?”

The guy is mortified and he’s already on the headset asking for back-up. Now don’t panic, this is a good sign. Part-time security hates people who cause a scene and will do anything to make you go away…and that’s how I plan to get in.

I’m asked to stand on the side and someone will be over to help me. I give him the “you have got to be fucking kidding me” – look as I reach for me celli.

COOPRDOG

“Hey…no. I’m still fucking outside. I don’t know I think they are calling Interpol to verify that I’m not a serial killer or some shit”.

A very attractive woman rounds the corner and smiles and extends her hand as she approaches to greet me. Now we are talkin’

HEAD OF PROMOTIONS

“Hello Mr. Cooprdog I am told there was a problem with your RSVP”

COOPRDOG

“Oh it’s been upgraded to a problem…and how much is that going to cost me?”

She laughs and flirts and bats her eyes while standing entirely too close to me as she goes over the “master list”.

HEAD OF PROMOTIONS

“You know I still can’t find you on the list”

COOPRDOG

“So what does that mean, that I’m dead? Well if that’s the case then someone needs to inform Time Warner Cable cause they’re still ganking me for $138 on a monthly.”

She laughs again and touches my arm.

HEAD OF PROMOTIONS

“Ha.. you are really funny”

COOPRDOG

“You wanna know what’s funny, the Hollywood Parking authority on their bicycles bustin’ motherfuckers. That’s fuckin’ comedy!”

She bursts out laughing and has an even tougher time pretending to flip through the pages and search for my name than she was before. And she begins to make small talk.

HEAD OF PROMOTIONS

“So, what do you do?”

COOPRDOG

“Why, what have you heard? What are they saying about me? Did you speak to CAA? I was told that entire conversation was off the record”

She laughs again.

COOPRDOG

“Rumor has it that I am a director”

HEAD OF PROMOTIONS

“Rumor eh?”

COOPRDOG

“Yeah you aren’t officially a director till you blow $30MM or you rape a 14 yr old and flee the country…whichever comes first”

HEAD OF PROMOTIONS

“That’s so fucking rude. You are so out of hand. Ok here is what I can do..”

COOPRDOG

“This out to be good..”

HEAD OF PROMOTIONS

“I can’t give you the VIP entry, but if you pay the $10 cover and then I can upgrade you to VIP access”

COOPRDOG

“I’m sorry so now I have to pay”

HEAD OF PROMOTIONS

“I know I am really sorry about the $10 but that’s really all that I can offer you right now.”

COOPRDOG

“I have more jokes if that’ll make a difference.”

HEAD OF PROMOTIONS

“It won’t make a difference in getting you in this party, but it might make a difference when the party is over.

I look her right in her eye as I remove the 10-spot from my pocket (that’s so incredibly balled up that there is no way I am a VIP – but whatever she bought it). I’ve not only talked my way into this party and upgraded my status to VIP, but now this chick wants to fuck me. Damn I’m good.

I hand over my cash and get a stamp on my hand and bid her farewell (no, she’s not really trying to fuck me…she’s trying to make me think I have a shot a fucking her so I put her in my movie. Nice try sister…now get you ass back to postcard and sticker detail.

I enter through the winding and cavernous foyer into this lair of a bar. I take a look around and what do I see guys in suit jackets and jeans and sneakers. This is definitely the place. I am here to meet one person and hoping to meet about 10 others. As always it’s more important to be seen talking to lots of people and give the impression that you are working the room than to actually come away with some type of concrete deal.

I am here to meet Fast Eddie and if I really pulled off the “It-Boy” – Con then security has given the bar a heads up about me because they think I’m connected and a bit of a loud mouth. As soon as I reach the bar the bartender looks right at me and says “Guinness? Right?” and proceeds to pull a pint ( that’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout). I end this killer Dolly move by chillin’ on the bar, surveying the crowd, waitin’ for my pint to cascade. Not bad for a guy who went to public school.

It’s relatively low key but there’s easily 70 people up in this motherfucker and that means that there’s definitely some shit talkin’ going on. I sip my Guinness and begin my favorite game “eavesdropping on people who are lying”. Now this is not a game for the timid, you have to have iron clad convictions and not get caught up in the smiling and the head nodding.

I didn’t have to stray far before I heard what I was looking for.

DUDE IN COLLARED SHIRT

“You know, I know Baldwin and his people so It’s really a matter of getting them to sign off on this script”.

There it is. Dropping the name of someone is used to be kind of famous but now really isn’t famous. It gives the liar the ability to be “holier than thou” but not really worry that you’ll bump into someone who actually knows the person in question, cause his career has been over since the negatives for “BioDome” were developed (Paulie Shore and Steven Baldwin I don’t know why that film wasn’t successful).

OK, time to fuck with him….

COOPRDOG

“Hey did you say you have a deal with Baldwin

DUDE IN COLLARED SHIRT

“Uh I’ve got this script that I sent…”

COOPRDOG

“Yell well, I’m the director he stuck with a $10MM film when he walked off the set last November. You tell Baldwin that thanks to him my kids can’t get their braces, ok!”

DUDE IN COLLARED SHIRT

“Uh, I’m just in negotiation with him…”

COOPRDOG

“Oh Bullshit! You know you guys are fuckin’ boys, you’re up in here pitchin’ deals for him. This ain’t my first day at the picnic buddy! Now get Baldwin on the phone and you tell him that I’m down here and I want to talk to him!”

The guy is totally mortified. He doesn’t know if he should cry or run. I’m banging huge sips of my Guinness and looking around with a grimace on my face like a pimp who can’t find his hookers.

Then I make my exit

COOPRDOG

“Look, I see some I have to talk to. Get Baldwin on the phone and I mean Baldwin and not his assistant Dale!. I hate that Ivy League kiss-ass and his fuckin’ penny loafers who does he think he is Alex P, Keaton? Why doesn’t he just become a fluffer already since he’s so good at talking with someone else’s balls in his mouth.”

The dude has no idea what to do and is just clutching his celli as I slip away to find Fast Eddie. He’ll be flying under the radar for the rest of this party...man does it feel good to be an asshole.

I begin to wade through the other contestants on my way to the VIP section. All I got to do now is find Fast Eddie which shouldn’t be that hard. I mean he’ll be trying to fuck some chick that’s way out of his league and he’ll be buying a ton a drinks

COOPRDOG

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

I love it!
Can't wait to hear about the rest of the evening.
You ought to write a book- one of those coffee table- collection of stories you only hear in LA- types of books. You'll be famous.
The humor is contagious. Thanks.

2:13 PM  

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