Another Day Another Goodbye

Sorry for the lack of a post yesterday. We were in San Francisco scouting out locations for the Prostitution movie. I was planning to post after we were done on the plane on the way back but a medical emergency halted that. Well, I don’t know if I would call it an emergency but it seemed pretty intense when it happened.

Have you ever done something and then afterwards you wonder why the fuck you did it? You think…did that serve any purpose whatsoever and what was I trying to accomplish by doing that. That happened to me yesterday, and I still don’t know why I did what I did. And now all I have to show for it is a hospital bill and hopefully not a lawsuit.

We had a good majority of the production team on location as well. On the plane on the way over, the cinematographer said something that pissed me off. He said that he didn’t like the films ending and then he referenced a movie done by one of competitors as an example of a good ending.

I didn’t want to hire this asshole in the first place, but he came as a packaged deal with the director on the film. Agencies won’t give you anyone anymore unless you buy the whole package. We stopped by a little French Cuisine restaurant on the way back, and he says that if it were up to him he would have casted the movie differently. Finally, I snapped off and told him to shut his damn mouth or he would be out of the project for good.

He told me that I didn’t have the power to put him out of the project because he was attached with the director. He said I didn’t want to ruin my relationship with the agency. Do you think I give a shit about an agency? An agency? I told him if he said one more word he was gone. He quickly turned away and started to walk to the bathroom. I heard him mutter something under his breath that consisted of me being a hack.

As soon as I heard it I picked up the saltshaker on the table and chucked it at the back of his head. I saw the whole thing in slow motion and it spun end over end until it struck him right in the cranium. A saltshaker (stay with me here) a saltshaker split his head open and required nine stitches. The doctor told us later that the gash was further complicated by the amount of salt that fell in his wound when it struck. True story.

So, he’s off the project, and we’re in negotiations to bring the director back. At this point I don’t really give a shit. I just wish I’d thrown the pepper to save some money.