I’m blogging from the set of The Good Wife this morning and while that is technically against the rules, I’m going to assume that everyone here is too busy making tv happen to worry about one silly little blogger in the background. So…
My day started out great. I saw the sunrise over the George Washington Bridge, I found out I’m going to be working outside all day which is awesome because the weather is gorgeous – sunny and warm but not too hot – and to top it all off they served us a truly spectacular breakfast with freshly squeezed grapefruit juice and everything! All was right with the world…until we actually got to set and starting working.
I somehow got paired up with this super hot Russian chick. I’m talking ridiculously attractive. She is seriously one of the most good-looking people I have ever seen…but Christ Almighty is she dumb as a bag of hammers and twice as irritating.
We’re supposed to be shooting a casual scene and Natasha over here shows up in skinny jeans, six inch heels and a see-through tank top because those are the most casual clothes she owns. The only reason I know this is because she won’t shut the hell up about it. She’s still talking right now as a matter of fact.
Here’s a little taste of what the rest of my day is going to be like:
‘…and I weigh only ninety-five pound so I ask doctor to give me pills for gain weight and I gain ten pounds and now my stomach stick out (she lifts up her shirt to show me her perfectly flat stomach) and none of my clothes fits me anymore. I don’t know what I gonna do with them all. My mother weigh one forty-five so…
[She gives me a meaningful look which, roughly translated, means you know.]
‘You could give them away…’ I suggested feebly.
‘My friends wants me to give them but I don’t want to cause they all really nice name brand clothings…Armani, Juicy Couture, Bebe…oh, I got this nice coat from Bebe from September…’
[I tuned out for a while to write this post.]
‘…so I don’t know. I probably will put in boxes in basement.’
‘You could sell them?’ I added because apparently I’m a glutton for punishment.
‘No!’ she exclaimed, seemingly horrified by the thought. ‘If I sell them I get nothing for what they are worth.’
[She expelled a huge, exaggerated sigh at this point.]
‘I think…’ she said tentatively, (it sounded like hard work) ‘…that I keep them and maybe I just work on my stomach and thighs because I like how my butt sticks out now…’ she finished, turning to examine her rear.
Then I threw her in front of a moving car.