Bubble, Bubble

 

With a phial full of wishes, a dash of aspirations (and perhaps a tiny pinch of desperation?), I finally brewed up in my cauldron an official call time which evoked my earthly presence at a local Studio (for thirteen episodes of a recurring Sit-Com in its third Season!!!).

Oh, I was already a-tingle as the Magic of Hollywood welcomed me once again into its bewitching environment...

There would be food!  There would be paychecks!  There would be all manner of cackling laughter!  (And did I mention there would be FOOD?) 

Yes, my cauldron doth bubble over! 

I’d already previously met the Cast on this particular show, and with the knowledge that my young Actor (22?) is an absolutely lovely lad (yes, I’ve been hired to stand-in for a male -- which really doesn’t seem to matter on a cable TV budget) I profoundly thanked The Universe profusely for my multitudes of bounty and blessed good fortune.

And with all due proper respect and gratitude for my penultimate night of personal mischief and mayhem last week, I ethereally wafted past the gargoyles in my living room; and reassembling my human form in the kitchen, I concocted an enchanting celebratory potion into a ruby glass goblet filled with eye of newt and toe of frog.  (Or, ya know, just voddy and diet tonic.) 

But yes, the Magic of Hollywood was a-swirl around me! 

Oh, I could feel the energy pulsating through my veins at the thrill of my upcoming adventures! 

I could almost mystically see into the future and practically taste the sweetness of fresh fruit and a hot breakfast of scrambled eggs, blueberry pancakes and bacon! 

Why, I could even smell the stale coffee grounds of...

Wait:  What the Hell was that SMELL???

Personally, I don’t like or drink coffee, but the indistinguishable “aroma” (stench to me) of the caffeinated bean had surreptitiously shrouded my presence and had begun on its own to ephemerally waft about my bat cave...

Good Heavens, what had I done?  After all, I’ve only ever used my mystic gifts for the greater good, but had my personal selfish wishes for financial gain caused some sort of brimstone pyre to ignite from the Netherworld?  Did I somehow upset the delicate balance of Good vs. Evil in my Sanctuary?  Was I being punished for dreaming huge of spectacular breakfasts and paychecks, without a proper appreciation for basically eight months of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at home? 

*BURP*

Standing motionless clutching my ruby red goblet, my cauldron (in this case, my kitchen basin), sans syrup of ipecac, involuntarily spit up on itself.

 

Hmm...

Oh but of course I was being ridiculous and making far too much out of the moment. 

After all, my singular new gainful employment back into the wondrous world of Hollywood couldn’t possibly upset The Universe, as I was but an insignificant twig on a branch of the Tinsel Town tree yearning for nothing more than to sprout and feed.

*BURP*  

 

Hmm...

Whilst I hadn’t necessarily been craving any food in particular at that precise enchanted moment, there next erupted the remnants of someone else’s supper from upstairs in the apartment building; once again bubbling down (and up) into my cauldron, and most unpleasantly leaving a greasy green residue of cilantro and a smattering of corn nibblets.

Hmm...

Now, whilst I’m forever a proponent for believing that The Universe conspires to assist us, my cauldron was on the verge of just being creepy.

Clearly my Yin and Yang were out of sync, and whilst I’ve avoided my Landlords as much as possible in order to protect the sanctity of my Sanctuary, I was probably going to have to request another plumber from Son of Deceased Landlord Yang.   (You have to love the irony of the surname). 

Oh, but yuck – yet another person in my home?  Couldn’t I just buy some Drano or bleach, or cast a spell over my garbage disposal with wing of bat?  (I have some unused left-over eye of newt!)

*BURP*

 

Hmm...

Yep, my cauldron didst indeed bubble over...

>>><<< 

On the work front, I’m delighted to inform you that I’ve been blessed with a great group of people that I know and love.  My second day involved a whopping 13 plus hours (a brutal shock to the system, but I couldn’t have been happier!), and with twelve more episodes, I’m excited to see what the future may bring.   

I even acquired my very first Security Pass at this Studio!  (It took me two tries as my incantations where incorrect regarding paperwork – plus apparently I needed the signature of an Authorized Production Wizard – but my wish finally came true!) 

And to top off an absolutely exquisite day of overtime pay, Son of Deceased Landlord Yang had indeed invoked the presence of someone who fixed my bubbling cauldron:

Yes, my Yin and Yang were once again in sink, um, that is to say, in sync!

And with a few (OK, a LOT) of swipes with a Mister Clean Magic Eraser (best product in the whole wide world whatever created), all evidence of a greasy-pawed mechanical-monkey in my Sanctuary disappeared as though the mere mortal had never even been there.  JOY!  

>>><<< 

Now, I’m not entirely sure why the darkness must always bubble into the light. 

Sure, I get that Nature has a delicate balance and I respect that.

But sometimes we need a greater force of Goodness on our side in order to triumph over the bleak.

“I can’t do it” I whimpered to my friend Kathila at work.  “I can’t open the envelopes...  Please help?” I woefully besieged my dear friend who is a God-Given Angel, and whom Evil would never deign to touch.  (Although trust me, she’s a hard-core New Yorker and doesn’t put up with any shit.)  “What do they say?” I whimpered as I cowered in my chair, trusting that whatever demons may lay waiting, Kathila would easily and effortlessly slay.

“Well... this is not so bad!” she rallied at the first disclosure.  (A force of Goodness, I tell you!) 

Yes, kind readers, the EDD saga continued:

 

 

(Oh, and did I mention that I received two more forms the next day?  Awesome.)

>>><<< 

With one more giant manila envelope, yet another USPS tracer and seven copies of my last Residual Statements copied, stapled separately to a hand-written letter and highlighted to reflect all important information; as well as my entire parcel of triplicate (?) quadruplicate (?) forms, I shipped off my paperwork and let it go.

>>><<< 

And then the true Magic happened...

As of last Friday, the EDD has (all by itself!) opened a new claim for me for 2014 to assist in my hiatus weeks; the only additional form I received was for the first week of this year; and by the Grace of God, my AD texted me with the next call time at the Studio -- where I shall be blessed to ethereally waft past the Background Actors waiting to check in at the Security Gate -- and once again reassemble my human form on the sound stage where I belong.

Moderately terrified to admit to being happy lest lightening smite me,

~Truly Blessed and Temporarily Trouble-Free P
 

Ab Ovo

 

Giddy with the excitement of seeing a call sheet in my computer’s inbox from the Production Company at the Studio, I eagerly clicked open the attachment to prove my worth as a once again valid employee contributing to society! 

Were my unique services actually required a week in advance prior to my start-up date?  Might I somehow be meta-crucial to the needs of the Electricians and Gaffers?  Had I been specifically chosen to receive an additional week of work as a grandiose act of Kindness from The Powers That Be? 

Well... that would be a big fat no, no and no.

In fact (and obviously I’m been away from having a series for way too long to not remember the basics), the call sheet rightfully included only Construction/Set Dressing/Prep; Grip and Electric/Prep at 6am as well as Wardrobe at 9am.

Oh, but by the mere inclusion of the email, I finally had a straw to cling to!  “Unemployment, schmunemployment!”  I shouted happily to The Universe.  “Enough with the government forms and red-tape gobbledygook” I raised my fist triumphantly in a grand symbolic gesture for all those who suffer from oppression.  “We shall overcome!” I announced to the world and all of the hypocritical tyrants!  (Well, “announced” may be a bit of a stretch, as I didn’t wish to wake anyone.)

But ecstatic at the thought of a brand new year, a fresh beginning and delighted to toss away all of the intolerable yucky suckiness that was 2013 for myself (and far too many of my friends), I charged into the evening to throw away the contents of my trash can -- accidentally scaring the crap out of my neighbor’s teen-aged grandson who had snuck out to text a friend, and who was clearly not expecting a bespectacled red-head in a “Wonder Woman” snuggie shod in sensible loafers wielding a Hefty bag -- and proceeded to collect my snail mail.  (I can’t help but “wonder” what his next text might’ve said?)

Regardless!

Still full of joy, I traipsed gleefully to the mail boxes inside my security gate, and key in hand, pulled out a fistful of envelopes. 

Were some friends or family perhaps belated in sending Christmas cards or Birthday wishes?  Might I have a random bill due?  Had I been specifically chosen to receive a blessed residual check for a TV show re-run by The Powers That Be?

Well... that would be a big fat no, no and no.

Welcome to the gruesome innards of my mail box:

Spectacular, no? 

Yes kind readers, the EDD has thus sent me SIX forms to be mailed on January 2nd to Sacramento, which incidentally, were mailed to me – per the postage on the envelopes – from San Bernardino ON the second of January.

But wait, there’s more!

Additionally, as the Great State of California wishes to bundle my work efforts in seeking employment, plus official documentation of residual checks and any money sustained between 10/13/13 and 12/28/13 on all SIX forms, I’ve been knighted with the greatest possible noble task of filling in the following information on the back of each sheet since Question #3, Section B requires my “work search record”.

These delightful categories include the following: 

“Date Applied.  Company Name.  Company Address.  Person Contacted.  Type of Work Applied For.  Results: Please explain.”

Date applied?  What, did I walk into a restaurant with a resume in the 1950’s where I never served a table?  (Um, ever heard of email or texting?)

Company Name?  Company Address? 

Well, until I get officially hired, I never know the title of the Production Company or where and at which studio lot we will film; nor can I brazenly stride past the Security Gates to randomly chat with Casting Directors, Producers and miscellaneous Powers That Be who might be working over the Holidays.

Person Contacted, Type of Work Applied For and Results:  Please Explain: 

Oh, I’ll explain it alright... (Insert possible grand symbolic gesture of raising a “fist”.)

Yes, as evidenced by a photo taken by my Dad some years ago, I’m forever a little fighter by birth!

(My Mom and the tiny bundle of terror that was myopic me, already trying to make sense.)

>>><<< 

To my knowledge, I spent approximately five f***ing hours filling out forms; and have now Xeroxed, documented, bundled and had a tracer placed on the large manila envelope sent today to Sacramento.  I’ve done my due diligence, and to this end I can only hope that the nightmare is over, the Government is appeased and I can acquire a modicum of sleep.

Sometimes I just want to throw my dress over my head and call it a day...

(Some things never change!)

Very much looking forward to working next week,

~Penny-pinched P

 

What, no Kraken?

 

Ever-so-professionally refraining from squealing like a mud-caked pig in a poke whose hungry snout sensed that her empty trough had just been filled, I graciously thanked the Casting Company for my call time to stand-in on a Sit-Com pilot.

Granted, I had many chores to tackle before dutifully reporting to my work assignment after my many months of hibernation (the most challenging task perhaps being that of disencumbering my slightly atrophied limbs from what had become a spectacularly woven warm cocoon of bedding); but come Hell or high water, I would BE THERE!

Color-resistant gray roots of hair on head properly returned to dazzling copper/auburn hues for High-Def camera lighting?  Check!  Full tray of miniature ice cubes frozen and placed in water bottle for necessary hydration on stage?  Check!  Pens and pencils in trusty skull-and-bones backpack for paperwork and most necessary script notations?  Check!

Meanwhile, logging on to my poot that afternoon, I was both delighted and appreciative that the Production Company had included our humble team of Stand-Ins with a PDF file of the script.  (Vital to us, yet often baffling to the production companies as they seem to know not what we do.)

And arrogantly assuming (when will I learn?) that I had successfully tackled every unforeseen obstacle in my path (aside from actually READING the file at the moment), I cut myself some slack and opted to chill in front of the TiVo and TV for a couple of hours.  Heck, I could peruse the script around dinner time, right?

7:04pm

For no apparent reason whatsoever, my PC refused to acknowledge neither the DSL modem nor the Wi-Fi signal before I could open up the emailed script.  “Pfft!” I tut-tutted, reaching for my wireless Kindle; only to discover that it too (the little bastard), refused to recognize its own Wi-Fi signal, which was registering as “connected”, “100% strength” and “Excellent” in reception; yet also denied me access to the world wide web and the one and only email that I really, really, REALLY needed to read! 

>>><<< 

4:30am

I hadn’t smelled the stalwart snorting breath of my stealthy High Horse “Resilient” in quite a while; but I’ll be darned if that particularly belligerent equine wasn’t pawing at the ground, “snarfling” me awake and demanding that I tackle my day with as much mighty force as I could muster.  (I’m not sure how he busted through the gate, but don’t look a gift horse in the eye, right?)

With seven hours of sleep under my belt, the usual expected blended amount of curiosity, minor anxiety and excitement of going back to work in Tinsel Town after my hibernation,  and clambering atop the saddle upon “Resilient”, I phoned the official “Geek Squad” company to help me resolve my tech troubles. 

Unfortunately, the collective high-tech representatives were apparently suffering from an equally challenging morning, as they accidentally hung up on me twice before I eventually reached a third Agent.

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry, but my computer just froze up.  Would you mind holding while I go get someone to help me with this?” she apologized.  (Oh, the irony!)

>>><<< 

Sturdy, proud and refusing to begin my first day of work on a pilot feeling defeated, I whipped open my Kindle once more and tappy-tapping on the web thingie icon that showed the contradictions of itself, my valiant High Horse “Resilient” stomped a hoof on a different Wi-Fi connection as my email magically appeared.  What the...?  (Gift horse, I tell you.)

But, YES!  I was able to read the script!  I had a grasp of the show!  And scanning through our Crew List, I was positively delighted to see so many wonderful people that I couldn’t wait to work with again; as well as the unfettered joy of seeing my name blissfully listed at the bottom of the Second Team.  

Now, this, in itself, would not generally connote anything in particular to anyone else:  but from my experience over the last 20-whatever years, The Universe had deemed me the last to be hired, the last body allowed under the budget, and therefore more than likely a “Utility” Stand-In just to cover the occasional “Under Five” line speaker here and there.  (Sooo easy-peasy!)

Oh, the equine snarfling had indeed paid off!  With my preliminary work accomplished in the morning, I could truly savor the arrival at the familiar gate of the Studio; the exhilaration I always feel when striding in the steps of Hollywood Legends; the warmth and greetings of embracing faces I’ve missed, and the ‘unbridled’ (run free, “Resilient”!) gathering of collective creative minds sharing ideas over plates of food from Craft Services!

Nay (neigh?), nothing could stop me now!

Until...

Wheeling Cecilia (my 1997 Toyota) to the parking structure about an hour and a half before our call time on set, we both puttered abruptly to see that the gate was closed.

Hmmm.

Having seen one of my fellow Second Teamers walking down the street, I could only assume (again, when will I learn?) that the only alternative for working on a Saturday was to nestle Cecilia into a parking spot somewhere in the neighborhood:  so angling her into what might be perceived as perhaps not exactly Beverly Hills, I locked “The Club” onto her steering wheel, and headed on foot to the Studio.  (Fret not, members of Cecilia’s fan base (she’ll have a Facebook page long before I ever do); as sans two hub caps on her right tires (I totally suck at parallel parking), she’s got hard-core street cred.)

Yet at least, I still had “Resilient” to guide me safely to my final destination.  And slinging my skull-and-crossbones atop his saddle, we trotted confidently to the usual Security Gate a few blocks away, only to peer through the darkened window of the locked door.

Hmmm.

Well, tut-tut and pshaw, how much further could the next open gate at a massive Studio Lot possibly be?

(Author’s aside:  Should you need to postpone your reading of this post in order to run some errands, throw in a load of laundry, discover the cure for Cancer, etc. please feel free to do so, as I was probably still walking...)

Nevertheless!

To say the least, by the time “Resilient” and I hit Melrose Avenue and the Main Gate - where only the VIPs enter the lot - my horsey had kind of lost his stamina...

But ponying up to my side, a twenty-something, wide-eyed pimply-faced boy who was equally lost, asked if I might be doing Background work on his particular stage. 

“Actually, I’m just standing-in on a pilot over there” I pointed.

“I did a pilot last week too!” he beamed.  “I was even kinda ‘featured’ in a shot!  That was sooo cool!” he giggled happily.  “I hope my parents get to see it!” he trotted off with stars in his eyes.  (I can still relate to that feeling!)

>>><<< 

Miraculously still arriving a few minutes before my call time on stage, I breezed through the open elephant doors fresh as a daisy (yeah..., no, that’s not exactly it...) I elegantly pirouetted on stage like an etoile in a tutu (no, you’re never gonna buy that one either), I spectacularly, acrobatically somersaulted my way across the cat-walk grid, landing in a feline posture with a “meow” and a... and a... um... oh, who am I kidding?  Let’s try this again:

Miraculously somehow still arriving a few minutes before my call time on stage, I wheezed like a drowning sailor with a life belt around my waist as my friends gently pulled me to safety with welcoming hugs.

“You’ll be covering **** all week” my friend Dev informed me per the ADs as he handed me the script.

“Um, you don’t mean the young (maybe 10 year old?) girl whose name appears FIRST in the slugs of every single scene, and who also has dialogue on every single page?” I double-checked with him, as clearly someone had made a horridly laughable albeit forgivable mistake.

“No, I’m sure!” he confirmed sunnily.

>>><<< 

As I’m a “big picture” person despite my chosen “small screen” career, I have to say that in my ongoing quest to make sense of The Universe and my place therein, I absolutely admire the fact that I am consistently baffled on any given day. 

Despite my ridiculously rocky start to the work week rehearsal day, the uphill battles our crew faced working with a handful of small children - who have the attention span of gnats, and get bored very, very quickly; despite the fact that amongst our brilliant Second Team, not one of us is 4 foot 6 inches tall and therefore somewhat ineffectual during camera blocking; and despite the on-going demand for tots exchanging goopy Special Effects fluids, as well as choreographed foam-bat battles (two kids accidentally got bopped in the face which abruptly brought filming to a screeching halt); despite all of these challenges, yet blissfully guided by a Director with the patience of a Saint, we pulled together as a crew and managed to shoot what felt like a phenomenally tedious, yet adorable feature film over the course of only three days.

>>><<< 

Indeed, The Universe may enjoy playing the occasional Cosmic Obstacle Joke on us now and again (although the barricade of the outer Studio walls seemed a tad too “on-the-nose” blatantly obvious for my sense of humor), but I stood up to the challenges! 

Nay (neigh?), when I put my mind to it, there is absolutely nothing that my High Horse “Resilient” and I cannot achieve!

Until...

“NOTICE OF DETERMINATION:  YOU ARE NOT ELIGIBLE TO RECEIVE BENEFITS UNDER CALIFORNIA UNEMPLOYMENT INSURANCE CODE SECTION 1253A BEGINNING 09/01/13 AND ENDING 09/07/13.”  (And all this time, EDD was sending me triplicate forms for the week after?  Who ever knew there was a problem prior to THAT?)

Well played, Universe...  Well played...

Happy to be afloat and keeping a weather eye,

~Persevering P