So Far, So Noonch

The cast is slowly coming together. Peter Brown asked about the last script and to not let the actions of one person who has mysteriously dissapeared to affect its production so I e-mailed him with my fuzzy logic and reasoning. I hope he comes 'round.

Man Method has been a wonderful sounding board. We're currently in the midst of e-mail to and fro ping-pong action of ideas. If all goes well, some sequences will be shot in the UK via his various contacts. If anyone asks, I'm saying we flew over.

"Yes, we bought numerous return tickets to shoot in London over the weekend."

"But it's only ten minutes of footage..."

"It don't mean a thing if you got mega-bling."

In truth, we have a budget of... my upcoming paycheck. Give or take. However, on each day there shouldn't be more than 4 or 5 people on set, so that should save in feeding costs for cast & crew.

Except for my third act action scene, of course. Perhaps I should take out insurance...

Another worry has come to light, however. One that you may have noticed me blab about before but regardless will blab again.

I'm playing the lead and I'm a tubby bitch.

The first signs of just how tubby I was and how it would affect the shoot came when I tried on a t-shirt last weekend. I loved that fucking t-shirt. And they didn't have my size.

Then two days ago: I finally saw the footage of my interview on TV. TV adds about 10 pounds, they say. In that case it transformed me from John Candy to Jabba the Hutt. I kid you not. They kept using a low angle which made my double chin look like I was the fucking Budweiser frog.

I know what Meth's probably thinking as he reads this: 'get someone else to play the part'. Unfortunately it's hard enough trying to find people that fit the other characters as it is. And I want to play it. Orson Welles style.

Or Ed Wood. I guess we'll find out when it's finished which one I take to.

...

...if it's the latter, at least I have a very cool biopic to look forward to. Till then, I won't be helping my belly issues any by going to the Loft@Zouk tonight, but someone's agreed to foot the bill. And it's a she. So far, so noonch.

Kevin Smith's gonna sue my ass.