Roseanne Bar blows it for me again

Sometimes I can be a pretty big idiot - I really can. And sometimes I wonder how I've gotten this far in life. I don't mean by any measure of success, I just mean to age 26 or 27 or however old it is that I am. I keep forgetting.

I haven't had a job in six lousy months because of my chemo and I finally go in for an interview the other day - I meet this real dude bro at Western Bagels on the corner of Federal and Santa Monica. He shows up ten minutes late to his own meeting only to find that the place he's decided to have us meet at is closed.

So we sit down outside and he asks me what I've been working on lately and I say that I was cutting at MGM for a while and he asks me what I was cutting there and I say 'promo' and he says 'for what movies?' and......I COULD'VE said, Terminator. I COULD'VE said Oliver Stone's Salvadore. I COULD'VE said HANNIBAL. I COULD'VE said any of the "original" Bond films.

But no. This information eludes me when I need it. It hides in the recesses of my mind and leaves me hunting for the weaker memories - the ones without enough sense to hide. I pick them off like weak gazelles.



I say, "I cut a promo for Bio-Dome - you know, with Pauly Shore - I just love that movie. And then I did that 80's film with Roseanne - She Devil.






THAT'S what I come up with and this dude wants me to cut a trailer for a horror / thriller thing he did.

What am I thinking?

I'll let you know if he calls me back.

THEN, I've got ANOTHER interview today to cut on this new Fashion Show for BRAVO!, which incidentally, I consider to be the gay network for straight people. So I go in there and it goes pretty well and, actually, that's not at all what this story is about. After the interview I go to Chipotle's alone to celebrate what I think was a very successful interview. I scarf down the burrito while I make some notes to myself in my 5-binder and then split because I can feel my guts bursting. These burritos are about the size of a cinder block.



I'm walking back to my car and I start to heave. It just came on and I couldn't hold it back. I heaved again. I little spittle came up. I heaved again. A LOT of spittle came up. I heaved again and mother of mercy the plug had been pulled. People are driving past me while I casually puke and walk at the same time, barfing behind cars, not stopping to even bend over. Children are crying somewhere.







I get back to the car, barf the rest of the burrito up, slam the bitty into reverse, run over my own lunch and get outta there.

When I get home, the BRAVO! job calls me and asks if I can start on nights TONIGHT - that's a 7pm - 4am shift RIGHT NOW.

Who do they think I am?



I say I can't. I say I can start Monday - I've got Patrick and Molly to shoot this weekend.

They say they'll get back to me.

I hope they do.