(I apologize in advance for the sheer ass-scratching pointlessness of this story.)
As you know, I tend to get super jazzed about foodstuffs. Every day on set, I'm excited to see what the nice catering people have prepared for my insatiable maw. Today, I yelped with glee when we assembled at the truck and I saw that there were Tim Bits for dessert. (Tim Bits, for non-Canucks, are donut holes from Tim Horton's. They're exactly like Dunkin Donuts Munchkins; wee bliss nuggets with a wet-dream glaze.)
"TIM BITS!" I shrieked as I raced toward the truck, arms pinwheeling wildly.
"Better," a disembodied voice (cast? crew?) intoned dramatically. "Tim Bit sundaes."
Sweet bride of fuck. You take some Tim Bits-- just Tim Bits, curiously, no ice cream-- put them in a bowl (oh yes), add CARAMEL and HOT FUDGE and RASPBERRY SAUCE and CRUSHED NUTS and then you grab the Redi-Whip and give that bitch a pearl necklace. FUUUUUUUCK!
SPACED (the one and only) hits DVD!
Current mood: animated
My fellow Americans: Long have we awaited this press release. SPACED is finally available on DVD on July 22nd. Purchase it. Get some snacks too, and possibly a 20 oz. chilled beverage. Rush home in the summer heat. Dispose of the stickers and cellophane and get ready to laugh your ass off.
I'm on set right now, alternately making a video diary, working on a script and watching the monitor. Today is double-plus creepy. Best location yet. I truly can't wait to share.
I recently participated in a MySpace Artist on Artist interview with my friend (seriously!) John Cusack. John has a new film coming out called War, Inc. that you should all check out. It's brave and funny and affecting and gonzo and most of all, straight-up Cusackian. (You know what I mean, right? It's pretty cool when an artist's body of work is so distinct that they warrant the adjective treatment.)
1.) The moment in which I play it cool and feign a lack of recall when John mentions the infamous "Two dollars!" quote. "Oh yeah..." (Please. I own that movie.)
2.) Me rocking in my seat like a stimulus-deprived Romanian orphan.
3.) The goofy straight-to-camera look on my face right after we exchage Eurokisses at the end. Boing!
At the New Beverly tonight (Wednesday) and tomorrow!
A most intriguing double feature, lovingly programmed by cinema wizard Marc Edward Heuck.
Check out The Silent Partner at 7:30 and The Candy Snatchers at 9:35. More details on "The Hoyk's" blog here.
I have seen neither movie, but I'm excited. I'll go to the New Beverly any day-- even though the last time I went I tore my Hudson jeans on a renegade seat spring. All part of the neo-grindhouse experience, kids!
I'm at Tara's house! And yes, there's a reason her mailbox is so ornate.
It has surely been an insane and beauteous week. Lots of Tara-rist activity. You guys were right-- it is fun. Had a totally irresponsible weekend chockablock with movies, snacks & booze. Didn't clean at all. Floor at my house now completely obscured by eternal, permafrost-esque layer of matted laundry.
The EPK guys are here today, which means they're filming those documentary-style interviews that you see on DVDs and in press kits. I maybe should have showered today. I hate how I look in the Juno behind-the-scenes stuff. My hair was in an awkward phase and I was all booze-bloated and lipsticky. (Not that I'm Cheryl Tiegs now or anything.)
I smell food, so you know what that means. (bounds back to set like Great Dane.)
I Got the Knotts
Current mood: Why is my blog template in Spanish?
This morning, I jumped on the I-5 and cruised down to Knott's Berry Farm (not to be confused with Don Knotts Berry Farm, a short-lived '70s theme park that featured such rides as the Spit Take, the Shocked Expression, and the Quasi-Thyroidal Eye Bulge.)
I'm longtime roller coaster enthusiast (I'm even going on an insane nine-park road trip with 50 other geeks this summer), so a trip to a park is slightly more heightened for me than it is for the average kid. Actually, it's a lot more heightened. I am known to dance down midways in fits of adrenaline-induced joy. Today's visit was short and sweet due to time constraints/exhaustion/I'M FUCKING OLD, but I figured I'd get my ya yas out before shooting on Tara starts early tomorrow.
If anyone here is nerdy enough to care, Ghostrider is one of the best woodies I've ever ridden. It's a double out-and-back that goes on forever-- it's like Beast West or something. Predictably (for a speed freak), I also love Xcelerator. The hydraulic launch was super intense; I've only ever experienced LIM and flywheel launches and this rocket coaster was a whole 'nother chimichanga. My third favorite is Montezooma's Revenge, the only coaster that I know of named after diarrhea. I'm a big time Schwarzkopf fangirl and Herr Achterbahn did some of his best work with those mind-erasing shuttle loopers. ("Comic Book Guy" voice: However, I was expecting to pull more Gs on the loop based on my experiences riding Scorpion and Laser in the past..) OK. End geekspeak.
Then-- attention, Chicagoans-- we made a pilgrimage to Portillo's (very rare in SoCal, or outside of Illinois for that matterl!) where I ate my first genuine Italian beef sandwich since leaving that fair city. They even ship Gonella bread in from Chicago, which is an essential element in Da Beefs. Bless you, Portillo's.
Don't be jealous of my fun weekend, because starting tomorrow, FUN DIES. My brain has never felt more taxed, and it doesn't help that I have these weird self-defeating, avoidant, phobic tendencies. Like, I have to psych myself up just to return most phone calls, which is an unfortunate quality in an "executive producer" (quotes mine). Man up, Cody. Man up.
Last night I went to the New Beverly for a double bill of Truck Turner (two lily-white thumbs WAY up!) and Hollywood Boulevard. The latter was life-changing. Thank you to Joe Dante and Allan Arkush (both of whom were in attendance, beaming proudly) for this low-budget gift to the world. Seriously, if you're in Los Angeles, don't miss the rest of Dante's Inferno!
In July, I'll be taking over the New Beverly myself-- GIRD YOUR LOINS! Get ready for puppet movies, chick flicks, horror-a-go-go, and some special guests. But that's a long way off! My God, I'll be 30 by then. Please bring copious amounts of anti-aging creams, grapeseed extracts, virgin blood and Junior Mints.
Gettin’ Screwed Part II: Consequences
Current mood: Stress-o-rama
The Oscar has been out of my hands for less than 24 hours, and already this happened:
Ah, yes. I forgot that Loren lives with Princeand Pork Chop, both of whom are notorious YouTube pranksters. Well played, boys! Have your fun while it lasts!
Gettin’ Screwed
Current mood: I wish I was a neutron bomb
Last night my boy Loren and I went to a midnight screening of Piranha at the New Beverly. It was fucking wicked. Grindhouse-quality print + appreciative crowd + XXL Diet Coke = fun! (Director Joe Dante is actually programming his own New Beverly season starting this week-- I haven’t seen any of those flicks, so come and get educated with me!)
Afterwards we went back to my place and I remembered that I had a "manly" task that needed doing. I lured Loren into the house, and put the screws to him. Literally:
See, my Oscar (or as the statue is awkwardly referred to around here, "it") has been naked and anonymous since Han Solo handed it to me. Mr. Spielberg tells me they used to cruelly wrest the Oscar from your grip right after you won. Then they’d have it engraved and ship it to you in a few weeks. That shit is cold, right?
Nowadays they’re a bit more humane. You go home with your nameless Oscar (to faciliate nursing and co-sleeping) and then they mail you a DIY faceplate & screws. I just received mine, and being all thumbs, I could not get the thing to attach.
Neither could Loren, unfortunately, but he knew of some skilled metalworkers who could. So he found himself in the odd position of having to take my Oscar with him when he left last night. We swaddled it in a towel like the Christ-child, then placed it in one of the many hemp fiber tote bags I amassed on the Hollywood swag circuit.
It feels empty in here. At least I have my BAFTA (who is named Morris) to keep me company. You can kind of see Morris in the background of the photo, along with my prized Howard Shum portrait and a very special hamburger phone. And yes, that giant bean bag chair-- aka "The Tuffet"-- is my primary seating area. Nothing but class!
I just got a new car and I want to get a whistle tip so bad. WHOOOOOO!
P.S. I have 11,000 friend requests languishing in my queue. I desperately want to approve everybody as soon as possible. I even downloaded a program called Spyder that’s supposed to auto-add people, but Spyder’s head exploded after it calculated the requests. I want my friends, dammit! Somebody help me out!
animated
frisky
