Friday, June 06, 2003
Last night, the difference between Americans and Canadians became apparent. When the movie started up and the row of chatty westside property owners in front of us kept on chatting, the two Canadians stewed between moments of AHEM!! and contemplation of yelling "WE'RE NOT IN YOUR FUCKING LIVING ROOM SO SHUT THE FUCK UP" while the American just leaned forward and politely asked them not to talk during the film, thanks. The two Canadians were perplexed. You could just do that? And it works? Cool.
Over here, my parking space has been moved 3.8 steps closer to the front door, and is now in a patch of shade. On my contract, I'm credited as "Story Editor" yet on our crew list, I'm an Executive Story Editor. Even though one will remain on paper while the other goes on the screen, the longer title was a nice pick-me-up alternative this morning to my regular 18 lines of coke. A quick scan of the crew list opens up a whole new world of grippage. No Drydens (sob), no Huttons (thanks!).
Oh, and in case you were waiting for the answer, bruising would occur under the circumstances of a midline fracture to the thyroid cartilage.
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