SAGIndie

Oh, technology.

Suddenly, the newest addition to my household doesn’t seem so fancy. Harrumph.

“Because we have low self esteem!” is the answer. What was the question?

And now for something completely different:

While I’m fairly certain that none of the seven people that read this (except you, Grewe) care at all, it’s been announced that Fox is canceling The OC (with the series finale being 22 February, it seems as though they can’t get rid of it fast enough). I’m also fairly certain that, were the show to have started airing now, I never would have started watching it, being much too old for such things. However, in my endearing youthful naiveté, I became border-line obsessed. I wasn’t the only one, though - my entire group of friends was too, and I can say (with only the slightest cringe) that this stupid, stupid television show carries a considerable amount of really good memories for me. Even after we all moved to different areas of Chicago, we made an effort to meet once a week for the show and drink our weight in cheap beer.

I never got into any of the other teen dramas (Dawson and Felicity Gilmore’s One Tree Everwood 90210), and (being the mature and discerning viewer that I am now) will never get into another one, so I am prepared to give it the proper send off and then we can all just forget that I ever liked something so embarrassing.

Now that the industry is all a-buzz with worries of a possible WGA strike, suddenly these students, free from any shackles of that fussbudget union (harrumph, harrumph), are probably looking less horrifying than they were here.

Like nearly everywhere else (notable exception being the post office) things slow down here at SAGIndie during the holidays. Because of this To Catch A Predator clips have been my obsession today. Chris Hanson has the best job probably in the whole world. Oh sure my job can be pretty fun — after all, I’m [technically] on the clock as I watch these — but somehow it still doesn’t quite compare to the job of actually being there, confronting a 41-year-old who’s shown up at a pre-teen’s house with a penis pump, bag of fast food and box Trojans (ribbed for her pleasure - how thoughtful). Yes, loyal readers, the pervs are showering their womenchildren with gifts of Burger King and condoms. BURGER KING! I mean, I appreciate my fast food nowadays, but only since the realization that I am no longer a teenager and therefore too old to demand, say, Olive Garden when being woo-ed.

I’ve been apologizing to people for the last five days straight. I’m sorry. My production company’s email server went berzerk on Wednesday, allowing people who responded to a mass email to respond to my ENTIRE list. First one person did so. Then another. Then somone responded asking not to be included on the responses. And then…it all went to shit from there.

Literally hundreds of emails started flooding through my server back and forth between people asking to be removed from the list, asking people to stop responding, asking to be kept on the list, fighting with each other, joking with each other, blah blah blah blah blah. For three hours we tried to get through to our email server to shut our 3000+ name list down. When they finally did it was too late as emails already in the cue just kept on rolling out until late in the evening. And for every one email everyone out there received, I got three or four separately, plus phone calls, IM’s and text messages.

It was like watching a slow motion train wreck only, after a while, it became ridiculously funny. I felt like Larry David sitting there for hours with my chin on my chest watching every contact we have in the industry get totally inundated by emails from our server, pissing off major producers, distributors, TV execs, directors, etc. My partner was so freaked out he thought we’d have to change our company name and go on the lam.

Now we’re trying to spin the whole thing as Plug Ugly Films’ version of a punk rock X-mas party. And we’re looking for a new email server. Thankfully lots of people have contacted us and absolved us of our guilt, made us feel better about the fiasco and even encouraged us to do it again. Which of course, we won’t.

All of this and all we wanted was for people to go vote for our Willowz music video on www.SLAMDANCE.com.

Plug Ugly - oi!

So Scott and I finally emerged from the pits of despair after Paul’s last day, only to find DMG had a remarkably speedy recovery from said trauma and has lit off to celebrate her holiday somewhere very warm and exciting, promising “Presents when I get back!!” on her way out the door, laughing all the way to the airport, I’m sure, as she thinks of us huddled like the little match girl in our meat locker of an office. Ah, yes. Happy Holidays indeed.

Despite the abundance of alcohol this time of year (I like gin, Scott likes scotch - in case you’re short on gift ideas) and the ready availability of it, we’ve managed to stay stomach pump free just long enough to toil away at figuring out who we can hire to hang out with us at Sundance. As a gift to you (Mom), I promise a daily update, at least until the end of the week, when we will be officially entering hibernation until 2 January.

And, finally, a message to “Jimmy” from the LA County Prison: I’m not going to tell you again, we cannot accept any more of your collect calls. It’s good to know, though, that you have enough free time to call us several times a day!!

PS: Your shiv’s in the mail.

Maybe it’s the bathtub gin going to my head (again), but first I was convinced to see Casino Royale this weekend (I know, right?), but on top of that I actually found myself reconsidering my previous dismissal of Daniel Craig as too similar that thing that chased Sonny Bono and Julia-Louis Dreyfuss around in that movie…what was it called? Oh, right. Troll. But then, somehow, I was convinced to attend an action movie (ew!). An action movie that I actually ended up liking! Starring a man, though not as masculine as my all-time favorite, I now find oddly alluring.

…and then I found this: Bond 22: Electric Boogaloo? (The Gay One)

Lord knows I don’t want to upstage our fearless leader’s departure but he’s trained me to fear being fired if I don’t blog promptly so….here goes:

(Read with a dramatic Movietones voice):

Around 250 people convened up at St. Malachy’s Church’s Actor’s Chapel in Midtown Manhattan for a lively panel discussion about how actors can create their own projects and their own breaks in the industry. Panelists Charles Busch, Michael Showalter, Cynthia Katz of The Artist’s Group East, and Amy Dotson of IFP had great advice for the packed room. Lead by Michael Sládek, SAGIndie’s man in

New York

who is also a SAG member and a director/producer/writer, the panelists waxed about their own views on actors taking their careers in to their own hands and how to navigate the industry successfully.

Actor/Writer/Directors Busch, Showalter, and Sládek all spoke of their personal backgrounds making the leap from struggling actors to hyphenates creating their own projects to various ends. Ms. Katz gave great advice regarding actors in the agency world while Ms. Dotson answered questions regarding IFP and the process of developing projects in the industry.

And yes, I did write this as if it weren’t actually me writing it. Creepy huh?

Today I woke up in an uncharacteristically positive mood. The first thing I look at this morning is FIND’s Independent Spirit Awards Nominations, which got me excited for the films that I really enjoyed and also gave me a list of films to see in the next few months. The delectation was depressingly short lived, though, because one mercilessly rude awakening was only a click away. (Check the link only if you’re immune to that panicky feeling of watching your childhood heroes refuse to keep sacred the last shred of dignity they had!!) Billy “Rebel Yell” Idol is the new David “Hooked on a Feelin” Hasselhoff? Can’t wait to drunkenly sway to this at my next family Christmas gathering! Hmmm.

Then I found out that the old bags at TV Land have come up with what they consider the 100 Greatest Catchphrases. They really should have left it at 50 greatest, because they really seem to be stretching it with some. It almost appears as though they came up with 70 good ones and then panicked and hastily flipped through television and scribbled down the first remotely catchy thing. How is “Holy crap!” more recognizable than “We were on a break?!?” And when you think of the Brady Bunch, does your mind go first to “Oh, my nose.” or “Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!”? Or are you lucky enough that you don’t think of the Brady clan in the first place?

And then I saw this. It makes me feel a little better about my shortcomings, and that’s all I need.

*Scott and I have been the unfortunate recipients of can only be described as that nasty, lingering for three weeks kind of cold. Because of that, I am going to allow him to do all the heavy lifting, including the sure to be inspiring eulogy of Mr. Altman who, as I’m sure everyone knows by now, has sadly passed away. I, on the other hand, will take a cue from Defamer, and give you this, in addition to the little tidbits I have picked up today:

*The Self Reliant Filmmmaking blog also has quite a few people asking to recommend books, only he is smart enought to direct people to the amazon.com store he made. Books, check ‘em out!

*This I found mildly amusing, but as I’m not a real viewer or any of these shows, I’m left whining about the lack of “JAM” and remembering how I couldn’t wait to see what happened to Seth.

*Et tu, Mike Watt? Et tu?

*By her looks, I thought this was the mom, but it’s not. Introducing the Littlest Lohan!

Sniff.