Watched a few more clips of 22 minutes on-line. "The Mom Show" and a "Homeless Expose". Both pretty funny. What I like is that they got their point across quickly and they did it in a funny way. Much better than the last SNL I saw a few years ago where they just came out with a "crazy" character and bit the limp premise to death for the next 8 minutes.
If I reallign my treatment time just right I may be able to watch a whole episode of 22. Now I'm intrigued.
Wednesday, 16 May 2007
Nova Scotia TV Lottery
The big news being discussed over the TV blog-o-sphere (ed. blog-a-verse?, world-o-blog?) is the release of the schedules for the big networks in the states. Most decisions about what shows come back and those that don't, are made from a financial standpoint. (ed. and here?)
It must be getting harder and harder for the money people down there to figure out which shows stay and go. They have to factor in ratings with advertiser dollars, the rising costs of production, money from second windows and the great unpredictable, possible motherload, of DVD sales down the road. As long as they leave Cops alone, I'm okay. Why mess with success?
At least the rise in second plays on channels like USA, A&E etc, plus money from DVD sales have resulted in a the networks spending money on quality productions. Plus they finally clued in that if they put on crappy shows people were going to go to the other 499 channels.
It's not like in the day when you had to choose between Love Boat, Dukes of Hazzard and The Kallikaks. (ed. the who?) And there was no Blockbuster.
It's true, kids, listen to grampy.
But that's all I'm going to say on that topic. Today it's time to focus on the Nova Scotia TV industry. (ed. Yes, Virginia there is one)
The final, absolute last, official listing of money spent by the CTF on Canadian TV for the 2006/07 fiscal year, came out today. (ed. Tah Da! Fab!) But not like that.
Anyway the winner in Nova Scotia is the Halifax Film Company which received
$4,068,482 dollars of taxpayer dollars (ed. no! its from the CBC! Well, their envelope anyway, actually it came from the gov't and begrudgingly from cable company operators).
Most of the money was for kids shows Lunar Jim, Jungle Jim (ed. theme?) and Animal Jim, sorry, Animal Mechanicals. All from the mind of Jeff Rosen who years ago predicted the worlds fascination with Pirates by putting huge paper mache heads on people and having them flay their arms about as if they were talking to each other.
Also, This Hour is in there for about $400K.
(ed. Halifax film raised $20M through a share offering and is set to receive $1M in assistance from the province of Nova Scotia in payroll rebates plus $$$ from the province in tax credits and Nova Scotia Films Development money.)
Anyone want to make a shaky cam video about vampires for a BravoFact grant? My sister said we can borrow her betacam and a friend of mine has some fake fangs.
But I promised not to pick on millionairre lawyers leaving crumbs for the latest crop of aspiring Stephen Spielbergs. Go to Toronto if you want to make "filims"! you creative non-bottom line losers!
Other Nova Scotian productions (ed. for the rest of you cfa's, this doesn't stray outside the province so you might as well hit the knitting blog) include something called "Go Deep". Now unless this is a Friday night Showcase show, its probably yet another documentary about ships that have sailed. (ed. and sunk! At least show us a skeleton or two. Or have a bikini clad diver/explorer on board. Remember the poster for The Deep? Va va voom!)
There's Delilah and Julius for Teletoon in which local producers Collideascope are doing the grunt work for Decode. Decode was puchased by Halifax Film Company last year. (ed. okay, let it go. You're sounding like some sort of conspiracy nut!)
The last one on the list is Trailer Park Boys. Their CTF contribution is.............$2,771,704.
$2,771,704.
Math time.
Now I don't know if this represents the 20% License top up fee or the equity investment or a combination of both. I've read all the mind-numbing CTF Guidelines until my latest cosmopolitan hit it mark.
If it's 20% then the budget would be
$2,771,704/.2 = $13,858,000 which would be rediculous.
Let's say the license fee/equity combination is 35% of the budget. Fair enough?
$2,771,704/.35 = $7,919,514
Hell, that can't be right. Let's use 50%
$2,771,704/.5 = $5,543,000 (rounding)
Um, so that would mean that each episode of the 10 episode season would cost $554,300 each.
Um...
You all have seen Trailer Park boys, right?
Methinks this year, Bubbles get's his own furlined trailer with a golden hooker.
Hey, Michael Donovan, stop smirking.
It must be getting harder and harder for the money people down there to figure out which shows stay and go. They have to factor in ratings with advertiser dollars, the rising costs of production, money from second windows and the great unpredictable, possible motherload, of DVD sales down the road. As long as they leave Cops alone, I'm okay. Why mess with success?
At least the rise in second plays on channels like USA, A&E etc, plus money from DVD sales have resulted in a the networks spending money on quality productions. Plus they finally clued in that if they put on crappy shows people were going to go to the other 499 channels.
It's not like in the day when you had to choose between Love Boat, Dukes of Hazzard and The Kallikaks. (ed. the who?) And there was no Blockbuster.
It's true, kids, listen to grampy.
But that's all I'm going to say on that topic. Today it's time to focus on the Nova Scotia TV industry. (ed. Yes, Virginia there is one)
The final, absolute last, official listing of money spent by the CTF on Canadian TV for the 2006/07 fiscal year, came out today. (ed. Tah Da! Fab!) But not like that.
Anyway the winner in Nova Scotia is the Halifax Film Company which received
$4,068,482 dollars of taxpayer dollars (ed. no! its from the CBC! Well, their envelope anyway, actually it came from the gov't and begrudgingly from cable company operators).
Most of the money was for kids shows Lunar Jim, Jungle Jim (ed. theme?) and Animal Jim, sorry, Animal Mechanicals. All from the mind of Jeff Rosen who years ago predicted the worlds fascination with Pirates by putting huge paper mache heads on people and having them flay their arms about as if they were talking to each other.
Also, This Hour is in there for about $400K.
(ed. Halifax film raised $20M through a share offering and is set to receive $1M in assistance from the province of Nova Scotia in payroll rebates plus $$$ from the province in tax credits and Nova Scotia Films Development money.)
Anyone want to make a shaky cam video about vampires for a BravoFact grant? My sister said we can borrow her betacam and a friend of mine has some fake fangs.
But I promised not to pick on millionairre lawyers leaving crumbs for the latest crop of aspiring Stephen Spielbergs. Go to Toronto if you want to make "filims"! you creative non-bottom line losers!
Other Nova Scotian productions (ed. for the rest of you cfa's, this doesn't stray outside the province so you might as well hit the knitting blog) include something called "Go Deep". Now unless this is a Friday night Showcase show, its probably yet another documentary about ships that have sailed. (ed. and sunk! At least show us a skeleton or two. Or have a bikini clad diver/explorer on board. Remember the poster for The Deep? Va va voom!)
There's Delilah and Julius for Teletoon in which local producers Collideascope are doing the grunt work for Decode. Decode was puchased by Halifax Film Company last year. (ed. okay, let it go. You're sounding like some sort of conspiracy nut!)
The last one on the list is Trailer Park Boys. Their CTF contribution is.............$2,771,704.
$2,771,704.
Math time.
Now I don't know if this represents the 20% License top up fee or the equity investment or a combination of both. I've read all the mind-numbing CTF Guidelines until my latest cosmopolitan hit it mark.
If it's 20% then the budget would be
$2,771,704/.2 = $13,858,000 which would be rediculous.
Let's say the license fee/equity combination is 35% of the budget. Fair enough?
$2,771,704/.35 = $7,919,514
Hell, that can't be right. Let's use 50%
$2,771,704/.5 = $5,543,000 (rounding)
Um, so that would mean that each episode of the 10 episode season would cost $554,300 each.
Um...
You all have seen Trailer Park boys, right?
Methinks this year, Bubbles get's his own furlined trailer with a golden hooker.
Hey, Michael Donovan, stop smirking.
Tuesday, 15 May 2007
My Missing Agent
About an hour ago, i got off the phone after re-connecting with my agent who I haven't heard from in fifteen years. I stopped calling him because I heard he was dead, but he tells me everything's fine and that he was just waiting for the perfect project for me.
All he could tell me on the phone is that the project is a South Korean-Czech co-production with Russian oil money behind it for the European market. Jetix is the distributor. It's an animated show about a couple of crimefighters/mystery solvers/zany kung-fu fighters called "Minty Mouse" and his sidekick "Mossy Conundrum".
Now I'm hoping that between Howard's accent and the,probably, multiple translations that happened, these are not the proper names.
Anyway, Howard is going to e-mail me the bible but I shan't wait up tonight for it. I remember him fumbling for ten minutes to dial a phone with his pork sausage size fingers; I can't picture them moving swiftly around a keyboard.
All he could tell me on the phone is that the project is a South Korean-Czech co-production with Russian oil money behind it for the European market. Jetix is the distributor. It's an animated show about a couple of crimefighters/mystery solvers/zany kung-fu fighters called "Minty Mouse" and his sidekick "Mossy Conundrum".
Now I'm hoping that between Howard's accent and the,probably, multiple translations that happened, these are not the proper names.
Anyway, Howard is going to e-mail me the bible but I shan't wait up tonight for it. I remember him fumbling for ten minutes to dial a phone with his pork sausage size fingers; I can't picture them moving swiftly around a keyboard.
Monday, 14 May 2007
Skipping House Tonight
I started to write this entry this morning at 8:04 A.M. I know the exact time because the fetal alcohol teen from up the hall starts screaming at that exact time each day. I can pretty well track his progress of having breakfast, dressing, Lunar Jim, then he walks down the hallway, banging his head against the wall every 2.5 seconds on his way to the short bus. I wish I could keep a regular schedule.
Anyway, Carl went out and bought a new VCR/DVD player for the apartment. I almost kissed my sister's Brazillian. I'm going to tape shows from now on and watch them at my leisure. Hello 20th Century!
My sister Stella's been whining and limping around the house lately; a visit to the doctor revealed she has an "infarction" whatever that is and how you get it, I don't know.
She and Carl were supposed to start school today but apparently her pain and his lack of initiative prevented them from going. So they lounged around, all day watching a four DVD special package of Mexican cartoons they bought at Wal-Mart.
My friend Wendall came over and, as we played computer monopoly in the bedroom, he told me about another friend who was involved in a charity called Performing Arts Lodge. Apparently its an old age home for actors. They had a fundraiser and tried to get donations from the local production community.
Now when I was involved in the community, here and elsewhere, (ed. old fart alert!) the community was pretty tight and we helped each other out all the time. (You need a sound guy for a day? I've done sound. I've got 20 feet of film leftover if you want it, that kind of thing.) But that appears to have gone by the wayside.
They tried to get the Halifax Film Company to donate, but apparently on none of their telephones can they dial out to return calls and their e-mail system does not include a "reply" button.
I remember when I was a member of the Atlantic Filmmakers co-op it became a running gag trying to get Salter Street Films (Michael Donovan's first company) to donate services, guidance, money, day old muffins. They were just too busy spending their LFP/CTF, NSFDC money (that's taxpayer money, folks). It was just too taxing to have to deal with "filmmakers" and their ilk.
(Though I do remember crashing one of Salter Street's Christmas parties. Rick Mercer made me a cosmopolitan which is still MY drink. Really all-round nice guy. But I ate so much shrimp, puked in Bill Niven's office. That guy's a class act. I knew he was pissed but he was still gracious. Not so much, and understandably so, after I puked again over his new Christmas sweater. You can never get the essence of regurgitated shrimp out of wool.)
Now I give Michael Donovan credit, he did win an oscar and he was one of the first, if not the first, to get the tv and film industry up and running from nothing in this province. But let's set up some scholarships, mentorships or something to encourage young talent. "Let my people go!" (ed. Totally inappropriate quote.)
Enough about that (ed. stop talking about people who have worked hard and forgotten to give back to the community that gave them so much.)
As you can see, I now have an editor to try and keep me on track with this blog. Fair enough...Wendall!
I haven't watched much Canadian TV since Saturday (actually I did watch a clip of 22 Minutes from their website and it was pretty good. This new guy Gavin Crawford is pretty funny. But I couldn't find any clips of Greg Thomey. Where is he? This part is way too long for brackets.) but I'll try this week.
Meanwhile my interest in Mexican cartoons has wained. They all seem to be about wrestling. So I'm just looking out the window to collect my thoughts. (ed. you would need a tiny little bucket.)
As I look at the bus stop across the street I can't help but think that after a certain age and/or poundage women should not wear those low riser jeans. And no man should ever wear them
Also, white people should never, ever have dreadlocks. I know you feel cool but you really just look stupid. (and I know that girl from 10, but she had more than cornrows to look at.)
Anyway, Carl went out and bought a new VCR/DVD player for the apartment. I almost kissed my sister's Brazillian. I'm going to tape shows from now on and watch them at my leisure. Hello 20th Century!
My sister Stella's been whining and limping around the house lately; a visit to the doctor revealed she has an "infarction" whatever that is and how you get it, I don't know.
She and Carl were supposed to start school today but apparently her pain and his lack of initiative prevented them from going. So they lounged around, all day watching a four DVD special package of Mexican cartoons they bought at Wal-Mart.
My friend Wendall came over and, as we played computer monopoly in the bedroom, he told me about another friend who was involved in a charity called Performing Arts Lodge. Apparently its an old age home for actors. They had a fundraiser and tried to get donations from the local production community.
Now when I was involved in the community, here and elsewhere, (ed. old fart alert!) the community was pretty tight and we helped each other out all the time. (You need a sound guy for a day? I've done sound. I've got 20 feet of film leftover if you want it, that kind of thing.) But that appears to have gone by the wayside.
They tried to get the Halifax Film Company to donate, but apparently on none of their telephones can they dial out to return calls and their e-mail system does not include a "reply" button.
I remember when I was a member of the Atlantic Filmmakers co-op it became a running gag trying to get Salter Street Films (Michael Donovan's first company) to donate services, guidance, money, day old muffins. They were just too busy spending their LFP/CTF, NSFDC money (that's taxpayer money, folks). It was just too taxing to have to deal with "filmmakers" and their ilk.
(Though I do remember crashing one of Salter Street's Christmas parties. Rick Mercer made me a cosmopolitan which is still MY drink. Really all-round nice guy. But I ate so much shrimp, puked in Bill Niven's office. That guy's a class act. I knew he was pissed but he was still gracious. Not so much, and understandably so, after I puked again over his new Christmas sweater. You can never get the essence of regurgitated shrimp out of wool.)
Now I give Michael Donovan credit, he did win an oscar and he was one of the first, if not the first, to get the tv and film industry up and running from nothing in this province. But let's set up some scholarships, mentorships or something to encourage young talent. "Let my people go!" (ed. Totally inappropriate quote.)
Enough about that (ed. stop talking about people who have worked hard and forgotten to give back to the community that gave them so much.)
As you can see, I now have an editor to try and keep me on track with this blog. Fair enough...Wendall!
I haven't watched much Canadian TV since Saturday (actually I did watch a clip of 22 Minutes from their website and it was pretty good. This new guy Gavin Crawford is pretty funny. But I couldn't find any clips of Greg Thomey. Where is he? This part is way too long for brackets.) but I'll try this week.
Meanwhile my interest in Mexican cartoons has wained. They all seem to be about wrestling. So I'm just looking out the window to collect my thoughts. (ed. you would need a tiny little bucket.)
As I look at the bus stop across the street I can't help but think that after a certain age and/or poundage women should not wear those low riser jeans. And no man should ever wear them
Also, white people should never, ever have dreadlocks. I know you feel cool but you really just look stupid. (and I know that girl from 10, but she had more than cornrows to look at.)
Saturday, 12 May 2007
Saturday Night
Love that Flaggpole Sitta song (see previous blogs for the coolest unofficial video)
Anyway, things have calmed down here significantly. Carl starts summer school at St. Mary's on Monday, he's taking a commerce/drama/engineering mixture. Apparently his mother wants him to be well-rounded. I guess!
But it brings back memories of my days (and nights) at St. Mary's; the Gorsebrook Lounge, the drinking contests, the drunken dances. And of course the learning parts, which will always remain with me, no matter how much I try to forget.
So quick and dirty update:
- my sister, Stella, has decided to go back to school. Previously an arts major (incomplete) she wants to take a commerce/drama/engineering.... yeah, okay we can see where this is going. I constantly have to move my La-z-boy recliner so I don't have to watch Stella and Carl make goo-goo eyes at each other reflected in the big screen tv.
Okay, I promised quick and dirty;
- Per my commitment to watch more Canadian TV, I was tuned into CBC last night when a show called "The Choir Boys Gang" came on. The first fifteen minutes were, mostly a standard set-up. Choirboys, who are supposed to represent goodness are actually bad. Okay, got it. Let the comedy ensue. But not only do they act like boys their age they go beyond that, putting LSD on communion wafers.
The only saving grace was Andy Jones as the priest, who happens to be questioning his faith the same day. After he eats the wafer in front of the congregation, I was expecting to see wackiness and embarassment but Andy played it low key and it worked. He appeared befuddled but no one was the wiser and he just walked away and ended up in the graveyard asking a vison of Jesus a lot of religeous questions.
Jesus's response was to run and hide behind tombstones.
It was written by Norm Hiscock who I think was a stand-up in Canada years ago and went to the states to work on the Roseanne show. So I think I'll give this show another try.
The odd thing was that I had never heard of this show existing, in development, coming etc. Oh, wait, CBC fired all it's publicity people last year.
- Also watched G-Spot again, This is like "Sex in the City" if "Sex in the City" was funny and not stupid and smarmy. I like this show and the girls...as charactesr.
- Watched Bliss. This is only the second time I've watched this show and either I saw a repeat or its the same all the time. It was about a girl who lives her life in her apartment with an operational web-cam and people watch her do everyday stuff and get naked. (Though the two are not mutually exclusive.) But I'll save you the trouble of watching it by writing a summary. "She" has brought a new boyfriend back for sex.
He: So people watch you do, like everyday stuff, all the time? Even naked?
She: Sure. (though, they're not mutually exclusiv). I want you to do it with me.
He: No. And I don't want you to do it.
She: I'm doing it.
After 10-15 minutes of individual soul-searching, he's naked in front of the camera when she enters.
She: You're doing it?
He: Yes, and I want you to do it with me.
She: No. And I'm not going to do it anymore.
k. I missed a Family Guy re-run for this.
Time to log off as Carl and Stella are making noises on the couch behind me. Guess I'll go into the bedroom and watch the non-cable channels really loud.
If only I could leave the apartment.
Anyway, things have calmed down here significantly. Carl starts summer school at St. Mary's on Monday, he's taking a commerce/drama/engineering mixture. Apparently his mother wants him to be well-rounded. I guess!
But it brings back memories of my days (and nights) at St. Mary's; the Gorsebrook Lounge, the drinking contests, the drunken dances. And of course the learning parts, which will always remain with me, no matter how much I try to forget.
So quick and dirty update:
- my sister, Stella, has decided to go back to school. Previously an arts major (incomplete) she wants to take a commerce/drama/engineering.... yeah, okay we can see where this is going. I constantly have to move my La-z-boy recliner so I don't have to watch Stella and Carl make goo-goo eyes at each other reflected in the big screen tv.
Okay, I promised quick and dirty;
- Per my commitment to watch more Canadian TV, I was tuned into CBC last night when a show called "The Choir Boys Gang" came on. The first fifteen minutes were, mostly a standard set-up. Choirboys, who are supposed to represent goodness are actually bad. Okay, got it. Let the comedy ensue. But not only do they act like boys their age they go beyond that, putting LSD on communion wafers.
The only saving grace was Andy Jones as the priest, who happens to be questioning his faith the same day. After he eats the wafer in front of the congregation, I was expecting to see wackiness and embarassment but Andy played it low key and it worked. He appeared befuddled but no one was the wiser and he just walked away and ended up in the graveyard asking a vison of Jesus a lot of religeous questions.
Jesus's response was to run and hide behind tombstones.
It was written by Norm Hiscock who I think was a stand-up in Canada years ago and went to the states to work on the Roseanne show. So I think I'll give this show another try.
The odd thing was that I had never heard of this show existing, in development, coming etc. Oh, wait, CBC fired all it's publicity people last year.
- Also watched G-Spot again, This is like "Sex in the City" if "Sex in the City" was funny and not stupid and smarmy. I like this show and the girls...as charactesr.
- Watched Bliss. This is only the second time I've watched this show and either I saw a repeat or its the same all the time. It was about a girl who lives her life in her apartment with an operational web-cam and people watch her do everyday stuff and get naked. (Though the two are not mutually exclusive.) But I'll save you the trouble of watching it by writing a summary. "She" has brought a new boyfriend back for sex.
He: So people watch you do, like everyday stuff, all the time? Even naked?
She: Sure. (though, they're not mutually exclusiv). I want you to do it with me.
He: No. And I don't want you to do it.
She: I'm doing it.
After 10-15 minutes of individual soul-searching, he's naked in front of the camera when she enters.
She: You're doing it?
He: Yes, and I want you to do it with me.
She: No. And I'm not going to do it anymore.
k. I missed a Family Guy re-run for this.
Time to log off as Carl and Stella are making noises on the couch behind me. Guess I'll go into the bedroom and watch the non-cable channels really loud.
If only I could leave the apartment.
Wednesday, 9 May 2007
The Man in Back.
My sister Stella and our resident exchange student, Carl, took my dog, Biscuitface, out for his nightly walk so I have time to blog.
Off and on, Im still reading my book about Johnny Cash. A few things I've learned; he was called "The Man in Back" because growing up, his church was crowded and he had a big family so he always offered to stand...in the back.
Other questions were resolved in a dramatic fashion:
Q. Johnny, why were you in prison?
A. Never was.
Q. Why do you always wear black?
A. I don't.
These were real questions he addressed in the book (I may have to re-address the back/black thing). Although I'm not one for celebrity gossip, I find myself flipping ahead for some sort of dramatic revelations.
Meanwhile, I received an e-mail from my agent. I bring this up because it's astounding for several reasons.
#1 I thought he was dead.
I sent a sympathy card and everything. And that was fifteen years ago when he was over 100 years old!
But apparently, he's still alive and living in his birth house in East Vancouver. Even when I visited him back then, I don't think reality had caught up with him. (Whenever he heard the term "crack house" he always giggled thinking it a rude term for something else.)
As my fervent readers know, I used to write a lot of childrens tv back in the day. But I gave that up when my ideas started being rejected as "too old." The final straw came when a Vancouver producer told me after I submitted a first draft for a Bart Simpson-esque show, that I was out of the loop.
"The dialogue is too Bart Simpson-ish."
I was flabergasted. (And up to this point only my grandmother ever been flabergasted in our family. But Ireland, at the time did not consider that illegal or even in bad taste.)
Ummmm, how do I respond to this? The debate was between "wanna eat and goddamn common sense basic writing". But my cable bill was due so I said "tell me how to make it better" and my internal voice continued "oh great one who wouldn't know story, if story came up to you wearing a sign saying "hi, I'm story" and bit you on the ass!"
But she then fired me and gave the script to her "right-hand man" of a story editor. (Who later stabbed her in the back which was bad, but who would I root for there?)
So, I never had the opportunity to incorporate her "notes" and only got paid for the first draft. I thought at the time,"my bad" which was a popular saying at the time.
Then a year later, I'm watching TV and the show in question comes on and dammit; they're airing my episode. Well, as a writer, this is a perfect opportunity for me to learn where I went wrong by studying the changes made to the script I wrote.
And I watched slackjawed.
Nothing had been changed from my first draft.
Who do I call; the producer? The Broadcaster? Telefilm? My Mother?
Aw, life.
But maybe my agent, is back in the game and inviting me to play again. What the hell, I've got nothing but time.
Off and on, Im still reading my book about Johnny Cash. A few things I've learned; he was called "The Man in Back" because growing up, his church was crowded and he had a big family so he always offered to stand...in the back.
Other questions were resolved in a dramatic fashion:
Q. Johnny, why were you in prison?
A. Never was.
Q. Why do you always wear black?
A. I don't.
These were real questions he addressed in the book (I may have to re-address the back/black thing). Although I'm not one for celebrity gossip, I find myself flipping ahead for some sort of dramatic revelations.
Meanwhile, I received an e-mail from my agent. I bring this up because it's astounding for several reasons.
#1 I thought he was dead.
I sent a sympathy card and everything. And that was fifteen years ago when he was over 100 years old!
But apparently, he's still alive and living in his birth house in East Vancouver. Even when I visited him back then, I don't think reality had caught up with him. (Whenever he heard the term "crack house" he always giggled thinking it a rude term for something else.)
As my fervent readers know, I used to write a lot of childrens tv back in the day. But I gave that up when my ideas started being rejected as "too old." The final straw came when a Vancouver producer told me after I submitted a first draft for a Bart Simpson-esque show, that I was out of the loop.
"The dialogue is too Bart Simpson-ish."
I was flabergasted. (And up to this point only my grandmother ever been flabergasted in our family. But Ireland, at the time did not consider that illegal or even in bad taste.)
Ummmm, how do I respond to this? The debate was between "wanna eat and goddamn common sense basic writing". But my cable bill was due so I said "tell me how to make it better" and my internal voice continued "oh great one who wouldn't know story, if story came up to you wearing a sign saying "hi, I'm story" and bit you on the ass!"
But she then fired me and gave the script to her "right-hand man" of a story editor. (Who later stabbed her in the back which was bad, but who would I root for there?)
So, I never had the opportunity to incorporate her "notes" and only got paid for the first draft. I thought at the time,"my bad" which was a popular saying at the time.
Then a year later, I'm watching TV and the show in question comes on and dammit; they're airing my episode. Well, as a writer, this is a perfect opportunity for me to learn where I went wrong by studying the changes made to the script I wrote.
And I watched slackjawed.
Nothing had been changed from my first draft.
Who do I call; the producer? The Broadcaster? Telefilm? My Mother?
Aw, life.
But maybe my agent, is back in the game and inviting me to play again. What the hell, I've got nothing but time.
Tuesday, 8 May 2007
Brazil 2, Parrots 0
Carl, our Brazilian exchange student, had new furniture delivered to our apartment today. From the La-z-boy store! Now, as much as I'm against pronouncing "z" as "zee" I cannot complain about new rocker recliners with massage built in. The Americans can have the last letter of the alphabet for all I care.
And seeing as it was warm today, we all decided to have a bar-b-que on the balcony but I don't think we should have let Carl do it. His idea of a bar-b-que was to light a pile of old furniture on fire. The footstool was okay, but the couch smoked a lot.
He decided, as a "treat", to cook the second parrot he brought from Brazil with him and share it with us. Like the other, it seemed resigned to its fate of being bludgoned. Stoic, it didn't make a peep. Those ice flow protestors would have been beside themselves.
I was especially impressed when I saw the look in it's eyes, as Carl wailed away on it with a rolling pin; it seemed to say "is that all you've got?"
Anyway, the bird was not actually a parrot according to my sister Stella's translation, it was apparently a rare "Shlumpvee" or something like that. Apparently there's not many left in the jungles of Brazil and I can understand why, they are delicious!
It's Tuesday night and as promised I'm trying to catch up on my Canadian TV. I always try to watch George S. on The Hour but sometimes his bobbing and weaving image on the big screen plays havoc on my vertigo after a few cosmopolitans.
And seeing as it was warm today, we all decided to have a bar-b-que on the balcony but I don't think we should have let Carl do it. His idea of a bar-b-que was to light a pile of old furniture on fire. The footstool was okay, but the couch smoked a lot.
He decided, as a "treat", to cook the second parrot he brought from Brazil with him and share it with us. Like the other, it seemed resigned to its fate of being bludgoned. Stoic, it didn't make a peep. Those ice flow protestors would have been beside themselves.
I was especially impressed when I saw the look in it's eyes, as Carl wailed away on it with a rolling pin; it seemed to say "is that all you've got?"
Anyway, the bird was not actually a parrot according to my sister Stella's translation, it was apparently a rare "Shlumpvee" or something like that. Apparently there's not many left in the jungles of Brazil and I can understand why, they are delicious!
It's Tuesday night and as promised I'm trying to catch up on my Canadian TV. I always try to watch George S. on The Hour but sometimes his bobbing and weaving image on the big screen plays havoc on my vertigo after a few cosmopolitans.
Monday, 7 May 2007
Health Care Alert! And "The G-Spot". (The TV show)
I thought I would pass along a warning about a dangerous entity that may be in your house!
Last night as I was watching The Simpsons with Carl and Stella, I was enjoying a (okay, several) cosmopoliton(s). As usual, to maximise the enjoyment, I was using my vintage Underdog swirly straw. As I was imbibing, I realized my drink tasted "funny". I drank from the glass and it was okay, so maybe the straw...
When I held the straw up to the light and looked inside, I was horrified. There was mold in there! And it was on the straight part!. I shuddered to imagine what lurked in the twisty turns of the straw. And, with a backpack full of regret, I made the decision to cut it open. I had to see.
What I found in there would make the Black Death seem palatable. I haven't been sick but this mould may be the kind that grows and slowly suffocates you from the inside out. The logical part of my brain tells me, I'll be all right but the emotional side... my imagination is a curse.
I try to make my mind think of other things. Like the show G-Spot I watched the other night. It was actually pretty funny and the sex scenes were done in quite good taste, I thought. Though I think they must have Cg'd the bobsled guy, and they overdid it at that.
But overall another funny Canadian show. Now I'm going to check my vintage lunchboxes. i can't remember ever opening my Partridge Family box after I finished the tenth grade. And I always had tuna.
Last night as I was watching The Simpsons with Carl and Stella, I was enjoying a (okay, several) cosmopoliton(s). As usual, to maximise the enjoyment, I was using my vintage Underdog swirly straw. As I was imbibing, I realized my drink tasted "funny". I drank from the glass and it was okay, so maybe the straw...
When I held the straw up to the light and looked inside, I was horrified. There was mold in there! And it was on the straight part!. I shuddered to imagine what lurked in the twisty turns of the straw. And, with a backpack full of regret, I made the decision to cut it open. I had to see.
What I found in there would make the Black Death seem palatable. I haven't been sick but this mould may be the kind that grows and slowly suffocates you from the inside out. The logical part of my brain tells me, I'll be all right but the emotional side... my imagination is a curse.
I try to make my mind think of other things. Like the show G-Spot I watched the other night. It was actually pretty funny and the sex scenes were done in quite good taste, I thought. Though I think they must have Cg'd the bobsled guy, and they overdid it at that.
But overall another funny Canadian show. Now I'm going to check my vintage lunchboxes. i can't remember ever opening my Partridge Family box after I finished the tenth grade. And I always had tuna.
Sunday, 6 May 2007
Yippee KiYa Mom!
This is good. The best of Die Hard with a theme song and a sneak peak at Die Hard 4?
Saturday, 5 May 2007
Small, Small, World
So I'm enjoying Patton on the big screen TV that Carl bought for the apartment (and George C., we all know the oscar was not worthy enough, that's why ) when during the tank part, there's a ruckus in the bedroom. My sister Stella went in there with our exchange student Carl to watch a renovating show or something on our old TV, when she exploded into the living room.
I tried to stay focused on the movie but soon gave up. Carl and Stella have been spending a lot of time together, she's trying to aclimatize her Brazillian to Halifax, but this is the first time I've heard an altercation. She came out yelling at him, "be more careful because I hate facials!" Now, to me, I can't see how one person can suddenly surprise another with a skin care treatment, and I can't see how this would upset them so; aloe doesn't even sting! But I've been accused of taking Carl's side before, so I'm staying out of it.
As they've ruined the movie for me I'm checking the old blog and thought I would answer a question or two. I don't usually allow comments because, well frankly I don' care.
And I usually ignore questions because other peoples questions about the things I'm un-naturally obsessed with, strike me as stupid. But what the hell, it's Saturday night so I'll open up the floor.
I tried to stay focused on the movie but soon gave up. Carl and Stella have been spending a lot of time together, she's trying to aclimatize her Brazillian to Halifax, but this is the first time I've heard an altercation. She came out yelling at him, "be more careful because I hate facials!" Now, to me, I can't see how one person can suddenly surprise another with a skin care treatment, and I can't see how this would upset them so; aloe doesn't even sting! But I've been accused of taking Carl's side before, so I'm staying out of it.
As they've ruined the movie for me I'm checking the old blog and thought I would answer a question or two. I don't usually allow comments because, well frankly I don' care.
And I usually ignore questions because other peoples questions about the things I'm un-naturally obsessed with, strike me as stupid. But what the hell, it's Saturday night so I'll open up the floor.
Thursday, 3 May 2007
Tom Poston, Andy Jones
Finally alone in the apartment. Carl bought a new Huyndai today and from what Stella, my sister, tells me and from what I can see from my window, it has all the bells and whistles one would expect from a south korean car.
Anyway, Carl and Stella went for a drive and they took Biscuitface along. My dog certainly has taken a shine to our new South American roommate, but that's okay, dogs are notoriously fickle, isn't that what they're known for?! (Sure throw Lassie in my face but my hero was always The Littlest Hobo. Never an owner, just tramping from town to town solving petty thefts and accounting frauds.)
Tom Poston died the other day. Man, what a class act he was. Surfing other blogs, I found out that he was originally supposed to be Maxwell Smart in Get Smart! Also, I was surprised when I learned, during a Kennedy Centre special for Bob Newhart (another class act, Bob I want to have your child(ren)) that Tom was married to Suzanne Pleshette (sic), another classy comedic actor (tres).
Speaking of class, Andy Jones is appearing on stage this weekend and next in his own one man show during the Atlantic Thetre Festival. Now, some of you young'ins may not be aware of Andy's work but he was a founding member of CODCO which had its own tv show back in the eighties. He was a founding member of a groundbreaking comedy troupe that ruled Newfoundland and the CBC for years. The other more prominent members were the late great Tommy Sexton, Cathy Jones, Mary Walsh, and the great Greg Malone.
Now most of you blogees will not be in Halifax to see the show (cause you might fall off the edge of the universe) but too bad. Hopefully, Andy will take the show on the road. He is one of the smartest satirests around. Not overt (thank you Air Farce, we'll call you) but so subtle he makes you feel smart if you can figure him out. Even if you can't (I include myself in this) you still have a laugh.
Why doesn't this man have his own TV show? It's criminal and I will fix it. As long as I have a breath in my body and I am able to leave the apartment he will rise again! Dammit!
Anyway, Carl and Stella went for a drive and they took Biscuitface along. My dog certainly has taken a shine to our new South American roommate, but that's okay, dogs are notoriously fickle, isn't that what they're known for?! (Sure throw Lassie in my face but my hero was always The Littlest Hobo. Never an owner, just tramping from town to town solving petty thefts and accounting frauds.)
Tom Poston died the other day. Man, what a class act he was. Surfing other blogs, I found out that he was originally supposed to be Maxwell Smart in Get Smart! Also, I was surprised when I learned, during a Kennedy Centre special for Bob Newhart (another class act, Bob I want to have your child(ren)) that Tom was married to Suzanne Pleshette (sic), another classy comedic actor (tres).
Speaking of class, Andy Jones is appearing on stage this weekend and next in his own one man show during the Atlantic Thetre Festival. Now, some of you young'ins may not be aware of Andy's work but he was a founding member of CODCO which had its own tv show back in the eighties. He was a founding member of a groundbreaking comedy troupe that ruled Newfoundland and the CBC for years. The other more prominent members were the late great Tommy Sexton, Cathy Jones, Mary Walsh, and the great Greg Malone.
Now most of you blogees will not be in Halifax to see the show (cause you might fall off the edge of the universe) but too bad. Hopefully, Andy will take the show on the road. He is one of the smartest satirests around. Not overt (thank you Air Farce, we'll call you) but so subtle he makes you feel smart if you can figure him out. Even if you can't (I include myself in this) you still have a laugh.
Why doesn't this man have his own TV show? It's criminal and I will fix it. As long as I have a breath in my body and I am able to leave the apartment he will rise again! Dammit!
Wednesday, 2 May 2007
What is That Smell....?
Hey,
Spent all day watching uraguay play Senagal play football on Carl's big screen tv. Felt very comfotable and kinda giddy at times. I think Carl's Brazilian incense he's been burning all day is not just to ward off wombats. My sister Stella and Carl have gone out to get Whoppers with cheese for everyone. they took Biscuitface for the walk which was probably a good idea s he was feeling a bit "spacey" (his word, not mine!) But Back att the computor I feel semi-normal. Well, as semi-normal as I get, ha ha hahahaah.
I was going to put a funny picture of a Darth Vader hot air ballooon here but my frikin comouter can't do that for me. Bastttarrdddd!
Sorry, I'm sorry. I should not have said (typed) that. I guess I could just go back and delete that but, really, you can't do that in real life so I stnad by my letters all ordered into words like that!
Anyway, have you ever really looked at your ham? oops, I mean hand. Member that show Time Tunnel? That was awesome. and remember that episode of six million dollar man with the sasquatch? They go through that tunnel that rotates? Ripley's Believe it or not museum in PEI has one of those. Its very disorienting and I feel like that now. I also took the Universal tour in LA and was just waiting for Bruce to break the surface of the lake when these Japanese tourists stood up in the tram and I got distracted and missed the breaching. Damn them! Oh, my Whopper is here! Yes, I want fries with that! Ha!
Spent all day watching uraguay play Senagal play football on Carl's big screen tv. Felt very comfotable and kinda giddy at times. I think Carl's Brazilian incense he's been burning all day is not just to ward off wombats. My sister Stella and Carl have gone out to get Whoppers with cheese for everyone. they took Biscuitface for the walk which was probably a good idea s he was feeling a bit "spacey" (his word, not mine!) But Back att the computor I feel semi-normal. Well, as semi-normal as I get, ha ha hahahaah.
I was going to put a funny picture of a Darth Vader hot air ballooon here but my frikin comouter can't do that for me. Bastttarrdddd!
Sorry, I'm sorry. I should not have said (typed) that. I guess I could just go back and delete that but, really, you can't do that in real life so I stnad by my letters all ordered into words like that!
Anyway, have you ever really looked at your ham? oops, I mean hand. Member that show Time Tunnel? That was awesome. and remember that episode of six million dollar man with the sasquatch? They go through that tunnel that rotates? Ripley's Believe it or not museum in PEI has one of those. Its very disorienting and I feel like that now. I also took the Universal tour in LA and was just waiting for Bruce to break the surface of the lake when these Japanese tourists stood up in the tram and I got distracted and missed the breaching. Damn them! Oh, my Whopper is here! Yes, I want fries with that! Ha!
Tuesday, 1 May 2007
Oh, You Big Old Flaty!!!
I couldn't resist Carl's flatscreen tv. I was going to put my Apocolypse Now dvd on with the stereo system set to stun (take that, Old Man Elmer next door!), but i started to channel surf just as a test drive. I came across Billable Hours on Showcase. I caught only the last fifteen minutes but it was funny. The previous episode I watched year(s) ago, I thought was reminicent of an american sitcom but maybe it was too many cosmopolitans at the time. This was dark (miscarriage and cancer for laughs, yeah, baby) and pretty funny.
Then Rescue Me came on and well, it is THE BEST SHOW EVER!!!! So I'm off to finish watching that before Carl comes home and puts soccer (football, I know) back on.
Not that some sort of order has been restored, I'll get back to my goal of watching more Canadian TV. After all that's what this blog is all about.
Then Rescue Me came on and well, it is THE BEST SHOW EVER!!!! So I'm off to finish watching that before Carl comes home and puts soccer (football, I know) back on.
Not that some sort of order has been restored, I'll get back to my goal of watching more Canadian TV. After all that's what this blog is all about.
Chaos Reigns
Okay, I haven't blogged lately as things have been happening at a rate too fast for me to keep up with. Our normally placid apartment has been inundated with a Brazilian. Stella's exchange student showed up two or three days ago (I can't keep track, I've been unable to sleep since.)
After he slept for 24 hours (jet lag, culture shock, intestinal parasites raging through his system and multiplying, waiting for me to go to sleep so they can invade my crevices like out of some lost episode of Night Gallery?!), he awoke, got dressed in the finest italian suit I've seen east of ...Italy and left the apartment. (?)
A brief solitary respite for me before Stella, my sister, arrived home from Kamloops and our father's funeral. I was barely able to describe to her the chaos that was happening here when she broke down sobbing, distraught over dear old daddy's passing. How could I not roll my eyes at this sight? After all, our Father languised all of two minutes of attention on her in her lifetime, and I'm not counting the time he came home drunk, and tripped over her when she was 1, which explains one of the dents in her head.
But then her Brazillian soon had our undivided attention. The rest of this I was able to get from Stella, she does speak Spanish (or Portugese. It all sounds the same and I know I can just look it up on the net but...so very tired).
It turns out that Carl (she said that's the english equivalent of his name) was raised in the interior rain forest of Brazil for the first 16 years of his life. But then his family sold said rainforest for Billions! Who knew bushmen had the concept of money, never mind that they're ruthless negotiators?
Anyway, the rainforest is being mowed down to make chopsticks and monkey hats while Carl and his family acquired a taste for 21st Century civilization. They jetsetted around the world, buying condos, cars and faded celebrities (his father was chuffed he was able to acquire Charo for so little money. Wait'll he unwraps that!)
But Carl's Mother demanded that the children receive an education. How they decided he should come to St. Mary's University in Halifax, will have to wait for another time.
So, we have a houseguest for the summer who is a mix of the new (we now have a HUGE flatscreen tv!) and the old. (Carl ate one of the giant parrots that he hd shipped from home. Even when he was bludgening it, it refused to talk. Really, these parrots would have kept things from the cia and the marines!)
Stella and Carl have gone out for coffee, (he drinks about 5 gallons a day) taking Biscuithead for a walk. I want to sleep but that big screen tv is calling.
After he slept for 24 hours (jet lag, culture shock, intestinal parasites raging through his system and multiplying, waiting for me to go to sleep so they can invade my crevices like out of some lost episode of Night Gallery?!), he awoke, got dressed in the finest italian suit I've seen east of ...Italy and left the apartment. (?)
A brief solitary respite for me before Stella, my sister, arrived home from Kamloops and our father's funeral. I was barely able to describe to her the chaos that was happening here when she broke down sobbing, distraught over dear old daddy's passing. How could I not roll my eyes at this sight? After all, our Father languised all of two minutes of attention on her in her lifetime, and I'm not counting the time he came home drunk, and tripped over her when she was 1, which explains one of the dents in her head.
But then her Brazillian soon had our undivided attention. The rest of this I was able to get from Stella, she does speak Spanish (or Portugese. It all sounds the same and I know I can just look it up on the net but...so very tired).
It turns out that Carl (she said that's the english equivalent of his name) was raised in the interior rain forest of Brazil for the first 16 years of his life. But then his family sold said rainforest for Billions! Who knew bushmen had the concept of money, never mind that they're ruthless negotiators?
Anyway, the rainforest is being mowed down to make chopsticks and monkey hats while Carl and his family acquired a taste for 21st Century civilization. They jetsetted around the world, buying condos, cars and faded celebrities (his father was chuffed he was able to acquire Charo for so little money. Wait'll he unwraps that!)
But Carl's Mother demanded that the children receive an education. How they decided he should come to St. Mary's University in Halifax, will have to wait for another time.
So, we have a houseguest for the summer who is a mix of the new (we now have a HUGE flatscreen tv!) and the old. (Carl ate one of the giant parrots that he hd shipped from home. Even when he was bludgening it, it refused to talk. Really, these parrots would have kept things from the cia and the marines!)
Stella and Carl have gone out for coffee, (he drinks about 5 gallons a day) taking Biscuithead for a walk. I want to sleep but that big screen tv is calling.
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