why is atlanta booming with film and commercial shoots?

oh. ah-oooo. that's because it isn't. there's been a definite lull in act-ivity around here this last month. the tax incentive passed by georgia has not attracted filmmakers. in fact, more films are shooting in louisiana (in post below, factory girl is shooting in shreveport). despite new orleans' recent demise, the money is still better there.
today i have an audition for tv's 'surface' again. it shoots and is set in wilmington, n.c. i have the script for episode 113. the word 'hell' appears four times, as in:
'what the hell'
'scary as hell'
'who the hell'
and 'what the hell'
it also appears in the word 'hello' twice, and in 'shell' as in:
'hello'
and 'what the shell'
the word 'creature' occurs nine times. mostly in descriptions.
the word 'surface' appears five times in the script of the show by that name. all on title pages. no one actually says it, as in:
'check out that gay surface tension'
the big winner is 'critter' of which there are twenty-two instances in the script. the character i'm auditioning for actually holds an egg containing a critter. i would eat a critter omelet. this is how i propose they solve the problem. place the eggs in foam containers. label them with the words 'cage-free' and 'vegetarian' and 'slurp'. our health-conscious population will do the work.
just look at us. saving the world and staying fit! us!

swim for your wife

yesterday i auditioned for a movie about model & muse-to-andy-warhol edie sedgwick. it's called factory girl. my contribution might be a one-liner role. also i read for a role that is featured heavily throughout the film but has no lines. no lines. i read for it. i said on-tape "hi i will be reading for the part of elmo."
this morning i was rudely awakened at 11 am. it was clunkyrobot and his boss, matt thompson. they wanted me to audition for a voice on an upcoming adult swim cartoon for the guys at 7030. i can't say anything about it. if i do, then legally matt thompson could be assassinated. at which point i could speak freely about the show. which i know nothing about. except that there's this guy. with a voice. who if it sounds like me, then it probably is. and only then will you say you remember when i knew nothing about what we all now know is that show. i've said too much. i hope matt thompson's in a safe place.

troof be toad

i left monday night to do a job for lexington medical. lexington, kentucky is the horse capital of the world. with a population of just under a half-million, lexington boasts over a dozen colleges and universities, and blue laws that keep liquor from being sold on sundays.
but that's not the lexington i visited. lexington, south carolina has a population of about ten thousand, hosts a horse show every April, is near a university, and has blue laws to ensure liquor is not consumed on sundays.
luckily i used a map. i'd hate to get those two lexingtons mixed up.
i left atlanta and stopped for gas. the credit card swipe at the pump asked for my zip code. i punched it in, waited a few moments, and read these words on the quartz crystal screen: PLEASE SEE ATTENDANT.
i walked in, handed him my credit card and by the time i had walked out saw that someone had tried to steal my car. it has been stolen once already. it has thick skin.
after an hour, an atlanta cop showed up. he seemed annoyed that i even reported the attempted theft.
"what's your deductible?"
i don't know. are you trying to talk me out of making a report?
i began morphing into my alter-ego: the furrow-browed asshole. this charmer comes out any time someone in a uniform acts like a talking uniform.
on top of that, it happened in my neighborhood. as a thirty-year-old fart, i'd appreciate something being done about kids (or adults) who think stealing a car is a flippant leisure activity.
the next day in south carolina, i went to maurice's bbq (thank you, horgan). it was clean. very clean. it had a fireplace. and powder-blue kountry-kitchen kurtains. and these books. one of them is by the now-dead proprietor. it's entitled defending my heritage. a mom and her son ordered the big pig. they only use a "superior white meat" platter with a yellow sauce. and it is DEE-licious.
the commercial shoot was at a very large house on the 6th hole of a golf course. the man who owned it used to be in the FBI.
i did the refrigerator bit. it's kind of a signature of my mine. standing still with zero expression. aka 'the coma' or 'the michael caine'.
if you'd like to hire me, please add one liter of gin to three hours of driving and call the police.

green acres

sunrise.
i drove 53 miles south to milner, georgia. on a farm. we shot the e-fan-gelist spot for SEC football. it's a well-written spec with a small crew, including an 'actor's director'.
the farmhouse was built in 1865. presently the farm is 50 acres with a grove of pecan trees, which stand about 60 feet high. they haven't produced a crop of nuts in years. the pond has several 14 pound catfish. unfortunately, it's also skinned with some green weed that threatens to suffocate all the fish.
we shared a dressing room with one small possum. it lives on the top shelf of a bureau. after lunch, several people fed it grapes and white cheddar cheese. i refused its adorable fangy smile. i did not allow it to claw around cutely over my shoulders. the costumer, tracey, did. it took a dog-sized shit on her.
our characters tried to get propane from a big 10 foot gas tank into a little 2 foot tank. jaime played our ring-leader. as a gag, he smoked a cigar while we fiddled with the tank valves. the real comedy was the real propane seeping from the valves. perched like an owl on the big tank, i pictured riding it like a rocket above the pecan trees.
propane gas smells like the entire island of manhattan farted at once.
so do farms.
we all had our backs to the kraft services table. two horses proceeded to eat apples, cheese on wheat, and brownies.
as the sun went down we got one final shot of us hanging around the tank-rocket, the sky a beautiful mix orange and dark blue.