3/24/06

5:03 p.m.
I am currently blogging from a grassy knoll on the side of a road in a very, very ritzy part of San Diego. Across the street there are a bunch of trailers lined up, several cop cars, and a particular trailer that reminds me of a chuck wagon-type kitchen because people keep going over there and getting food.

Which reminds me, I’m hungry.

I'm surprised how easy it was to sneak into the staging area for Veronica Mars with LHM. After we parked LHM's car a van came up and loaded three or four of us in. Nobody asked me who I was playing or anything. Probably because I am a private detective who is used to slipping seamlessly into any given situation without notice. Uh, yeah. That must be it.

There are a bunch of fake cops wandering around and a pretty young woman with short dark hair in a pair of pink silk pajamas and slippers just came over to me and asked what internet service provider I use on my laptop because she can’t get service out here. She’s either one of the main characters of the show or a complete nut job. I’ll have to ask LHM later.

LHM just got out of the dressing room. He’s wearing a brown cop uniform. Reow! I’m a sucker for a man in uniform. Unfortunately, he’s pretending not to notice me so that I don’t get kicked out.

Oh, dear. LHM is talking to the stage manager guy and pointing to me. This cannot be good. LHM walks over and I half expect him to tell me I’m going to have to leave, but instead he says that the stage manager is going to let me hang around in the staging area but that I can’t go to the set (the set is a huge mansion a block away). Cool!

So, I walk across the street and join a bunch of extras that are dressed like bomb squad and cops and firemen. They seem like a pretty nice bunch of guys. One is woman who is, I guess, what you would call a professional extra. She does at least one show a week. LHM and all the other cops are bussed over to the props truck and I am left with the bomb squad. There is an Hispanic guy who is between jobs right now but used to work for the county. He asks me if I'm an actor. I laugh and tell him what I really do. He asks me for a job. Another guy is Special Ops with the Marine Corp and does the acting thing for fun. He is a black guy and we had a good laugh when he told me that next week he gets to play an Iraqi insurgent on another show. “I don’t know,” he says, “I’m happy for the job but I’ve never seen a black Iraqi before.”

"It's okay," I say. "Maybe they're planning on making you a woman and you'll be in a burka."

LHM comes back with fake gun, radios, leather holster, etc... Then the stage manager comes over and tells the guys that it’s time for them to get in the truck and head to the mansion. Bummer. This is going to be a boring couple of hours. But, to my surprise, he comes to me and says, “I’ll probably get fired for this, but you can come along to the house.” Hooray!

So now I am in an enormous mansion full of strapping men in uniform. Can life get any better, I ask you? There are fire trucks and cop cars all positioned outside in the driveway. LHM disappeared. He's exploring the mansion. I got depressed and stopped looking around after I peaked in the master bathroom and saw that it's bigger than my house.

After about an hour, I heard someone yell loudly from the other room, "Break for lunch!" Lunch? It's 8:00 p.m.! But then again, who am I to turn down free food? So me and the boys are bussed back down to the staging area and I am walking through a lovely buffet when an assistant director comes up to me and says, "We were wondering if you would do an “eye shot” when we get back to the house. Just come find me and I'll show you were to go."

I look at LHM. He shrugs. “Sure,” I say.

The assistant director walks away I lean in and whisper to LHM, “What the hell’s an eye shot?”

LHM shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Great. A lot of good you are. I ask the professional extra and she tells me that an eye shot is just where I stand there so that they can get camera angles and lighting in place for when the real actor comes in. I sigh in relief. Cool! I can do that! A monkey could do that!

So, they just called us back to the van and we are headed back to the house when the stage manager says, “You know, you’re very lucky to be here. We’ve had other people bring friends and I have had to tell them to go home. But you seem like a very nice girl.” LHM leans in and whispers, "Yeah. And that little tank top and skirt can't hurt, either."

We get back to the house again and everything has moved outdoors in the driveway. Now that it's gotten dark, the cops and firemen get to play. It is very cold and I am seriously regretting the little tank top. The stage manage comes over and hands me his jacket. He's dressed like a bomb squad guy because one of the extras didn't show up. "Here. You can use this. You look cold." Aw. Gee, thanks.

I sit on the steps of the house and watch in fascination. Turns out the girl in the pajamas wasn't a crazy after all. Hey! Is that Steve Guttenberg out there in that bathrobe? I loved him in Three Men and A Baby!

It's now 10:00 p.m. They just wrapped up the outside scenes and everybody is moving inside. We finally get to go back. I have to walk through the house to get back to my stuff. Steve Guttenberg is in the living room and they are getting set up to rehearse a scene. He sees me coming and smiles and says, "Aren't you cold?" I think to myself, Why, yes, Mr. Guttenberg. I'm freezing my ass off! But instead, I just say, "It was a lot warmer when I got dressed this morning."

Then the director yells for everybody who isn't in the scene to clear out. I scurry off to the back room and gather my things before walking outside with the rest of the boys.

Anyway, I’ve got to wrap this up because LHM just told me he's going to have to frisk me.