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Saturday, March 25, 2006

Hey cats and kittens.

It's a grim old saturday in Dirty Dublin town, and for once I'm not spending recovering from a severly misspent night, morning and early afternoon. Finished me job at UCD this week- and a very heartwarming send off it was too. I got absurdly pissed absurdly quick, but aside from walking face-on straight into a glass door in front of a crowd of smokers, I think I managed to keep my decorum. And it was heartening to see that Brian, who was 'wearing' the drink better than me, completely forgot the rules to pool.

Had a blinding paddy's, oddly enough. It was undoubtedly one to file straight under 'w' for wasted, but in a good way. I hadn't even planned on going out- but mo can be quite persuasive, when it occurs him to be so. Anyways- everyone was out, looking slick and in fine fighting fettle, and I'm very glad indeed I hauled my narrow ass off the couch after all.

Went to see 'V for Vendetta' which, while a surprisingly good adaptation of an Alan Mooore comic, was still fairly 'wack' (as I believe the youngsters are saying these days). Firstly- the story was completely different- keeping just the odd setpiece, the general aesthetic, and a few of the characters. Secondly, the script was horrible, and it seems as if someone took at the final edit with some scissors with the express intention of excising anything that could be interpreted as 'subtle'. Pretty weak. Afterwards we had another visit to Club Odessa for a nightcap- it's a cool and exclusive as ever, and again I felt way too underdressed to drink there.

Oh yeah- I tried tinkering with this blog last weak in a bid to promote it a little more online. The net result of this is that now it is listed on a website that deals exclusively in 'daily life of a boring regular joe' blogs, and low-level celeb porn. Any port in a storm, eh?
Also, theres no immediately apparant way to set up an RSS feed here without paying for the pleasure, though I have worked around this by setting up a google mail list, so if you want to have this crapola flung at your inbox as and when it's updated, let me know and I'll add you to the list.

Anyways- once again, wordcount triumphs over content- I'll sign off.

Aido "ain't nothing sweet over here" potato.

Saturday, March 18, 2006

Lesson # 7: EVERYONE in the film industry is a feckless wanker.

So, with an air of tedious inevitability, the job went south. Here's the whole sorry saga (don't worry- there's a happy ending)- and apologies to ma sistas who've heard this already- skip straight to the next lessson.

In spite not even being able to pronounce oireachtas a few weeks ago, the good folk at Sarah's work saw fit to offer me the job. I told them thanks, guys, but I've been offered a full time post elsewhere, so I regret I'll have to decline. (the PAI job was for 2 days a week).
A few days later, Don (the bloke who interviewed me) phoned again to say that they were willing to find more work for me so they could offer me a full time post after all, if that changed anything. This put a different face on things since Nuala, who had promised to get me a contract sorted out and call me in to sign it this week- had yet to do so. I didn't feel it wise to turn down one very solid, generous job offer based on a comparitively flimsy verbal agreement elsewhere, even a job I found so very appealing . I asked if I could have a day to think, and they obliged. So i got on the phone to nuala to find out how my contract was coming along- all I wanted was another verbal reassurance that yes- I had got it, exactly as agreed.
But instead something very odd happened.
Rather than just saying 'yes' she mumbled something about being on reccy, and very busy and to call her later. So later came and I called back- same story- call at half 6. I called PAI and asked them if I could have another day to think about it, and again they obliged, and at half 6 Nuala (shock) was again too busy to say one three letter word. Eventually, she got back into the office at 7.30, I called again and all she seemed to want to talk about was how wet and miserable it was outside. 'Thats all very well' I said 'but can I please have some sort of assurance about the job you offered me?'. She starts umming and ahhing and rambling about how it would only be a few days here and there- 'but I thought there was eight weeks of shooting to do, which would be very busy and require as much help as possible?' I asked, trying not to sound too pathetic. Apparently not. When she asked me in the interview how much notice UCD required before I could leave I assumed (not unreasonably, I thought) that she meant for me to hand in my notice. Seems not- she figured I could carry on working at ucd and still pop in and out to the film company as required- which was plainly absurd. 'This is not the way you described the job to me at all' I said 'Yeah' she replied 'sorry' and then started muttering on about how busy and disorganised everything is (I wanted to scream down the phone at her FUCKING GET ME A CONTRACT AND LET ME HELP YOU THEN YOU STUPID FUCKING WOMAN! but I didn't) and the conversation finished with her asking me if I could try calling her again at lunchtime tomorrow to see if she had got anything sorted. I had guarenteed PAI that I would have their answer first thing in the morning, so that wasn't even an option, but I'm sure that even if it was she'd still not have dislodged her finger from her hole and done anything about the situation. So I called the gentlefolk at PAI and told them I'd be delighted to accept their kind offer. I start monday week.

Now I was initially furious about the whole thing, and broke my lented promise not to swear several dozen times, but after I cooled I reached the realisation that there are after all worse problems to have. The PAI job is still one that I'd have gnawed my own feet off for a month ago- it is journalism, so I'll have industry experience even if it isn't in my area of expertise, and I'll be working with sarah, who's a good laff. In fact the only real crappy part is that I'd told EVERYONE that I'd got the job, when I knew in my heart that nothing had been set in stone. Dad, I believe has told half the country that I was now a director or something, so now he has to suffer the indignity of settling for a journalist (maybe he could bump me up to editor of the irish times or something).

Life, whatever else you can say about it, isn't dull in dirty dublin town.

Anyway- I was surprised to find that I was quite sad at the prospect of leaving UCD- I was really starting to enjoy it, and I was even more surprised to find that quite a few people (many of whom I don't even know) have said they'll be sorry to see me go- which is nice to hear.

So we went to see David O'Docherty in Whelans last week at Brenda's recommendation. A very very funny man- mostly standup, with a fair deal of comedy songs a la Bill Bailey, but possibly funnier (hard as that concept is to grasp). It'd been so long since I'd seen any stand up live, and it was nice to find that a totally unknown quantity could turn out to be so good. Keep an eye out for him, folks, he's coming up.

The best (and only) suggestions for the 'best Gareth's in history' poll I hosted here a few weeks ago came from Jonno who votes for Gareth Hunt and Gareth 'Gaz' Top. Still, the contest was fixed, and the winner is obviously Gareth Finney of Fast Lady and The Carter Brothers fame.

New poll: Worst song lyrics in history.

Anyhoo- time to cook.

Aido 'I enjoy the mystique of a good orange woman' Potato.

Saturday, March 11, 2006

Lesson # 1: Nice things happen occasionally.

So I was sitting with Mum, Dad and Mark trying to suppress my nausea as we watched Parky making his weekly effort to kill someone with sheer sycophancy (this week it was Blair and Spacey- an odd sight watching Bush's butt monkey sharing anecdotes with a man who left the country because bush was in charge) when Olivia arrives home with a DVD. No case or anything, just a disc. 'Have you seen this?' she says- it was Serenity, one of my top three films of last year and only released on DVD the day before. She found it just lying on the street in Aughanacloy just as she was coming out of work. After a few cartwheels we sat down to watch it and yup, it's every bit as good as I remember. The disc worked perfectly and it was the full version, not the vanilla rental copy I was expecting. It was as if it had just fallen out of the sky just to cheer me up or something.

Lesson # 2: Repression is under-rated.

Despite what I've just described, I still managed to get back to Dublin feeling miserable for reasons which I'll not go into here, but on monday morning I made a pact with myself. It was the beginning of an important week. I had a couple of interviews to do and there was no way anyone was gonna employ some sadsack crusty with zero sense of self worth, so I told myself I was just going to have to block out everything that was getting me down by whatever means necessary and deal with it another time.
And guess what? It worked!
One of the interviews was for a Public Affairs newsletter that Sarah writes for, they were looking for someone to work two days a week writing articles for them. As you are all well aware, I know exactly dick about public affairs, I figured it's journalism, and thus worth a shot. So I spent most of the week trying to cram a couple of decades worth of political minutiae into my addled brain.

Lesson # 3: Sometimes it pays to be a jerk.

The other job, and the one I was creaming my jeans over was for a production company who were looking for a props runner. Ultan had put me onto it cos he works there, but as they wanted someone with a few films under their belt already, I didn't rate my chances that high. still, submitted a CV and managed to bag myself an invite to come down and chat with the props manager. Then disaster struck. I had been asked to call Nuala (cos thats her name) in the evening at 7.30 to arrange a time to meet, which I did, on the dot, and the phone just went dead. No answer phone, no engaged tone- she just blatantly hung up. So there I was thinking I'd somehow blown the best chance I have had at getting work in my industry of choice, and feeling very unsure whether to continue harrassing her. The following morning I decided to send her a text saying 'Um.. called last night, must have been a bad time. If you still want to talk call me anytime on this number, if not, best of luck with the project'. Which of course I regretted almost instantly, as it left me waiting on her to call me. She still hadn't called the next day, and so by lunch time I'd pretty much decided that I had nothing left to lose (except some more pride) by calling her again. 'Oh, Aidan we'd love to see you' was the song this time. She made no explaination for the hanging up, and I didn't ask, I just got a time a place and a name and left it at that.

Lesson # 4: Sometimes it pays not to be a jerk.

So I went out to the studio after work and had a lovely informal chat with Nuala about this and that- nothing like a real interview, more like a lengthy session of bitching about the state of the film industry. I made a concerted effort to be charm personified, and made a special effort with the hair and everything. Bonded with her dog, Zero (like the one from Nightmare before christmas- a reference she was pleased I picked up on) a gorgeous big border collie that follows her around on set everywhere. By the end of it she seemed satisfied and said 'right, I'll get a contract together and call you next week'. So thats that- in the bag. It's a big period film based on the early life of Jane Austen, and once we start filming at the end of the month I will be touring about some picturesque old mansions around the south coast with a real live film crew, shunting props back and forth, decorating sets, making pot noodles and performing analingus on the director and calling it work. Bonus!
I had the interview for the PA job the following day, and while not as spectacularly successful as the previous one, it at least wasn't as embarassingly bad as I had pictured it in my mind. I think I just overpowered the poor man with the force of enthusiasm, cos at the start of the interview he was slumped back, casting an uninspired eye over my cv- the picture of bored disinterest, and by the end he was chatting away about all sorts. In the end, he asked me to submit a couple of pieces of work so he could see how I wrote. I'm gonna do this anyway, even though I won't be able to take the job, cos I don't want to go burning any bridges now that I've got some.

Lesson # 5: It's not what you know, it's who you know.

Like duh!
Just thought I'd mention this in case anyone didn't already know. My employment/interview history in dublin runs as follows:
ADEO- (Thanks to Ronan)
UCD- (Thanks to Lizanne)
Prop runner- (Thanks to Ultan)
PAI- (Thanks to Sarah)
While my own efforts through the traditional channels has garnered me nothing but sore feet and a thirst for the blood of editors and pub landlords alike.

Lesson # 6: The human body needs sleep.

And mine does now, more than usual- been a party hardy marty this weekend thus far and need to crash as I can barely keep my eyes open. Plus, this is a very boring post, just thought I'd get the news out there now, wax lyrical about it later.

Stavros "Water hurts my brain" Potato

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