Liberty Cabbage - DAY 5

Day 5 was a special day for a couple reasons. First and foremost, it was my daughter's 6th birthday, and thus was my only day off set -- at least until she and her brother went to spend the night with her cousins. Thanks to my sister and brother-in-law for jumping on that grenade. 

The other reason it was special is because we filmed a sketch we've been wanting to film for twenty years, since the earliest days of Dead Gentlemen. Through multiple drafts (and multiple production companies), this sketch remained firmly in the "some day" hopper. The time was just never right. Until Saturday. Which was the first day to really kick our asses.

It started with a panicked text from set. The shotgun mic and XLR cable were missing from the audio kit. I found the gear in exactly the place you'd expect -- a box of props and costume pieces from the last day's shoot. It's like that old film axiom: "When checking your audio gear, always look in the bin of Elizabethan hats and quill pens." Bubble and I hopped in the car, burned rubber to set, and dropped off the offending gear. The cast and crew sang her happy birthday, we made it to her party on time, and all was well.

Until I returned to set several hours later to find the cast gnawing the walls with hunger. They thought I had forgotten to provide craft services (aka crafty, the fully laden table of snacks for cast and crew). But I hadn't forgotten crafty. I'd delivered it to set the night before, in conspicuous canvas bags. Which apparently the cast couldn't find.

"Well how were we supposed to find them?" A fair question, considering I'd deviously left the bulging bags on the wardrobe rack -- you know, the very rack where the cast has to go for their costume changes. Sometimes multiple times. Six actors in costume, each of them less than a foot from the food at least once. This is what I get when I leave them unsupervised. 

Actors. At least none of them got into fights with their reflections this time.

Five days down. Eight to go.

Bubble helping gather crafty. The same crafty a ten person crew couldn't find.

The offending mic. Not sure who took a bite out of the foam. Prob a hungry actor.

When you attempt to act in your 40s without warming up

Maggie judging you

"Hey, so I got that raccoon out of your mailbox."

Twenty years we've been waiting to do this sketch. Twenty. Years.

Oh no. Oh God, no.