I don't think it would sell

It was good to come home after the visit up north and the seminar in Hamar. But I got bored instantly and dragged along to see a flick at the festival. When I got home I had a beer while listening to Radiohead’s latest album, In Rainbows, before I went to sleep.
This morning was all about returning to normality. I have lunch at noon and a lecture at 14:15, not to mention a qualifying written assignment on Aristotle’s definitions. I made myself two cups of coffee, smoked a couple of cigarettes while looking at the rain outside my window and listening to the radio.
Well, I thought, I better get started.
Wearing my pin-striped morning gown and my white hotel room slippers, I made my way to the bathroom past the kitchen, the lighting equipment and the film crew. Two seconds later the cogwheels in my brain started to jump out of motion until they finally came into a halt.

Just hang on a minute.. Film crew?

I looked back into the kitchen. Yes. There was a film crew there, some six people I had never seen before with lots of expensive camera, lighting and sound equipment. A young director nodded to me casually, before I bewildered ducked into the bathroom to take a piss. This was it. I was finally losing my mind. CUT!
Then I remembered the new blood. One of the two new students to move into the flat is a film creator and pyro-technician (arsonist). And he had mentioned something about a commercial he was going to make the day before to win a prize. I found the tall critter measuring some camera angles or something.
– Hey, what’s all this about?
– The commercial?
– Yes.
– …
– Listen. I think it’s great you’re going to be a great director some day and that you participate in competitions and win prizes and stuff, and it’s good that you don’t jump straight into the porn industry and all, just like I said yesterday.
– Thanks!
– But don’t you think the request would call for AN EXPLICIT SPECIFYING OF THE FUCKING LOCATION!?

I gave a fuck and jumped into the shower anyway, regardless of messing up their shots or not. Later when I had got myself dressed and ready to leave for the University and most of the crew was out in the backyard to shoot the action from outside our window, some chick was standing there measuring me up and she said: you were totally made for this.
Made for what? I’m not in this effin’ commercial!

Or am I? I hope they don’t use the clip where a very confused and bewildered Sigg3 just stands there with this skeptical look, ready to give up on reality, and with WTF?! written all over his face. In a pin-striped morning gown and white hotel room slippers.

4 thoughts on “I don't think it would sell”

  1. God, the nerve of moviemakers.. Last week they showed up at work, demanding me to hold a cable while filming some fuckfaced, limo-limbo business whores.. I swear I almost strangled them with my cable..

  2. I spend as much time loving the moviemakers as I spend time caressing the toilet seat after a job-well-done. Though I like films, does this make me a hypocrite? Whatever.

    If I could punch one director in the face, I would’ve punched Michael Bay for spending $120 mill. on Transformers.

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