A trip to wardrobe

Now that I’ve been called in to save the production of Casino Royale, I’ve got a lot on my plate. Today, it was a trip out to the studio to visit the costuming department. “Bring any Florida clothes you might have,” the casting agent said in a much more confusing fashion. Soup Boy and I packed up a bunch of stuff (Pretty much all the clothes I brought from San Diego), and after an hour and half commute to the studio, twenty minutes trying to find the right place, and fifteen minutes with very appreciative wardrobe people who very much appreciated all the stuff we had brought, I was wearing pretty much what I wore every day for fifteen years in San Diego, except with shoes.

An hour and half back home, and the work day was done. Whew!

27 thoughts on “A trip to wardrobe

  1. I have faced my personal SPECTRE, and they have layed me low – the curse of daycare. The daycare lady let her kind heart get to her and allowed [idiot parent’s name here] to drop off a sick kid against rules.
    “But the doctor said she wasn’t contagious.”
    That bold lie is history but me and Cody are wiped out by a particularily virulent virus. I haven’t been logged on to MR&HBIs in a few and DAMN there’s a lot new. An extra on Casino Royale!!! That liths – dude.

    Come on Jer, break it down one time for us: Give us your most rousing rendition of…
    “No mister Bond! I expect you to die!!”

    Lith^3

  2. James Bond Director Arrested In Prostitution Sting

    James Bond film director Lee Tamahori was arrested last month in Los Angeles during a police prostitution sting.

    A city attorney spokesman said Tamahori was dressed in a black wig and off-the-shoulder dress when he approached an undercover police officer in Hollywood, Calif., on Jan. 8 and offered to perform sex for money.

  3. …and Microsoft makes it to the ’90s. Does the graphic drop below the dark blue area? That was the other thing that IE got wrong.

  4. there once was a jerk named McSweede
    who wore underwear of fine tweed
    it scratched and it itched
    “I do this,” he bitched,
    “to lend refinement to my seed.”

  5. Still, the blog would be even better with a “magic fridge”.

    Imagine that one could click on the seemingly out of date poll and have it flip to a picture of a fridge well stocked with real beer (not Bud Light).

    I know, I know that sounds suspiciously like work.

  6. So Bob, who won the balance of the Super Bowl bets? And could you please remind me what all the very import aspects of the bets were? I remember the first was who won the coin flip.

  7. Robert “Awesome” Ettinger and I have bet on the coin flip each year for the last 15 or so. This year, he let me pick the Seahawks, so I won.

    Unfortunately, the game went downhill from there.

    I don’t know about any other bets.

  8. seahawks’ season spiked
    ref has blown the bad whistle
    janitor sweeps day-old nachos

    listen for the bloggcomm’s voice
    echos in a deaf man’s tomb
    elevator ocelot rutabega

  9. Sweet poem!

    So I guess they had a Super Bowl. I gather the Seahawks played and lost. Who won?

    Yes, I could go find ESPN.com, but I’m using the precious bandwidth to… put up an new poll!

  10. Jer,

    Do you still have the Chicago Steelers (sic) sweatshirt you bought in England? You could confuse some Prague bandwagonjumpers.

  11. You know how much I hate to quibble, especially about numbers, but on the poll results page the “Message From The Grave” is listed as episode 17.

    I searched on “eels” to confirm that “Ambush” was episode 17 (Oct ’05, but who’s complaining). Consequently, the poll itself looks right (episode 18) and the poll results pages is either a typo or some kind of occult numerology.

    Please advise.

    P.S.: Thanks again for the new poll.

  12. Yes, Bob, I know exactly how much you hate to quibble.

    I put in the wrong number when I set up the poll with the pollhost, but caught the error later. I can fix the html on my site, but I cannot edit the options on the result page because that comes from them.

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