Tuesday, August 10, 2010

How Starring in a Low Grade Horror Movie Changed My Life

I don't think I mentioned this, but I met Abe on the set of a very independent feature film that shot on weekends over the course of 3 months this past spring. I know feature films come with an assumption of glamor and this expectation that it will come out in theaters. This film was the opposite of all of those things.

I was cast because I was the best actress willing to audition in Orange County for a role that doesn't pay. Pretty much everyone that auditioned got a part.

The director is this ex-stoner mechanic having a mid life crisis. He owns his own film camera and equipment, usually renting it out to film students for use. This time he was going to sink his life savings in a sub-par, 45 page, supernatural thriller. The premise was a single mom is in peril when her 5 yr-old daughter starts communicating with the dead mayor of Anaheim, also former leader of the local KKK.

What does this mean? It means that a lot of spirits of the former KKK start meeting and hanging out around my house, which I can't sell . . . and . . . I forget how the first version ended.

So, after my audition- where I thought I sucked because he basically dismissed me after one reading, the director, call him Dir. Dickhead (I do) asked me to meet with him on the script . . . in a bar . . . on Super Bowl Sunday. He was tipsy and we really got no where. He never officially offered me the part but he ended the conversation with, "I look forward to working with you," and handed me a bag of avocados.

Later, I was offered another role on a short (because I am awesome) and I asked for the dates of shoot the following month so I could schedule accordingly. The student production was willing to be flexible around Dir. Dick's needs.

After sending that text, I get a phone call from Dick that he questioned my loyalty with the project, he needs an actress who can be available all the time and isn't trying to pack in other projects, blah blah blah. I said, "Are you saying I don't have the part? Because if that's the case, I should continue to submit myself for paid jobs during April-May."

Silence, then, "There is another girl. I am willing to sacrifice talent in this case for commitment. Maybe we can do a screen test and then make a decision from there." To which I said, "There has never been any question with my commitment. All I have is my word, there is nothing else I can offer you. So at this point, I am going to continue to audition for roles scheduled for production during that period. If you want to do a screen test, fine."

Three days passed. Then he called to say the part was mine. That's right, Dick. It always was.

The film was being shot in a real haunted house built in the early 1900s ... I think. It was a very cool house. I saw it before we started shooting on a wardrobe meeting I had with Dick, alone, at his house. Basically, he asked about my relationship situation, said he had never been with a woman for longer than 9 months and was lonely. Meanwhile, he would comment on the shape of my body in various dresses. If that last comment wasn't clear, let me rephrase. While trying on different pieces of wardrobe for the film, he would comment on how hot some of the dresses got him and once commented that he could see my breasts under one particular fabric. A real Romeo.

Later, I found out that he was unhappy with my clothes and wanted me to go over to the Make-Up woman's house for more wardrobe testing. I went over and met Dirty Debbie. Debbie is a wonderful, quirky, bizarrely unpredictable person. She had orange and white streaks in her hair, goth make-up with a touch of David Bowie. She must be around the age of 50 yrs old, has a personal relationship with Jesus Christ and loves to tell dirty stories. She is awesome.

She has two grown daughters and lives by herself in a very small apartment with three cats. I loved Debbie. When I first met her she couldn't stop talking about how much she liked brandy. Then, as soon as Dick stepped out for a phone call, she asked me if we were intimately acquainted. I said, "NO!" I asked why she felt like asking, and she said that she had a romantic history with Dick but would be cool if I wanted a piece of him. I would rather swallow vomit.

So, here I am, trying on clothes of the director's ex-girlfriend, and he is loving it. He thinks I am becoming the character. I think I am just becoming a younger version of his ex-girlfriend.

Later, he took me to the house we were shooting the bulk of the story in and I fell in love with it. There were taxidermy animals everywhere, even the kitchen, thousands of pieces of Christian decor in every form, including a huge hanging picture of Jesus Christ when played by Robert Powell. There was a dining room table with an old piano holding up a pile of small, framed pictures. There was a chandelier hanging over the table with angel heads peering out of it.

There was a door along the stairway that opened up to a brick wall. A picture of the house in the house. It smelled faintly of cat piss. That became our home for the next three months, Friday-Sunday.

First night, the crew was incredibly small, only four people. Dick was operating the camera. Abe was adjusting the lights. Peter was recording audio and Giselle was trying to do everything else. I walked on to set and noticed Abe, in those dirty jeans and utility gloves.

My little co-star was the fabulous Jacqueline, age 6. I reverted to film school and tried to make everything work on set the way it should. I tried to be Script Supervisor and at times help with production, but my mind got muddled. So the one thing I learned from the set of ANAHEIM the Movie was to go with the flow and keep stress light when you are in front of the camera. No one was going to save that picture, and it certainly wasn't going to be me.

Every night, at 10pm, Disneyland let off its fireworks over our dialogue, so production would hold as we all snacked on bread and peanut butter.

Whenever I am new and single on a scene, I identify the man I would most likely mate with (if any). Abe. I spoke to him briefly at the end of the weekend, and told him he looked like Willem Dafoe. He seemed fairly detached from the conversation, but later told me that that moment was the first time he wondered what it would be like to kiss me.

Shooting went on, and we found a good rhythm with Dick's insistence on one takes. He often compared himself to Ed Wood, the worst film director in history. WHY!? My character is the lead, but also very reactionary. Most of the time, I am witnessing something, being abused by my ex-husband/ghosts or I have one line. I used to joke about being off book since I think I had less dialogue than any of the other supporting characters in the film, including the 6-yr-old.

Other supporting actors included a guy who was on Millionaire Matchmaker, who we called Cue Card Kevin. He needed huge poster boards with his dialogue written on it, held off camera during the scene because he couldn't memorize his lines.

There was also a wrestler from Texas, a few older men who lived in Orange County and an old biker from Ventura.

I got very close with Dirty Debbie, Peter, Giselle and even the Production Designer who I will call Jean. I made them laugh, took naps on their shoulder, got to know them over the 12-16 hours we would shoot a day. Once I put my head on Abe's shoulder, and felt him grow stiff and uncomfortable. We never developed that bond I had with the others, though my attraction for him was constant. There were a few weeks, where I was still in Mind Fuck Territory with the Prophet, thinking I lost the love of my life because God picked out the most handsome, mentally unstable guy and paired my soul with his . . . just to see what happens.

One day, I felt over the Prophet. I remember waking up and feeling like a weight was lifted. Instead of thinking about him every 30 min, it was 2-3 times a day. Life was simpler, calmer, more easy to manage. I started to notice the way Abe's jeans hung from his hips. His professional concentration with that wavy hair and lazy beard. He somehow encompassed the best parts of a working class man with creative professionalism.

He was also the only person to comment on/compliment my acting during the first weekend of shooting. Lots of directors think reassurance is a superficial luxury for on-screen talent. The thing is, ya gotta know if you are on the right track or not. When everyone is silent, there is doubt.

Dirty Debbie would also hand out compliments to everybody. She is just a really good person. She had about seven dirty stories she would retell over the course of the shoot. Each time I walked in on her telling someone else, I laughed my ass off. That chick is so bizarre.

Dirty Story #1: Once, she was hired to come over and clean an apt. for a guy. She owns her own cleaning service. So she opens the door and the guy is standing in front of her, completely nude. She says, I refuse to come in until you put a robe on.

After cleaning his place for a while, he asks her to Nair his balls. She says no.

Dirty Story #2: One time there was a guy that was stalking her, and while she was at the dentist, she was put under for oral surgery. The stalker somehow paid off the dentist, came in while she was under and stuck his penis down her throat. He carved an x on the base of the throat where he claims the tip of his penis touched.

I was unable to see the scar but she says its there.

Dirty Story #3: A married man used to come to Debbie for haircuts. (She also is a hair dresser ;) His wife came in and told Debbie that her husband had crabs. Debbie says, "Sucks for you, that must mean you have crabs." The wife denied having crabs and Debbie realized this was some kind of manipulated story to get Debbie to admit she was having an affair with this woman's husband. She was not.

Dirty Story #4: There is someone stalking her, she doesn't know who he is but when he sees her, he pulls his pants really high up so she sees the outline of his penis.

Dirty Story #5: Once she made a nice dinner for a sailor. After dinner, they hung out by the pool and he masturbated in front of her. She asked him to leave.

With Debbie . . . penises were always involved.

The caterer was a woman named Cindy, who always seemed agitated. It turned out she also had an affair with Dick. It seems, all the women over the age of 40 involved in the film had been sexually intimate with Dick.

After a while, I started changing all my dialogue to improve it. My partner, Lana, will tell you I thrive with improv. I also think I am a better writer than Dick. Towards the end, he started catching on that I was reinventing the dialogue and asked me to stick with the script. Just because he didn't know what the word "vortex" meant.

Halfway through shooting, Dick called me up to say he wanted to change the ending. He wanted the Wrestler and Cue Card Kevin to rape and kill me at the end. He must have said the word rape at least 8 times in our 5 minute conversation. RAPE. Jesus Christ, I heard ya, you wanna film me getting raped. Something like that can't be tagged on as an after thought. You only use it to spin off a story.

Later he decided I wouldn't be raped, but the next movie he makes will be about two girls that get raped. You know . . . people like that need to get raped!

Also towards the end of shooting, I started to worry that Abe and I would not have time to consummate my attraction. He showed no real interest in me with the exception of one day when he told me my name was 7 and 7; the value of the letter as it corresponds to the alphabet. He said his name was also 7 and 7, and he had never met another person with the same numbers.

Knowing that men need to hunt down their women to feel a sense of conquest and reward, I didn't want to ask him out. So I told every single woman on set that I had the hots for Abe. Literally, the first thing I would say is, "You know who I have the hots for? Abe." They would laugh and then make their way to him on set and poke or prod him a little bit about asking me out.

It was all very innocent. He is innocent, as much as I bitch about him ... he is relatively untouched by the art of love and war.

Jean was leading the campaign to get Abe to ask me out. For the benefit of the women on set, I would arch my back so my boobs came close to Abe's light meter. I would pretend to find myself in sexual positions when he was just around the corner of the set. Then, I said just out of ear shot once, "We would have beautiful babies." Jean said, "Oh my God."

Later, she walked up to Abe and said, "She just told me she wanted to have your kids." Abe responded with, "That sounds nice." He was starting to get it.

So, that night, Jean asked one of her surfer OC buddies to come out and party with us. She wanted to quell my sexual frustration. This short kid arrives to set, and I am feeling slightly uncomfortable since I already planted my seed with Abe. I was also very busy with scenes and stuff. They both had to ask me why I was avoiding them. I wasn't avoiding him . . . really.

We decided to go out to a bar afterward. Abe invited himself along. :)

We arrived at the bar and ordered some beer. Short, goofy kid bought me a bottle and shortly thereafter I discovered we had nothing in common. NOTHING. He was in construction and told me about some of the buildings he worked on; schools, post offices, government buildings. I told him he was making history with all of his cement, brick and wood. He said for the first time I made him feel proud about what he does.

He never had a chance with me, he was so much shorter and didn't like pit bulls.

Abe and the rest of the crew, including Dir. Dickhead, arrived and Abe sat next to me in Goofy's seat while he was using the toilet. We started talking, I was self-conscious because another man bought my drinks and I felt guilty. Abe's head would swivel around to see who I was looking for. Also, while Dick made him shoot some footage in that bar that night (in no written scene), I started a conversation or two with gentlemen there at the bar. I could feel Abe's eyes burning into me, and hear Dick call back his attention.

I finally had his interest. This is the moment when you look within yourself to see if you really want what you have laid out for yourself.

Abe and I got in a talk about his iPod list. We spoke about music, we had a lot in common. Then we spoke about men and sex. I was going through some weird period of slight resentment; re: men being emotionally disconnected from the experience. I said, "I realize men are more visual. Women need context and even romance to get excited." Then Abe said something no one had ever said to me before in all the conversations about men & sex, "Men need that, too." He said it a little quietly, like he was gently suggesting a personal secret.

We smoked outside, and it was raining a lot. This was really unusual for southern california and why was it raining SO MUCH. Abe had an umbrella from his car he kept over me. Later, he would stand behind me and soak in all the rainstorm to keep me dry. He said, "I just want you to know my jeans are completely soaked all the way in back for you."

I was IN LOVE with this kid. Who was he?

As Goofy was leaving, he asked if he could call me. It was raining, the bar was closed and Abe was still holding an umbrella over me. I told Goofy to grab my info from Jean. Abe dismissed himself from the conversation half way through and I turned to catch up with him. He brought me some crackers from his car to help sober me up for the ride home.

From there on out, I couldn't stop thinking about him. It would be 4 days til I could see him again. The next weekend we shot basement scenes in a redecorated mechanic garage. The ghosts of the film basically sport white make-up and look like a group of old mimes. Again, the opposite of scary. Abe was tuned in to me a little more. I caught his eye as I was climbing the prop staircase before my scene. He pulled a sliver from my finger, started taking silly pictures with me and the rest of the crew, then hooked his iPod into speakers for everyone to hear instead of keeping earbuds in all the time.

We went over to Dick's place for drinks on a Saturday night. Giselle sat across from Dick and I sat across from Abe. Chinese zodiac signs were discussed and then Abe mentioned that he is very much into Mayan Numerology and asked for my birthday. When I told him he said, "INTERESTING!" Little did I know how significant my birthday was to Abe, to him it is more important than almost anything else.

Around the second bottle of wine, Abe was coughing up tidbits of story about a chick from his past. Dick knew the story, and asked questions that opened up more and more. A girl from his high school he had a big crush on and later grew fascinated with because of her birthday.

He and I had this intense back and forth about God, aliens, the soul . . . and now I find out he is stuck on some chick!? I excused myself for the night. He said, "Now I am starting to think I shouldn't have said any of this." I said, "You would have thought right."

The next morning, I was the only one who showed up on time to set. I was hung over, had a few hours sleep and a larger commute each way than Dick, Giselle or Abe. I was annoyed. Somehow, I finagled Abe's cell phone out of Dick while I was waiting for everyone on set. No answer.

He showed up and wouldn't look at me. I think he thought things were botched between us, but I slowly won him back over the day. At one point Abe checked the frame of the camera as it was on me. He said, "Looks good. What's on camera looks really good." He looked up and smiled at me.

I ran over to Dirty Debbie and jumped up and down shouting, "He thinks I am pretty!!!"

Another 4 days of no Abe til we shot the following weekend. I texted. I emailed. Nothing. I got him on GChat and implied that I have nothing to do, while not on set. He said, he had nothing either. Then I wrote "hmmmmm" and he basically said he would talk to me later and logged off. Awesome.

We shot the following weekend at a juvenile facility that left half of its buildings to deteriorate, empty, with no maintenance or grounds keeping. The chapel's corners and crevices were filled with dead bees. Thousands of dead bees.

I even got to drive Abe's car as part of the scene. Pete took video of me licking the stick shift and steering column as an exercise in affection.

The Wrestler was on set and I made quick friends with another girl in my scene who I got to be rude in character. At least I had something to do.

Just before the first dialogue scene, I looked over at Abe . . . holding a fill with his sunglasses on. The corner of his mouth slowly peeled back in a sexy smile. I smiled back just before turning on to camera for the scene.

By the time we got to shooting the interiors, the entire cast and crew BUT Dick were ridiculously silly. I got the nun to pose in provocative positions. The priest was hitting on Abe between shots. Dick lost his temper and yelled at us. I was the only one that believed he actually had the right. None of us were focused, even Abe who is always focused now wanted to be in on every joke.

Before I left, the Wrestler cornered me on the side of the building. It was dark and I had known that he wanted to ask me out. Now that I was advertising my feelings for Abe, everyone was more motivated about intercepting the inevitable. Abe was my destiny.

As the Wrestler spoke to me about Abe, I looked in to another side chapel through a dirty window. Forty feet away, Abe looked up and smiled at me through glass. It was around this weekend that my friend from Canada flew in to town to visit me.

My one bedroom apartment is a very delicate situation. At the time, I had two foster pit bulls, and my two pit bulls and two cats. I rented this apartment because there is a wall of doors that can section off half the apt for dogs and half for the cats. My friend, Canada, left all four dogs in the living room alone without doing the sweep for a bone. There was a fight between the two fosters and he called me on my way home.

It is so frustrating for me when something bad happens with my animals. My cat died last year in a violent end and my heart is still raw from it all; losing the cat, losing the Prophet, losing my job . . . its just a lot.

Canada wanted to stay in a motel nearby instead of my place, so I drove him, tended to my baby's wounds and then got my first text from Abe. It was lyrics to a 70s song, I think "All she wants to do is dance dance." I called and unloaded my story, about the dogs and Canada and my cat. He was patient, trying to listen carefully to everything I was saying. The conversation lasted longer than my cell phone battery.

He mentioned that his grandmother has a vintage mustang and would take me for a ride in it. It was all so exciting for me. This sounded like he wanted to be my boyfriend.

A few days later, I was hanging out on set. My scenes were wrapped, but I was helping out more and more with the equipment to spend time with my friends, mostly Abe. The final shot that weekend was some stunt stuff between two male actors, and one of them was supposed to be thrown from the 2nd story balcony. Dick substituted with a mannequin to fall and collapse on the front lawn.

He did ask the actor to literally jump, because he is all about half fast thoughts and somebody else's safety. The crew and cast (again, all but Dick) took turns molesting the mannequin, taking pictures with it. We ripped off its wig and all took individual pictures wearing it.

As we were packing up, I felt like Abe was being distant with me. Sometimes it seems like I am a huge flirt. I mean, I am, but it was different with other guys than with Abe. He was suddenly quiet and not making eye contact with me.

I was lugging equipment to and fro, looking for any excuse to walk in on him packing things away. I did, and then was suddenly scared and walked out. Out by the equipment van, he suddenly walked up to me, his floppy bangs cast over the top of his head in sweat and he asked me out for a date. I smiled and said YES.

He took me to a bar called Ye Olde Ship. We both got a pint of beer and some snacks, and sat across from each other. It felt like a very big table. After all this time, I now have him. I was nervous. We spoke about basic things; family, my marriage and divorce, school . . .

We walked out and decided to smoke in my car. There, we chain smoked and eventually he asked to hold my hand. I gave it to him. Then we kissed. He giggled like a school girl. It was a little odd, his laughing, but I was so eager to feel if there was electricity on his lips, I kept reaching up for more . . . like it was a drinking fountain when you don't quite realize how thirsty you are.

Both the conversation and our tongues got deeper. We moved to the back of his car, since he is cleaner, and carried on like kids in Middle School. He drew a heart on the foggy window of the car and promised he would never hurt me.

Arrows through hearts, drawn on a misty window . . . you're taking me home in the rain.
My heart is beating don't say no, my head keeps saying, take it slow.

. . . that's right, that's Wilson Phillips. When its applicable, its applicable.

When the sun came up, he asked what I was doing later and I said Disneyland with Canada. He asked to join. I was euphoric. For 5 years I tried to get the Prophet to take me to Disneyland, and now on the first date, Abe was going to take me.

He went to traffic court and then immediately met us at Disneyland afterward. In the line for IT'S A SMALL WORLD, I was bent over the hand rail and meowed like a cat in heat . . . waiting for him. That was day 2 of our 7-day first date. It was everything I wanted, and more. The chemistry and conversation were there, everything was there. I didn't think my heart would come back after the Prophet. And here I was less than 6 months later, and I felt like my heart was ripped out of my chest and hooked up to jumper cables.

The production trudged on. Everyone was happy Abe and I finally consummated, everyone but Dick of course. And I genuinely believe that is because he wanted to nail every single girl on set. The lead actress would be bonus points.

We eventually wrapped principal photography. Bitter sweet, I would save on gas now and never have to work for that ungrateful, 1-take-wonder director again . . . but I wouldn't see my friends anymore. I grew closer to Giselle, Peter, Debbie and Abe faster than any other group of people out in Los Angeles.

It's funny, when I wrote the paragraph on Debbie, she called. When I started the story about Abe, he called. I must be psychically in tune or something.

So fast forward to yesterday: 2 Months Later. I asked Jean to take some pictures of me. I need a body shot of me skinny (I went down a size since I started acting) and a head shot of my smile. A big smile, it might be my most marketable feature.

Jean was in an on-again, off-again thing with Dick and we decided to stop in a bar and have a margarita to commiserate our recent losses. I do have to say, with all my bitching about Abe, it really pales in comparison to everyone else's stories of breaking up this summer.

With a double shot of tequila and a margarita under my skin, we started taking some awesome pictures. The woman has an eye. She would go up to random people and have me pose with them. We walked into stores and took pictures of me in dresses we couldn't afford behind a changing room door. I posed in my bra against a graffiti wall with a 2-piece jazz band next to me.

One more margarita and I was in the sand frolicking in my underwear. I have always been very sensitive about my stomach. It just isn't flat. Its not toned, its not flat- but I am in a place where if my posture is correct, it isn't embarrassing. A man rode his bicycle by and said I looked great. I thought, "Really?"

Then another man showed me his book of poems and said the one on page 21 was written for me.

The jazz band hit on me, everyone was hitting on me. I really think the presence of a professional camera subconsciously tells people that the actor is someone worth knowing. Even someone worth desiring. Even when I was fully clothed, Jean taking pictures of me made me a star. I don't think anyone would have noticed me otherwise.

Jean was bitter about Dick and had his car, so I poured all the sand out of my shoes and in his car. She had described stage 1 of abusive behavior with Dick and I was furious with him.

We drove to a restaurant and met her friend Zane, who is another version of Dick- middle aged, Hispanic with the reflex and conversational skills of a stoner at an outdoor concert. Zane was ok.

I kept drinking and got the distinct feeling that Jean wanted something sexual to happen. She asked me to kiss Zane, which I agreed to a peck. He lingered and I felt like guilt just washed up my chest. I said aloud, "I feel like I just cheated on Abe." No, we're broken up, it was just a peck, blah blah blah . . . I realized that I didn't want to be broken up with Abe. In fact, that I may have acted rashly in severing the relationship instead of just holding back.

I was pushing him into becoming my ideal boyfriend and not allowing for him to catch up with things. Or even allow myself to catch up with things. His communication sucks, it really sucks. I was too intense, too pushy ... I let my feminine neurosis dictate my behavior in the relationship. Under all the texts and conversations, I believe the problem is that I haven't sorted out my issues with the Prophet yet, and Abe has never been in an adult relationship before.

We went back to Zane's place for champagne and a few more pictures. We got a little carried away. I was jumping around in a wife beater with only panties and a hat on, and Jean was flirting. There was pot, there was another liquor run, there was the soft conversation of push and pull between Jean and Zane in the corner. I sent a few drunk texts to Abe and Dick, all in fun, then drifted off to sleep.

I remember Zane massaging me and Jean taking a few pictures. Later, Jean claimed that she saved me from practically being raped by him. I never felt in danger or concerned that either of us would be violated. Zane was an old friend of Jean's, so what the hell? Maybe he made some comments, and maybe she did talk him out of it. *note to self, never crash on a strange man's couch again.

Around 3am, I woke up to Jean flipping out, crying and upset. Zane was sloshed and trying to calm her down, but was too clumsy with his words and feelings to avoid perpetuating the situation. I listed to Jean, who was mourning the death of her Uncle from several years ago. She said he was murdered by an axe murderer and was crying so hard I couldn't understand what the fuck she was talking about. That sounds royally fucked up and random, so it is only appropriate I never found out what she was talking about.

She had regret. Everyone she loves dies. She wants to die. Oh, Jesus.

I tried talking her down, but it wasn't helping. She was crying so loud, Zane was worried the cops would come. I said, "There is a lot of negativity here. The alcohol has us thinking in circles. You need to sleep this off and come back to it in the morning. Right now there are snakes in your brain, Jean! You aren't in a good state of mind."

Jean yelled at me that she would be in pain tomorrow and forever, whether she was sober or not. Zane yelled at me, thinking I was calling him negative and blaming him for the situation. So I said, Jean, "I have to go back to my animals. Do you want to come?" At this point, as I remember she started calmly plucking at an iPhone app, and said, "In just a minute, yeah." I said, "You can't take this negativity back to my place. I have the animals there and its already a kind of delicate system-" She said, "Ok, FUCK YOU."

I laughed. Zane laughed. I said, "Ok, I am leaving." She waved goodbye and said a few mean things that mean nothing to me and I drove home.

There really is nothing like your empty home, with happy dogs and sleepy cats and no crying or screaming to make you think that isolation really is the answer to working in Los Angeles.

Jean disappeared shortly after I left. I called her and Dick, hoping she was safe. Zane asked me out for dinner sometime and Dick asked me if we had a threesome. GET OVER IT!

Everything was calm, Jean called to tell me what a disappointment I was of a friend and how I am the example of why she never has female friends. She opened up to us and we wouldn't help her. Oh, and I told her she would feel better in the morning. She doesn't.

What she wants is the energy of people around her to work in order to alter her emotional state. I just can't deal with that. And after all the stories about Dick, she was back at his place.

I asked her to call me after talking to him. She didn't. I was worried and offered to come by, talk to her, get my clothes that she wouldn't let me get out of the car last night and get my pictures. Most importantly! The pictures.

She took a nap at Dick's. Dick sent me a text warning me not to "fuck" with him again. Also, that he wouldn't allow me to see Jean until he cleared it with her first. Obviously, some story was relayed where, surprise surprise, Jean was the victim and I somehow violated her trust/mind/what have you.

I got them from her today. Great thing about bi-polar people, they have a 24 hour turnaround.

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