So last night I decided to film my latest Clive's Angels mission. The mission is to dance to Thriller in a public place. I spent an hour or so learning the choreography and I had it down, and it was awesome, so we decided to hop in the car, and find a graveyard to film it in. I should mention that shortly before leaving, I took a Benadryl because I am allergic to Randall's dog. I figured I'd get a little drowsy, but nothing major.
Ran and I drove around forever trying to find a graveyard into which we could point the headlights of the car. Finally after 3 failed attempts, we found one. I got out of the car, took off my jacket, plugged in my iPod, gave Randall my camera, and was about to start dancing to Thriller, when the priest showed up. I couldn't hear the conversation as I was out of earshot but apparently it went something like this:
Father Phil: Good evening, what's going on here? I'm not checking up on you, just came to check the doors."
Randall: Oh, uh, we're uh, making a film. It's got kind of a cemetery theme.
Father Phil: Oh, what's the film?
Randall: Actually, it's for YouTube. My girlfriend is going to dance to Michael Jackson's "Thriller". Is that okay?
Father Phil: Oh my. Well, I don't have a problem but the local constabulary might take offense. (I walk within earshot) So, (to me) you're going to dance to Thriller?
Me: Er--yes?...? (while wearing tights, a minidress, and knee high boots, in the cemetary at night) *hesitation*
Father Phil: (Crosses himself orwhateveryoucallthatblessingthing) Oh dear, haha. (Starts to walk away, stops, turns around) Do you want a white glove?
Me: HAHAHA!!! Good idea!!
Father Phil: Have a good night, folks.
So he left, and all was well, except that by this point, the Benadryl had REALLY kicked in and was messing with my brain. I could not remember the dance I had memorized only an hour earlier. Also, wearing wedge boots and dancing on icy, crusty snow in the dark = not a good plan.
Needless to say, it sucked. I've yet to watch the footage but i know there is a lot of me just standing there, thinking. And yelling 'OH MY GOD EDITING THIS IS GOING TO FUCKING SUCK! Oh shit I just cursed at the church. FUCK I did it again! OH MY GOD! Oh shit that's even WORSE! GAHHH!"
So I was like, fuck it. Let's blow this popsicle stand. And drove the fuck home.
*sigh*
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Sunday, January 17, 2010
About Me
- Meg Norris
- Haligonian. Herbivore. North Ender. Drinker of fine coffees and locally crafted microbrews. Social media freelancer by day, serving up delicious vegan grub by night.
1 comments:
aw! poor Meg! gold star for trying!
which reminds me: give me your address again so when i finally get around to sending your cultural package you actually get it!!! i sent you a sheet of gold stars with your Christmas card (which also had a mess of fun stickers) but you never got it! :(
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