#mractor

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Finally getting to see this brother after so long! Missed him #atshortfilmmeeting #mrActor #thelegalwifeextra #hehe #butyehmissedyoubro

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Mr. Producer

Mr. Actor and I stay friends and he brings me to a premiere of his short film. 

Mr. Producer corners me at the after party and makes it clear that he wants us to hang out.  I am still new in LA and I need some friends, so I keep it casual and exchange information, and a few days later I receive a cool text.

“Have you every been to a graveyard screening at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery?”

I have, and it’s awesome.  I'd love to go again.  We make a plan for a group of us to meet up at Mr. Producer’s house and cab over to the movie.  I am psyched.

When I arrive, Mr. Producer is the only one there.  He tells me that the others are on their way and we pack up a picnic cooler.  We bring everything outside and no one else is there. 

“Well, let’s just take a cab and meet them there.”

THIS IS WEIRD. 

I do not like a bait and switch situation.  And I don’t want to date friends, even though Mr. Actor and I are not seeing each other.  Maybe I am exaggerating.  I hope I am exaggerating. 

We get to the cemetery and everyone else is already there.  All couples.  Including Mr. Actor.  With which I’m fine, save for the part about how I appear to be in a couple with Mr. Producer.  I am going to stay friendly and see how this plays out.

We settle into our spot and start eating and drinking.  I am chatting with everyone and Mr. Producer is looking a little bit agitated.  He asks me if I would like to go to the bathroom (a port-o-potty) with him and when I reasonably say, “No, thank you,” he storms off.

THIS IS AWKWARD. 

I still can’t figure out if I am on an accidental date, so I try and beer it away.  Not to get drunk, just to take any edge off that I might have. 

Mr. Producer returns and does not sit next to me.  When the movie starts, I am kind of alone, in a corner.  Which is maybe a relief, but still odd.

In the middle of the movie, another girl joins us.  Mr. Producer is lying on the ground and she lays perpendicular to him, WITH HER HEAD IN HIS LAP. 

AM I ON A DATE OR NOT?   

Had I wanted to be on a date, this would have been terribly upsetting, but now I am feeling a mixed sense of relief and anger – I wanted to just be friends, but this appears disrespectful in front of everyone, no? 

The movie ends and she introduces herself to me, AS MR. PRODUCER’S GIRLFRIEND, and then asks if I’d like to JOIN THEM FOR SOME DRINKS AT A BAR. 

THIS IS UNCOMFORTABLE. 

I decline, but the three of us still have a prickly cab ride back to his house (and my car), during which she tells me all about what a fantastic boyfriend Mr. Producer is and how lucky I am to be spending time with them.

I am lucky to be getting back in my car by myself, and I drive away feeling sorry for the girl and wondering if LA is really the right place for a wholesome gal like me… 

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Mr. Actor

All of my life, I have been pumped to go skydiving.  I know it isn’t a great idea, I realize I will have to sign away my life and yet, I have a deep need to do it anyway.

When I meet Mr. Actor and he tells me he’s always wanted to go skydiving, I seize the opportunity.  He chickens out the first few times I try and set the date, but finally concedes to a mutual birthday celebratory dive.

We head out to Lake Elsinore early in the morning.  Once we arrive, we are told that the wait is a few hours, so we decide to grab some “last meal” burgers from a nearby In-And-Out, in case we die. 

Upon our return, we meet our “makers,” the guys to whom we will be strapped for the fall.  Mine is named Danny and he is a raging adrenaline junky who’s already jumped four times this morning. 

We take a course on safety and it emphasizes, “putting your feet up” for the landing, in order to allow the person behind you to safely run it out. 

I AM TERRIFIED. 

Mr. Actor, who could barely be convinced to join me, is STOKED. 

So I suck it up and act cool, but inside I DO NOT WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE. 

We get up in the plane, UNTETHERED TO ANYTHING.  The door is open and we can easily slide right out to our deaths.  For some reason, they don’t hook you to your person until you are about to jump.  I want to be hooked.  I don’t think this is fun. 

Danny latches on behind me and we move forward in the line.  As we hang out over the edge, I nearly vomit.  My mouth is wide open in fright and I’m pretty sure this is going to be it.  Mr. Hollywood is smiling at me, because HE HASN’T LOOKED DOWN YET.  I smile back to try and be cool and we push off.

SKYDIVING IS THE WORST. 

While we are bulleting toward the earth, I am freezing and uncomfortable.  Danny pulls the chute and I am jacked upward in a crotch-seizing terror, a wedgie of epic proportions.  In which I stay for the remainder of the ride.  Even as we float gently toward the earth, my harness is jacked so far up my delicate parts, it is difficult to enjoy the scenery. 

We come in for a landing and I lift up my legs as instructed.

CRUNCH.

Wow.  That wasn’t how I thought it would happen.  I am sitting on the ground when I hear Danny whisper.

“Do NOT move.”

Wait, why can’t I move?  What just happened?

“We lost sail right before we landed and your bottom took the hit.  You might not be able to walk.”

WHAT??

We slowly stand me up and I am fine!  Nothing at which to look here!

Danny unhooks from me and I crumble to the ground like a discarded puppet. 

He breaks my fall and assists me back up.  I am carried to a wading pool and placed inside.  Something is very wrong.

Mr. Actor lands smooth as silk and finds me in the pool.  He jumps in for a hug and I cringe. 

“I may have broken my ass.”

He laughs, because I MUST BE KIDDING. 

Danny is arranging for hospitalization.  Mr. Actor interrupts him. 

“My parents are both doctors and they live in the area.  I can take her there and they will check her out.”

They agree that this is the best option, as it isn’t favorable for the jump site to have extra ambulances pulling in.

OH MY GOODNESS, I AM GOING TO MEET HIS PARENTS AND THEY ARE GOING TO LOOK AT MY ASSHOLE.

 Of course, that is EXACTLY what happens. 

Mr. Actor’s family is lovely.  They confirm that my ass, is indeed broken and let me know that I am welcome to get an x-ray, but that it isn’t necessary, because they can FEEL the shattered bones and there isn’t anything more a hospital will be able to do at this point ESPECIALLY WITH ALL OF THE NOTICEABLE BRUISING AND SWELLING.  They patch me right up and prescribe the requisite meds and ass-pillow.   Then we have a barbeque and hang out in the hot tub. 

On our way home, Mr. Actor asks me if I want to go to a movie.  That sounds like the best plan ever.  I bring my donut into the theater and we enjoy a little comic relief.  When the movie ends, I burst into tears for the first time since my injury. 

“I can’t get out of the chair.”

Mr. Actor is gentle and kind and we extract me from the movie theater seat slowly.  I am embarrassed and drugged, but I have been SKYDIVING, so I know I can survive ANYTHING.