Friday, September 09, 2011


To get ready for a voiceover session I printed out the script a day early. I could rehearse and be well prepared.

Unfortunately the fan was on high because we are in the worst heat and drought, and it blew the script onto the floor.

The dog decided, "If it's paper and on the floor, I can take a dump on it." So she did.
By the time I discovered the smell and the target, it was starting to dry. I tried to scrape it off, was only semi-successful, but the inkjet ink isn't permanent so some words were blurry or obscured.

The printer stopped working, because when it is out of ONE ink color, it stops altogether to force you to the store to buy more.

I can't read off the screen because the microphone is in another room, and I lost the email and there isn't time to find it.

The producer calls and we begin.

In mid-spot I stumble over words I can't really see, and mumble something about "this crap." The producer hears this and launches in on me as being a spoiled, overpaid, prima-donna who is lucky to get ANY work, let alone this spot, and how dare I attack what has been put together by some of the finest minds in advertising?

Then I wake up.

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