St. Patrick's Gay Day

It's a day from St. Patrick's day, my Lover’s birfday, and I'm on a set. Dumb new Hospital drama, but not so dumb that it's not getting good ratings. It's called Out-House, and it's about an eccentric dude who runs a hospital, with the nickname Out-House. On today's show there is an outbreak of menengitis, and the hospital is full of peeps wearing masks. EVERYONE must wear a mask we are told, but the principle actors don't. Apparently, it's a mutant virus that only attacks extras.

One of the extras is a cutesy-cute gal dressed as a nurse. She looks like the perfect nurse, short-cropped hair, blonde, good, caring energy. Well, guess what -- she WAS a nurse! An RN at that. Sheez. I let her put the stethoscope down me, all the touchy-feely stuff that I normally would shun other extra from invading my personal space, because she felt so nursey. I teased her: "You're not really a nurse, you just say you are so you can paw all the men!" During our one long scene where I was on a guerney (he was the kind of attorney who followed the guerney), I lay with my eyes closed and actively awaited her arrival. She reminded me of the nurse that had attended Bob Hope when he was in the hospital. Hope had liked the nurse so much (BLOWJOB), and talked about her, that Bing Crosby got himself checked in for a day, just to be attended by the same nurse.

I had actually lived through a menengitis outbreak as a kid. One of my classmates died from it. So it was easy for me to conjur up the requiste fear to be in this environment. One of my fellow extra's said I had good "sick eyes" (remember half our faces are covered by masks), and I was self-conscius about this afterwards. It knocked me off my game, now I was thinking about making "sick eyes." No one on earth will pay attention to this, but there's Josh Ramsey, in the middle of a set full of extras, worried that he's not getting the "sick eyes" look right anymore.

I was dressed in hospital garb (robe, gown and boxers), and I walked down to the commisary, through the middle of Rabbit Studios for break. People laffed and staired, and if they stared, I did a crazy walk, like I was an escaped patient. Yes, the show Out-House had cheaped us out, no free lunch for us, and no decent craft services either: we got crap services. I got my union card in the mail, and I can't wait to work the union way, and be able to eat from wherever I want.

The Second-Second was a fuck-bitch, and used the disaproving kintergarten teacher voice on me, "Umm, that's how you break your mask." I had my mask on the top of my head during a break. She chastised needlessly all night, and wouldn't use a normal tone, EVER, when talking to an extra, about ANYTHING. But, of course, the minute she was talking to a peer on crew, she became nice and human. Well, fuck her twice. I told her early in the day I would work the next day, but as I set on that set stewing, thinking about spending my lover’s birthday with this bitch, I just decided, "No."

"I know I told you earlier I would be here tomorrow, but i changed my mind." I watched her face curl into anger and disaprovement. It's one of those neat moments, that you know by what you are going to say, you're going to see a face change right in front of your eyes. I tried to slow down time so I could enjoy it more. I had my signed voucher, it was end game for me.

"You certainly waited late enuff to tell me!" Huff, huff! Her shame-rays fell useless on me now. I was in fuck-you punishment mode.

"Bye Baby!" I said as I looked her straight in the eyes.

"My name is not Baby!" Ahh, now she's sliding down the hill, she realized I don't care, I don't care at-fucking-all, and therefore I'm immune to her bullshit.

I annunciate as clearly as possible: "Goodbye Babe!"

And, then I turn on my heels and walk. I'm vibrating with glee as I leave, knowing she will just pass on this anger to another one of my extra bretherans and not me. Happy Fucking Birthday Lover, I’ve come home to you.