stoney321 | Party a success talk and the glamor of filming TV commercials

I know everyone's out living life, but I'm exhausted and home, because I know how to party. The night before. :) Happy to say that the wedding reception last night was absolutely a blast. Great people - I love making new friends with funny, smart, interesting people - great food (if I do say so myself, but everyone else said so, too, ha) and fabulous booze. I actually left at one point to buy more champagne for the punch. I went through...10 bottles? Nope, just counted, 12. 5 batches of punch made, and people were standing around the kitchen island waiting for it, ahahaha. Note: it packs a MASSIVE booze punch, so just because it tastes delish, ease up. I had a few people that stayed and sobered up before we let them go home. (I'm such a mom.)

Today I had a commercial shoot - hopefully I'll get a copy of the video to share after it airs. I had a decent call time (noon), unlike my last shoot (5am). We filmed at this beautiful home (mansion, truth be told). The homeowner is this very dashing French man who sells French collectibles. Everything in his house was several hundred years old. This will be important in a bit.

REALITY CHECK #1: the three women in the commercial all got to change and make up our faces in one bedroom. Hope you're not wearing your ugly underwear! I actually had to pause for a minute as I unbuckled my jeans to do a mental check of "Did I wear underwear that is comfy, or the pretty kind?" You girls know what I mean about the B team, lol.

I'm the last to film, and I thought I was doing this one part (wrapping my feet in bubblewrap because shoes hurt - it's a foot clinic, btw. that's the client.) Turns out they want me to be the woman that stuffs her shoes with marshmallows because my feet hurt. I have a tattoo on my foot. I made sure everyone knew that before hand, but I think they forgot until it was staring at them in the face. Whoops! (I brought make up to cover it, in case, but they didn't want that.)

Fancy camera angles, and all of the skills in hiding my tattoo around my mother in law paid off. (My mother in law is Kappa Kappa Gamma from way back. She ALWAYS stares at my foot to see if it's covered up. Ahahaha. I delight in wearing flip flops around her.) But back to that marshmallow shoe thingy. Thank GOODNESS they provided shoes. I had brought a few pair per their instruction. Blech.

We tried so many different ways to get the effect of marshmallow oozing out when I stand up. Let me tell you, you've not lived until you have five people crouched under your legs (I'm wearing a short dress, too, urk!) jamming Stay Puft in between your toes in some peep toe heels. These were at least 3 inches, unlike my pushing 5 inches in the baseball bat to the a/c unit shoot.

After... six tries? we came up on the idea of a layer of big giant marshmallows, several schmears of marshmallow fluff, then a ring of giant marshmallows cut in half on the outside edge. Delightful. Now. Because we don't want the marshmallows to ooze out until I've stood up, that means I'm sitting in a chair leaning way over, my foot almost bent in half the wrong way so only my toes are in the shoe. (Necessary because the shoes were so crammed, I couldn't get my foot in to stand.)

Rolling, ready, action! I stand. I walk a step. CUT. I sit back down, lean way over, and the group huddles under me with washcloths and paper towels, the shoes are whisked off to the sink to be washed out and dried so we can do it all over again. This is TV work, people. (I love it, though, who am I kidding? I got paid a nice sum to do this, too.)

Remember how everything in this house is 400 years old? He truly had 400 & 500 year old paintings from the Renaissance in there. The floors were hand-scraped oak, probably reclaimed from Louis XVI's summer cottage, or something. There was an antique rug that I was standing on. OH. MY. GOD. We were all freaking out, then finally pulled the carpet away for the last two takes so it would only gush out onto the wood. And then it wouldn't come up off said hand-scraped oak made from the Cross of Jesus, or where ever. AHHH!!! (I mentioned that dish soap would dissolve the sugar and help it get up. The P.A.s were new graduates from college - they've not experienced the pleasure of gum in a child's hair, etc.)

After a few hours of squishing around, I was wrapped and got to go home never to want any marshmallows again. I just dropped my oldest daughter off at a party, went inside to chat with the parents, and they had a bag of marshmallows on the counter. Their daughter pulled one out and popped it in her mouth and I had to use all of my strength to not dry heave in their kitchen. I just... that smell got to me after three hours of STANDING in it. :D

Next up is an audition for an Indie film, either the part of an NFL player's "lady friend" or a fed-up lesbian. Either is fine with me! I've got my fingers crossed on the fed up lesbian.