I’ve fucking had it with
Hollywood. No, seriously.
These goddamned Hollywood
hacks have no frigging idea with whom they’re
dealing. We’re New Englanders. People might like gawking at movie stars, but
when said movie stars inconvenience us, it merely pisses us off. Really, really pisses us off.
A movie is being filmed
within spitting distance of my work.
Every morning I drive by the Hollywood trucks with their Hollywood crew
and their Hollywood stars – real stars, not wanna-be’s: Bradley Cooper and
Robert DeNiro and Jennifer Lawrence.
Apparently they are
filming a movie about some woman who invented a mop, or a wet vac, or some kind
of wetting/sucking/wiping device – and it’s not even a porno. It seems to me that’s the sound the script
must be making … a sucking sound.
Truly. I cannot even begin to imagine the premise,
but I’ll try: Woman invents mop, and
then … what … DeNiro puts it on his head and dances around Kitty’s
restaurant? Lawrence washes the floors
at the Heavenly Donuts that’s being closed for six days of filming while Cooper
munches on Boston cremes?
There’s one main road
through the town where I work. One. It is the major route 93 alternate into
Boston. Every morning it’s like running
the gauntlet trying to get to work, and what do these Hollywood people do?
They shut it down.
No shit. They shut down the major commuter route from
my hometown to work. They shut it down
to buses and school children, as well.
Did I mention that a high percentage of our buses try to use this road
to get to the schools a mere mile away?
Guess what -- a high percentage of our buses try to use this road to get
to the schools a mere mile away.
The other day, right as
Hollywood begins to shut the road down, a cop waves through my teammate,
indicating that the road, at least at that moment, is still open to commuters
(you know, working stiffs, the common man, taxpayers). She starts to go, and Jennifer Lawrence (or
her idiot stunt double) walks right in front of my friend’s car. Breaks squeal and my coworker screams
something to the effect of you stupid fucking
bitch through the windshield.
Honestly, some of us have to actually work for a fucking living.
This morning we have black
ice everywhere. Yesterdays’ major melt
has turned into today’s death run.
Hollywood is set up at the golf course, and the LA minions are crossing
the street from one lot to the next.
Another coworker is attempting to get to work when one of the
Hollywoodies steps into the street. The
cop on duty puts his hand up for my buddy to stop … on black ice … without
warning her ahead of time that Hollywoodchuck has the right of way, even though
there is no crosswalk.
Did I mention there is
black ice all over the street this morning?
Little Miss Hollywood Crew
Member almost discovers that we have excellent trauma units in nearby Boston. Of course, the ambulance would have to get
through the closed streets to save her life.
Wouldn’t that be ironic?
That would
make a helluva script! Jennifer Lawrence
could bring her mop to the crime scene, and Bradley Cooper could squeeze the
blood out of it while Robert DeNiro pretends to investigate the icy conditions
and the lifeless Californian’s body. We
could call it Black Ice of Doom Meets
Swifferette.
Now, that’s a damn movie I
might actually go to see.
Welcome to New England in
the winter, you schmucks. By the way,
hurry the fuck up – some of us have to get to work.
(P.S. If any of my
future-published books are turned into Hollywood movies, I hereby deny ever
writing this blog post. I love mops! Mops are my friends.)
