Introducing the Male Strippers/Or How I Learned to Keep Waiting and Love the Internet

I'm not sure who played this gag on us, but at around 7pm, following a somewhat hostile takeover of the new office, we responded to several knocks at the door.  Curious, Frankie opened it, and four uniformed men walked in.  As we had been waiting for the internet the entire day, we were surprised to find four men in uniform as opposed to one man not in uniform.  Immediately, panic enveloped my chiseled body, and I had a sneaking suspicion that Nora--in her infinite cruelty that began with the dismissal of Frankie's opus--had commissioned four male strippers to surprise us, clad in Internet installers outfits, knowing full-well through an earlier communique that we'd toiled all day for the Holy Grail that is the Internet Service.

But again, reality rendered me incorrect.  As Colombia turns, four men are regularly delegated to install WiFi service in Santa Marta.  After two hours of work, some headscratching, some beer drinking, lots of knee slapping, and some serious ponderings, we had become best of friends, and another amazing cultural exchange had been achieved.

Amen to these fellows, and may the Lord bestow many a Blessing on Them and their Kin!

Introducing the Crew

As the days turn to weeks, I think it only appropriate to provide you, dear followers, with kindly introductions to our dedicated crew.

This is Camila.  She is from Bogota and very nice.  Even though she just flicked me off.

To clarify she is in the foreground of this photo.  She is not the more frumpish looking woman purchasing liquor, nor is she the man who appears, with head rested against guarded glass, to be asleep.  Of course she's not because she's a she and he's a he!

Oftentimes, though, she becomes very tired (sueno) because she has to tolerate us.  Like today for example.  What a tenuous day it's been!  We've weathered or are weathering the likes of an office move, a negligent landlord in the new office who promises us wireless but hathn't delivered (hathn't is not a word but sure should be,) and a long walking trip to the grocery market to purchase a "magical bean" which temporarily allows us internet even without a wireless connection.  Oh if all places in the world could only provide such a magical bean!  But alas, Colombia does.  Oh how we love our magical beans!  What would life be without it and its blue blinking light that admits our ability to download your fanmail!  I love you Bean!

And alas, per norm, I digress.  This post was not meant as an homage to the magical bean.  Rather it was to lift the tired spirits of our wonderful coordinator, Camila.  She has learned to tolerate our cultural insensitivity, our terrible ignorance of her native tongue, and our inability to ever stop.

This is a picture of her!  She's Great!

My Father the Bartender/Ruminations on Homesickness

My Dad stayed at my apartment last weekend and, amongst other social functions, carved out some precious hours to visit George, Johnny, Don Hill, and all my friends from the Greenwich and Spring barrio.  Reviewing these, I have a tinge of home sickness, but luckily early swims on the beach and hours perfecting my bronze.

In any event, I'm unsure as to what time these were snapped but love them I do and will continue to.

A hero, that father of mine....

Mike Plante! WTF?

As a producer, sometimes it is of the utmost importance to master the skill of the hard sell.  Especially when dealing with talent.  While it would appear I have failed in the case of Nora, I still remain confident that her management and agency will allow her the personal agency to make the appropriate decision.

My more realistic and immediate concern is the refusal of my friend, Mike Plante.

Mike is an old friend of mine.  We've seen many cities together at many times, and romped together through many an awkward terrain.  While he appears to appear like a corporate stooge in the above picture, you'll see that his athletic prowess and sense of victory rivals mine, as pictured below, making him today's best candidate to Be An Actor!  Sweet!

As is readily apparent his grit and determination rivals only Spartacus.  And it is for those qualities that Frankie sculpted the perfect role for our moustached wingman.  And yet, over the last six months, he, like Nora, has rejected every overture for a tailor made project that will propel his star meter to the heavens that house his bowling score.  What the fuck gives?

Please, fellow readers, facebook or email me and I'll provide his details so you can harass him into the film.