At the time of his death, if he were on Jupiter, Elvis would've weighed six-hundred and forty-eight pounds.

Never let it be said that I don't respect the working man. Addendum: Never let it be said that I didn't completely and utterly want to disembowel the work crew drilling into concrete outside my door at 6:30 in the fucking AM. Yes, it's true, the industrious contractor fixing the building which contains the Ikea yurt decided to get his crew in bright and early. Too bad I had just at that moment finally fallen asleep. Nothing beats a night shoot except when the rest of the world around you decides to be as loud as humanely possible. Actually, they were louder as they were aided by a couple of heavy duty power tools. As a result of my six hour sleep deprivation experiment I spent the entire day (night?) in a haze of confusion and frustration. My only hope is to try to play catch up tonight (today?) as we don't need to be at work until 6pm. I did help Jonathan do some rigging for a cable cam so I feel like I've kind of accomplished something. Oh, I also lost feeling in my fingers for a little while as we once again waited until it was seriously snowing and cold outside before we went out to shoot. Oh yeah, did I mention that it's fucking snowing again. Again! All that talk of nice April weather was bullshit. It's going to be cold and miserable the whole time I'm here, no joke. Good times, people, good times. I really can't wait until I can go home and have a beer while sitting on my couch with the sunlight streaming in and my dog chilling in the captain's chair. Maybe we'll listen to some Monk or watch a surf video. Or maybe we'll just sit there and be glad we're home. Ah, the oven just shouted at me, I do believe it is dinner time for the tired, filthy, frozen, geek from LA.

In much cooler news, so much cooler, my dog is now a year old. Yay, my dog is that much closer to not being a total jack-ass! Everyone call my dog and wish him a happy birthday and remind him about dog years and see if he cries.