bustamovie
10-16-2001, 12:37 AM
It's been almost two years but this one episode of my life will always remain my worst nightmare. Not many people here might care but I just have to rant about it a little. So you either keep reading or you don't. Make up your mind you tool :p because this is not a short post...
Now. Here's the story. In November of 1999 I flew into Vegas from half a world away. I'm over here now... but back then I was over there. Ya hear? Now that we established that, let's move on, shall we? I had this one screenplay titled Standoff Comedy (http://www.geocities.com/hollyvoodoo/standoffcomedy.html). One of the main characters is a spoof on Stallone and I think that Dice is perfect for the part. I tried to locate his agent but found nothing but a bunch of ex-s (publicists, agents, etc).
My friends in Vegas told me that Dice was performing at the Hilton. I asked them to book me a show ticket. I'm coming over. I was only 17, naive and full of hopes. I believed what Dice said about having the courage to go after things in life and doing them. About believing in yourself. In this case I was believing in Dice as an actor and my script as blockbuster material. I may be a bit immature as a person (growing up as an only child with overprotective parents) but as a writer I'm on a whole different level. So if anyone here wants to diss me like Max... I don't give a f@#%&.
But I digress. I hopped on the plane and landed in Sin City. I picked up my ticket (the show was scheduled for the following night) and made a few phone calls. I spoke with the Las Vegas Hilton's backstage manager and told him that "I'm here to see the show and would like to pass on a copy of my script to Mr. Clay, if possible." The manager was a great guy. He came out to meet me before the show. He asked how he was going to recognize me. Let's put it this way. There's no way he could miss me.
Here's the cool leather outfit (http://www.webtalent.com/dicekid) that I was wearing to the show. Folks, you should have seen the Hilton lobby when I made an entrance. I felt the breeze of turning heads as a couple of gasps rose from the crowd. Like in the "Ford Fairlane" movie. "Oh. Was my fly undone?" :p In fact, the audience in the showroom thought I was somehow supposed to be part of the show. People would come up to me, shake hands, ask who I was... It was pretty cool.
So it's like ten minutes left before the show. The backstage mgr and I are standing there, talking, when all of a sudden some rat-faced suit shows up. He proceeds to verbally abuse, physically threaten and psychologically humiliate me. :( He flashed some ID in my face and claimed to be a detective from LA who was going to put me in prison. FOR WHAT??? I'm not a fan, I wasn't even trying to get backstage. I don't need an autographed picture. I'm a screenwriter. It's not my fault that Dice doesn't have an agent to handle his film career, probably because he has no career... :eek: Otherwise I would have gone to the agent.
But that jerk wouldn't listen. He wouldn't even let me say a word. He walked all over me and left me feeling like I just took a swim in a sewer pipe. By the end of his monologue I was crying. The backstage manager interfered and apologized to me... but the guy didn't work for the hotel so there wasn't anything he could do. That's how I met Clubsoda Kenny. I just recently found out his name. He didn't bother with a formal introduction.
This is not the end of the story, however. I would have walked out but my limbs went to water. In a state of shock I fell into my seat and sat through the show. I barely remember anything. On my way to the exit a guy came up to me. He introduced himself as a film producer. "I'm here with Andrew." and shows me a VIP pass. "Let's go have a cup of coffee and chat." So we went to the café and he bought a cup of hot chocolate to revive me. After hearing my story, he wanted to see the script. He read the one-page synopsis and absolutely loved the premise. The only copy I had brought with me was taken by the sympathetic backstage manager. He volunteered to help. So this producer and I return to the lobby and head for the elevator. He was going to get his car keys so he can drive me back to my hotel where I'd get another hard copy for him. The elevator doors open and who comes upon the scene but Clubsoda and two huge f@#&%ing security guards. They shove the poor producer in the elevator. I ran for the door.
So Stingray, you still want me to give that message to Clubsoda? ;) On a serious note though, if I ever see that moron again, I'm going to kick his ass so hard, his whole family will die. I'm not a crybaby anymore. I should have sucker punched him right then and there. The audience -- and the backstage manager -- were on my side. There would have been no show but at least Dice would have heard about this. So would have the papers.
But I was such a loser... I dragged myself back to my hotel room and cried all night. Oddly enough, I didn't go back home and decided to stick around. Wrote another script last June. Somehow I think that Dice is worth it. He'd better be. lol Back in Hollywood I almost got me a manager. He loved my writing style and wanted to represent me... until he heard my speech on Dice, and how he's a talented actor and very underrated. The sleazebag sneered: "Tell this to someone around here, they'll laugh ya outta town." Others told me that if I re-write my script (the Ford Fairlane sequel) so it won't be for Dice. I'd have a career in no time. But then I would be betraying everything I believe in... I don't really care about my career. I just want to see Dice have the career he deserves. Make a comeback. Like Travolta. Better than that...
Too bad Dice doesn't have a clue. Yet. I have a feeling that when he does hear about this, Clubsoda's ass will get kicked bigtime. <wink, wink>
Now. Here's the story. In November of 1999 I flew into Vegas from half a world away. I'm over here now... but back then I was over there. Ya hear? Now that we established that, let's move on, shall we? I had this one screenplay titled Standoff Comedy (http://www.geocities.com/hollyvoodoo/standoffcomedy.html). One of the main characters is a spoof on Stallone and I think that Dice is perfect for the part. I tried to locate his agent but found nothing but a bunch of ex-s (publicists, agents, etc).
My friends in Vegas told me that Dice was performing at the Hilton. I asked them to book me a show ticket. I'm coming over. I was only 17, naive and full of hopes. I believed what Dice said about having the courage to go after things in life and doing them. About believing in yourself. In this case I was believing in Dice as an actor and my script as blockbuster material. I may be a bit immature as a person (growing up as an only child with overprotective parents) but as a writer I'm on a whole different level. So if anyone here wants to diss me like Max... I don't give a f@#%&.
But I digress. I hopped on the plane and landed in Sin City. I picked up my ticket (the show was scheduled for the following night) and made a few phone calls. I spoke with the Las Vegas Hilton's backstage manager and told him that "I'm here to see the show and would like to pass on a copy of my script to Mr. Clay, if possible." The manager was a great guy. He came out to meet me before the show. He asked how he was going to recognize me. Let's put it this way. There's no way he could miss me.
Here's the cool leather outfit (http://www.webtalent.com/dicekid) that I was wearing to the show. Folks, you should have seen the Hilton lobby when I made an entrance. I felt the breeze of turning heads as a couple of gasps rose from the crowd. Like in the "Ford Fairlane" movie. "Oh. Was my fly undone?" :p In fact, the audience in the showroom thought I was somehow supposed to be part of the show. People would come up to me, shake hands, ask who I was... It was pretty cool.
So it's like ten minutes left before the show. The backstage mgr and I are standing there, talking, when all of a sudden some rat-faced suit shows up. He proceeds to verbally abuse, physically threaten and psychologically humiliate me. :( He flashed some ID in my face and claimed to be a detective from LA who was going to put me in prison. FOR WHAT??? I'm not a fan, I wasn't even trying to get backstage. I don't need an autographed picture. I'm a screenwriter. It's not my fault that Dice doesn't have an agent to handle his film career, probably because he has no career... :eek: Otherwise I would have gone to the agent.
But that jerk wouldn't listen. He wouldn't even let me say a word. He walked all over me and left me feeling like I just took a swim in a sewer pipe. By the end of his monologue I was crying. The backstage manager interfered and apologized to me... but the guy didn't work for the hotel so there wasn't anything he could do. That's how I met Clubsoda Kenny. I just recently found out his name. He didn't bother with a formal introduction.
This is not the end of the story, however. I would have walked out but my limbs went to water. In a state of shock I fell into my seat and sat through the show. I barely remember anything. On my way to the exit a guy came up to me. He introduced himself as a film producer. "I'm here with Andrew." and shows me a VIP pass. "Let's go have a cup of coffee and chat." So we went to the café and he bought a cup of hot chocolate to revive me. After hearing my story, he wanted to see the script. He read the one-page synopsis and absolutely loved the premise. The only copy I had brought with me was taken by the sympathetic backstage manager. He volunteered to help. So this producer and I return to the lobby and head for the elevator. He was going to get his car keys so he can drive me back to my hotel where I'd get another hard copy for him. The elevator doors open and who comes upon the scene but Clubsoda and two huge f@#&%ing security guards. They shove the poor producer in the elevator. I ran for the door.
So Stingray, you still want me to give that message to Clubsoda? ;) On a serious note though, if I ever see that moron again, I'm going to kick his ass so hard, his whole family will die. I'm not a crybaby anymore. I should have sucker punched him right then and there. The audience -- and the backstage manager -- were on my side. There would have been no show but at least Dice would have heard about this. So would have the papers.
But I was such a loser... I dragged myself back to my hotel room and cried all night. Oddly enough, I didn't go back home and decided to stick around. Wrote another script last June. Somehow I think that Dice is worth it. He'd better be. lol Back in Hollywood I almost got me a manager. He loved my writing style and wanted to represent me... until he heard my speech on Dice, and how he's a talented actor and very underrated. The sleazebag sneered: "Tell this to someone around here, they'll laugh ya outta town." Others told me that if I re-write my script (the Ford Fairlane sequel) so it won't be for Dice. I'd have a career in no time. But then I would be betraying everything I believe in... I don't really care about my career. I just want to see Dice have the career he deserves. Make a comeback. Like Travolta. Better than that...
Too bad Dice doesn't have a clue. Yet. I have a feeling that when he does hear about this, Clubsoda's ass will get kicked bigtime. <wink, wink>