Milton Bradley was so distraught, he had to fuck a Big Mac.

marklisanti:

104.

I paid a visit to the foley stage the other day. This is where the guys re-record all the sounds that take place on screen. They do this by using assorted props and their bodies, as the scene plays above them on a screen. It’s been a lifelong fascination with me, foley, so to get to see these dudes enhance the sound for actions that I wrote (one including a vagina, whose sounds they had to mimic!) was a thrill. Then once they do all the props and on-screen action, they go back and record all the footsteps on screen. The studio floor has hidden squares under the carpet, containing every type of surface imaginable, and they bring in suitcases full of shoes. Then they go, “Okay… this is on grass. Alright, you take Celia, I’ll take Nancy,” for each scene, and the guys stand next to each other watching the scene, stomping and running and shuffling. And these guys are good. They usually can get it perfectly in one or two takes, no matter how much unpredictable stumbling around the actors might do. I had it in mind to ask if I could try for a short scene, and though they were so nice and seemed so psyched that a writer cared enough to drive over to their offices and watch what they do that they probably would have let me, I was too intimidated and would have felt stupid. So anyway, they were really cool dudes, and very talented. And now you’ll know that when you watch my episode (in two weeks on July 6th), and you hear vagina sounds: it’s not a real vagina making those sounds! Inside scoop, right there.

I don’t know what’s happening here, but it’s not good.

I admit I’m childish, but knowing what back-of-shirt signage the job required, I might be tempted to caddy for a different golfer.