Back in my North Melbourne flat, I have a nightmare about a man standing at my door when my bedroom is closed. It turns out to be Galway (last name forgotten), the resident apartment block ghost. It is my mother who finds out what the ghost's name is.
After I wake up from having the dream about him, I go to the bathroom, look in the mirror and slash my arm open.
My brother does research on the internet. Galway has not been dead long.
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Household Budgeting Made Easy This is a guest post by Austin Frakt, a health economist and university professor. You can find more by Austin at The Incidental Economist, a blog about personal finance, economics, and health care, among other things. Budgeting is the cornerstone of personal finance. You can’t make a rational financial decision...
TOP 9 Rapidshare Search Engines Review This is a sponsored guest post written by Anuta on behalf of rapid4me.com. Post powered by Sponzai. If you never dealt with rapidshare, you are not an Internet user. Millions of people every day upload and download files to rapidshare â" this modern info giant. So that users always could...
Surrey, Canada Wants to Gamble on Huge Casino Developments The City of Surrey is serving notice that it's ready to roll the dice on establishing new gaming facilities. Central of Surrey That intent was outlined in a letter last week from the city to B.C. government gaming regulators. In fact, that letter represented more than wishful thinking, because Surrey...
Hasta ahora esto es lo mejor de mi día.
Un blog de múltiples usuarios [publicistas sobretodo]
Donde postean la pesadilla y comentarios absurdos de sus clientes.
Muy, pero muy bueno... es un lugar anónimo, y si quieres
puedes mandarle tu experiencia con clientes.
Visítenlo, está buenazo http://clientsfromhell.tumblr.com/
Ah! The business trip! Traveling on these excursions across the country have really become part of one of the cores to the working individual in the US. I recently got to experience Reno, NV and my excursion was a life changing adventure.
Wonderful Phoenix decided to be 100 degrees the night that I left and of course I'm too damn cheap and too damn stubborn to turn my AC on in October so I spent the entire night as if my bedroom were a sweat lodge leaving me to travel in less than comfortable style and also smelling like an armpit. Luckily I was going to Reno, NV so I in my current state I would fit right in with the locals. Arrival at Sky Harbor, packed bus from economy parking to the Southwest terminal. If there is one thing I know its that Southwest Airlines really has the flying thing figured out, smiles, friendliness no swine flu and certainly no H1N1, barely enough time to hide my iPhone and pretend like i turned it off when in actuality I'm listening to Dylan wail about social change while smirking slying at our flight crew the whole time and BLAMMO, touchdown Reno Nevada. After scuttling off the plane I hopped into a Hepatis C filled taxi with a man who told me his name was George in the thickest Indian accent I've ever heard in my life to take me to my place of employment. A full day of work later and a car ride from a friendly co-worker to the wonderful Atlantis Hotel Casino and Spa. As I entered my loding for the night I was greated by an outwardly friendly asian man on crystal meth who promptly asked "What the fuck Bigfoot? Why you do that? I do that once...but...shiiit" and then he hurried on his way to argue with the concierge about timely world events. After check in I made my way to my room to unwind and relax before heading down the wonderful resturants available to get some grub. The hotel room itself was standard, one king bed, one TV circa 1998 and a wonderful view of the fat midwestern people in the pool. I started to settle in when I realized that I had forgotten all of my luggage at my place of employment. Downstairs I returned to hop in a taxi and head back to my companies building to pick up my luggage. This time my cab driver was the happily optimistic Czech cabbie / economist named Gustov. Gustov's cab smelled exactly the way the inside a pack of cigarettes would smell and Gustov himself had the ever so slight odor of vodka cologne emanating from him. The cab ride round trip may have taken 20 minutes and Gustov spent the entire time trying to convince me that the American system as we know it was going to collapse if people don't start going and frequenting Reno's fine brothels and strip clubs. Fast forward two hours. While enjoying in my delicious 21 dollar room service pizza when I receive a phone call on my hotel room phone. "Hey! Keith man what's happening?"
"Although it was nominated for 11 Oscars, winning three, and on its $6 million budget grossed $101million for Paramount within 18 weeks of release, all wasn’t plain sailing on the set of Francis Ford Coppola’s film 'The Godfather' in 1972.
“It was the most miserable film I can think of to make,” declares its producer, Al Ruddy. “Nobody enjoyed one day of it.”
The novel by Mario Puzo was almost never written: eight publishers passed on the outline pitched by a middle-ranking, mid-forties writer with a bad gambling habit and big debts. Its 67 weeks topping the New York Times best-seller list surprised everyone, including Mario.
When Paramount finally bought it, Coppola was no one’s first choice. A pack of others were considered: Arthur Penn, Peter Yates, Costa-Gavras, Otto Preminger, Richard Brooks, Elia Kazan, Fred Zinnemann… All said no. Finally, Evans decided Mafia movies hadn’t worked because, “they were usually written by Jews, directed by Jews and acted by Jews” – and the only Italian-American director with any track record was the up-and-coming Coppola.
But Coppola relented, partly because his company American Zoetrope was broke. Once aboard, he saw in this blockbuster the profound story of “a king, almost Greek – a king with three sons”.
Henceforth, though, everything was a fight. The studio wanted to keep costs down by setting the film in present-day Kansas City; Coppola refused. He demanded an 80 day shooting schedule; Paramount gave him only 53.
The shoot itself was a nightmare. “My history with The Godfather was very much the history of someone in trouble,” says Coppola. Early on, in the men’s room he heard crew members talking: about the film – “What a piece of junk!”; and about him – “This guy doesn’t know what he’s doing.” Coppola was constantly undermined. Coppola agrees: “It was just non-stop anxiety and wondering when I was going to get fired.”
But Brando nobly said he would walk off the picture if Coppola was fired. Pacino, too, expected the boot: “I always felt that I still had to win these people over.”
Finally, there’s the length. Coppola chopped it down, on Paramount’s strict instructions, to a paltry 135 minutes. Evans himself turned on Coppola: “You shot a saga, and you turned in a trailer. Now give me a movie.” The film was restored to its nearly three hours, and the rest is history – and movie legend.
As the film gets a welcome cinematic re-release this fall, in a beautiful restoration, it's time to dive into the swirling mists of legend and recall how far it was from a sure thing."
