Notice I said "Dickhouse" and not "Dickens" because this tale should arouse nothing near great expectations. Fact is, both days of birth belonging to Dimitry and myself—the 23rd and 15th respectively—occurred on the weekends and those days are reserved for warrior-like activities, none of which pertain to the Interweb, no matter how wild and worldwide it may be. So with a third party ghost-like presence, I look back in time, refer to myself as Cliver, and fondly recall a moment in an oversize strip mall parking lot while shooting Jackass Presents: Bad Grandpa when the crew was spinning its production wheels big-time while waiting to prank a charter bus that, little did they know then, was never going to show. In other words, they might as well have made a big money pile, set it alight, and sat around the case bonfire swapping tales and sipping PBRs for a couple hours. The universe, in its defense, did try to send them a sign to abandon all hope and return whence they came (Charlotte, NC). This message arrived in the form of a bird in flight that struck a power line overhead and plummeted to the ground where it lay dead at their feet. Pretty heavy-handed, God, but that didn't stop Dimitry from spitting in the face of ill fate. He picked up the carcass and posed for Cliver's camera, as the crew proceeded to pack in the ass piles while seated in the parking lot for a good hour more before finally calling it a day.
Good story, Amanda!*
P.S. Happy Birthday, Cliver! Happy Birthday, Dimitry!
* Inside joke of no purpose other than to say Amanda has a similar talent for telling stories that go nowhere fast, if ever anywhere in the end, at which point we all chime in, "Good story, Amanda!" to make the wasted minutes vaguely worthwhile.
(Photo of Sean Cliver and Johnny Knoxville by Oscar-nominated makeup artist Stephen Prouty; photo of Dimitry Elyashkevich and avian Damien by Sean Cliver)