Not a Review of Crumble

This post is not a review of Adult super star Brittany Andrews’ Discipline FilmWorks short film Crumble, which has been nominated for Best Director and Best Short Film and stars Steven Bauer and Oksana Lada.   This post is not about attending its premiere at the New York International Independent Film and Video Festival on July 24^th.

This post is the harrowing tale of everything that went wrong preventing me from seeing the film.

Saturday July 24, 2010 was supposed to be a fun day filled with romance, productivity and a movie premiere.

When I went to sleep on Friday I was positively giddy.  Not only was I covering a red carpet for a film festival I was going on a date with a man I’ve been in like with since it was illegal for him to fuck me. I was going to get penis, free food and art cinema all in one day.

This was going to be the best freaking day ever.

I was so sure that this was going to be in my top five best days ever that I took my socks off before going to bed, so upon rising they wouldn’t be rocked the fuck right off me.  Of course, this is my life, and if life has taught me anything it’s that happiness like men is only a gateway to disappointment and hurt.

I woke up in my usual fashion with my cat’s ass in my face then trying not to trip over my xbox controllers on the way to empty my bladder.  After brushing my teeth I turned on my cell phone and noticed I had about 22 new text messages.  They all contained the same words “OMG”, “your site”, and “hacked”.

It took me a minute to muster the courage to actually go to my site and check.  Sure enough my site was redirecting to something lame.  It would be one thing if the hacker redirected to Meatspin.com or Cakefarts.com something I could at least chuckle immaturely at. Oh no, this wasn’t even the work of an actual human being it was a bot hack.

In all honesty I wanted to cry, really I did. I know crying never solved any problems but I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so violated in my life. Something that I worked on for so long was there when I went to bed and gone when I woke up.

What didn’t help was the fact that the tech support of my hosting service while being helpful talked to me like I was a monkey in a silly hat.   I actually ended up telling one particularly condescending techie that I was a sex blogger and not mentally impaired child.

I told this fellow my site had been hacked I need my daily back up restored to July 20th before any suspicious people created accounts.  After talking to me like I was an idiot he sends me a message: “Ms.Rhee I think your site has been hacked”.  This was a good 12 minutes into talking to him I wouldn’t have been angry if that wasn’t the first fucking think I said when contacting him.

I was very proud of myself for not picking up my Macbook and murdering the first person I happened upon.  My brother, possibly sensing my murderous thoughts, suggested I take sometime away from the computer and wait for my web host techs to contact me.  Just try to do something to take my mind off the situation.

Of course I thought of my date, being the bag of wonderful that I thought he was I assumed there would be some flirty message waiting for me in my civilian email.  I logged on to find I was being canceled on in favor of fishing.

FUCKING FISH.

Sometime between arranging the date with me and waking up that morning he had the choice, my pussy or fish – and he went with the goddamn water breathers.

He didn’t even call or text me.  After reading the email I discovered that he had actually left at 4 in the morning and sent the email at around 8 am. So I was actually stood up in favor of fish.  He sent me a message because he just noticed that his blackberry had reception.

I wanted to punch the wall, but I remembered how much harder the wall was than my knuckle and I’ve had that fight before and the wall won.

It was fast approaching time for me to get ready for my “date” that was now canceled; my site was still not up and I was ready to find where ever this tech support prick lived and hobble him.

After another short pep talk and a few moments of crying on the inside, I decided that putting on a pretty sundress and having a little date with myself before the movie would calm my nerves.

As I was putting on my mascara I got an email alert from Tech support, after requesting a new agent my site was back in my control. Of course I found out it was my own fault that it was hacked in the first place.  The fraken-theme that I patched together from pieces of other themes was based on a one that had a script written into it that let a bot redirect my site.

The entire day spent wringing my hands and pleading not to lose almost two years worth of work was for nothing. All I had to do was change one line of code and delete my current theme.

With my site finally functional, ugly as sin but functional; I was free to cover the movie premiere. Things were finally looking up for me. I left my apartment 3 hours early, plenty of time to treat myself to some Thai food and Red Mango. Or so I thought.

I caught the express bus to the city and was enjoying the scenic view of West New York when the bus just stopped.  Not a natural stop, it stopped like one of the space rhinos in Avatar after getting shot.  My bus broke just died and slowly rolled to a lifeless stop.   At first I didn’t worry, there were many busses that took that route to New York.

A half an hour later I did not feel the same way. Forty Five minutes later when another bus arrived to pick up all the passengers I was miffed that I would have to forgo Red Mango and possible wait until after the movie to eat but at least I would make the Red Carpet.

Then bus number two hit traffic, and I mean some crazy gridlock God Hates YOU and ONLY YOU traffic.  I sat stone-faced as the bus moved a foot every 10 to 15 minutes.  I had about 30 mins to make the red carpet.

By the time I reached Manhattan I had missed the red carpet, hoping to at least be able to see the film I got into a cab and made my way to the film festival.  The cabbie seemed to like to take the scenic route and was none to happy with me asking him why he was turning down particular streets. After a short but expletive punctuated exchange I ended up walking the rest of the way.  By the time I arrived not only did I miss the red carpet,  The film was already showing and they weren’t letting anyone else in.

I slowly turned away from the box office and walked back toward the main road cursing hackers, cabbies, tech support and every smiling tourist I saw.  I flagged down another cab and climbed in the back seat.  I felt an odd sensation spreading across my bottom and legs.

The passenger before me had left a drink in the cab, which pooled where I planted my booty.  I now had Cherry Coke Zero all over the back of my white sundress.  Brown liquid smeared all over my ass.   I asked the driver to if he would make a trip to NJ.

Defeated I crawled back into my apartment took off my dress threw on my sweat pants and went to bed. Sure it was only 10pm and yes I was supposed to be dancing at midnight but with the luck I was having I was sure what ever Final Destination-esque end that was waiting for me involving Lucite heels, a stripper pole or garters would be avoided if I just stayed in and made it a Netflix night.