Author’s Note: Thanks for reading guys! Just a couple things I want to say right away… first of all, when I originally wrote this story, one of the main characters and a few supporting characters were actual people, but for the sake of fact-checking, I decided to just change it to fiction. It’s probably fairly obvious to a few people who it’s based off of, but I’ll leave it as a mystery. However, the plot and all the rest of the characters are COMPLETE FICTION. Including e-mail addresses - I made those up, so if those are actual addresses... well, don't use them. THEY ARE MADE UP. Anyway, if you see some discrepancies with names, that’s why – I had to go through and change all the names. If I missed one, let me know.

Also, I’m not the best person when it comes to British slang. I tried my best, but if I had a British person say something in a very American way, I apologize. I just didn’t have the patience or time to go through every word with a fine-toothed comb, so please don’t jump down my throat if something is wrong. Other than that, enjoy the story! Feedback is supremely welcome! Oh and also, this is fairly short, with only 4 parts, and I’ve written the whole thing already, so I’ll have the entire story up within a pretty short period of time.

Thanks!

-estrellabella

Abbie Giordano – Personal Diary

Sunday, February 18th

So. I’m in London.

This is freaking unbelievable.

I had just started getting used to the fact that I’d finally worked up the balls to leave Podunk, Ohio and move to Hollywood, in hopes of getting a job doing makeup in Hollywood. And now? Not only do I have a job that’s more than just making sure that the guy in the acne commercial’s face is shiny enough (which essentially means I have nothing to do, considering my training is in making people LESS shiny) but I’m in London.

LONDON!

I can’t believe I’m here. And I know I’ve said that about a billion times already, and I’m sure I’ll say it about a billion times more, but oh well, who cares? It’s my journal. After I got off the plane, I spent about five minutes just staring around the airport in awe, and that was just the AIRPORT, for christ’s sake, nevermind how much I freaked out once I left the airport and got into the cab.

There is one glaring downside – I finally met my boss, Isabella DeMieneux, and it appears as though my suspicions are confirmed, and she’s just as much of a bitch as I thought that she sounded over the phone. But I told myself that I’m not going to let that get to me. I’m going to do an awesome job, because it’s my first major job, and I’m just going to swallow whatever this woman throws at me.

Because WHO CARES – I’M IN ‘EFFIN LONDON!!!

Okay. Breathe. I’m done with that now, I swear.

Leaving the States was interesting. (I love how that sounds – “The States.” It makes me sound like such a world traveler, when in reality, I’ve never left the country before now – note to self: don’t tell anyone at work that, will make me seem uncultured and uncouth.) My mother about had a coronary when she found out I was going to be across the ocean for the better part of a year, but as soon as the tears stopped, the unwarranted and unwelcome advice started flowing.

“You have that shabby old suitcase, you’ll have to go get a new one.”

“What? You’re going to take THAT purse? No, no, darling, you have to get one of those travel purses, or else those pickpockets will just rob you blind!”

“What are you going to do about your apartment? You can’t just leave it empty for that long, everything will be stolen!”

And so on and so forth. She likes to pretend that she’s a great world traveler (HA!) but I tried to ignore most of her advice. One thing she said, however, made sense – god forbid – and thus, the journal. She told me that I should record what I do, because after awhile, the events will all blend together, and in the long run I’ll be happier and have much better memories if I have a decent record of my time in London. (LONDON!! Sorry.)

And now, 3 months later, here I am – London! Tomorrow I’m going to meet the rest of the makeup crew, which is mostly from here in London or somewhere around the UK. (I’m actually quite rare, having come all the way from the US just to be one of Ms. DeMieneux’s minions, but what can I say… I’m persistent.) Only a week until filming starts. The bummer is that my 20th birthday is the night before filming starts. But oh well, it’s not like all my friends are here to go out and celebrate with me. Although it’s a bummer that they’re not, cuz the drinking age is 18 here, and how FUN would that be to go out to a British pub for my birthday?!

I’m exhausted. Time for bed – what? 4:35 PM? Oh well…

Monday, February 19th

1:17 PM

Oh, bugger.

(That’s what they say here, and personally, I think it sounds much better than “oh shit” or something crude and American like that.)

Anyways. We just took a lunch break, and I’m sitting here in the “loo” (read: bathroom) writing furiously in this silly little journal, because frankly, I need an outlet.

First of all, I woke up at 1 AM and couldn’t get back to sleep. The sandwich guy who was giving out sandwiches (duh) at lunch time told me that you’re supposed to stay up until normal bedtime so that you get used to the time change s quickly s possible – something that a seasoned traveler would know, grumble grumble. So by the time I left to meet the rest of the makeup team I felt like it was mid-afternoon already, and now, at lunch time, I’m ready for bed.

Like I said… oh, bugger.

But I suppose it’s not THAT bad… I can just guzzle down some coffee now and force myself to stay up til a decent hour tonight, and hopefully by tomorrow I’ll be used to the time change.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. I’ve made a terrible impression already, I just know it. Mz. LeMieneux (who will hereafter be identified as “The Axe”) is terrible. She had no sympathy whatsoever for me – she knows that it’s my first time in London, my first work on a major motion picture, etc etc, but that didn’t mean she cut me a millimeter of slack. Not that I was expecting her to take it easy on me just because I’m the youngest and most inexperienced member of the staff – I guess I really should’ve expected the opposite, as a matter of fact – it just didn’t make matters easier to have her snapping at me every two seconds to pay attention and stop staring out the window. (Which, by the way, I WASN’T, and even if I was, it was for a grand total of about 5 seconds, and totally did not merit her admonishing “Excuse me, Ms. Giordano, but we’re having a meeting here. If you’d rather be sightseeing, you’re free to go.” Bitch.)

Bugger. Lunch is over, got to get out of the loo.

Note to self: Learn more British slang, if I only know two words, I’ll start to annoy even myself.

5:52 PM

Well, good news… the day definitely took a turn for the better after lunch. Instead of sitting at a conference table with The Axe lecturing at us about expectations, schedules, blah blah blah, we had a mixer thing where the hair and makeup staff all got to know each other. Lo and behold, I discovered that not everybody is as heinous as my boss, and I actually met a few cool people. One of which was a chick named Emma Simon, another one of The Axe’s minions. She seems really nice – came right up and introduced herself. She’s worked on a couple movies before this, so she’s practically professional, and she said if I ever need to ask someone something about the business or anything, I can come to her, because she’s only two years older than me and remembers what it’s like to be a newbie in the business, and she swears she won’t make fun of me. Anyway, I don’t have much time to recap – Emma is picking me up in half an hour to take me out for dinner and show me around London! How cool is that? I have a friend who lives in London!

I gotta shower.

William Fullton

Stupid journal that my brother the shrink told me to start

Monday, February 19th

First of all, I just want to say that I do not have severe emotional problems. My stupid older brother, who thinks he’s so much older and wiser in every respect, suggested to me that I start a journal, because I need a way to “express myself.” Apparently since my girlfriend of 2 years broke up with me, I need a way to verbalize my feelings, because otherwise I’ll keep it all bottled up and go absolutely mental or something.

Because I seem the type to go totally mental and shoot up the movie set.

But that’s not why I decided to start this journal. I’m starting this journal because he was right about one thing – whenever I start on a new project, I tend to get very stressed out, and I will admit that I don’t have an effective method of dealing with that stress. So, this is my stess-relief technique – journaling.

And I will tell no one about this recent transformation into a woman.

Seriously, though, it’s just something for me to jot down random thoughts into, not some “Dear Diary” nightly ritual. And who knows, I could use it for other things too – I’ve always had song lyrics floating around in my head. Usually I scribble them down on random napkins and tablecloths, but this way will be better, more organized. I won’t lose the lyrics, and maybe I’ll end up actually doing something with them.

So maybe my brother the shrink was actually onto something.

But I’ll eat my own foot before I’ll admit that to him.

Abbie Giordano – Personal Diary

Tuesday, February 20

Yay! First British friend officially made! Emma was so fantastic. She took me to this amazing restaurant (though I can’t for the life of me remember what the name was – note to self: ask Emma) and then showed me around downtown London at night (oh god! So amazing!) including taking me to this cute little neighbor hood pub near her apartment – it was like Cheers, except British! Everyone knew her name! Oh god I love it here…

Anyway, it was a very fun night last night. I’m so glad Emma is here! She’s going to make our time working on this movie so much more bearable. Not that I don’t enjoy what I do, because I do… just not my boss. Blech.

Speaking of which, she was equally horrid today, blathering on and on about logistical crap for when we start filming. Tomorrow we begin our last set of meetings, thank GOD, only these meetings will actually be about something I’m interested in – color schemes and concepts, stuff that I’ll actually be using in my job.

Called my mother today, which was a bit overdue considering I was supposed to call her the moment I landed safely in London… but whatever. After asking me a million question about my flight, my coworkers, my boss, the hotel, ETC ETC ETC (that woman asks more questions than Barbara friggin Walters) she made sure to mention that stupid Dan Mahoney had called six times, asking if they knew where I was.

SIX TIMES! For christ’s sake, the man acts like it wasn’t HIM who cheated on ME, HIM who decided to end our stupid relationship.

Luckily my mom stuck to her word and refused to tell him anything about where I was or what I was doing. Good. He doesn’t deserve to know.

Wow. Am exhausted. Didn’t get much sleep last night. Jet lag in combination with a night out on the town left me with about 3 hours of sleep last night. Time for bed.

William Fullton

Stupid journal that my brother the shrink told me to start

Tuesday, February 20

I can’t make up my mind about this new project. Granted, a million other chaps would kill to have this role. It’s the biggest exposure I might ever have – children’s movies are multi-billion dollar blockbusters, it’s a huge industry, and this film, entitled “Ready for Action,” has been really anticipated ever since the book came out. In that respect, it’s a perfect role, not to mention a friggin’ gold mine.

However, there are downsides. Like the fact that it’s a children’s movie and 80 of the cast is at least 4 years younger than me. Not that I’m, I dunno, “agist” or something… it’s just going to be a bit of a drag not being able to go out to pubs to unwind after a long day of shooting. Well, I could… but by myself. And that’s just depressing.

Not to mention that this is going to make it harder to meet girls. At least, girls that it would be legal for me to date.

No, no, not date. Hook up with. There we go. Really, I’m in need of a good shag or two – that’ll get me over that whore Meg, for sure. But the last thing I need is to jump into another relationship. Oh god – that would be a total disaster.

We’re finishing up rehearsals this week, and we start filming on Monday. There’s going to be a party for the entire cast and crew (good lord, big party) Saturday night, however. That’ll give me a good chance to scope out the girls in the crew.

I suppose hooking up with someone I work with might be considered a bad idea, especially keeping in mind my intentions – a simple shag and nothing more. I could do the simple thing and look for girls at a pub, but maybe if the girl knew the situation beforehand, it wouldn’t turn into a problem.

Hmm. Something to think about.

Abbie Giordano – Personal Diary

Friday, February 23

Wow. What a week. I’ve been neglecting this diary just because it’s been a very full 3 days, and by the time I get back to the hotel at night I’m way too exhausted to write in here about everything I did that today. I remember when I was like, 8 years old and I had my first diary – I wrote in them like I was writing to an actual person, and I would always apologize profusely if I missed a few days.

Yeah, I’m not going to do that again.

Anyways. I’m starting to get really excited for filming to start. Tomorrow night there’s a full cast and crew party, so it will be cool to mingle with people other than the makeup/hair departments and the director – YES, THAT’S RIGHT, I MET ROBERT CLARKE!!! That was very exciting, especially considering “Tidal” is pretty much one of my favorite movies. It was a very short meeting, considering I’m just a makeup minion and really, in the long run, of no consequence to him (wow I’ve become more articulate since I’ve come to London! That’s exciting.) but for me it was fairly thrilling. But like I was saying… full cast and crew party, Saturday night. I hope there will be more cool people like Emma who are actually somewhere near my age – most of the actors are younger, and besides, they’re way too busy. And the rest of the crew is mostly adults… at least, I think they are. Well, I guess I’ll find out on Saturday.

It’s Friday night tonight, but I don’t have anything to do. Emma is visiting her mother one last time before she gets too busy to see her. But I’m almost recovered from the time difference and lack of sleep, and I think if I get one more good night of sleep I’ll be okay.

What a loser. Haha.

---

To: abbie225

Fr: sk84life

Re: come on baby, just talk to me.

Abbie,

Since you refuse to tell me where you are, won’t answer my phone calls, and have somehow convinced your mother to stop liking me and not tell me where you are either, I’m forced to resort to e-mail.

Come on, baby. I love you. Just call me, okay? I don’t want to hash this out over e-mail, it’s so cold and impersonal. If you would just CALL ME, I promise you won’t regret it. Please.

Love,

Dan

---

To: sk84life

Fr: abbie225

Re: re:come on, baby, just talk to me.

No.

-Abbie

---

Abbie Giordano – Personal Diary

Saturday, February 24

10:24 AM

Stupid Dan Mahoney.

10:57 AM

Honestly, who does he think he is, e-mailing me like that? Like he has a RIGHT to, and I’m somehow OBLIGATED to e-mail him back? PSHAW.

11:14 AM

Maybe I should e-mail him back, it could be important.

11:16 AM

NO! no no no no no no no MUST NOT E-MAIL ASSHOLE DAN MAHONEY.

11:19 AM

I gotta get out of this hotel.

William Fullton

Stupid journal that my brother the shrink told me to start

Saturday, February 24

6:46 PM

Just a few minutes until I leave for this party. Why am I nervous? This is stupid. I don’t know why, but for some reason, I have this feeling, like a knot in the pit of my stomach, like something big is going to happen tonight.

Well of course something big is happening. It’s a big party, a big cast, a big movie. I don’t know what my problem is, I’m acting like a bloody pansy.

Poofy, messy-on-purpose hair? Check.

Sexy stubble and 5:00 shadow? Check.

Button-up shirt with the top few buttons undone, showing just enough chest? Check.

Minty fresh breath? Check.

Alright. I’m ready. Watch out ladies… here comes William Fullton, Player Extraordinaire.

1:39 AM

Wow. Quite a few young ladies in the crew of appropriate age. A few phone numbers acquired. Promising future.

Feeling a bit smashed. And tired. Must sleep.

Abbie Giordano – Personal Diary

Saturday, February 24

12:52 AM

ARGH! What a nightmare. I wasn’t at the party for 10 minutes when I spilled a glass of wine all over my brand new jeans. BRAND NEW, DESIGNER JEANS THAT I SAVED FOR SIX MONTHS TO BUY. So of course, immediately after that I fled to the bathroom to try to scrub some of it out, and I was there for a good 15 minutes.

By the time I got out, Emma was there, thank God – the only bright spot to my evening. She strung my arm through hers and led me around the room, introducing me to anyone and everyone. A lot of the crew I had met, if only briefly, so we spent most of the time talking to the young actors – Elizabeth Harris, Ryan Garner, Stephen Dulaney… and let me tell you, if Stephen were only 5 years older, I would so have a crush on him! Haha, saying that makes me feel really dirty and perverted, however. We also met the adult members of the cast, including Nicholas Greene, which was absolutely unbelievable. I was so on cloud 9 about meeting him that I ended up totally embarrassing myself…

Emma: Good evening, Mr. Greene! How are you?

Nicholas Greene: Emma, how many times have I told you to call me Nicholas?

Emma: giggles like a little schoolgirl Nicholas, this is my friend Abbie Giordano, she’s another member of the makeup staff.

NG: Abbie, good to meet you. holds out hand

Me: You too, wow, Mr. Greene, I’m such a big fan of yours.

NG: Well thank you, it’s good to have you on the team…

(At this point, I realize that his eyes are trailing downwards, where I have a large red stain over my lap.)

NG: Forgive me, sweetheart, but… did you know that you have a large stain on your pants?

Me: Wha… oh, right, yes, well, I’m kind of a klutz, and I dropped a glass of wine on my lap earlier…

NG: chuckles That’s unfortunate. Well, I’m being beckoned across the room. Emma, lovely to see you, as always, and Abbie, wonderful to meet you as well.

Me: Thanks… nice to meet you too! called out as NG is walking away

Ugh. Good lord. Could I have made a bigger fool of myself? I should’ve just gone home as soon as I spilled the stupid wine on my lap.

Anyway. After the encounter with Nicholas Greene we spent some more time mingling. I didn’t meet everyone in the cast yet – a few of the cast members that are my age, and there are only like, 5 of them – were MIA, but I’m sure I’ll meet them eventually. Emma and I did hear from a girl Julia, who was an assistant to someone-or-other, I can’t remember exactly, that one of the older cast members was cruising around collecting girls’ phone numbers, and we should be on the lookout. Can you believe that? What a pig.

The party started to wind down around 11ish so Emma and I left, but we hit up her pub so that I could drink to force away the memory of making an idiot of myself in front of the biggest movie star I’d ever met. Blech. Note to self: search for any opportunity to make self seem like competent human being who can actually hold onto a glass in front of Nicholas Greene.

Good news, though… it slipped out to Emma that my birthday is tomorrow (I believe that was between pints 3 and 4) so she decided she was taking me out to get drunk tomorrow night too, even if it is the night before we start filming. Woohoo for being hungover on my first day on the job!

Phew. Feeling a little buzzed. Just brave enough to e-mail asshole Dan Mahoney…

---

To: sk84life

Fr: abbie225

Re: you;re and asshole

Dan,

You’re an asshole, ya kno. And im not just sayin this becusae am drunk. You truely are an ASSHOLE. Typing ish ard when keys blurrr togethr.

In conclusion… sod off. (that means fuck you.)

No more love, everever ag ain,

Abbie

---

Sunday, February 25

10:35 AM

Oh bugger.

I shouldn’t be allowed on the computer after more than an ounce of alcohol.

William Fullton

Stupid journal that my brother the shrink told me to start

Sunday, February 25

11:57 AM

Well. As stated in my previous drunken entry… last night was quite the success. A lot more attractive, age-appropriate girls than what I was expecting. By the end of the evening, word was spreading that I was on the lookout, and unless my imagination was running away from me, it drew quite a few more girls to my side. Very flattering, nice ego-boost. I think I might have fun working on this film.

So tonight me and a few of the other chaps from the cast are going to hit a pub before we’re locked into late nights and early mornings of work for the foreseeable future. Aiden, Matthew and I are headed out tonight, with the goal in mind of finding a few more numbers.

God I love my job.

There was one girl I saw there last night who I kept trying to talk to, but I couldn’t seem to find my way over to her. She was beautiful though, by far the hottest girl there – long blonde hair streaked with gold, beautiful big blue eyes, and an amazing figure lurking underneath a nice tight blouse and jeans with an unfortunate large stain on the front – but we can overlook that, judging from the beauty that was her bum. My god. By the time I finally managed to free myself, she was gone, and I didn’t see her for the rest of the evening.

Must find out that girl’s name.