ohhh miranda sho meen!1 i dunt need sho many baths! b itch. but i shmell So good. whee! mira ish nishe yesh

am aT a biiiiiiiiiiig palashe becuse mira draggd me here and ish bob here? Bob?

BOB?

Current Mood: drunk

*Stumbles out of his month-long inebriation*
Wha?

*blinks groggily*

Where am I? Jaysus.

*picks himself up out of a pile of rubbish in an alley way*

*scratches himself*

Right, I need a drink.

Current Mood: hungover

[Stuart's drunken rantings]
Stupid fuckin David Wenham fucker thinks he's bettern me bettern everyone, sayin he found John I found john, me! not that stupid git bugger fuckin arsehole makin me look bad. No one blieves me, career's shite, stupid bloody jackson, shoulda done Titanic, shoulda done but no. m here instead, fuckin return o the bloody Viggo, shoulda been me... *grumble grumble rant*

Current Mood: drunk of my arse

[Deep in the woods of New Zealand]
Stuart finds John Rhys Davies hiding out in the forest. He is perched on top of huge boulder, his clothes in tatters and a bloody lump on his head.

Forget Lord of the bloody Rings, this is like something out of fucking Lord of the Flies.

He approaches John tentatively.

"John? 's me, Stuart. ...You all right, mate?"

John growls at him and mutters something unintelligible. Stuart thinks he hears the names Harry and Holly, but he's not sure.

Stuart holds out his hand. "C'mon down, John."

And at first it looks as if John will comply. He reaches out, but then his eyes go wide and he clutches his head, shrieking.

"Harnholly, hollynhaarryarrgh!"

"Look, John, I'm gonna be honest with you here, mate. You can come back with me now, or I can leave you in the forest, but I'm telling you, no one's noticed you're gone and they're not bloody likely to, either. I'm heading back now, you can either come with me or no."

Stuart turns and starts to walk away. John hesitates, but Stuart's words seem to have penetrated and eventually he slinks down off the boulder and follows.

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This whole thing is fucked. I had one afternoon of filming that wretched piece of shite one small, but important scene, and the rest of the time I'm just sitting around. No one pays me any attention, and I'm not sure most of them even know I'm here. Admittedly, I've sort of been holed up in my trailer sulking for days on end busy with my own stuff, but still. They could make an effort.

I see Orli went off shopping with Bob, and didn't think to invite me. I haven't even seen Bob since we've been here. And the only time I saw Dom, he was being shanghaied by that Scots git.

I knew I should have taken the Titanic 2 role instead. At least I'd be onscreen for longer than five seconds. Grr.

Down under
Flew into New Zealand tonight and have my lines memorised not that it was hard as they're total shite for the first scene.

Very odd thing, but I think I saw Bob in the airport dressed up as Wormtongue. Wonder if he was going to some Lord of the Rings convention or something. Huh.

The flight here was long and no one fucking recognised me at all, except for one cunt who asked me if I could get him Charlize's autograph. Wanker.

Anyway, I've packed several pairs of leather trousers, the better to entice Lij, Dom, and Bob (and anyone else who might be enticed). Have also brushed up on my chat up lines.

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First I get this email from that wanker Jackson asking me if I want some made-up bit part in his stupid trilogy. I'm debating taking it, though it galls me to be playing teen fucking Aragorn, when I get another offer, for that Titanic sequel that Dom's in. For the villain. It's a fairly big role, but it's the fucking Titanic sequel! Everything I've heard about that film sounds horrendous. All week I've been going back and forth, trying to come to a decision. It's all thanks to bloody Queen of the Damned that I only get offered shite roles like these.

Anyway, then to make things worse, I wake up this morning to see this. Best known for being Charlize's finance? Whatwhatwhat? Aaaaaaaargh!

So I emailed Peter and told him I'd take the part. This way maybe I'll finally get my chance to shag the Hobbit(s). I'm off Viggo now. Over him. Not that there was anything to get over. I've always hated that bastard. And Karl. What was I doing shagging Karl? There's something weird about that farmhouse. It's just not right. Anyway, where's Bob? Maybe he'll be in New Zealand. I'm sure there'll be plenty of antics that the_pr needs to crack down on.

Current Mood: seething

[email to pjackson]
To: pjackson
From: vampire_stuart
Subject: Re: Role in ROTK

Peter! So sorry it's taken me so long to get back to you. I've just had such a busy schedule lately. Wouldn't want you to think I was ignoring you, or that I wasn't hugely interested in your offer. My love for the Lord of the Rings is so great, I'm eager to take any part you have available for me.

See you in New Zealand!

Stuart

>Stuart,
>
>I know it's dreadfully late in the game, but it looks like we're going to be adding
>a lot of material when we do the reshoots for ROTK. We're considering doing
>flashbacks to Aragorn as a teenager and also several scenes including his son
>Eldarion. Would you be interested in playing teen Aragorn, Eldarion, or both?
>
>I know that you were keen on being involved in the project, and it was unfortunate
>that the last minute change in Aragorn's role left you without a part. Shall we try to
>set aside our differences and try again? I'll need to hear back from you on this ASAP
>as reshoots are starting very shortly.
>
>Sincerely,
>Pete

*wanders around the Farmhouse aimlessly, clutching a handful of bright red feathers*

They're gone. My wings are gone...

Not that Viggo cares one way or the other, the bastard!

Current Mood: dejected

Just another day at the Farmhouse
So I have wings. What the fuck?



Not that I'm complaining, really. They're quite sexy, if I do say so myself, and go well with my leather trousers. Also Viggo has wings, too, which is kind of, like, oh my God, we're destined to be together!!!1111!! a weird coincidence.

Just resting...
After yesterday, I'm feeling rather worn out, so I'm just sitting on the couch in here, watching Karl, Miranda, and Viggo go at it with practice swords. ...Perhaps I should join in, show Viggo my skills.

I just feel so dead tired, though. That sunburn and heatstroke really did a number on me. Note to self: do not mow in leather pants. And I've still got bloody oil spots all over me, as well.

Perhaps another shower later. For now I'll just sit here and admire Viggo a bit more. He really is quite a swordsman...

Current Mood: lusting

*dizzy*
I feel really dehydrated and dizzy...and I think I passed out for a while. Not only that, but on top of it all, Viggo didn't even notice me!

...That's a really big lawn.

Still at the farmhouse, don't know why...
Everyone else is gone, but I just can't make myself leave. There's just something about the farmhouse, someone something I can't leave behind.

Karl's been great, letting me cry on his shoulder and he really is quite a good kisser. Miranda's around somewhere as well. And then there's Viggo... Viggo...

It's just us here now, even the mice are gone...

Current Mood: mopey

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He's been ignoring me the past couple days...ever since Bean got here. I can't help wondering if there's something between them... I'm... I'm not normally one to get jealous, but...as soon as he said those three little words to me - you wanna fuck? - I knew he was the one.

And now I don't know what to do. Was there really something there? Or was it all just the mangos? Those wonderful, beautiful hours...was what he felt just a mango-induced illusion? I want to say something, but he seems so cold, so remote.

*sigh*

Current Mood: like a lovesick schoolgirl

So I'm sipping a mango margarita and just hanging out. Haven't really seen much of Viggo yet. Lots of mice, though, and they make a mean mango margarita. You wouldn't think mice would be good at something like that, but damn.

Well, off to find Viggo.

*wanders about, finally spots Viggo and freezes, trying to think of something to say*

So...you like mangos?

Desert?
How the fuck did we end up in a desert?

So I got a call from Dom the other day, saying they were all out at this farmhouse of Viggo's and wouldn't it be great if I joined them and so I fly out, but then there's no one at the airport to meet me, and I have no fucking idea where this bloody farmhouse actually is.

I'm just about to say fuck it all and head back to LA when who should show up but John Rhys Davies, and I think great! For once luck is with me and I can hitch a ride to the farmhouse.

Only no. Because he doesn't fucking know where he's going either, and we've been driving around in circles in some desert and I know nothing about American geography, but I'm pretty damn sure there's not supposed to be a desert around here!

I should've just stayed in town and tried to call Bob. Fuck Viggo and his sodding farmhouse.

And John won't shut up about cars, either.

[message on tallestdom's mobile]
Dom, hey, long time no see. Stuart here. I was wondering if you'd heard anything from Viggo. I dunno, maybe...like if he mentioned me or anything. He did say he'd call and it's been a couple weeks now. I'm beginning to think he's giving me the brush off. In all the excitement of the party, I never actually got Viggo's number, so I'm sort of at a loss here, mate.

What's with you and Lij, anyway? Been hearing all sorts of crazy rumors. Anyway, if you can't be arsed to give me Viggo's number, maybe the three of us can get together for a wild threesome a pint hot, gay sex.

Give us a ring back then.

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Just for the record, I have so not been moping all this time because some bloody wanker of a king never called. Obviously all that talk about wanting to see my leather trousers was just a pack of fucking lies. Fucker.

Current Mood: not moping

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"celery"

green, crunchy
strings of it get caught
between your teeth
it doesn't really taste
like anything
so how
can you not like it?

Current Mood: thoughtful

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Well, Sir Ian certainly does know how to throw a party, I'll give him that.

I arrived with Charlize, but thankfully spent no more than five minutes with her the entire night. Last thing I saw was our host molesting her, but that was fairly early on and I have no idea what she got up to the rest of the night. Can't say I really care, either. Managed to find her when it was time to leave, and that's what beards are for, right?

Viggo was nowhere to be seen, but Ian introduced me to this rather cute bloke called Bob, from the_pr department. It was terribly obvious that he fancied me, so I decided to give him a night he'd never forget. I tried to get Dom and the Hobbit involved, but Elijah kept running off after that poof Alan Cumming, so it ended up just being one on one with me and Bob.

Admittedly, shagging in the corner of a half-empty bar is not exactly glamorous, but frankly, the more pissed I got, the hotter Bob looked, and I just couldn't be arsed to find a room.

He passed out afterwards - I don't think he holds his liquor too well, that one - leaving me at loose ends. Luckily, that wanker Viggo had finally shown up and I got my chance to meet him face to face.

I'd meant to lay into him more about Aragorn, but I was all over mellow with the sex and all the drink, and somehow it just never came up.

He actually complimented me on Queen of the Damned, though. Don't get that too often. Can't remember what he said, something about death and social commentary. I think he was reaching a bit, though, as it was pretty obvious that he was more interested in the leather pants (also the period costumes).

Told him I got to keep them all and gave him my number. With a little luck, I'll be modeling them for him sometime soon.

Some sort of wild mess out front when we were leaving. Dom and the other Hobbits yelling and making a scene. Bob getting sick on the_pr's shoes. Maybe I should call Dom and see what that was all about. Never did get to shag Frodo, so maybe we can make a date for that this week. Dom seemed pretty keen on the idea.