Location Location Location

Once upon a time, I was enamored with the idea of going "on location" for commercial productions.

Paris? Prague? Peoria? Okay, maybe not Peoria.

The mere mention of a destination would trigger visions of glamorous hotels with impossibly fluffy pillows, fabulous shoot locations with jaw-dropping vistas, and after-hours culinary adventures in Michelin-starred restaurants. I’d pack my suitcase with outfits I’d never actually wear ,but felt I should bring, because who knows? Maybe I’d end up at a yacht party or something.

Spoiler alert: I didn’t.

Fast forward to today. The idea of schlepping myself to some remote corner of the world to "capture the magic" now fills me with an existential dread rivaling that of sitting through a three-hour agency status meeting. Don’t get me wrong — I still love creating. I just don’t want to do it while battling jet lag and sketchy Wi-Fi.

Give me a soundstage in Los Angeles, a coffee cart within arm’s reach, and the sweet promise of going home to my couch by 7 p.m.

Let me paint you a picture of what "on location" really means. You wake up at 4:30 a.m. in a hotel room that smells faintly of carpet cleaner and crushed dreams. It’s pitch black outside, because the best light for your exterior shots happens at the ungodly hour of sunrise. The hotel "continental breakfast" consists of sad, cling-wrapped muffins and coffee brewed by someone who hates joy. You climb into a 15-passenger van with a crew of equally tired people, and off you go, bouncing down dirt roads not designed for motor vehicles.

Then there’s the weather. It’s either too hot, too cold, too windy, or raining sideways.

Contrast that with a soundstage in Los Angeles. You want golden hour lighting? Flip a switch. You want a sweeping mountain vista? Fire up the green screen and let the VFX team work their magic. Nobody’s getting rained on. Nobody’s asking if the porta-potties have been emptied. And nobody’s stuck in a van wondering if craft services will be set up by 6 a.m.

Soundstage life also means I can drive to work like a normal human, film some "magic," and be home in time to binge Breaking Bad for the eighteenth time. (Yes, eighteenth time. Don’t judge me.)

Sure, I’ll admit there are moments when I miss the thrill of going on location. That fleeting rush of stepping off a plane in an exotic city, the camaraderie of late-night shoots, the adventures of finding the world’s best taco stand at 2 a.m. But then I remember the other stuff — the lost luggage, the endless "hurry up and wait" routine — and my nostalgia dissolves faster than the line item for "unexpected expenses."

So here I am, praising the soundstage life. To my younger self, I say this: it’s not you, it’s the jet lag. And the weather. And the 4:30 a.m. call times. And everything else that turns capturing your creative vision into a monumental pain in the ass.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with my couch, a bowl of popcorn, and Heisenberg’s greatest hits.

Drinking problem

I think the same thing every time I eat at one of those restaurants that has a menu with more pages than a Stephen King novel. Exactly how many choices do we really need in life?

Especially when it comes to something so seemingly simple as water.

The case you're looking at overflowing with water bottles is at a store called Lazy Acres (no it wasn't named after me - but it could've been). This store replaced our local Bristol Farms. When we bought our house the sellers (don't get me started) must've told us a thousand times there was a Bristol Farms a few minutes away. Apparently this was a very big selling point. My theory is they thought if they kept saying it often enough we'd be distracted from the water damage in the back of the house that, ironically, they didn't mention even once.

I know I'm still talking about water but I may be veering off into another post.

Anyway, it just seems to beg the question: how different can all these waters really be?

The one that caught my eye was this nice, expensive bottle of essentia water, which says it's "super hydrating water" right on the label. Color me old-fashioned, but I thought all water was hydrating. I guess super hydrating means it's wetter than other water.

If I wanted to be super hydrated - and I'm not saying I do - wouldn't I just drink more of my regular water?

There also seems to be a kind of water intimidation happening in certain restaurants now. Waiters will offer patrons a choice of bottled water or tap water. The question alone is designed to pressure you into bottled water because obviously people of refinement and good taste would never choose tap water.

On Penn & Teller's Showtime show, they did a great exposé on the marketing fraud that is bottled water. You can see it here (it starts at around the 16:47 mark, just after the piece exposing the fraud that is Feng Shui).

If you're thirsty for some good advice, here it is: fill your bottle up from the tap. City and state municipalities have much stronger laws and safeguards regarding drinking water and what does or doesn't go into it than the bottled water companies.

Of course if you like your water super hydrating, alkaline infused, vapor distilled, with added electrolytes or negative ions, then by all means keep dipping into the college fund and buying bottled water.

But don't be surprised when your Starbuck's money dries up.