NoirCon Confidential: Day 2, part 2
I’ve put up a few NoirCon photos, but those who were in attendance during the now legendary “champagne toast” are probably wondering why certain key photos are missing from this set. I’ll get to that…
Now, where was I?
OK, we finally get Lou’s car back to him and help him lug some stuff over to the restaurant where the auction will be held. Bookstore Greg already got all my extra money and I didn’t win anything in the raffle, but the event went off without a hitch and raised plenty of dough for a good cause. However, I will mention that a certain agent, let’s call him “Frank”, bid on and won a sexy leather minidress with an iguana on the front worn by Vicki Hendricks the night before. Remember that little fact, because if there’s a leather dress on the mantelpiece, you can bet someone will be wearing it later in the evening…
Then, after a long, confused Spinal Tap-esque search for the theater (Hello Cleveland!) I finally got to see Muller’s short film The Grand Inquisitor, based on his story of the same title in Megan Abbott’s HELL OF A WOMAN. Me and this movie have had a long history of missing each other so I was thrilled to finally get a chance to see it. Marsha Hunt absolutely OWNS the film. She is mesmerizing on screen, you just can’t take your eyes off her. I told Eddie I would have liked to see the young girl in vintage lingerie instead of modern (for my own pervy reasons) but other than that, he did a real solid, old-school job of translating the story to the screen on a shoestring budget. I think the thing I liked best (besides Ms Hunt) was the refreshing lack of post-modern shaky-cam and chop-socky MTV editing. But, hey, don’t take my word for it, come see it for yourself at the Egyptian theater this Saturday April 12th.
After Muller’s film, we were treated to the amazingly over-the-top BLAST OF SILENCE. I loved all the vintage NYC street scenes and found myself narrating the entire rest of the evening in that same bombastic 2nd person style. (Danger sign! Your hands are hot and sweaty. Don’t blow your cool! You’ll be alone soon… the way you like it.)
From there we all gravitated back to the hotel bar, where we killed an hour or two in that wonderful kind of late night convention bar talk that you only get when you put a few drinks into a bunch of sleep deprived crime-writers. “Frank” the agent was there as well chatting and laughing and taking all kinds of ribbing about his new leather dress. The bar kicked us out way too early and so “Frank” offers to bring us all up to his room for a champagne toast. I’m game, as are several other writers including those pictured above and their wives/girlfriends/SOs. On our way to the elevators, “Frank” (who is quite tipsy at this point) is being teased some more about his dress and asked if he will be modeling it later. He laughs and shakes his head, at which point I, just for fun, whip out the pro Domme voice and tell him to get his ass upstairs and put that fucking dress on NOW. He grins and we all laugh and that’s the end of that. Until we get upstairs.
We aren’t in the suite more than five minutes when “Frank” comes out of the bathroom wearing Vicki’s leather dress. It is WAY too small for him, and he has solved this problem by tying a white bathrobe belt around his waist. His entire back is left bare and his ass would have been hanging out as well if he hadn’t left his pants on underneath. He then proceeds to break out the champagne and propose a toast to his highly amused client. The only thing that could have made it better would have been loud Cambodian music.
After taking a few blackmail photos, I hand my camera off and call out “Hey, Iguana Boy!”, snapping my fingers and sitting down on a nearby ottoman. “Frank” was kneeling beside me before I could blink and over my knee in a flash like a seasoned pervert. Several more shots were taken for good measure and then I let “Frank” free. He was still wearing the dress when several of us left to hunt up some late night chow.
I called it a night after the meal and didn’t see “Frank” the next morning before I split for the airport. I imagine he must have been a bit hung-over. I did, however receive an email the following day begging me not to post the incriminating photos. I acquiesced, with the proviso that he get to work cooking up a nice fat multi-million dollar deal for his client. But, if that deal fails to materialize…
Now, where was I?
OK, we finally get Lou’s car back to him and help him lug some stuff over to the restaurant where the auction will be held. Bookstore Greg already got all my extra money and I didn’t win anything in the raffle, but the event went off without a hitch and raised plenty of dough for a good cause. However, I will mention that a certain agent, let’s call him “Frank”, bid on and won a sexy leather minidress with an iguana on the front worn by Vicki Hendricks the night before. Remember that little fact, because if there’s a leather dress on the mantelpiece, you can bet someone will be wearing it later in the evening…
Then, after a long, confused Spinal Tap-esque search for the theater (Hello Cleveland!) I finally got to see Muller’s short film The Grand Inquisitor, based on his story of the same title in Megan Abbott’s HELL OF A WOMAN. Me and this movie have had a long history of missing each other so I was thrilled to finally get a chance to see it. Marsha Hunt absolutely OWNS the film. She is mesmerizing on screen, you just can’t take your eyes off her. I told Eddie I would have liked to see the young girl in vintage lingerie instead of modern (for my own pervy reasons) but other than that, he did a real solid, old-school job of translating the story to the screen on a shoestring budget. I think the thing I liked best (besides Ms Hunt) was the refreshing lack of post-modern shaky-cam and chop-socky MTV editing. But, hey, don’t take my word for it, come see it for yourself at the Egyptian theater this Saturday April 12th.
After Muller’s film, we were treated to the amazingly over-the-top BLAST OF SILENCE. I loved all the vintage NYC street scenes and found myself narrating the entire rest of the evening in that same bombastic 2nd person style. (Danger sign! Your hands are hot and sweaty. Don’t blow your cool! You’ll be alone soon… the way you like it.)
From there we all gravitated back to the hotel bar, where we killed an hour or two in that wonderful kind of late night convention bar talk that you only get when you put a few drinks into a bunch of sleep deprived crime-writers. “Frank” the agent was there as well chatting and laughing and taking all kinds of ribbing about his new leather dress. The bar kicked us out way too early and so “Frank” offers to bring us all up to his room for a champagne toast. I’m game, as are several other writers including those pictured above and their wives/girlfriends/SOs. On our way to the elevators, “Frank” (who is quite tipsy at this point) is being teased some more about his dress and asked if he will be modeling it later. He laughs and shakes his head, at which point I, just for fun, whip out the pro Domme voice and tell him to get his ass upstairs and put that fucking dress on NOW. He grins and we all laugh and that’s the end of that. Until we get upstairs.
We aren’t in the suite more than five minutes when “Frank” comes out of the bathroom wearing Vicki’s leather dress. It is WAY too small for him, and he has solved this problem by tying a white bathrobe belt around his waist. His entire back is left bare and his ass would have been hanging out as well if he hadn’t left his pants on underneath. He then proceeds to break out the champagne and propose a toast to his highly amused client. The only thing that could have made it better would have been loud Cambodian music.
After taking a few blackmail photos, I hand my camera off and call out “Hey, Iguana Boy!”, snapping my fingers and sitting down on a nearby ottoman. “Frank” was kneeling beside me before I could blink and over my knee in a flash like a seasoned pervert. Several more shots were taken for good measure and then I let “Frank” free. He was still wearing the dress when several of us left to hunt up some late night chow.
I called it a night after the meal and didn’t see “Frank” the next morning before I split for the airport. I imagine he must have been a bit hung-over. I did, however receive an email the following day begging me not to post the incriminating photos. I acquiesced, with the proviso that he get to work cooking up a nice fat multi-million dollar deal for his client. But, if that deal fails to materialize…
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Comment by Grant McKenzie on April 9, 2008 at 12:54pm
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Hilarious, Christa. Sorry, I missed it.
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