They're still there. Slouching, slumping, shuffling. Like half-hearted extras in the movie of Me. I should fire their asses. Don't they realize the golden opportunity they've shuffled into? The chance to play a bit part in the only story that matters? My story? If they had any ambition, they'd stride forcefully into the scene and do some real acting. Gaze at me adoringly, or throw bitter, envious glances my way. Instead of acting as if they're totally oblivious to my presence. Don't they know whose movie this is? Haven't they been adequately briefed? Maybe it's the casting director's fault. Maybe I should fire her ass. Somebody's ass needs to get fired, that much is clear. The movie's three quarters over and the actors are sleepwalking, the plot needs a kick start, and the director's half in the bag. This movie's going straight to video, I can feel it.