Without Fail.

It's safe to say that if I tell a band to meet me at my house before we go to our shoot, there will inevitably be someone passed out on our couch. Today it's Zach. The band and my assistant get here in 45 minutes and the kitchen is completely trashed (because I refuse to do anyone's dishes other than my own), so basically I'll meet them outside on the steps and try to figure out where to shoot after I regroup and collect my brain together into a pile. I'm not annoyed by the Zach on the couch, but this kitchen mess is getting ridiculous. If I so much as see one cockroach, I'm moving out.