Lip service: It feels like you collagen-laced losers are plucking the hairs off my back, one by one. Next time, if you’re going for plastic surgery, leave me out of it.

Rogers shoots Rogers for Rogers: Hey MacLaren, think you’ll get the chance to deposit those million-dollar Rogers account cheques? Sounds like you’re just going to have to send the dough back to them to do your productions, anyway. Why not fill a briefcase full of cash and ship it back and forth between the offices. Hey, this could be the model for a new commercial world. How about Procter and Gamble Productions, Chevrolet Pictures, Bell Canada Films or, my personal favorite, Molson Exports.

Expensed that? Why not this?: Looks like the producer with an eye for extra expenses is going to have her day in court. Really, she has nothing to worry about. Just get Johnny Cochrane onside and expense his fees. Even if he fails, a simple hit on the judge could be easily expensed as well. Assuming she can get the receipt…

Border crossing tips: With our southern pallys stepping up efforts to keep our back-bacon-eatin’ asses out of the u.s., here are some tips on getting ‘non-essential’ production personnel over the border.

1. Try sticking your dop in a hockey bag.

2. Tell the border guards you’re just shooting Wild Turkey in Tennessee.

3. Ram your team in the trunk. Three non-union child actors, two directors or one giant, egomaniacal, empire-building producer should fit nicely.

4. Je ne parle pas l’anglais. Non, je ne parle pas l’anglais.

5. Tell them you’re shooting Clinton’s farewell orgy.

6. Disguise yourselves as porpoises.

7. Tell them the camera is just an oversized cigarette lighter.

8. Make war on them.

9. Take advantage of the world’s longest unprotected border and, with the help of wetsuits and canoes, cross fugitive-style and trek toward civilization.

10. Change your William F. White trucks to wwf trucks by switching around the one letter. Then tell ’em you’re Mankind, without the mask.

11. Send your crew over Niagara Falls in barrels. You may need a full oil vat to fit the above-mentioned oversized producer.

The sweet spot after: Don’t say I’m not doing my research. Earlier this month, my crack team of crackhead investigators managed to trade a soiled pipe for a copy of Atom Egoyan’s first commercial board. Turns out my suspicions of an art-house advertising campaign were well founded.

Here’s the creative: The spot’s spokesman, after undergoing a series of childhood tragedies and a life of struggle, narrowly avoids death in a tragic bus crash and lives to pitch investment options. Of course, the spot’s copy was all edited and workshopped with Egoyan’s West Coast poet story editor.

Rick Ricketts’ Roadhouse Survivor: Down to the final four in this game of instinct and alliances, a producer, director, gaffer and ex-marine fight to stay alive in the wilds of Canada. Here are the results:

Producer: After scrounging everything the crew needs to survive, the producer is voted out of Canada. Says the crew: ‘We already got what we need out of him, and besides, we want to go home early.’

Director: Although winning initial immunity by being the quickest to track down hard drugs at the Toronto airport, the director is voted out of Canada. Refusing to share the credit or the drugs, his alliances are trashed when, in a high frenzy, he becomes convinced he’s shooting The Cosby Show.

Gaffer: Immediately voted off after eating from the director’s personal cheese tray.

Ex-marine: Rage left over from the Gulf War and non-stop flashbacks render him helpless and usually naked – for days at a time. The ex-marine takes victory, as it turns out, because even nude, he is the only one able to produce a decent commercial. *