Brussel Sprouts. Oh shit.

Alright. So I don't think I've ever eaten brussel sprouts in my life. Like ever. Or if I did, I somehow blocked it out of my mind along with the memory of the guy at the grocery store who was picking out chips with his friend and picked out the spicy thai kettle chips, and I told him that (from experience) they were super spicy, and he said, "Obviously, it says on the package."

Oh. Hey.

So like the chip guy, I always assumed brussel sprouts were the douche bags of vegetables.

And then, unlike chip dick, I decided to give them another chance.

So I bought them at Trader Joe's, and kept planning on making them....but something else always seemed a little tastier.

Finally, after a surprise glass of wine...I decided today was the day.

I took the pictures and figured out the recipe, but part of me knew that if this turned out shitty, I wasn't going to post it. Surprisingly, though, these were actually pretty delicious. This is the healthier version of the usual bacon-and-brussels combo.

Pan-cooked Brussel Sprots with Turkey Bacon and Shallots

What you need:

*1 1/2 strips of Turkey Bacon
*about 6 or 7 Brussel Sprouts
*one tablespoon of Olive Oil
*big pinch of salt
*a few grinds of pepper
*Half a clove of garlic
*1 1/2 TSP shallots
*3/4 cups chicken broth (either from the carton, or one Trader Joe's chicken broth packet)
*Pan with a cover








STEP 1: Clean your sprouts. The ones I got from TJ's were already cleaned, but rinse them under water if it doesn't say whether they have been. Chop off the bottoms. The first few leaves will usually fall off automatically, but if not, take one or two leaves off. While your at it, chop up the garlic and the shallots and place them aside.

STEP 2: Slice the turkey bacon into tiny, relatively even bits. Throw them into the non-stick pan without any oil or butter on medium heat. Once they've browned and look a little crispy, throw them onto a paper towel and put aside for later.

STEP 3: Using the same pan you cooked the Turkey Bacon in, and keeping the medium heat, pour the olive oil into the pan. Throw in the shallots and the sprouts, and season with the salt and pepper. Make sure to cover the sprouts with the olive oil so they're evenly covered.  Brown the sprouts on both sides, and as you're browning the second side, throw in the garlic.

STEP 4: Once both sides have been browned, pour the 3/4 cups chicken broth into the pan and cover. Keep on a medium/low heat for about 10 minutes, shaking things around at 5 minutes so nothing sticks.

STEP 5: Once the brussel sprouts are tender, take the top off the pan and throw in the turkey bacon bits. Once they've cooked together for a bit (about a minute or so), take the sprouts off the pan and into your plate. 

And eat it.

That's right...it's going to be pretty delicious.

But don't overdose on the sprouts, because then you'll be sick. And then you'll hate brussel sprouts again.

Thanks. Hope your project sucks.

So I learned a lesson today.

Don't sign up for the last slot in an audition.

Yes, it might be the best time for you, but just don't do it, because the chance of this happening goes up.

So I submitted myself to CAZT for this vampire film, for a more comedic part, that paid $100 per day. This was cool because a) I'd be getting paid SOMETHING b) I just need reel film at this point, so the project would get me some comedic footage.

Now usually, CAZT will send you an e-mail telling you to pick an audition time.

But instead, I got a personal email from some guy who writes his name in lowercase letters, who was also the director.

He basically said, alright, your time is 11:20 at CAZT. See you there.

Alrighty, thanks for letting me pick, but cool, I'll be there.

A day later, I actually get a CAZT breakdown to pick a time between 10:00 and 3:00.

Cool, well, I thought he finally understood how CAZT worked and just sent out the audition notice.

So I pick 2:50. Because I wanted to have time to buy a printer (like ya do).

I get ready, get my sides together, pick my headshot/resume out, and I drive to West Hollywood to the CAZT studios.

And I get there, 10 minutes early (holah.) and I look at the schedule board...and I can't find my project anywhere. And I'm like, whaaaaat the heeell. Did I come on the wrong day? I've totally done that before for some other non-theater appointments, so it wouldn't have surprised me if the audition was the next day.

Nope. Right day, right time.

I got to the girl working as the secretary and ask her where the project is.

And she says they left hours ago.

Not like, oh they just left. But they left HOURS AGO.

She tells me to recheck my time/date, and I finally just show her the e-mail confirmation. She says she's not sure what happened, but that all the projects are supposed to stay until everyone's time is up. She actually seems sorry for me, which is...cool. Better than being like, "Hinoonecares." She apologizes and tells me to e-mail CAZT feedback and forward them the confirmation, which I do.

Then I e-mail the director. Already I had e-mailed him a day or two before the audition being like, "Hi your character description and script don't seem to match up, am I missing something?" I didn't get an answer to that one. That should've been the first sign.

So I'm really nice, just saying that I was at CAZT and that he wasn't there, and I'm sure it was a misunderstanding. He e-mails me, saying he had me confirmed for 11:20...well yeah, and then you sent the other official CAZT shit out, so if you wanted auditions to be in a certain time frame you should've just sent that out. He doesn't really seem that sorry, but tells me that he'll keep me in mind for the next project.

And then this part kinda got on my nerves.

I guess CAZT had e-mailed him being like 'WTF dude?' and he responds with this (though it seems like he said something before this, which makes me wonder what that was because he didn't send me that part):

Woahwoahwoah. I wasn't told by CAZT that I could just show up whenever I wanted...I picked a time that was sent out to me, and you weren't there. This just makes me sound fucking stupid.

And I e-mailed him back.

No reply. Whatever.

The point is, if you're an actor, I guess just chose an earlier time in case the director's a mess-and-a-half. And if you find yourself holding auditions, don't fucking leave until you auditioned everyone scheduled. They prepared shit FOR YOU. Stay. And stick with the program you signed up with. Don't do weird, confusing shit.

More and more, I really do just want to find people who are on their shit and do some good work.

If you are one of those people, and you see yourself NOT doing this shit, we should get together some time.

In an artistic way. Not a weird hitting-on-you-not-so-discreetly way.

Hey, people watched my face a lot! But it wont be on a BBQ sauce...

So, when I made 'Shit theater girls say', I thought maybe the kids from the UCSB theater department would enjoy it, and maybe a few people who knew one of us. But turns out, a lot of theater girls say this shit. And before you know it, the video has like 25,000 views. What the fuck, that's awesome.

The video has actually gotten a lot of positive comments, not a whole lot of "fuck this shit" or "this girl needs to die", which is a good sign. I did get someone who thought that the fact that you could see my irises meant that I had mental problems. Which is weird, because I looked that up, and that's not really a thing. I kinda wish it was, that would be interesting.

Also, it's been really cool to hear from people you haven't talked to for, like, YEARS. Like, since high school. I've gotten some really, really nice messages: from 'hey, nice to see your face!' to 'you should seriously move to New York and be on SNL'. Well shit, yes, thank you, hook that up, please.

I had someone in Vancouver ask me to be in a film project they're working on. Which, I'd totally be down for,  especially because I've never been to that side of Canada. And then we figured out the exact middle of the distance between us would be near the Shakespeare festival in Ashland, which would also be baller. And he's doing a zombie film apparently, which...we know how I'd do in that...

Also something interesting that comes with making a youtube video is people start friending you who you have never met in your life. Which is great, and cool if you have a friend in common or something. But some people just friend you outta no where and you're kinda like..."how did you find me."

This happened to me yesterday,

I had a girl friend me who had posted my youtube on her wall, on her friend's wall, and literally quoted it all the way down the comment section. Which is cool and super flattering, seriously: as long as they don't find my phone number and call me, it's all good.

But then this other guy friended me, who seemed to be her friend, which was cool, okay, no problem.

And then this showed up on my newsfeed.

And she had to share the Fatbooth photo. Story of my life.

But, I digress from youtube-life to reality...


So I sorted through a couple of auditions on the CAZT website, and found a casting for a BBQ sauce called Blender's.

That's right. A BBQ sauce.

So you know I had to submit myself.

Yeah, I wouldn't get paid..but I figured I could maybe get some good reel footage (which I really desperately need. fer reelz: see what I did there) and maybe some free BBQ sauce or something.

I end up getting an audition, which was kind of exciting. I mean, it was for a viral campaign, but who knows what could happen in the future if it catches on.

So I get the notice and sides, and it says they're looking for a Kansas home girl kinda look, nice, but can be a little sassy. Alright, I can do that. So I practice my 4-5 lines, and head over, Kansas-ed out with brown boots and a flowery dress.

I get there....and I'm a little confused.

On the audition door, there's a picture of what the commercial is going to look like.

And they don't use your physical self at all. They weren't even going to transpose my face onto the BBQ sauce or anything.  They were going to shoot the BBQ sauce bottle, and just put your voice with it.

What bothered me is...this wasn't really an acting job. It was a voiceover job. So probably not gonna help my acting reel.

So I go in, and I say hello...they're not the hand shaking type, so I don't go for the handshake. This is also a weird thing that happens during auditions...figuring out if the people you're auditioning for are the handshake type, or the head-nod-hello type. If you start to move towards them and their hands are planted down, just give them a smile-nod.

Anyway, so the guy in charge (whose name is 'Dream', by the way. Oh, LA.) tells me to keep it casual, and to act like these are real people. Okay, so no character-y shit, got it.

So I do it, and I could tell they weren't digging it. Granted, I kind of let my I-need-sleep feeling peek through a bit, so it could have been that...but then I get a totally different note from what they gave me in the beginning: "remember this is a BBQ sauce, so it can be character-y"

Alright. So you want it to be casual-real...and louder and character-y. Love it.

So I did it again, and it was closer to what they wanted. But kinda wish they had just been like, "Go for it, and we'll tone you down". Dammit, I could've been a great BBQ sauce...voice.

But that's kinda how auditions roll. You do it. You think, "fuck I could've done that better/differently" and you realize you really don't know what they want, because most of the time they don't really know exactly what they want. Otherwise they would've/should've told you.

I don't know if I've mentioned CAZT...but it's actually kind of cool, because they let you watch your auditions after and the director is supposed to give you comments on how you did (which they trade for the audition space at CAZT). Which. At first, I seriously refused to watch myself. I mean, honestly, auditions are you under pressure trying to do what you wanted to do, but usually not doing it exactly like you wanted.

But it's actually really helpful. Because I immediately spotted what my nervous or "relaxing" ticks were. So if you're in LA, sign up, at least for a few months to kinda fix your ticks or your weaker spots.

So the Blender's thing probably wont pan out.

And neither will the Alien Girl part.

That's right. I could've been an alien.

So I usually just submit myself to anything I think I could possibly be auditioned for, because I figure if I think I could pull something off, and someone else thinks so as well and auditions me, then I'm good to go.

I ended up submitting myself for a music video that needed a lead alien girl. I'm thinking Katy Perry in E.T. And I'm like..."Well, I think I kind of look alien-y. Sure, why not."

I give them my headshot and resume, never really looking up the band or song, but it looked fine and they were paying.

I get a CMAIL notification (yaaaay! audition!)...and it's from the alien part. Oh, hurray!

Oh. It's in Long Beach. Okay, that's kinda far...what's the band again...

Alien Secx Rehab.

Yeah. That's right. Alien Secx Rehab.

Good one, girl.

And the song was called "Physical". And after hearing the song and trying to imagine me awkwardly slow-motion crumping in a metallic bikini top and shorts and blue body paint....I had to say 'No, thank you'.

So. I guess I'm glad I could be cast as a Kansas-girl BBQ sauce (voice) and an alien in a hip-hop music video. Rock that range.

But honestly, even if you think you could even possibly pass for something, just submit yourself. Because you could be exactly what they were looking for.

Or just write shit and post a youtube video and hope some guy from Vancouver casts you.

Acorn Squash Soup with Apple and Goat Cheese

You've seen them at the grocery store. They're the weird green gourd-like objects that are usually sold for 99 cents. Not quite a pumpkin and not quite a butternut squash. the acorn squash is cheap...and needs some lovin'.

It tastes closer to a pumpkin than a butternut squash, and it makes a really easy soup (although you could totally cut it open, throw some brown sugar and cinnamon, and just eat it like that). This recipe makes about 2-3 cups of soup.

ACORN SQUASH SOUP:

What you need:
-blender
-sheet pan
-1 acorn squash
-brown sugar
-1 teaspoon pumpkin spice (or half teaspoon cinnamon and a half teaspoon of nutmeg)
-paprika (for garnish)
-1 TBSP butter
-1/2 cup of 1% milk (this depends on how much squash you end up getting. I would pour enough milk to where when you put it in the blender, it becomes the right, smooth consistency)
-oil (I used coconut because it's awesome): just to make sure the squash doesn't stick to the pan
-salt (to taste. I used half a teaspoon)
-a few cracks of pepper
-goat cheese (for garnish)
-apple slices (garnish-I ended up with Fugi, but a good green apple would be awesome)

STEP 1: Set the oven to 400 degrees. Cut the squash in half, so you have to equal pieces, and scoop out the seeds. Oil your baking sheet, and set the squash with the open end FACE DOWN on the baking sheet. Put them in the oven for about 20 minutes. Check, and if a knife easily goes through it, you're good to go.

STEP 2:  Scoop out the acorn...meat...and avoid the burnt-y parts. Place the milk, acorn squash meat, spices, butter, and sugar into the blender, and put it on 'puree', or something in the mid-speed section of your blender.

STEP 3: Crumble your goat cheese up and slice up your apples into thin, tiny slices. Place aside.

STEP 4: Pour the soup mixture into a saucepan and place on a low heat. Taste the soup and add additional spices to taste (for spice, red chilli flakes, or cayenne pepper, or cinnamon, salt, etc.)

STEP 5: Once soup is hot enough, pour into bowls and place garnishes on top. Put a small shake of paprika on top.

And there you go! You can serve with a whole wheat cracker thing...or make yourself a nice, garlic-y, butter crouton :)

Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. I have a problem with you. (Not funny.)

Alright, so in advance, I apologize for ranting, but I'm just really hoping to get this off my chest. This probably wont be funny. My bad.

So I've been kind of excited to see "Girl with the Dragon Tattoo".  I've heard so much good shit about it, that I was super stoked to finally see it last night.

I knew there was a rape scene in the movie. I knew that coming in, so I wasn't going to be shocked when it happened. And fuck, I'm an actress, I know this shit is fake.

Oh, spoilers. By the way. I guess.

So the blowjob-to-the-old-dude-for-money scene happens. Gross. Bleh.

And then a few other scenes with Daniel Craig.

And then the rape scene comes along. You know because Lisbeth goes into the guys room, and it's all creepy, and she asks if she's going to have to give blowjobs when she wants money to eat.

I was ready for the scene, it wasn't going to jump up behind me. I figured it was going to be a few snippets and then it'd be over.

I don't know how to describe it because I don't really want to, but let's just say it involves violently tying someone up, handcuffs, gags, ripping clothes off and anal.

And it lasts for fucking ever. It had to be 6-7 minutes of just straight raping.

And I almost pass out. Not like, "Ooo my goooosh, I almost fainted! Oh, la!" but I almost passed the fuck out.  And threw up on the way down.

It was single-handedly THE most graphic, violent thing I've ever seen in my whole fucking life.

This is why I have a problem with this shit.

The movie was rated 'R'. That means it's restricted, but it also means if you're under 17 and someone over 21 buys your ticket, you can go ahead and see it.

There's no fucking way anyone under 17 should see this scene.

I swear to god, I'm not a prude. Yeah, maybe my parents didn't let me watch Power Rangers because it was 'too violent'...but I dressed up as a Pink Power Ranger anyway, because I didn't want anyone to know that I couldn't watch it.

But if you're going to have a scene that's so graphic and violent, you gotta slap it  with a NC-17.

I get it. It's in the book.

I get it. It's a scene that's supposed to build up to the revenge scene that happens later.

I can see both sides of this argument. Well, rape happens. It's something that happens in real life, Alexia. They're just showing something that is horrible, but it happens a lot.

It does happen. And in my opinion, it's one of the worst things a man could ever fucking do to another man or woman, other than murder: to literally crush the joy and love of sex and create a weapon out of it is absolutely disgusting and should be punished as equally as it is horrifying.

But the rating and this scene bother me because it means that we've grouped rape with seeing a titty, which are both rated R. And somehow we've decided they both deserve the same rating.

Tits are tits. Half the population has them. Some guys seem to have them. Kind of. You can look up a girls name on google images and see some tits. Seriously, look up 'Alexia'.

Rape is kinda something no one should ever have to witness or go through.

And another question this scene brings up: is rape against women (and men) in movies making people outraged and disgusted over the act? Or is it just making them immune to it?

Because titties used to be shocking in movies. And now they're kind of a staple in R rated movies.   Which I think is okay, because titties aren't violent and everyone usually sees them before the age of 20 (hopefully). Which  really shouldn't be the case with rape.

If it's making people disgusted and outraged, lovely. If it's making the rape count go down because it makes people realize how disgusting it is, awesome. But even if it is, people shouldn't see it if they're under 17: they're just trying to figure out their own sexual shit, they don't need that added to the mix.

Fuck, I'm 22 years old, and I thought I was going to throw up, and definitely didn't want my own boyfriend to touch me after that.

I don't want people to be ignorant of what's happening in the world. All of us should be preventing rape, men and women. And people should be aware that it's happening.

But I'm not sure if showing such a graphic rape scene is helping us.

Maybe I'm just really sensitive. Maybe it's because rape is one of those things that I think all women have in their worst fucking nightmares.

Maybe it makes it a good movie because I was so affected by it?

But I think the prospect that such violent rape scenes can be rated 'R' makes me worried that they're going to appear more and more in movies, and people are going to get 'used' to them.

But fuck, if it makes people donate to a rape shelter and make sure rape doesn't happen around them, then maybe it's doing something right.

Okay, rant over.

I promise I'll be funnier next time.

Better late, than never: Galette des rois Recipe

My family isn't religious: I've never gone to church in my life. But like Christmas in the States, the Epiphany (L'Epiphanie, or Le Jour de Rois: the day of kings) is celebrated even by those who aren't necessarily religious.

The Galette is a french tradition that started in the Northern part of France, but is now kinda everywhere (even selling them in big super markets already pre-made, with smurf figurines and other cartoon themed galettes). You bake this cake with a tiny porcelain figurine (it used to be just a fava bean) hidden in it. When you slice it up, the person who gets the figurine gets to wear a paper golden crown and they're the 'king'. I totally remember trying to cheat as a little kid, by patting down on the cake to see where that smurf figurine was.

This year was on January 6th, but there was just way too much going on to have time to make the galette, so I made it yesterday. But you can definitely make this at any time: it's kind of like an almond croissant, so definitely don't feel bad for eating it for breakfast.

GALETTE DES ROIS RECIPE


What you need:


-2 Puff Pastry sheets (you can buy it frozen anywhere, just thaw it out in the fridge the night before) KEEP COOL UNTIL YOU NEED IT! You'll see why...
-Pan pie, skillet, plate...or anything else that you can trace that uses as much of the puff pastry as possible
-**1/4 C Almond Paste: Or just follow the recipe on how to make it
- 1/4 C white sugar
- 3 tbsp unsalted butter (softened)
- 2 tbsp flour
- 2 eggs (one for the inside, one for brush on top of the outside)
- 1/4 tsp vanilla
- 1/4 tsp almond extract
- pinch of salt

**Almond Paste Recipe:


- 1/2 C almond meal, or use a food processor to ground 1/2 C of blanched almonds
- 1/4 C sugar
- 1 tbsp water
- Tiny squeeze of lemon

STEP 1:  Place the almond meal in a heat proof bowl. Put the water, sugar, and lemon in a sauce pan over medium high heat and mix together until blended and disolved. Let it boil for 40 seconds.

STEP 2: Take the boiling mixture off and immediately start pouring it into the bowl of almond meal while mixing with an electric mixer, or whisk really fast. When the sugar mixture cools even a little bit, it turns hard.

--------------------------------------------------

GALETTE: 

STEP 1: Set the oven 375 degrees. Butter a baking sheet that would fit your pastry, or place parchment paper on the pan.

STEP 2: Mix the almond paste and softened butter until well blended. Then, add the extracts, 1 egg, flour, and salt.

STEP 3: Take out the thawed pastry dough, and fold out the sheets.
Cut out a circle from each of your pastry sheets.


This is where things went a little crazy, so if this happens to you, here's how to fix it:


I was able to trace and cut out a circle from the first sheet...but the second one just wouldn't fold out, and it all just squished together. If this happens, do what I did! Wrap parchment paper around a rolling pin (or wine bottle, in my case) and roll it out until it's stretched and even. Then you're back on track :)

STEP 4: Place the almond mixture in the middle and spread it out, leaving room to fold the ends of the circles in to make a crust (about an inch).



STEP 5: Place the second circle of pastry dough on top of everything, and then fold the outside of the crusts towards the center of the galette, to make sure the filling stays into the cake. You can take a fork and press down to the folded crust to make sure it's sturdy.



STEP 6: Take the last egg and get the egg yolk seperated. Beat the egg yolk for an egg wash, and lightly brush all over the top of the cake.



STEP 7: With a sharp knife, score the top of the galette. You can do this in a shape or just score a 8 lined star.








STEP 8: Put in the oven for about 20 minutes, or until the top is golden brown.

And there you go! You can eat it warm, but I like it room temperature.

Puff pastry isn't cheap, so definitely reuse the little scraps you have left over! I made little prpsciutto and parmesan cheese twists or prosciutto and parm/brie pizzas, and little brie puffs with apricot jam. But you could totally make a mushroom filling or chicken filling, whatever you have lying around.

                     

Shit Theater Girls Say

I hopped onto the Shit Girls Say bandwagon.

I hate you, Gertrude. And how do you say "WHAT THE FUCK" in French, again?

I have always had a horrible sense of direction.

Not if you give me a map, because then I can kinda visualize it and figure out my shit.

But throw me in a town I don't know, drive from point A to point B and then have me drive there the next day, and there's absolutely no way unless I can google map it first.

My parents are very aware of this. Especially since I still ask them how to get to places in my own hometown.

Which is why they gave me Gertrude.

Gertrude is the GPS that's hooked up to my car.

It used to be Gladys...Gladys was a portable TomTom GPS, but my parents didn't feel comfortable with the notion that I'd be holding Gladys in one hand, and driving with the other, and sharing my eyes between the two.

Gertrude is very different from Gladys.

Gertrude enjoys long walks on the beach...long, overly complex, not well indicated walks on the beach. 

Gertrude is also voice activated. I have yelled profanity at Gertrude, to which Gertrude responds with  "SIRIUS 34" and tries to drown out my complaints with bad country music.

So I had this audition at Culver City High School. Long story, short: I had an audition for a high school project. I realized the director that had e-mailed me also happened to be finishing up his Senior year in highscool. 

I'm extremely good at stalking researching. 

I weighed the pros and cons of this situation, and ultimately decided...fuck it. Maybe the film teacher or someone's parent will see it and something happens. At the very least, it gives me on camera experience...in front of 17 year olds. 

Culver City is hella far. It's about 30 minutes away with no traffic. And it seemed even further away since this was a non-paying, high school project. But it was my only audition that day, so what the heck.

I put in the address I find on google maps for Culver City Highschool into Gertrude...and she's not having it. Apparently that doesn't exist. Lovely. So I look on google maps, and turns out, it's at a different address. 

Okay. Cool. Well, let's go.

I get there, park the car, with only 4 minutes to spare. 

I park the car, and fast walk to the front of the school, where apparently someone is supposed to meet me. 

And no one's there.

Fuck.

So I go back to the car and try to figure my shit out. I google map it again...and there's another Culver City high school. I skip Gertrude because she has officially failed me and follow the route on my iphone.

I park, run out, get to the front of the school...

And there's no one.

Absolutely no one.

I just got stood up by a 17 year old boy.

I take my walk of shame back to my car, and get stuck in traffic for a lovely 45 minute drive. Nice.

When I get home, I immediately get on my computer and write him a note so full of anger, I can't even retype it because the revisitation of frustration will be too great:

Click to read: 

Yeah. He'll remember that. Especially the 'best' part.

After I send him my words of fury...I notice I've received a **CMAIL MESSAGE**.

**CMAIL MESSAGE**s are from the Actor's Access website, and they basically indicate that you have an audition for something, which always make me all tingly inside.

I click it, and as it loads, I wonder who it could be from...maybe that film where they need a girl with sad eyes...or another 16 year old part...

And the next thing that happens, my friends, I could have never believed if it wasn't staring at me from my tiny iphone screen...

I got a callback for the French shit.

And I litterally yell, "WHAT THE SHIT" to this message, because there has to be some kind of mistake. Or the casting people were like, "Hey...tomorrow's going to be a long day...let's splice in something funny..."

I get a callback for the french shit. It's tomorrow. And the producers from NRJ have apparently flown to LA especially to meet all the potential cast. 

Part of me freaks out. And the other part is like, "Fuck, whatever." Not because it doesn't seem like a great opportunity, but I had so totally dismissed the project after spending too much energy on it the first time around, I just didn't have enough left to care. 

As soon as I confirm my appointment, the lady from the casting calls me to...double confirm it, I guess. And insists I get a bikini shot. Like, really this time. Even if it's a 4 x 6 picture...which was exactly what she was going to get.

This time, though, I knew what to expect. I tried to practice some clever, witty, yet sexually intriguing phrases...in my head. So no one could ever hear them. 

This was my plan: wake up, have Sam take the picture for me, bring it to Walgreens, and have it printed out.

This is what actually happened:

I thought since Sam and I were planning on making/eating breakfast, we would just take the picture really quick before and he'd go off to work.

Breakfast got cancelled though, and Sam just went to work.

But I thought I could just put the camera somewhere, take a picture, and ta-da, good to go.

I end up having to tape Trader Joes bags to the window to block the sun, while stacking stools to make a tripod, and put Sam's camera on top with a timer. After setting things up, I took a couple pictures and I thought I was goood toooo goooo.

And then the cable to link up the camera was missing.

Sam doesn't know where it is, but it's probably in the pile of boxes and shit he has yet to go through that fill up the other room...

And I don't have time to sort through it all to find it.

Plan B: Use my camera.

Oh it's out of batteries. And the charger is in Saratoga.

Plan C: My iphone camera.

Wait there's no timer on it.

So I go to plan D, which was an option I was hoping to avoid: my macbook.

That's right. I took pictures of me in a bikini for a French cable show...with my macbook.

After I choose some okay-looking ones, I run to my trusty Walgreens.

And the photo section is closed.

In hindsight, it was probably for the best: I want to keep going to that Walgreens, and asking them to print out low quality pictures of me in a bikini makes me feel bad for them. And I'd want to reasure them that I wasn't a hooker. Or trying to be. And that chat would just get awkward, because he'd try to tell me it was cool, but would still be wondering why the fuck I'm getting these done...

So I went to another Walgreens, where I would never have to see the photo developer again.

Grabbed the photos, and I had about an hour to get to the audition, which was right near this Walgreens.

I was ready to go...when my eye started bothering me again. All morning my right contact had felt awkward, like there was a hair trapped under it or something...

So I think, I'll just put some water in a bottle cap and rinse it off...

Worst. Idea. Ever.

Never put your contacts in bottled water. Because they start doing that three-leaf clover tongue trick by the time you take it out and will totally dissolve.

This probably wouldn't be a problem with anyone else...but I am fucking blind. Anyone who has ever put on my glasses knows...I can't see for shit.

And now I have to drive back to my house to grab another contact. Which means driving with one eye.

Before I leave I take a look at the pictures I just made someone develop..and they look okay. That'll do.

So I pirate-it. I squint my right eye as I make my way back home, and try to avoid looking too deranged. Someone made eye contact with me, and immediately felt like they should try not to stare.

I get home, pop one of those suckers in, and off I go again.

As I collect all my audition items, I look at the bikini picture again...

It looked great when I was blind, but now it kind of looked like one of those dot paintings that only look good when you look at it from 3 feet away. Hopefully someone is also missing a contact when looking at it. 

I barely make it ontime. Why does this keep happening to me. 

And the whole room is just filled with French dudes.

It's like my mom decided to find her version of the perfect dream guy for me and place them in this audition (sorry mom, I went British).

I meet this one French dude who's actually really chill, and I get to practice my French on him...minus the cat calls.

And while we're talking, I ask him about if he knows anything about this show...

...and I find out it's for a French reality program.

And they're basing it off The Hills.

What a lovely inspiration.

I always said I would never do reality TV. Ever. Because although some people know that you'd just be playing a character...there's 3/4 of the people who would think you really are a psycho bitch. And that's not really my goal.

As he tells me this, a girl with huge fake boobs, fake blonde hair, and tons of make up comes in. She doesn't really seem to speak French, but my guess is that's not really why they called her back. Looks like they found their Heidi. 

Finally it's my turn to go upstairs and meet the producers. I go in, and as I say hello to everyone, one of the producers looks at me and gives me a creepy wink-smile. I feel so much better knowing my bikini picture is being looked at by this professional. 

I look and see that...oh hey, my "best friend" is here. Now I feel comfy.

They had me say my name into a camera...and then slowly turn to the left....and then to the right...this is a cable show pilot, right?

And they had me audition with the same thing they had everyone else do: Talk to your "best friend" with love and express how much you love her, and then go ahead and say how much you hate her.

I had heard everyone else yelling and shouting curse words for their "hate" auditions from when I was downstairs...and the words of the wise Risa Brainin came to me: "Sometimes the reactions that are the least expected are the most interesting".

So I get mad...but like, disappointed mad. Like the worst anger you could get from someone you loved.

But I forgot it was reality TV, and no one gives a shit. Oops.

I end it, and leave, and talk to French man about how he did. He offers to walk me to my car. Aw, that's nice and frenchtastic of you. And then, asks if I have an agent. I say no, but I'm meeting with one on Thursday...and he basically says if I send him my shit, he'll forward it to his agent. Which was really super nice of him, he clearly didn't have to do that. 

So good shit did come out of this weird-ass audition process. The LA karma gods that I thought didn't exist, decided to peer their heads through the cloud of pollution and smile their freshly whitened teeth down at me.

I'm pretty sure they wont call me. 

Although that's what I said last time...

So my first TV exposure might be in France. On a reality show. 

Awesome.

Breakfast. Eat it.

I love breakfast.

I never understand people when they're like,  "Oh, noooo, I hate breakfast, I don't eat in the morning."

Well maybe you just haven't had a poached egg. Or any of the other delicious breakfast options that don't involve soggy oats and cereal.

Which is why I give you....

Poached Egg on Toasted Bread topped with Garlic Sauteed Mushrooms and Parmesan Cheese

What you need:

For the Mushroom Sautee:

5-6 Cremini Mushroom

Coconut Oil (or any oil or butter)

1 Garlic Clove

Thyme (dry or fresh)

Parsley (dry or fresh)

Salt

Pepper

Egg:

1 Egg

Water

Vinegar (optional)

Slotted spoon

Paper Towel

Other:

1 piece of bread (slice)

Butter

Parmesan Cheese

STEP 1: 

- Peel your garlic clove and cut it up into tiny, relatively even, pieces. 

-Slice your mushrooms up, and like the garlic, you want to make sure you cut them into similar sizes so they cook at the same rate.

-Put a small teaspoon of virgin coconut oil into a cooking pan. You can use any oil you want, really, or butter/margarine. 

I like coconut oil because apparently it's one of the better oils for you, and it's really hard to burn it in the pan, unlike olive oil. And it's got a nice nutty taste that adds a little flavor to whatever you're cooking. It comes as a solid, and you can find it in most grocery stores. Trader Joes had a pint of it for about $7.

STEP 2: Put the pan on a medium heat, and add the garlic, the mushroom, a pinch of thyme and parsley, and a crack of pepper (or whatever suits your tastes). As you can see, the mushrooms definitely cook down.

         
Stir around a little bit here and there, just so nothing burns on one side. After they have cooked down a little, add a pinch of salt to the shrooms, mix around, and place the pan to the side.

STEP 3: Take the slice of bread and either with a cookie cutter, or a glass, cut the bread into a circle big enough to put the poached egg on.  Butter the top side of the piece and throw it in the broiler until it's toasted (if you have a toaster oven, that would work as well). If your butter is cold, wait until the bread has been in the over for 45 seconds and then butter the top so you don't rip your bread.

STEP 4: It's egg time. Put about half a pot full of water (or just enough to submerge your egg), and heat it up until it's just below boiling. If it starts to boil, put the temperature down. Some people put just a teaspoon of vinegar into the water, to help the whites cling to the egg yolk. Other people stir the water, and while it's still swirling, they drop the egg in. Whatever works for you is fine, just make sure your egg gets a soft landing into the pot, and you cook it until the egg yolk is runny but not uncooked. I take a slotted spoon and poke the covered egg yolk and can usually tell that way. If you're lost or never have made a poach egg before, try this video:

Make sure you don't forget about your bread in the broiler! Flip it over and toast it on the other side with a little butter.

Once your egg is almsot ready to go, put your mushrooms over the heat again to get them hot and take out your bread from the broiler.

Place your piece of bread in the middle, and before you put your poached egg, dab it with a little piece of paper towel so you don't make your bread soggy.

Top it all off with your mushroom sauté, and finish it off with some Parmesan shavings, pepper, and salt.

Other options: If you miss your green, you can sauté some spinach or kale with the mushroom, or top it off with some fresh arugula salad. 

Enjoy :)

I'm 16...in acting years.

In highschool, more often than not, I was cast as the mom. I sung about being a housewife, and I birthed Hellen Keller.

But suddenly, in college, I was like Benjamin Button. Suddenly, I got ten or fifteen years younger, playing roles like Juliet (14...record low.)

I got a few older parts...but I still get weird looks and double takes on my I.D. when I order alcoholic beverages.

So I still sign up for 16 year old parts. Because, honestly, look at the "16" year olds on TV right now. They're like 25-30 years old.

I got an audition for this film in West Hollywood about these kids who were goth-tastic in an uber-Christian town and they get accused of killing these 8 year olds, but there was no evidence supporting it at all, but the kids still went to jail for it for over 12 years. Anyway, the part was the lead accused guy's girlfriend.

I thought, okay, cool, this isn't skanky and I wont have to catcall anyone. Let's do this.

So...if you're in LA, and you;re going to auditions...make sure your mother fuckin' printer works.

Because mine decided not to.

So I decided I was going to drive to the location, google map a printing place, and I'd be good to go.

Well. Apparently, this doesn't work on Sundays. Because printing places decide they don't like to be open on Sundays.

I literally run to two printing places, and they're both closed....why.

I text the casting people to let them know I'd be late...I already wasted 20 minutes. And then....

A beacon of light appears before me, in the shape of Fed-Ex office.

Never have been so happy to pay $3.00 just to print out a 4 page script.

I fly down Sunset to the auditioning place, which is apparently on top of a restaurant, and attempt to find an elevator, when a slim, long haired, punktastic kid comes up to me. He has to be only 15, and shows me up to this secret elevator. He asks me if  I have any questions about the project, and I ask about the plot (since it wasn't posted on the site). He then tells me that he had the idea for this project, and met this guy who liked his idea, who is now the director/producer of the film. And then, he tells me that he's playing the lead...

Well, this got weird.

I've played younger before...but not with someone who is actually that age.

I'm Glee sixteen, not real world 16.

I start to feel a little cougartastic...not in the hot Demi Moore way, like in a creepy pedophile kinda way.

We get to the auditioning room...which is the top patio of this bachelor pad type apartment.

And the director is lounging on a chaise lounge with a tiny dog next to him, sunglasses on, and taking a nap.

Awesome. Here we go.

He introduces himself, apparently secretly hoping that he blends into the "16 year old" thing we've got going on. And possibly just smoked a bowl (I'd give that an 88% possibility).

After telling me not to be overly dramatic with the lines, he lets us start.

And one or two lines in, I start to realize...this kid is just improving lines. Like, he could just read the lines...but he has decided to just riff off and do his own thing.

So his two lines turn into whole paragraphs, most sentences end with "And...*shrug* yeah." and nothing makes sense, least of all my written lines.  And, while this is still going on, our director seems distracted by his pet dog and barely pays attention to anything that's going on, so he  doesn't notice this catastrophe. THEN, a large group of random ass teenagers come up and walk onto the patio, chill there for half the audition while talking to each other super loudly, and then leave.

I felt like I was in auditioning hell.

Then he stops us. Oh, good morning, nice of you to join us. And he tells me he wants me to improvise. Honestly, improv doesn't scare me after the French shit.

He wants me to tell my "boyfriend" everythings going to be okay, and then he's going to tell me to close my eyes and imagine our future together.

Alright, fuck, sure.

So we get to the eye-closing part...and I start:

ME: "I see us in a house.."


"BOYFRIEND": In a house? Wow. Not an apartment?

ME: Haha, no, we did pretty well for ourselves.

B: Oh okay, haha

ME: And it's on the beach...

B: Oh...I don't like the beach. But okay.

Seriously?

ME: You'll get used to it, you'll like it...and we have a dog.

B: I don't like dogs, but okay.

I hate you, demon audition child.

And then I talk about making blueberry pancakes and shit.

And they loved it.

They were super impressed and really happy with my improv shit.

Maybe this was an improv audition and I didn't know about it?

I mean, it's cool if I get it, reel shit is reel shit...but honestly, if this kid just starts improving everything, I might have to stop pretending I'm 16 and give some 22 year old bitch slap...verbal bitch slap. Because that would be child abuse.

Of course I'm a model.

Actor's access is usually filled with acting and hosting gigs, but sometimes, you get specific modeling or print ad auditions.

The site usually just e-mails me a list of parts it thinks I could audition for. Sometimes it's ridiculously wrong. I've gotten auditions sent to me for MALE, 20-50, AFRICAN AMERICAN before, which makes me even more sure that I should just look at every single posting and find shit myself.

One of them was an ad for a modeling event for a charity Bud Light Super Bowl fashion show. Usually I'd pass it over. But they were paying like $300 just to walk up and down in clothes. And the minimum height requirement was 5' 7". I'm 5' 6" and a half, so I rounded up.

So I did it. It was free anyways, and $300 is a good chunk of money for 2 hours of work, not even.

And I kinda forgot about it. It wasn't something I was thinking, "Oh my god, I'd be soooo goood for this!" So it kinda died.

Until I got a message the next morning. I was going to post it but it's kinda long. But the gist of it was this:

"Hey I handpicked you to audition tomorrow! And remember you get paid! Sorry this is late, by I'm working on 3 movies. Come in form fitting clothing, a model portfolio if you have one, and clean hair/make up to Sangria in Hermosa Beach!"

I model...I guess. I model, but I don't consider myself a "model", because all the models on Top Model who also were actors always got shunned because they weren't committed to the fashion world and were usually eliminated first.

Personally, it's like the comic book of acting. You're another character...and you get one still photo to represent that. So I guess it's like a photo calendar. Of acting. And I'm July.

Anyway, so I start to freak out a little.

Like, oh shit, someone thinks I can do this.

So what's the first thing I turn to in this time of need?

America's Next Top Model.

Somehow in my mind, my years of watching Tyra smize people into elimination totally informed me on what I was doing. But honestly, it kinda did.

Model Portfolio: they said it was optional, but I felt like if I had one, they'd think that I actually do this on a regular basis. So I went to Walgreens (where all the models go to get their prints.) and printed out some shots I've done, went to Office Max and got a nice looking binder thing, plastic sleeves, and I was good to go.

I watched as Jay Alexander, runway coach extaordinaire, taught models how to work the runway (snap.)

And I used our hallway as a walking area as Sam told me to pick up my feet....like he knows how to runway walk...please. I watched Jay.

I put my pictures in my book as Sam drives down to Hermosa Beach, and I'm feelin' alright. Not totally in my comfort zone, but when have I been the last 2-3 weeks.

I go to the restaurant, and immediately see a sign "CASTING SUPERBOWL MODELS". I point to the sign and do my "whaaat, me?" face to Sam, but he runs away and pretends he doesn't know me.

I go inside, and there's a girl already there walking and I get motioned to sit with the Casting Director.
This walking model is tiny. And she also is wearing an itty bitty dress on. With a Blue Steel on. Wait, didn't she want us to smile...

I wore my Tyra approved go see outfit...and start to wonder if this runway go-see is a little different than what Tyra had prepared me for.

There's also two random guys there, just kinda sitting there. Giving their nods of approval at the models' posture and form. And checking bitches out, come on, let's be real.

After she's done, the CD says that she would call her IF she got it...but then gave her all the details for rehearsal. Gee, I wonder if she got it.

She then looks at my modeling portfolio...that I've always had since forever. And gives me some advice on where to put my pictures in terms of order. I "ah" and nod. Yes...next time, I will do that.

I do my runway walk, which I've been instructed to do 'very slowly'...to house music.

Yay. Didz it. And I didn't die.

Then she's like, "Do it again, but do it with Tea cup!"

Oh shit, Tyra never taught me how to Tea cup. But I hope it's nothing like the Dougie because I feel like that could be a disaster.

It ends up being just hand on your hip, swinging your arm back and forth. Oh, you mean sassy. 


I did some happy-sassy walk, trying to channel my inner Victoria Secret fashion show walk where they're all happy and naked.

And then they're like, "...okay, thank you!"

And she hands me my purse back...and is like, "We'll call you."

Wait, what about details about rehe-...oh.

So I exit Stage Left, wondering if I could have upped the sass factor...or maybe I wasn't tiny enough. Or maybe I should have worn my Booty Pops. (kidding I don't own those...yet.)

And then a random guy comes up to me.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I really wanted to talk to you earlier, but you vanished into that bar. So..what are you doing here?"

"Um...Modeling audition."

"Oh cool, is that your modeling portfolio?"

"....yes. It is."

"Wow, cool. Hey, do you wanna grab a drink?"

"I'm...actually meeting up with my boyfriend."

"Aw man. Well, that doesn't surprise me."

"Nice to meet you though."

"Yeah, take care."

And I shuffled away, my dignity restored a little bit...and kind of hoping the casting people saw that.

So I don't think I got the gig. But it was an interesting experience. My shortness and child bearing hips will most likely prevent me from doing any normal runway shit, but I'm glad I just did the fucking thing.

 Because hey, that casting director was working on three different films...and natural redheads are going extinct.

Pardon my French.

Alright...so I'm starting to believe I have a really bad knack for thinking that I'm going to know exactly what's going to happen...to then suddenly realizing I don't and I should stop.

I'm subscribed to Actor's Access, which if you're an actor in LA, is super handy and lovely (but sign up for showfax too, because then all your acting submissions are $2 each, which adds up if you submit for about 3-4 jobs per day). A lot of good stuff gets posted on here (commercials, specific parts in TV shows, feature films, etc). And a lot of weird shit goes up too. Like there's always a need for a sexy, fit, athletic girl (usually blonde, sometimes brunette, but usually never redhead...where's the love).

Personally, I'm just not into going into a room and showin' some titty. It's not my thing. I get awkward and end up finishing the audition with a distorted weird face and tiny movements. And, I don't know, that's not interesting to me.

Anyway, I browse the auditions postings, submitting myself for all the 16 year old parts...and low and behold: FRENCH PILOT CASTING FRENCH SPEAKING ACTORS.

THAT'S ME...I yelled in my head. I speak French! I act! Awesome.

My French is good. I'm fluent...except for the part where I don't speak it to anyone except my mom. So language and scenarios become limited. But shit, I speak it.

It ends up being this pilot for NRJ 12, a pretty big cable network in France. The premise is these French kids who go to Hollywood..and I guess things happen.

Things that go through my head: Well, they'll need Californians that speak French...like they run into a California girl who also speaks French and crazy shit happens! That could be me!

And then I saw the word that makes my heart beat a little faster.....IMPROVISATION.

I don't know why, but improv scares the shit out of me. Maybe it's because when it comes to acting, I like...well, not fucking up. I can write something, come back, and act it out? That I can totally do. But just shoot the shit and hope I don't say anything ridiculous...that's okay, I'll be over here...

So this is FRENCH improvisation. Which is worse than English because the fucking up ratio increases.

I signed up and submitted myself...and a day later I get a response. They want me to audition. The next day. With a warning that fluent french speakers need not apply if you can't do IMPROVISATION in French.

Well, fuck.

I wasn't going to do it...I just had this vision of me forgetting words, doing the awkward dance I normally do when I know I've fucked up, and them chewing me out for thinking that I was fluent ENOUGH to do this shit.

And then a lady calls from the auditions.

I pretend to be surprised that I got an audition, even though I was about to respond to the e-mail with a "Oh noooo, I'm bussyyyy"

And I say yes, sure, I'll see you tomorrow.

And it turned into one of those situations where you're like...well. I'm halfway there anyway...

She also asked for a bikini picture. Because I guess people just have professional shots of them in a bikini. That's cool, you get this one of me in a leotard and you'll just have to deal.

So I talk to my mom, get the French juices flowing...why does that sound inappropriate.

And I watch a couple of French movies.

I should really rewrite that other sentence...

And I really get as prepared as I possibly can, thinking of scenarios that "THE BEST FRIEND" could be in, and somehow make them funny. Literally, I think of a ton of different little paths to take anything they throw at me as this "BEST FRIEND" character.

And it's all I did that whole day. When I'm stressed about something possibly going wrong, I prepare my ass off for it so I feel a little less crazy. Which I guess make me seem more...crazy...crazier...

The call time was between 5:00 pm and 6. Google maps tells me it takes 11 minutes. I leave at 5:17. I get there at 6:00 on the dot. Hi, LA.

I find the building...and also realize I've totally been here before for another callback. But this time I'm on the 3rd floor. And I'm in heels.

So I clonk all the way up, realizing only after that there was an elevator. High five myself for that one.

I find the room, and there are literally only 2 other guys, with one girl who is the door monitor, check-in lady. There's a cute little couch with a TV playing some French movie on mute with subtitles...inspiration, I guess. I sign my name, and look at the board where all the characters are listed and what they want you to do, and the door monitor comes and explains everything:


"So they want you to improvise one of these two scenarios in French: One is you're cat calling a guy with your friend on the street. We have a girl in there who will be your friend so she'll cat call with you and stuff. The second scenario is you're at a bar and you're purposely making this guy blush because you're saying a lot of dirty things."

I've never cat called someone in French, let alone in English. And I've never said dirty things to some random guy at a bar because that's slutty and I don't roll like that.

All this comedic french shit I've rehearsed and practiced can exit stage left now, thanks.

So I try googling French cat calls on my iphone. Yes. I googled it. That is how lost and frantic I was.

I decide to go with the first one because I don't even think I could think of enough dirty things in English to fill up a whole minute (that would be a long ass minute.)

In I go into a small room with three people: The woman in charge, some random guy in the back taking notes, and my "friend".

The lady in charge tells me to look at the camera and say my name and what role I'm doing in French. I guess that's the first test. So I do it...

And suddenly I see this camera tilt all the way down to my shoes...and then slooooowly back up.

Uh-oh, things are about to get skanky. I can feel it.

So I...start. I guess. You know, cat calling guys, which I do all the time...in French.

And while I'm shouting things like "Come here! Woooooo! Where are you going?" (because that's what I imagined this guy to be doing if I cat called him...running away), I think: "....why am I...a French person in Hollywood...cat calling someone in Hollywood who I don't know...in French. Because most of everyone wouldn't understand me, so if I really wanted results, I'd do it in broken English hoping the guy thought my accent was cute or feel bad for me or something."

I turn to my trusty "friend" to bounce off cat calls.

She gives me a "woo..".

Thanks, "friend".

And then this is where things get weird.

Suddenly, my "friend" asks me in French: "Do you have any friends (male)?"

And I'm like...what? "Friend", your catcalling skills are worse than mine, and that scares me.

So I'm like..."what?"

And she repeats it.

"...No." I answer.

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON.

And then as she's asking me questions that slowly start to have sexual innuendos attached to them, I realize my "friend" is no longer my "friend", but apparently has transformed into the guy I was catcalling.

Oh good, he didn't run away.

So I ask sexy questions like "Where are you from?"...and of course, "he" is from Paris. So original...I also become from Paris.

And then my "friend"/catcall victim is like "You've got sexy legs...those are some dancing legs...do you dance?"

Oh "friend"/victim, you make me blush. I say I do...Salsa. Because I think I danced it for 15 seconds when I played a Puerto Rican my Sophomore year.

"Show me."

No, that's cool.

"I dance better when someone's dancing with me..." Good one.

And then this grueling two mintues ends with my "friend"/creep asking me and my "friends" to a club, but really he just wants to bang me and invite my friends so it's not creepy, and maybe get some actions for his friends...or "friends".

And I end it with, "That would make me happy...very (SEXUALLY) happy..."

AND SCENE.

They say thank you, they say thank you, I awkwardly wait 5 seconds too long and then leave. No cigarette after, no talking about our feelings?

I start walking back down the stairs (fuck the elevator), and as I walk back to my car...I just start laughing. Because that was single handedly one of THE most ridiculous thing I've ever done.

I don't think I got the role...sorry, $250 and 10%. Probably the two seconds of me looking extremely unsexy while wondering why my "friend" is suddenly hitting on me. Or maybe I was supposed to do a strip tease and lost the memo.

Of course the roles I try to avoid come sneaking in disguised as potentially something I'd totally want to do. And that's the thing I've realized in Los Angeles (my whole 3 weeks living here): theater's fucking awesome. Because there really are seldom any stupid slutty parts. They're slutty for a reason, not to just be eye candy and get some people to watch a little longer. They have a purpose, and they stand for something, or their overt sexuality is a device that character uses to cover up something awful that's happened to him/her.

I was really lucky to get a chance to do interesting work at UCSB, and I want to continue doing cool shit. Stuff I can dig into. And there are definitely projects out there that are like that, it's just finding them.

Or just do your own shit, which I'll probably end up doing anyway.

I'm still going to look for French projects. Scripted, hopefully.

And that don't ask for a bikini shot.

That would make me happy...very (SEXUALLY) happy.

Not really. I mean, unless it was THAT AWESOME. Then, why not.