And that's show business....kid.

Hello, children. Come, sit, and hear my cautionary tale of douchebags in Los Angeles...


So a week ago, I got this phone call from this girl who wanted me to meet up with her to read a scene for her reel. She said that she got my headshot from an audition I had done about two or three weeks ago for this guy auditioning me for his Director's reel who thought I'd be great for her. I think I know what she's talking about, but now that I've gone through all this shit, who fucking knows.

I assumed that she was another director who wanted to get material for her director's reel, because she didn't really say anything to the contrary. I agreed to meet up with her for coffee to read the scene a couple days later.

So I like to stalk research the people I'm auditioning for or meeting with. You know, just to make sure they're not creepy and actually exist. So I tried to look up this director by her first name (because that's all I got from her), which was pretty unique, and all that showed up was this stunt woman who had done stuff for Twilight and a lot of other movies/projects. I decided it didn't seem to match up to this director girl, so I just abandoned the idea of trying to find who this girl was.

I get to the coffee shop with my sides (from a Grey's Anatomy scene) and a headshot/resume, order some iced tea, and chill out. Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone with a similar side reading with this girl outside the window. So I guess she was trying out different people and seeing who she wanted. Cool beans, that works.

So the other actor leaves, and I make eye contact and smile to the girl I think is the director...but she kinda looks away. Okay. I guess...I was wrong? I conveniently push my headshot to the top of my papers, so whoever the director ends up being can find me.

After a little bit, I'm about to text her, when the girl who I thought was/wasn't the director comes up to me. Oh hello! Cool, found you.

We start talking...and it becomes clear after I ask her if she's part of a school or if this is just for her reel that she's an actor. Oops. My bad.

And it all clicks..oh shit, it's the stunt girl/actor.

So we read the scene, and it goes pretty well. We read it again.

And she starts talking about how her manager wants her to film some scenes for her reel. He actually calls her while we're talking, and she tells me that he's really hands on about her career. Which sounds like a good quality to have in a manager. I mean, I'd love someone to work with me and drive me in the right direction.

We end the meeting, and I apologize for thinking she was a director and we kinda laugh about it.  We actually really clicked, I think. And then, before I leave, she tells me:

"Oh, I'll send your headshot and information to my manager."

What? Awesome!

I thank her, and I leave feeling pretty good about myself.

A couple days later, I get a phone call from her saying that her manager really wants to meet with me, and she gives me his number and information.

YES. This is awesome. I was feeling pretty good about myself. I mean, shoot, I might have some good representation soon!

So I call...and it goes straight to voicemail. Which sort of puts me off balance, but I leave a message telling him that his client had called me, and that I'd love to meet with him, etc.

I end up missing his call. Shit. So I call him back ASAP...but it's the same fucking voicemail thing.

Finally, he ends up calling back and I answer.

I wish I could remember everything, but this phone call was literally like 30 minutes long. As were the other couple times he called.

We start talking...and it becomes clear, as he repeats like 50 times, that he's a "no bullshit" kind of guy. Alright, that can be good.

He tells me he has a ton of friends in the top of businesses, like CAA, Liongate, Dreamworks, etc. That he can get me to meet with casting directors for shows that I would be a fit for.

He tells me that he needs to know that I'm not going to let him down, that there's nothing about me that could possibly fuck shit up.

Kay.

But then he starts telling me that he saw my facebook, and that there's shit on there I need to get rid of, that no one would cast me with the shit I have on there.

I pause and think to myself...my facebook's private. No one can see shit, except maybe my interests and favorite music or something.

But I just agree anyway, and say that I'll clean it up.

He also asks me if I got his e-mail. That his "assistant" sent me his e-mail and private phone number to contact him. (I found this later in my junk mail. FIRST CLUE. My e-mail knew before I did.)

He tells me to put everything I had planned today aside, and sit down and write him a bio about myself. He said he needed to know everything: boyfriends, measurements, cousins, drugs, relationships...everything that could help him understand me and better find roles for me. He wanted to know that I could follow directions, so he said to put that shit in one e-mail, and in the other one put 3-4 actresses I liked, 2-3 shows I liked, and actors with similar acting styles. He wanted me to call him before I sent it tonight.

Alright. Cool. I can do this.

I wanted to show that I was a no bullshit type of girl. That I wasn't afraid of anything in my past, and I was good at following directions.

So I write it out. Everything. From my days in school in France, my awkward times, my parents, my ex boyfriends, my bad times, my surgery, my boyfriend. I wanted him to know that I wasn't fucking around and that I was on the same road that he wanted to put me on. There was shit on there I think some of my close friends don't know. But I wanted him to know I was real as fuck, I've been through shit, and I bring everything I got to my acting.

I wrote that I loved Kristen Wiig, Emma Stone, and Kate Winslet: everything I loved about them. It was hard to actually pinpoint who I thought my acting style was like...I don't really see myself like that, but I said Jennifer Lawrence. And give some detailed explanation of why. My favorite shows, which I thought were really smart choices.

I send the e-mail: it took me almost 4 hours to type out everything.

He sends me e-mail responses to each of them, saying he appreciated my honesty, he'll review everything and talk to me tomorrow.

Cool beans.

The next day he calls me. He says he read everything, appreciated my honesty, said that there was some pretty deep shit in there and that he could tell I was an interesting person...

...and then he suddenly swings out:

"Did you get my e-mails?"

Um. Yeah, I did.

"Why didn't you reply?"

What...there was nothing to reply to...what the fuck.

"Communication is key. You can't fuck that up."

Uh. Kay.

He says there are some things that worry him in my bio.

Well, fuck, you said everything.

He spurts out a lot of "I know what to do with you, if you let me do it." and basically says he has the connections to make me a part of the best actresses in LA. Like over and over. With a lot of stories about how he's gotten auditions for feature films for his clients, and putting them in auditions with Amanda Seyfried, and lessons with the on-set acting coaches of Hillary Swank, etc.

And now this is where I started to not like this shit.

He started talking about my boyfriend. How he was bringing me down, how he's just a kid, and basically how I should break up with the guy.

And he starts bringing up shit that I wrote about and analyzing me psychologically.

He started using shit that I typed up for him, and reeling me into him.

Dude. No.

And he brings up this New York trip I'm going on in a couple weeks.

He asks me how long I'm going to be gone for.

"Um, 4 or 5 days."

"That's...that's too long. I wish I had met you before you scheduled that."

Um. I'm filming shit in NY, that's why I'm going. I'm filming a sizzle reel for a pilot that's being shipped around to companies like ABC and NBC, so what the fuck.

And then he basically starts putting down everything I've done so far...that all the student film shit I've been doing is crap, that this New York thing is bullshit...

I started arguing with him back when he mentioned my boyfriend, and now I was really pissed.

He also told me I wasn't watching enough TV...because I happened not to watch The Sopranos (WHICH ISNT ON TV ANYMORE) and Boardwalk Empire. Like getting mad at me because I wasn't doing this shit.

For the record, I watch TV, thanks. And if I ever got an audition for a TV series, I would watch the shit out of it before auditioning because I'm smart about it.

Speaking about research, this guy didn't have ANY information on him. None. His business didn't show up anywhere, except on IMDB Pro, where he was repping 7 other people (who honestly, weren't really doing a whole lot...for all the "connections" he had, it clearly wasn't working out for them).

He started talking about how I had never had a real audition for anything.

And I told him I actually had auditioned for some TV shows, and kind of got a callback for one of them...

AND HE STILL PUT THAT DOWN.

Now I'm getting pissed.

I also mentioned, because he kept on saying he wanted to put me in serious, dramatic shit, that I really loved comedy and that was a real part of my life I didn't want to let go.

And he told he had a girl like me who wanted to do comedy, but gave her the breakdowns for roles in that genre, and there were 0 match ups for her.

Which. I'm pretty sure is bullshit.

He brings up the boyfriend thing. AGAIN. What the fuck dude, do you want to be my boyfriend or something?

He says things like, "If you're shooting for 3 months in Canada, is he going to tell you to stay? If I send you for kickboxing classes, is he going to be mad and not want you to go?"

Um. Yeah I think he'd be stoked for me and come out to visit me if he can get a few days off.

AND he kept saying he wanted me to do all these workshops and classes and shit...dude, that's a whole lot of money. I'm not going to do 7 classes at a time, sorry, I don't even have time to do one right now.

He kept repeating that he could make me really good, if I let him do his thing and I listened to him. Which immediately, I didn't like...I don't really feel like being turned into something I'm not.

This was kinda split into two phonecalls that day. But in the first he said he wanted me to find 3 monologues, film them, and send them to him by the end of the day. The second call was around 2:30, when I was about to film everything, and lasted til about 3:30.

So at the end of this one, he was like:

"I want the monologues by 5:00, okay?"

Uh.

"Well, I mean, I was working on them when you called...I'm just not sure with uploading time, and editing, if that's gonna-"

"Just get it done. I told you this morning. Just do it."

And he hangs up.

What. The fuck.

So I'm staring at the monologues, not sure what the fuck to do.

I google his e-mail, and find this girl who used to be represented by him and I send her a facebook message asking why she dumped him. She never responds though.

I call Sam. And I tell him about everything that just happened. And he tells me that after asking his dad and a couple other people, that this guy was bullshit and that everything he was saying was just wrong.

And I just start crying. Bawling.

I don't know why, exactly. I think part of me was scared that this would be the only way I could actually do this. Was I going to have to give up everything I loved and thought I was good at to fit in some fucking mold? Was I going to have to give up my friends and family to do this? Would I ever get anyone else to want to represent me or help me succeed?

I had to end this shit, it had already gone way too far. I knew this was bad news, and whether or not it would get me anything positive, it clearly wasn't the right choice.

So my boyfriend, who apparently I was supposed to dump, helped me write the e-mail: straight, to the point, nothing he could attack, no emotional phrases. I was wary sending it...seriously, part of me still wanted it to be right.

And I sent it.

And on my boyfriend's advice, I filled up a glass of white wine with mango, ran a bubble bath, and watch the Descendants.

And turned off my phone.

I looked back on everything that had happened...even from the beginning, the actress that I met up with looked kinda scared and little unbalanced. And how exactly did they get my information again?? And why was there absolutely NO information, no pictures or anything, on this guy? I'm not even sure his business was registered.

He sent me this later on:

Hey, knock knock...

Go fuck yourself.

I've been working since I got here. I've done at least 12 different projects in 3 months, that's a project a week. I'm going to have a fucking kick ass reel when all my shit comes back to me in around 3-4 weeks or so, and you bet your ass I'm gonna be ready to bring it next pilot season.

The funny thing is, I had that bad gut feeling as soon as I heard his voice. And I should've listened to it earlier, but I'm glad I shut things down when I did.

A manager isn't supposed to make you feel like shit. And this guy failed in the first 24 hrs.

Honestly...what's gotten me work is my relationships with people I meet. I've met a lot of cool, real (not this douchebag's "real") people who want to do work and who I've clicked with, who think I don't suck or have to take kickboxing classes. And that's been a really good force in my career.

LISTEN TO YOUR GUT.

It knows what's going to work for you.

And don't let some dick tell you what you're not doing right. Because you know better than anyone what makes you happy.



And a tell-tale sign someone's bad for you:


If they say "I hear you" 10 times in a row for dramatic effect.

Cuz they probably don't.

You're not from Levi's. And wow, how...un-LUCK-y...and other LUCK inspired titles.

So I submitted myself, through CAZT, for a Levi's commercial, and was pretty fucking stoked when I actually got an audition.

They didn't actually give us sides, but gave us a storyline: girl and boy wait for parents to go to sleep, boy and girl meet up and drive away into the night to dry hump. Not the most original piece on earth, but it's Levi's, who gives a fuck. 

Now...on the audition post, it never actually said anything about the pay or pay scale, or when it would be shooting/airing etc. Which I thought was kinda...weird. So I decided to investigate. 

I looked the one guy listed in the post up...and it looked like he barely had done anything. Like, I think he had one for producing something like a student film or whatever...and then I find him on youtube. 

On another "Levi's commercial".

Apparently, if you're casting a video you're most likely using solely for your reel, but shooting it as if it could be a commercial using Levi's products...then you can say you're looking for a girl for a Levi's commercial. 

Which I think is a little fucked up.

I almost bought a pair of Levi's for you, deceptive CAZT-using poster.

But I go anyways. Whatever. It's easy. And it's the only thing I had to do that day. Let's just do this shit. 

So I get there...and they have actual sides now. Hooray. Not super hard: I look through it really quick.

And they call my name...to also go in with a guy who's auditioning for the dude part. Cool, alright. 

I get in there...and it's all like, 30 year old men. All slightly overweight, and sad looking. Not BECAUSE they were all slightly overweight, but as, like, an added accessory. 

Which. I thought was really weird, considering this commercial is all about teen love. I think it kinda ventured into creepytown, actually. And stayed there.

So  I try to be nice...obviously. Because I usually come into my auditions with a death glare and pessimism, and overall hatred of the world around me...but yeah, I show that I'm interested in this shit.

But literally, they looked like they were all dragged in here. Actually, yeah, I'm pretty sure that's what happened. The one guy who looked mediocrely content was the one trying to make this shit, and the other guys clearly were doing this as a favor for him. 

We slate, and start the scene. It's short..and kinda boring. But there's not a whoooole lot to make it more interesting, unless I decided to jump him. Which I guess is what they wanted us to do. No, seriously, I think they expected people to come in and just hump the shit out of their scene partners. 

We finish...and the guy asks if we could do the scene without the scripts (because apparently papers in front of us didn't look "natural"). Well. Sure. I mean, it's not memorized because you guys JUST gave it to us, but cool. 

So we do it sans paper, trying to hit at least most of the lines...and then the scene ends. Oh, wait! No it does not! Because man-friend decides to grab me around the waist and pull me into him. Oh hi nice to meet you. And then they call cut. 

It was pretty fuckin' awkward. Because the pull in was so not expected and out of place, I was like...cool.

And then the whole sexual scenarios in film vs theater came up in my mind again. I didn't have a problem with shit like that in Romeo and Juliet, and I never really had a problem with it in scenes...because there was a fucking PURPOSE to it. For some reason, film shit likes to just slap it in there, and I'm not really down for that. I've already kinda talked about it, so I'll stop, but I don't know. Shit's weird in LA. 

Anyway, so I figured I wasn't going to get this one...ooooh noz, it's cool. 

But then! I got the feedback for it. That's right, CAZT gives you your audition video and feedback from the casting director/director/whoever has to try to remember everyone's audition and give some notes. 

Usually they're actually pretty helpful...I did get a feud on one of my feedbacks from a casting director who thought I should've been cast as something hands down, and a director who tried to defend himself. That was fucking weird. But for the most part, it's cool, and usually positive with speckles of advice. Or if they have less people auditioning, they actually give really detailed feedback which I most definitely appreciate. 

However, I'm guessing someone (probably one of the sadest looking men in the room) had to do everyone's feedback for this "commercial" audition...and they probably were like, "You know what...fuck this, I'm going to create the perfect ambiguous feedback that will be perfect for EVERYONE."

And that's what they did.

WHAT.

Someone took all the audition and acting notes they got from their acting class and smushed them all into one ambiguous feedback comment for everyone, even if it made no fucking sense. High five for laziness.

Oh. And now the Luck part of this blog post.

So I woke up Tuesday, started to eat breakfast and watch whatever I Tivoed from yesterday...and a message magically appeared in my facebook inbox. 

I open it, and it's from a friend from college I hadn't talked to in a while, who apparently now works at a Casting agency...

...and he has a part he wants to cast me in in Luck.

For those of you who don't have a boyfriend who's obsessed with horse movies, it's an HBO tv series about horse racing with Dustin Hoffman and a lot of other equally cool peeps.

And I freak out. WHAT THE SHIT YES.

So I call him, and he says that the role would be as an auction girl...and I have to have had experience with horses. PROFICIENT experience with horses.

Um.

I rode horses a few times...when I was like 5? I had them at my birthday party once. 

He repeats that I need to be proficient...fuck.

And after a few back and forths of "eh.."s and "well..."s, he straight up asks me "yes or no?"

Yes. Horses are cool. Sign me up.

He books me for it...the next morning in Pomona. I hang up...and I freak the fuck out. 

WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST DO.

I call Sam, who tells me to calm the fuck down (as per usj.)

And then I'm like...wait. I mean, I can walk a horse and shit...oh fuck. Do I have to ride it? 

I quickly look up horse auctions on my trusty friend, google. And every single "auction" video had girls/guys RIDING the horses in the ring for people to see how the horses ride...

...oh shit.

Simultaneously, I had also agreed to help with a film that an actress had dropped out of at the last minute. So any quick horse riding lesson was out of the question.

I go to the film shoot, with this REELING through my mind. Fuck. What if they need me to do something special that only a PROFICIENT horse rider could possibly know?

So I use my friend google again. And I dig every single fucking thing I could ever need to know about horse back riding. 

*Approach the horse from the front and side, never from the back. 

*Always mount the horse from the left side.

*Sit on the horse straight, but don't let your legs from the knee down touch the horse.

Etc.

And I memorize the shit out of it.

As I do this, I send my casting friend a facebook message back...

Because I googled horseback riding, and trotting and cantering are two diiferent 'modes' of horseback riding. 

So during this other film shoot, I'm asking questions about horseback riding. The whole day. And I'm still kinda freaking out, but a little more comfy with the idea.

The shoot ends, and it's around 7 when I get into my car and ride home. I'm supposed to call this number at 9 for information about wardrobe/call time etc.

But I also find out I got a callback/second audition for this part I really love. So now I have two fucking awesome things happening at the same time. And I freak out a lil' bit because they may overlap and I might miss this callback.

I get a facebook message back, and after spending the whole day studying horse back riding, flipping my shit, and trying to get everything down, turns out...

 We're only walking the horses.

Not riding. Walking. 

We are walking the horses.

So I spent the whole freaking day going crazy over , and I finally find out all the "mount the horse from the left side" shit is absolutely unnecessary. 

30 points from Hufflepuff. 

I'm now psyching myself out for the big day I got, and it's 9:15 so I call the number...

The shoot is cancelled until next week.

Oh. Well. That works too. 

So I'm a little disappointed...but actually everything's kinda working out! I get to be on Luck and go to this callback!

I go to the callback the next day (and see Sugar from Glee. Hey, Sugar, sup.) and get home...and I have an e-mail in my inbox from someone who knew about the Luck gig...with the title "Luck" in it.

And we all know where this ends.

Luck got fucking cancelled.

The show got cancelled for having three horses die on set.

Which means there wasn't going to be a next week horse auctioner gig where I act sort of near Dustin Hoffman. 

....boo.

So that one didn't work out. Which is kinda sad. But whatevz, gotta roll with the punches. Hopefully this  means something good will happen to balance shit out.

Insert "luck" pun here. 

It's like Where's Waldo. With a lot more panic attacks.

I feel weird putting good news here....somehow it ends up not as interesting to read.

To spark-note this shit, I got an appointment with a REALLY good agency from someone who was represented by them. That was the good news I never told you. But now I can, because it starts this story.

I had one meeting, I think, last month...and the day of the appointment something came up and I got a call the day of that they had to reschedule. Which was cool...the first 3 times. And then I just started feeling awkward. I totally understand: it's pilot season, shit's busy. But I kinda felt like...I was imposing. Like I was starting to be the burden appointment they kept pushing until they were like "uuuuuugh fiiiiine".

So finally, the appointment was set fur realz...the agent's assistant was like, "Even if a last minute New York trip or Hunger Games screening comes around again, the appointment will stand." Which made me feel shitty again: I wouldn't turn that down.

The whole day I'm trying to stay cool. I'm super stoked, but not really sure what to expect. But you can bet your ass I googled that shit.

So google told me to stay cool, don't talk about myself excessively, and prepare answers for questions like: why do you want to act?...cool, I can do that.

I'm curling my hair, trying to look goooood...and as I'm sitting, curling the last pieces...I drop the curling iron on my leg.

Pretttyyyy.

So that takes out wearing a dress to this appointment.

This should've been a sign of the day to come...but I ignored the omen.

I pack with me copies of my headshots and resumes in my purse, finish getting ready, and I'm gooood to go.

It apparently takes 25 minutes to get there, and my appointment is at 4:30...so JUUUUUST to be safe, I leave at 3:30. That's right, a whole hour before.

Traffic's good, I'm chillin', feelin' gooood...and I get there at like 4:00. There's no real parking for the place it seems, so I just park at the mall across the street. Granted, I never actually see the place...I mean there's no sign, no real indication...but it says it's close, so I park and take the stairs up to this outside mall.

I take out my phone and google map the place...and it's super close! Awesome!

I follow the map, making my way to the green dot on the map...and I get to the dot...

And I'm in the middle of the mall.

I look around, seeing if it's around the corner or something.

Nope. Nothing.

Fuck.

Now it's 4:09.

Okay. 21 minutes. I can do this, whatever.

I ask someone in the Tiffany's store if they know where the agency is...and all of them don't really know, except one! Who tells me I have to keep going straight and go into the building with the "Westfield" sign on it.

Lovely! I thank him and go to the building...

I get there and go up to the receptionist...

...and he seems confused when I ask for the agency.

Oh shit.

At this point, it's 2:20, and I'm starting to freak out a little...like a lot.

He asks me the address, and I find it on my phone...and he sends me back into the mall.

So I'm in the mall...and I'm just like, "FUCK." and I'm starting to really panic. I can't find this fucking stupid building anywhere. And I have five minutes.

I'm literally about to cry at this point, no lie. I'm freaking out.

I go to the Mall info booth and ask if she knows...and she sends me across the bridge, second building on the left.

Just FYI, each of these people seem really fucking sure the agency is where they say it is, so the ups and downs of relief and then utter panic are getting stressful.

I go across the bridge, looking like a crazy woman fast-walking my face off, and get to this stupid building. I get to THAT receptionist...and it's not there. I'm literally about to just fuck my eye make-up up and cry my face off.

And then this messenger guy comes in, and the receptionist asks him if he knows where it is. And he says it's over the bridge again, cross the street, and go down half a block.

So basically. It's right across from where I started out.

WHAT THE FUCK.

So I thank him, and as I clunk-run in my heels, I call the number that left me a message last time saying that they had to change my appointment. And it was the agent himself...which was weird. But I immediately said who I was and told him I was on my way...

...and then he says he's transferring me to his assistant.

Oh. Okay.

So I repeat the same thing to his assistant, and he tells me not to worry. Alright, coo'. I feel a little better, but I'm already 3 minutes late.

I'm fast-walking, my satchel getting twisted into my shirt, but I keep powering through.

I take out my phone to double check that the building I think is the right one is the right one this time...

And it's dead.

So no more phone calls or looking at a map.

Awesome. Not like that was really helping in the first place.

I go into the building...go to the receptionist...and ask, hoping this isn't a repeat of the last three disasters, if this is the right building.

AND IT IS. YES.

And he sends me into this hallway...and at the end on the right lies the entry way to the agency.

HOW DO PEOPLE FIND THIS PLACE.

I make my way to the receptionist, and let her know that I'm here, and I sit down and wait. And I'm chillin' for a little bit, which is good because I had adrenaline pumping into every ligament, which was kinda making my stomach weird.

And this young guy comes out of the doors, and make his way towards me...and introduces himself as the assistant. He takes me into the elevator, telling me not to worry, to just chill out, relax, asks me if I wanted water...well, thank you nice assistant.

He leads me to the agent's room, and I walk in, shake his hand...you know how I do.

So I sit down. The assistant brings in the water. He asks me about myself: WATCH OUT! DONT TALK TO MUCH ABOUT YOURSELF, SAYS THE INTERNET! But I give him the basic lowdown.

He asks me what I've done so far, and I tell him.

And then he gives me advice, which, I am ALWAYS down for. Literally, I will take anything you got.

He asks to see my headshots if I have them with me...psh. DO I have them with me...I gotz a copy of each one.

I take them out...and he tells me to get them retouched. Which is fine, I had someone told me not to. So maybe I'll get both. But he doesn't really take one. He kinda just...puts them back.

Aight, thaz coo'.

So he starts giving me more advice. And the whole time, I was kinda getting a dead-eye, continuous stare of doom. Just like, no blinking, stare at your soul kinda look. I didn't know whether to just keep staring or blink or look away...but I'm always down for a staring contest.

 He tells me I should sign up for a breakdown website...which. Yeah,  I've kinda been doing that. But he doesn't really let me say anything, he kinda just keeps chugging along. He tells me I should have my headshot up on some sites...cool. Well. I have a website. And it's on at least 4 other ones.

And he tells me to do student films in LA...awesome. I've done like 5.

It was weird...it wasn't like he was asking me if I had done these things, but just kinda splurted advice at me.

He kinda ended it with the fact that the agency doesn't really take actors to find them small parts in movies and tv shows...aka there's no way we'll take you. Which is fine: please, I wasn't really expecting to get signed by the agency, but just kinda drop by, say hello hey remember me.

Oh, water! I forgot about you! I open my water bottle and pour some into a glass with ice, and take a sip...

And then he asks if I have any questions. Oh. Alright. I ask him about agents vs managers, on what to nab first. He tells me a manager...to do classes with a showcase and try to get an agent that way.

And then he kinda sends me on my way.

It was probably 5-7 minutes long.

And I looked at my water bottle, debating whether or not to grab it, or pretend that taking a sip and leaving the bottle is totally normal. I felt like the second option was the norm, so I left it, and shook his hand. He gives me his card, in case I had any questions...but I think he was just happy to finally get the appointment done.

So I leave, passing the huddled lines of people on phones, scolding people for fucking up...and I get to the elevator...and after a Jonah Hill look-a-like leaves, and I get to the ground floor...

I just start laughing.

Because that was so. freakin'. ridiculous.

I literally almost had a panic attack to hear someone who clearly wished he was doing something else tell me things I already kinda knew.

I cross the street, find my car that was literally 5 minutes away from the agency in the first place, and get stuck in traffic for 40 minutes before finally making it home.



And then Kelly Clarkson's "Stronger" comes on...

What doesn't kill you makes you strong-



And I turn it off.



Fuck that song.

I didn't realize we were improv-ing, thanks for the heads up.

So I had auditioned for this movie/pilot/thing last week, I think I might've mentioned it earlier...but it was for this pilot that films in Arizona. And I'm stoked because I think it'd be cool to just be shipped off somewhere for four days and just act. I love that. That's kinda why I had wanted to do traveling shows after graduating.

Anyhoo. My callback for the pilot was today, and I made sure I read the script, basically memorized the two scenes they wanted me to learn...I was pretty good to go.

The times were from 4:00-6:30, so I figured if I got there by 5, I'd be good to go.

I get there...and there are at least 12 people ahead of me. 12. Which doesn't seem so bad by just looking at the number...but you figure each audition is going to be 5 minutes long AT LEAST...yeah. 

So I chill. For a while. And I wait.

And after playing Scramble and checking my e-mail like 30 times...it's 6:15. And there are 6 people after me.

Finally I get in, and they have me read with this guy...who literally got there 5 minutes before we went in. Really? Really...

So I'm still stoked though, ready to just do this shiz...but everyone in there seems like they're just trying to get through this, which always is a lovely feeling to get before a reading. 

The guy I'm reading with explains how his car got broken into while he was in court...which I sort of found a little ironic...justice...and thievery...and shit. And the robber took his sides. Which I was going to make a joke about, but apparently this was serious time and we weren't supposed to joke about cars getting broken into for acting sides.

I'm ready to at least do the longer scene she gave us...but then, out of nowhere, she decides that we're just going to do the scene we auditioned with last week.

Which. Is cool. Except you have video of me doing that scene last week. Twice.

But the cherry on top was, this guy didn't read this scene. He was not familiar. Awesome.

And they asked if he wanted a minute to look it over.

To which I was like...SAY YES.

"Nope. I'm good."

Lovely.

So basically, our scene went like this:

I said my lines.

He made up most of his.

And of course, he makes up some funny shit, and I'm trying to stick to the script...and it just ends up looking like I'm boring, and he's hilarious.

Great, I'm glad I was helping you with that.

I LOVE improv. But I like it when it's not one sided.

Why didn't I improv back? Because the scene would have neveeeerrrr endeeeeed. And it would've just gotten ridiculous. 

So we finish the scene/improv. And I feel like I was just a reader for this guy. They don't really say goodbye to me, so I kinda just sneak away until one of them notices and thanks me for coming.

It's shit like that where you're just like...god. Really? Mehhh.

Another example of why getting there earlier is better. Because people don't actually know how much time callbacks/auditions will take, and they usually guess under the amount they actually need.

So. Not sure I'll be going to Arizona. But I guess it's an experience...that will add to my character...and mold me into the person I will become...

...a pessimistic cat lady. Who has to change the channel when "Who's Line is it Anyway?" is on.

Jean is my boyfriend. And I'm not sure I'll be going into stunts.

Before I start, shout out to Charlie's Web crew. You guys took care of us like we were your Tamagotchi pets that you didn't want to die, and it was lovely.

This statement was kind of inspired by my experience today at the France 2 shoot.

I mentioned earlier that I had gotten a commercial for France 2, which is simultaneously weird and exciting. Mostly because I got cast based on my picture and my walking abilities.

So today was the day: super early in Malibu, which was a bitch because it was prime traffic time and ended up taking me almost 2 hours to get there.

I get there, and I kind of awkwardly chill before a really friendly ginger-man (another proof that redheads are awesome) comes up to me and explains the day while handing me forms to fill out. He tells me that I'm playing "Jean's girlfriend" who, after a domino-effect of surfboards gets knocked down, one of the surfboards scares me into spilling my drink on my boyfriend. Cool beans.

I fill out the forms, go through make up and hair, and after grabbing some coffee it's time to head to the beach where the filming is.

And it's fucking freezing.

It's not helping that I'm basically wearing a bikini with a thin warmless tube top dress.

So boyfriend and I are on this beach, not really doing anything, shivering in 60 degree weather...and finally it's our turn.

I feel bad for the kid, cuz it's freezing and I'm about to throw two cups of chilly water on him. I mean, no one had a robe for him or a jacket thing or anything. That sucks.

So we go for a take, no rehearsal, and I kinda have to gage how fast the surfboards are falling vs how fast I walk towards him and spill my water.

The surfboards fall, and I walk towards him, and the last board falls while hitting my arm on the way down and the guy gets covered in this water.

The surfboard kinda stung, but it wasn't something I was going to die from.

So we cut, and boyfriend gets his shirt blow-dryed while we wait for further instruction.

The director comes over and tells us it was really good. So I'm thinking, awesome maybe we don't have to do it again.

Nope.

So we do it again. And again. And my arm keeps getting pummeled by this surfboard. I kinda mention something, like heeeeeey, it's starting to kinda sting and I'm not sure how many more takes I can do like that.

And they listen.

So instead of falling on my arm, they've decided I need to go completely in front of the surfboard and have it hit me from behind...basically landing on my head.

What. Seriously?

This is why I need to sign up for SAG.

The assistant director...or whoever the fuck he was...comes up to me, and is like, "Okay, so, it doesn't look as realistic as we want it to" (to which my mind is going...really? The surfboards actually pummeling me in the arm each take isn't realistic enough for you?)

"We're going to have you land in front of it"

To which I do the Alexia-uh-no-thank-you-this-concerns-me face.

And he actually replies with, "It's nothing. I mean, they're not going that fast. This is child's play."

Um, if this is child's play, I don't want to know how many brain injuries your children have.

My face morphs into a This-worries-me-and-you-sound-like-a-dick expression, and he kinda wafts away.

It's like..well shit, let's take the time to figure out what the fuck you want so my arm doesn't keep tingling.

So we do it again..and obviously, I'm like kinda bracing myself for this stupid surfboard..and it misses me. I guess my subconscious was like, FUCK THIS SHIT, and stepped somewhere where it would only tap me, and I threw my water.

And scene. Done. Thank god.

It was a weird experience. But still can't wait to have my relatives record that shit this summer.

Got a shoot this weeked for a comedy about a girl who "breaks up" with her computer to have a real relationship. It's cute, should be good times :)

Trying to study-up for a couple callbacks: one would be a shoot in Arizona, which I'd kinda be down for. Especially because they're putting us in a hotel and paying for travel...it's like a mini vacation where I still get to do shit I lurve. :)

Love that shit.

Caffeine isn't just in my blood, it IS my blood. And that's why I don't donate. And I pass out...

I wrote this at 2:00 in the morning, I apologize for any confusing/weird/nonsensical shit I throw out.

Alright, where to start.

I’m on a nice roll/groove right now. Remember that walking audition I mentioned? I ended up booking that, which is awesome, and even cooler because it’s a commercial for FRANCE 2. I clearly have never used my walking skillz to their ultimate potential.

I also finished filming an AFI film about the Wright brothers. That was pretty sweet.

The shoot was in this really old, yellow mansion, complete with it’s own mini-church (convenient) and no curtains. I discovered the latter when I was changing into my costume and realized the apartment complex  across the way was getting a free show. And there was a lot of awkward crouching while attempting to use the loo.

If I learned anything from that it was a) a film script is to putty as a theater script is to an ugly lamp your grandma loves. b) I’m still get some sort of performance anxiety while acting for the camera in front of lots of equipment and people.

Let’s start with ‘a’ cuz I go through my shit alphabetically.

So I didn’t have a whole lot of lines in this film, but it was a cool part and basically the only female role in the piece. When I rehearsed it, I basically tried to cram everything I could think of into those lines. Not excessively or anything: I didn’t turn them into facial-expression monologue. But you know.

I get on set and we start to rehearse the scene…and the lines have changed. Not because the writer changed them, but because the director told the other actor to basically change the lines to whatever felt comfortable.

The theater actor in me was very confused.

I still remember my first scene I ever did in college with one of my professors (Risa). She basically told me and my scene partner to get our shit together on our lines, because we were paraphrasing, and threatened to read the script AS we were doing it to make sure we got everything right.

You’re told the writer wrote those words for a reason, so say them that way. And then suddenly, moving to film, it’s like the script is a basic skeleton of the story where you flesh out the words. It’s like the actor suddenly becomes the second editor to the script.

Which felt, and still feels, fuckin’ weird.

And now to ‘b’.

So in this project, Wilbur (close employer) dies, and there’s a close up panning of the doctor who tried to heal him, and me, obviously distraught.

I’ve gotten myself there emotionally when we’re apparently ready to shoot, but then find out we’re still trying to set up camera equipment. So I’m stuck with this “oh shit someone I know just died” feeling in my stomach for what seemed like forever, and I start feeling sick. I let it go, because I feel like if I keep feeling like someone just died, I’m gonna keel over. And then, of course, it’s filming time. And the camera is like waaaaay close up. Like in mah face.  And it was this weird feeling of “Oh, people are filming it”. Which is obvious, but not really something you wanna think WHILE you’re being filmed.

 And the place I had vacationed to a mere 5 minutes ago was buried underwater forever.

I mean, I think it’s cool that I didn’t cry or whatever, but it was a weird moment of not being able to sink into a part and just kinda slide on top and hope the story still comes across. Which obviously, I wasn’t really cool with.

Oh! So. I did my first day shooting with the guy who played Oliver Wright. And guess who did my make-up/hair?

Muthafuckin’ Sweet Pea from Project Runway. What. That was awesome. She’s super nice…I’m not sure anyone ever thought otherwise, but I thought I’d throw that out there.

AND THEN. The second day…I meet the actor who played Wilbur. And I shake his hand, introduce myself…and he looks really familiar.

Like, really familiar.

And then I realize…

It’s Buster Bluthe. From Arrested Development. And I died.

I had to stop myself from going fan-crazy on him. Cuz that’s not cool.

And now for the horror-audition part of this blog.

So I got as audition to be the spokesperson/host for Zynga Poker. The description was this:

I was like, well, shit, I’m a redhead. Or enough of one. I can improv. Let’s do this.

I get there, and sit down with this girl who had gotten there a little before me. We’re sitting down in the lobby, and this other girl comes in, clearly not a redhead at all, and signs in.

She comes in, still talking to someone on her phone for everyone to enjoy.

The desk attendant tells her to sign a non-disclosure agreement, to which she responds with:

“Oh, yeah it’s a good thing I’m doing that, I have, like, the BIGGEST MOUTH, I blab all the time.”

To which the desk attendant kind of ignores and pretends she never said anything.

They take all 3 of us to a quick briefing about what they want us to do: read some sides in cardboard with lines from a potential “shit poker girls say” video, and pretend we’re opening a poker event.

Alright, all good.

And then the director is like, “Alright, so whoever was in the door first, can be up first”.

So I’m like, alright, cool, I’ll be next.

But the first girl starts leaving. And it’s clear we’re all going out the door.

And I’m not stupid: there’s improvisation shit, she probably wants to prepare something.

The casting director is like, “Sooo…who was first?” and I look at the girl, to which she goes, “Who was in the door first?”

Like in the door to the room we were in vs first person who signed in.

Really?

Well, that wasn’t me either, so fuck.

Then, like she’s stepping up because the rest of us WEREN’T THE FIRST PERSON HERE, she says “I mean, I’ll go first, whatever.”

What a hero.

And then…I get stuck with confidentiality-agreement girl.

So we’re both waiting in the lobby, and she suddenly turns to me with a confused twinkle in her eye…

“Where are we?”

I kinda give her a blank stare and respond with, “What do you mean?”

Like someone had just teleported her from her house to here and she has no idea where the fuck she is. Or has severe amnesia.

“Like, what is this?”

And I was still too baffled by the question to tell her “This is a casting company. You’re at an audition”. So I think she’s probably still wondering where she is.

Then, to somehow book-end this enlightening conversation, she says, “I don’t know why they’re casting redheads…we’re both not really redheads.”

Alright, let’s not lump me in the wrong-hair-color category. At least I’m strawberry.

The casting director saves me and sends me into my audition.

It was weird, as all of these pseudo-seductive and partially-skanky castings go.

They had me slate my name, do the 360 pose-dance, and then I had to read the cardboard slides. Which. Was weird. Because it’s one thing to see how people do with cuecards…it’s another to just put the lines a cardboard piece and have people read it and then say it to the camera. I’d think just sending out the lines to everyone the day before would be cheaper.

I said them. Yay.

And then I pretended I was hosting an event. Hooray poker.

And then they had me pose. Which. I don’t know. Was weird. And all I could imagine was a bunch of 40 year old men playing poker while I had my tits out as extra entertainment in between hands…poker hands. But that was  very innuendo-y of me.

Ehhhh.

So I don’t think I got it…but I might be okay with that.

But shit, all in all, things are lookin’ up. I’m on day 2 of this film shoot: 6 PM to 6 AM. It’s for a Chapman film about this group of girls who roll and put this girl in a coffin to “initiate” her and shit gets real.

It’s a really cool part, kinda bad ass. And I now know exactly how to use a lighter. I’m a one-flick wonder now, so I’ll light all your lightables for you. I’m trying to figure out exactly how my sleep schedule is going to work, though. At one point, I have the filming til 6 AM, drive back to my place at 7:20…and then have a really good audition at 10:00 in Culver City, which is about 30 minutes away. So. I have about an hour and a half to sleep/get ready before having to be awake enough to be funny.

If I’m in delirious mode, this might turn out ‘aight.

Oh, I got a card for an agency today. While walking down a street in West Hollywood. Oh I wish it was that easy. I’m pretty sure it’s not super legit: it said somewhere they weren’t registered which is always bad news bears.

And so the search continues.

Not too sad about it, though. I mean, I’m submitting myself for shit and keeping 100% of my moneyz. Which isn’t bountiful.

But the harvest is not finished…

Okay, this is starting to not make sense which I think means I should drink another cup of coffee and get myself a case of the shakeys.

Holah.

French Onion Soup. Comfort in a bowl :)

French Onion soup. 

I have not met one person who has said to me, "You know what, fuck French Onion soup, I hate that shit." Which means it's pretty much a universal "hell yessss".

This and a good bean/beef/turkey chili are some of my two favorite comfort food. I mean, come on, what says "It's all going to be good, gurl." like caramelized onions and melted gruyere on pieces of baguette. And it's pretty fuckin' easy to make. And now that you have the recipe, there is no more excuse for you not to make a homemade French Onion soup.

So here you go. 

French Onion Soup Recipe

WHAT YOU NEED (for about two dinner servings):

1 Onion (a chose a sweet yellow)

1 cup chicken stock

1 cup beef stock 

1 TBSP flour

1 pinch of thyme (more to taste, if you'd like)

Salt and Pepper to taste

1/4 C of red wine

1 clove of garlic (minced)

3 TBSP butter (about a third of the stick)

1 large/medium pot

Gruyere cheese

A few slices of French Baguette

 STEP 1: Slice up your onion in slivers. Cut off the ends and just start cutting it end to end, going back and slicing your 'circle' pieces in half.

STEP 2: In your large pot, melt down the piece of butter on a low-medium heat.

STEP 3: Throw in your onion, thyme, salt, pepper, and garlic and cover the onion pieces in the butter. Leave it on the low-medium heat, going back every few minutes to stir the onions around. This takes about 15-20 minutes.

After 25 minutes, your onion should be lovely and caramelized and look a little somthin' like this. And iz beautiful.













STEP 5: Add the cup of wine to the caramelized onions. Bring to a boil, and then reduce the heat to a simmer. Let it chill for about 5-10 minutes, or until all of the wine has boiled off.

STEP 6: Once the wine has boiled off, add the tablespoon of flour and then cook for another 5-10 minutes to cook the raw flour.

STEP 7: Once you've cooked the flour through, add the beef and chicken broth. I like Swanson. Mostly because this container reminds me of those single-serve wine juice boxes you find at 7-ll.

Let it cook on a simmer for 5-10 more minutes...and while you're doing that...

STEP 8: Slice about 3-4 baguette slices per serving and cut enough pieces of Gruyere cheese to make a nice thick layer of cheese. I have about 7 different types of cheese in my fridge and wasn't about to buy another one, so I just went with some Comte and Parmesan...but just Comte would've probably been better. Throw it on a pan and put it in the broiler: CHECK ON IT EVERY 2-3 MINUTES. Basically, just make sure nothing burns.

Once the pieces are crispy and the cheese has melted, ladle the soup into a bowl and put the croutons on top.

And there you go! Never order another bad French Onion soup  from a mediocre restaurant again, because you just made it for way less.

Holah.