Religion, Auditions, & Margaritas

Oh, and remind me to never audition for AI again.

This may be a roundabout way of explaining this whole adventure, but I’m writing all this for you to realize the perfect storm that accumulated to Monday night's audition. A lot went down, so stick it out with me!

Alright so I’ll be honest, I’m semi-participating in Ramadan. It all started when one of the agents I intern for told me about his practice on Friday. I’m such a self-centered Christian that I’d completely missed that Ramadan was even going on.
When I was in Kazakhstan we learned about the Muslim faith, and Ramadan was one of the traditions I balked at.

A whole month? Without food during the day?? What are you supposed to do instead?!
Pray, dummy.
Oh right.

This also reminded me of a conversation I had Imam at a mosque while I was there
“So what do you pray for?”
“I’m sorry I don’t understand what you mean”
His English was great, but he wasn’t getting what I asked. One of our guides explained in Russian and then the Imam’s face lit up when he looked at me.

“We do not pray for anything. We do not believe that God takes requests, like your Santa Claus. We pray to be better servants. We give thanks for our lives. We seek to be more peaceful, and healthier men”

Immediately I realized my semantic mistake. But what he said made sense. I know as Christians we all say things like “God is Santa, he doesn’t have a wish list” but we still pray to him don’t we? We say things like “Please oh please God let me pass this test!” In this way we make God our good luck charm and wait to see if He decides to follow through.
I’ve prayed a lot of “forgive me” prayers after that day.

In the Muslim faith, from what I glean, there is a works based theology. Good works makes you a bit more holy. They’re prayers are like hymns or the doxology are to a Christian. They’re traditional, and often repeated.
I’m not one for works based theology, but I do see the draw. Especially when I’m a fairly guilty minded person because I haven’t been to church in about…three months? Maybe longer? Eek I don’t even know!

Continuing my religious tangent: I came into my internship last Friday to find half the office was fasting. I knew that our theatrical agent was Muslim, and that our commercial agent was Christian. (It came up at some point in conversation) The Christian commercial agent came in complaining about being hungry and how she was low on energy.
“Eat a sandwich” one of my favorite solutions to a problem.
“I can’t I’m fasting with Karim today”

I looked at Karim who confirmed and began to explain, “This month is Ramadan. In my faith we call it the month of blessings because we believe that for this month God locks up the devil.”
The carrot in my mouth slowly started slipping out

“We wake up before the sun rises, eat a little, and offer up prayers. We don’t eat food, or drink water from sunrise till sunset every day.”
“What about gum?” I asked.
“No gum, no nothing. We use it as a time to ask God for specific blessings, and show our commitment by abstaining from food or other wants.”
It explained why they were listening to “The Wave” as opposed to their typical rap station. Ramadan was more of a refocusing time for Muslims, than a present giving and getting holiday we celebrate as Christians. I suppose our materialistic society has made Christianity more appealing in this way. He explained that it was a way to purify mind as well as spirit from evil thoughts or intentions throughout the day.

“And you see blessing everywhere. Just last night I got a booking for one of our clients who didn’t even audition! Blessings! Blessings everywhere.”
It was at that point that I put down my bag of carrots and regretted the two egg mushroom and red bell pepper omelet I made and ate that morning. For the rest of the day I prayed forgiveness and sent prayers of solidarity. Throughout the day three more clients booked gigs without having auditions. A first, at least since I started four or five months ago.
 Each time they did Karim’s face would light up, he’d clap, and say “I told you! Blessings! Blessings!”

Each time this happened I’d be renewed with will to participate. From 11AM until 6PM I neither ate nor drank anything. The eating wasn’t so bad but going without water was rough. Everyone had been prepared for the day, they had eaten big meals before sunrise and brought along little kits to brush their teeth and “scope” their mouth. I on the other hand had some rank breath and a dry tongue by the time I left.

Sunset wasn’t going to happen till around 7:50 Cali time and I was mentally unprepared for the lack of food or beverage. Over all I was doing fine, but my fat soul was pretty grumpy by the turn of events. Since I had already made plans to have dinner before a show around 6 I prayed again that God would forgive me for flippantly breaking my solidarity. All I had that night was a turkey burger and a few fries with water, but boy was I full! I suppose my stomach shrank because of the fast.

The rest of the night I couldn’t help but think of how a little amount of food could be so filling for so long. I went to a friend’s house later that night where there was some drinking and games. I quickly became bored and kept thinking,
This is what we Americans do for fun. We get bored, and drink.
I ended up being a pretty big buzz kill, and decided I better just head out.

That Saturday I went the whole day without eating or drinking water. Praying at a few intervals. I was surprised by how easy it was. It kept me focus on the things I had to do for the day, and every time I felt shaky I tried to refocus my thoughts on anything but a giant Costco pizza. I had an audition around 7 that night and knew that by the time I was done I could make a meal. I was determined to follow through.

The audition was not too out of the ordinary. I mean the producer did have her dog on a pillow next to her and her face was wrapped, assumingly, after a facial operation. But in the end the producer called me “A doll!” and said that they’d love to have me. I quickly adopted Karim's mantra and got up saying “Blessings!” as I shook the producer's hand.

When I got home I ate nearly all of my groceries, and a piece of my roommates’ homemade brownies and a slice of their left over Costco pizza.
 I told you my soul was fat, right?

When Sunday rolled around I figured it’d be best to maintain my Christianity and ate a healthy breakfast before I went off to church. Yeah, I went to church. Some people even remembered seeing me once upon a time; even though they couldn't remember my name I still took it as a good sign.
Sunday’s are almost impossible to fast on because I usually visit my sister, and there’s no way you can fast when you’re at her place.
 We had roasted veggies (some that were homegrown) and cheese stuffed squash blossoms and veggie hot dogs. Afterwards we went out and ate some delightful handmade ice cream. Mine was Guinness flavored.

I’m telling you, there’s no way you can fast when my sister is cookin

Now it’s Monday, and I decided to adhere to Ramadan once again. In trying to focus on how to be a better person I decide to get back into exercising again. I borrow my roommates five pound weights and go for a jog around the neighborhood. It’s not much, but sans a good breakfast and water it took its toll on me.

I go the whole day without drinking a drop of water, but as soon as I get to the reception desk my tongue is like sandpaper. And after that work out I’m really dehydrated. I figure answering a phone with a cough is not the most professional action, especially when it’s a busy Monday and the phones are ringing off the hook. I pray God forgives me that I have a few sips of water. In turn I promised to not be so attached to my social media sites today, and abstain from Facebook and Twitter. It’s not really a coherent trade, and sort of inane when I think about it now, but it made sense at the time.

I stayed strong the whole day and those few sips of water made the world of difference.

It was now 5 o’clock and I had another audition to get to. This one was just a student film, a scene from Thelma and Louise, but it was an audition nonetheless. I had been to the Art Institute once before and remembered I had to pay for parking. Seeing as I was driving all the way to Santa Monica there was no way I was going to pay for parking this time. Any way I can save, I’ll do it.

I had to park about three blocks away in a two hour parking space, but I knew the walk would be worth it. Besides, its exercise right?
My appointment was at 6:30 but I had gotten there at 5:45, so I had some time to hobble to the audition because my legs were still sore from my morning run. I got a little lost among the buildings and found myself facing a big sign that said AcTivision.
 If you’re a nerd you may recognize the company as one of the top gaming production companies that put out one of my favorites, GoldenEye Wii. It was pretty great, and it took everything in me not to sneak in.

I finally found the AI building, which was ironically paired with a culinary institute that cruelly wafted their fresh baked goodies into my nose. It was now 5:55 and sunset wasn't until at least 7:50.
No problem
I signed in, and made my way upstairs. As soon as I hit my intended floor I was thrown back by a barrage of sounds. I hoped beyond hope that these sounds weren’t coming from where I would soon be auditioning, but alas my luck is always against me in these stories.

I turned the corner to see a hallway literally wall to wall with people, and also children. Children ranging from the age 3 months to 6 years. The place was crawling with them.

Don’t get me wrong I love kids, but they have their place when it comes to auditions. Kids at auditions aren’t kids, they’re brats. Who are followed by their either overprotective stage moms/dads or their money grubbing trolls that might be related to them.

I squeeze my way past to see the sign in sheet is riddled with names. I scrawl mine next to the number 17, thinking That’s not too bad until I see the second sheet numbered 1-30 that is full of names and only a third are crossed off. My heart sinks, my parking is only for two hours, how can they have so many people? And, wait. Why are there kids here? There’s no kids in Thelma and Louise.

I began to look around for sides to see what was going on, when another actress came up behind me to sign in.
“Are there any sides?”
“No,” I tell her, “I was just looking for those. I’m sure they’ll bring some out.”
“Which one are you here for” One of the other auditioning actresses smooshed up against the wall ask with a weary look of having waited too long.
“Thelma and Louise, I think. Is there another audition?”
“Cheerios, they don’t have sides. But they’re auditioning them in the same room.”

A double audition?? What are they thinking!?
Students. Rookie mistake.
Not even students make that mistake

I look in the window of other classes, I have no choice as I’m slammed by a new wave of auditioners. Inside the other rooms I see a bunch of twenty somethings sitting in chairs nodding along to some instruction. Had it not been for the duct tapped filing box fashioned into a podium, I never would have been able to determine who the “professor” was. Everyone looked roughly the same age, and if this was indeed the professor he had neck tattoos, gage piercings, and a shirt that said “The Laughing Dead”

I laughed thinking about Dr. Tracie, and old prof, showing up in this get up.
I’ve had a privileged education

I sat against the wall just as the girl who signed in after me took up a strip of carpet next to me. She became one of those annoying types at auditions. The ones that gloat about whatever they can and complain as much as possible. Disturber of the peace, really.

“I was on set the other day for a webseries I wrote, produced, and am starring in…” Other actors were kind enough to lend her an ear as I tried to politely ignore her. When people talk this much I just imagine them like a muppet who faces the sky and of their head hangs back with a prolonged "BLAHHHHH"
This is what chatty people look like in my mind, only not as fun and lovable as a muppet.

It was approaching 6:30, the time of my actual appointment, when Chatty Mcgee over here started demanding she see some sides. I couldn’t ignore her now because I was getting a little curious myself.

I asked someone nearby if I could take a look at their sides, and she kindly handed them over.
“I just need them back because I think I’m going in soon”
Sure you are I thought.
"Oh totally," I said.
 I’d been here a half hour and barely seen anyone go in or out. I highly doubted she was going anywhere soon.

I looked at the sides and recognized the scene.
“This is the one right after they shoot the guy right?” I ask

“I’m not sure, it’s been a while since I’ve seen it” she replies.

“This was a movie already?” Chatty pipes in

Welcome to the conversation tiger.

“Are there accents?” someone asks.

A phony cockney voice pipes up “Oh I wooldn’ mind if they haid ous do vat!”

Chatty, you should stop while you’re ahead

“Actually,” I say out loud, “It’s more country.” My dehydrated brain couldn’t think of the word ‘Southern’ but they got the gist of what I meant.
Chatty, switched gears on us and provided her best southern bell. This is why actors should never be placed in a waiting room with other actors for an extended period of time.

“Well, I do declare I think I can manage a certain type of countray”
You know these Thelma and Louise drive off a cliff right? You can practice that if you want

Chatty then starts reading, out loud, over my shoulder. Exasperated I just hand her the sides and let her mutter to herself. At least she’s not talking to the rest of us.

Just then the monitor comes out and calls for a “Oh, I’m not going to say this right…Mar-gar-eet?”

Chatty perks up, “Margarita?”
Amen sister, I could go for one of those right now too.

The monitor looks down at the list, “Uh, no. Mar-gar- ett?”

The girl who gave me the sides sat up, “I’ll need those back, thanks.” Chatty reluctantly hands over the sides and slumps against the wall. Margaret goes in and Chatty starts back up again.
“It’s interesting isn’t it?”
I don’t care I don’t care I don’t care.
She lets the question hang there, and decides to answer it despite our lack of interest.
“That our names are so similar! I thought she was calling me in to audition.”

Slowly it dawns on me. The lack of food has taken its toll on my mental process and I didn’t realize what I should have off the bat. My eye scans down to her folder where her headshots lie for the world to ask her who did them. In bold letters right under her beaming face is the name Margarita.

NO!

I look up at her, and back at the headshot. It’s the same girl.

Your parents named you Margarita?!? Is that the drink they had when you were conceived?! Or when you were born!?

The thought entertained me for the next half hour as we watched child and adult alike go in and out of the room. It seemed like eternity when it hit 7 o’clock, and I was getting worried about my parking. The tension in the packed hallway started to climb as even more people came to audition. The minutes ticked by as the slow bottle necking of people passed through. My hunger was starting to nag me, and I would have done anything for a sip of water. I could feel my eyes sinking into deep cavities as my body shriveled. I was weak, and I'd never be able to make it into the room. My legs had atrophied from sitting so long without food. I was going to die here.

When Chatty Margarita suddenly had had enough.

Okay maybe my body wasn’t wrecked as I just painted, but I was tired and frustrated, and thirsty as hell. But, Chatty was the first to break. When the monitor came out to apologize for the wait, Chatty swooped in.

“I really have to go soon, I was wondering if I could just skootch up in the list?”
Oh hellll no. You came right after me! And so help me if I get a ticket from this stupid audition.

I glanced up at a clock I could see through a classroom window, it was now 7:30.

The monitor said they’d do the best they could.
No kick her out! 


All of the kids started getting restless at the same time, and seemed to get louder and rowdier. One girl took great joy in puncturing the relative silence with a loud round of Angry Birds. I’m a big fan of flinging birds at those unruly pigs, but let’s be honest, that music is beyond repetitive after three minutes and don’t get me started on the bird screams.
 Another little tyke took to hitting her little brother as he tried to choke her, while a baby was walked between all the adults crying for her binki. Yet another walked between everyone taking pictures with her mom’s phone, when mommy received a call she hung up on them and said, “It’s okay I got the camera back!” The choking brother now turned on his mother because her iPad was no longer working for him, “It’s not working any moreeeee!” He hit the iPad and then his mother. No reprimands were issued.

I was nearing my wits end. When the monitor made yet another entrance, and apology.

“Again, I’m sorry for the wait we didn’t realize so many people would show up. Next on the list is Hailey”

YES! Hailey was number 15 on my list, and that meant I was only two screaming children away from getting in and driving down the 405 home! Huzzah!

“Excuse me,”


Chatty don’t you ruin this for me!

“I was wondering if I could just sneak in because I really have to go!”


Don’t be stupid student. Don’t you dare put her before me!

“I’m sorry we can’t.” YES! BOO YAH CHATTY! “We have to at least get all the kids in first because they need to go soon.”
Record scratch.


I do but beg your pardon?

“Alright well just give them my headshot, because I really have somewhere to go"
As opposed to the rest of us who have nowhere in life to go?

She hands her headshot to the monitor who slips back in before I can protest.
I look up at the clock again, 7:55. I might get a ticket, or worse, towed. My heart is pounding and I’m exhausted. Three sets of kids go in the room before I get the chance to stop the monitor.

I consider pulling a Chatty Margarita and forgetting the whole thing. But I’ve waited 2 hours, and having to drive all the way back home would make me reel with regret. I stick it out and now it’s 8:10 when I finally get the monitors attention.
"Hey, I'm kind of confused because I thought I was next on the list"
A flash of annoyance goes across his face. Woah, I get it but your not respecting my time.
He looks down and sees that I was in fact next until they decided to take all the kids at once.
Just my luck
"I totally get it, but I'm in a weird parking situation and I really don't want to get towed."
Maybe it was the desperation of thirst hunger and boredom that acclimated in my voice, or just the sheer fear of paying hundreds of dollars to get my car back, either way it took. The monitor had pity on me and said he'd speed things up to get me out.

After two more totes are pimped out they finally bring me in.
They apologized, yet again.
Dude I get it. Be professional already and pretend you meant it to be this way.
I kept the conversation light and joked with them. The read through went well, a few minor errors, but nothing they seem to notice. They look down at my headshot and say “Oh wow, you have a lot of experience.”

Oh, honey. Read me five things off of there that you’ve actually heard of. Come now, school plays and some comedy shows does not a credit make.

“Oh that’s all made up.”

For a split second they take me seriously.

“I’m joking,” I assure them. They ease up, we thank each other, shake hands, and then I bolt out the door.

Please God please God please God, don’t let me get towed

I run as fast as I can, but I’m slower than normal as it’s been more than 24 hours since I’ve eaten anything, and those five sips of water aren’t doing me much good either. By the time I reached my car, panting and heaving, I realize the sign above it says “2 hours: Until 6PM M-F”

So I was in the clear this entire time?
Yep
Son OF A-

I drove home thanking God anyway for having a good audition and still not getting towed. The 405 was a pain, as always, but at least I didn’t have to listen to anyone talking their head off and trying to impress everyone with their awful accents.

When I finally got home neither of my roommates were there, unfortunately that meant I had no one to bitch to. Instead I headed straight for the kitchen and made myself a big meal complete with a giant cup of water that I kept draining.
I had refilled my glass about five times before my roommates finally came to the door.
"Did you see your lovely picture?
"I'm sorry, what?" I say through half a mouthful of brie/cheddar/bean/mushroom/bell pepper quesadilla with the side of green beans and irish car bomb cupcake.
"Have you seen your Facebook page?"
I remembered my compromise of social media for a few sips of water.
"No I haven't been on Facebook or Twitter all day"

Apparently I had recently signed into my Facebook on my roommates computer.... and not signed out. In doing so it lay the ground work for my roommates to post a picture of five very obese men with the caption: "I love men that look like this! mmm mmm good :D"A stream of comments followed underneath it.
It was pretty hysterical. A nice way for everything to circle back in the end.

Keep laughing dear friends
~The Goof

Scam Me Once, Shame on You..

...Scam me twice... Shame a shammer scam... shame

 I started writing this over a year ago when I still worked at Starbucks, but the story is ripe enough to remember.  Enjoy!

*         *          *           *          *           *

Hey again from the wastelands of Hollywood!
I finished up my "Industry Showcase" in which a grand total of three industry people showed over the course of five weeks. I wasn't all that disappointed because let's face it, the show was nothing to brag about. I could pander back and forth in it's quaint qualities, like how one of my scene partners prime choice of displaying her goodies to entice an agent, or how the other scene partner who chose to give me directing notes even though he couldn't act his way out of a box, but that's all in the past.

Recently I was called by an agent to come in for a meeting. Excited I wondered if they had seen the showcase, but as it shockingly turns out the agency had heard nothing about the showcase. Actually, it was because I had responded to a Backstage West ad requesting submissions for new talent.

When I got the call I was freaking stoked! I called the number immediately and spoke to a woman.
"Would you be able to come in next Tuesday in the afternoon?"
"Absolutely. What would you like me to prepare?"
"Just a dramatic monologue would be fine."
I was a little bummed by this. I can do dramatic just fine, but making people laugh is really a strong suite.
Suddenly I hear her say "Actually you know what? Your picture looks like you could do comedy as well, why don't you just prepare one of each."
"Great! I'll see you then"

She sent me the directions and I was off!
I made a quick call to a friend for advice. She said (and wisely so) "Know who you want to model your career after.'
Easy, Kristen Wiig or Judy Greer.
'And ask what casting directors they work with. You'll know for sure if they're legit, if they know which casting directors they work closely with."

I prepared two monologues, as they requested, and waited till the minutes at work slowly crept by. I pictured their office to be small efficient hive buzzing with activity, the front area like a dentists office, and a back room that you'd have to enter through a locked door when they called your name.
I'd go to the door, assisted by the secretary, who'd have me "go right in, they're expecting you." I'd sit down in one of their cushy chairs and explain to them why I was so passionate about acting, which actresses I looked up to, the career path I had planned, and the goals I wanted to accomplish during the year.

Perhaps they'd flash me their client list, showing off, but not too much. They'd woo me, I'd sit back and consider. Slowly they'd push a contract across their chesnut desk, to which I'd say "Let me have my lawyer look this over before I make any solid commitments." I'd joke, they'd laugh, we'd shake hands, and I'd walk out with a new found confidence to embolden my walk out to the car.

It was a lovely dream. It really was.

Finally the time came for me to blow out of work and quickly wash off the sugar plastered over my forearms from the mornings rush.
Satisifed with my new smell of Dove soap and eucalyptus mint shampoo, I quickly dressed and slapped on some make up. I was beside myself with anxiety. I breathed deep, practiced my monologues, then headed out the door.

As I got into the car I began to think, "No matter what, I'll still keep doing this. There's nothing that can stop me even if this doesn't work out today." I flung a few fumbled words up in prayer then started to feel really confident, this was going to happen. Slowly I started to allow myself my little day dreams.
Maybe within the month I could quit the morning job (yeah not day job... morning) I could get some sleep, be on set, write new material for my stand up (stuff that had nothing to do with working at Starbucks). I could start plannig for "the next step." I'd have enough money saved to start studying with new acting teachers. I'd then have to decide whether or not I'd go to graduate school sooner than later, and what course I'd like to persue. Maybe I could find the fencing class I always wanted to take. I could put aside some more money to support things like Habitat For Humanity, or organizations my friends have started

All in all I could finally start my career.

Wait. Let's slow down. We still gotta get through the meeting first.
But still... It would be nice.
Yeah, it would. But you gotta be realistic.
Hrumphh.

As I drove I calmed my nerves by thinking of other things. Recent engagements, up coming family trips, anything really. It wasn't long before I was through the traffic and turning down the streets toward the office. A route that took me past a few memory lane locations. A route, that has been riddled with scams...

With each turn I became a little more suspicious. I swear every time I'm in Sherman Oaks I run into a scam. I've made it past a lot of them but some still burn from following through. It's amazing how easily people can sweet talk things over. Get you to pay for your friends tickets in advanced to sell to people. Make the cost part of the "curriculum" until you realize no one wants to go see these little "shows" this sham of school is putting on. If you know what I'm talking about, I didn't say anything, if you don't... there are plenty of scams running under the same standards.

 The area was changing from office buildings, to high end apartments.
Initially I gave pause, but as usual, I ignored it.

I want so bad for this to be real
(News flash, your wanting it real bad changes nothing)

When my headshots were taken I met the photographer in her apartment building. So this wasn't a clear sign of anything fishy. Not yet.

Had the agent been a man, there was no way I would have kept driving. But the woman I spoke to was, well a woman, and seemed nice enough.

My car parks in front of this fairly nice apartment building, and I'm in my cluttered car trying to scramble all of my material together.
Whatever this turns out to be, I thought to myself, I will remain professional.

As soon as I step out of the car, in the gorgeous dress my roommates had bought me, I step on the hem. Unintentionally it slips a little, showing more of my chest than I care to have in public. I look around, and for the first time am thankful for the fact that it's a semi-secluded residential area. Pulling up the dress I wonder if the agent is peering out some window watching this whole haphazard fiasco unfold before I even get to the gate.

Breathe you goof!

I settle myself and walk towards the gate with confidence. Once I finally locate the name on the key pad, trying my darndest to not beat myself up for taking so long to find the correct name, I punch it and wait. The same woman answers and rings for the door to open.

Once inside, I realize she never gave me directions on how to get to her door...
I scramble.

Luckily I had made a note during the intial call for what the room number was. Thanking my dad in the back of my mind for constantly telling me to write things down, I made my way through the maze of doors.

It took a while to realize that her apartment was most likely on the second floor, a fact that would have been nice to tell me at first, seeing as the number gave no indication it was on another floor. But I guess that should have gone along with the information of "oh and this isn't an actual office"

The elevator climbed slowly up the one floor, because of course there were no stairs in sight, as I began to day dream again about what this apartment looked like. All the others I'd been to were plain on the outside and looked like an office on the inside. Donned with chairs, a small side table adorned with business cards, a blinking phone in the corner that indicated mutiple calls coming through and being answered by another phone in a different part of the house. Perhaps a tidy yet frazzled secretary would stop by, on the way to the kitchen for another cup of coffee.

When I arrived to reality, there was a scarecrow beconing me towards the door while large mat sat beneath my feet printed with the enormous letters WELCOME.
I knocked.
Nothing.
Is this even the right address?

I knocked again looking around.
I knocked a third time when I finally heard movement. I stood at attention looking as professional and non-hunchy as I could manage.

I AM confidence.


A muffled, "Hey come on in!"came from behind the door.

Okay... it's cool. Just push the door open.
This is weird.
She just can't get the door yet, no biggie.
Who can't walk two feet to answer a door?
Would you just walk through!?

I walk in to see a very tidy apartment. Freshly vacuumed carpets, a larger than life TV, a ceiling high book shelf filled with DVDs. The woman/agent in question crossed the limited vision I had from the doorway. She seemed to redirect her path towards me as if shaking my hand were a last minute thought.

"Hello, come in"
No problem...Stepford wife?

As I walked in she ushered me to sit on the couch across from her and as I did so, she stared. Very patiently. But awkwardly as well...

"Oh! Here's my headshot and resume."
"Yes of course, this is a nice shot."
"Thank you"
"Okay are you ready?"
"Ready?"

Just then I started hearing yapping... from the kitchen.
Sure.

"Oh I'm so sorry that's my dog. She gets excited when new people come in"

The agent woman moved towards the kitchen.
"Katie!"

I turned in her direction
"KATIE!!"
"Uh... yes?" I asked timidly
"Oh sorry, not you."
She started scolding the tiny dog that was sanctioned behind her kitchen counter. Apparently this little overactive pup and I share the same name.

Do you change the name for all your perspective clients?


I was beginning to beg God why I could never walk into a normal situation in my life when the agent-lady pushed the dog out of the kitchen where it bounded right up to me. It yapped and started jumping repeatedly up and down on my leg. This only added to my suspicion that the dog was actually named Katie.
You're a very confused girl aren't you? Get off my leg!

Agent-lady finally coaxed her outside onto a 2x5 balcony. Sliding the glass door shut, Katie the dog jumped up and down yapping even louder.

"Don't worry about her" agent-lady explained, as she locked the glass door "she usually stops once she's outside"
She started settling in.
Yap. BANG! Yap BANG!
"KATIE STOP!!" She got up and flipped the vertical shutters closed, then sat back down on the couch.

Uncomfortable I adjusted my dress and made sure my girls were still under wraps. Didn't want any more surprise guest appearances.

"So," I said as she looked over my resume quietly, "I prepared the two monologues you asked for."
"Oh."


Oh?!  Oh, What?

"Remember you called me and asked if I could prepare two monologues? You said my headshot looked like I could pull off comedy fairly well"
She shifted my resume to look at my headshot, the one she so lovingly commented on not but five minutes ago.

"Yes that's right. Good, yes. Go ahead."

So I did.
I decided to go with comedy first. It's my strong suite and I wanted her to be hooked from the get go.
I picked a compilation of Kristen Chenoweth lines from Pushing Daisies.
Well, I thought it was funny.

Agent woman waited until I paused to indicate my ending of the monologue to finally laugh.

You're listening skills are top notch aren't they?
I'm sorry, but I do not accept laughter in the form of pity. If I'm not funny, don't laugh. Especially if you're gonna half-ass the laugh, that's just insulting.

Agent-lady said nothing and kept staring so I went straight into the dramatic. It wasn't that long, an intense confessional-type monologue about a girl talking to a bff or parental figure explaining some traumatic nonsense, you know the typical dramatic shtick.

I could tell agent-lady was tuning out and just waiting for me to end. That annoyed me. My monologue wasn't long by any means, a minute tops! And I'd like to refrain from even entertaining the thought that I was so awful she couldn't sit through 30 seconds of my emoting. This visit was getting weirder by the minute, and it just screamed fishy. So to spite her... I started improvising.

"...And then he turned to me with that look. And in my mind I shouted SCAM This is a SCAM! He's trying to fool me! I have to get out of here. None of this is real!"

I embued those few lines with everything I was feeling in the moment and all the hatred I had for sensing this being yet another scam in Sherman Oaks.

She shifted her weight ever so slightly as I finished.

I think I threw her. Just a little.
I'm sorry, too close to home for yah?

"Very well done."
"Thank you."
"I can tell you're a good actor by how quickly you transitioned from comedic to your sad monologue."
Seriously? My 'Sad Monologue'? And I had no choice with you staring at me!
"Thank you very much"
"So do you have any questions for me?"

Yep! Just a few! How about who are you? Who do you work for? What are you trying to pull on me so I can just report you to SAG and get the hell out?

Instead I settled for, "What casting directors do you work with?"
"Quite a few! I was in the acting side of the business a while ago so I've made a lot of relationships."
"That's great! So which ones?" I smiled, knowing I had hit my first red flag
"Oh I can't remember right now"
Uh huh. You must be really good friends.

"Well, that's too bad. What agency did you say you worked for?"
"I've been with them for a while now. I used to be on the acting side like I said, did a few TV shows and spots. Then I started with..." She handed me a card that said her name on it and Karen Cole Talent Agency. "...from there I've been seeking new talent"

"Your agency is located..."
"In an office not to far from here"
Then why am I in you're apartment??
"Then why are we-"
"So you do improv?"
"Yes I do, but"
"Oh more questions?"
"Uh, yes. How does your agency work exactly?"
"We submit actors to casting agents..."

I know how an agency works. How do you work!?

'...and book them auditions through actors access, which you have already right?"
"Yeah, so you submit people through actors access? How's that different from what I do now?"
"You've trained with the Groundlings?"

She's trying to distract me now. And it totally works. I talk about what Ive been doing lately. The showcase I'm in, the short films I'm either working on or have done. I completely forget she hasn't answered my question yet.
And she never will.

It's tricky, when she starts to throw flattering words out. I realize she's sweet talking me and I snap back to reality.
"I'm sorry I suppose I'm still not clear on how this is run"

She's annoyed by this. From her point of view I could understand annoyance if I was asking "How do you push buttons to send an email?" But I'm not!
"We, know agents and have better connections so we'll see breakdowns before you do. We submit you for things. You go on auditions."
I drop the subject because I've clearly hit a chord with agent-lady that she doesn't want to be asked about again.
I only say that because she's glaring at me now.

There's another painful pause as she looks at my resume. The silence grew to a point where Katie, the dog, decided it was time for her input.
Then, "Do you still know some martial arts?"

YAP yap!

"Yes, actually"

yap YAP yap!

"And you roller blade"

YAPPITY YAP YAP!

"Got em in my car."

YAAPP YAP YAP YAP

"Alright well it was nice to meet you."
"Yeah. Thanks"

I rush out the door and far away from agent-lady and her dog potentially named Katie. I called everyone I knew to try to legitimize this woman. Not a soul had heard of her and she wasn't SAG franchised (a big red flag). So needless to say it was a waste, but I never signed anything nor was I contacted by them again.
Thankfully.

Hindsight makes me wish I had improvised a little more in that dramatic scene, maybe thrown in some Mackers "Red Spot" action to shake things up and draw it out longer than that grueling minute was. But alas, what's done is done.

In the end, I hope I wasted her time as much as she wasted mine.
Still smiling a whole year later,
~The Goof

Medical Acting

I’ve had a few a friends do this and I’ve always been interested. The basic concept is that doctors have terrible bedside manners and one way to cure this is to have them do live simulations with an actor. The actor is given a sheet of basic medical background and then fill in the gaps with ad-libbed material.
From what I hear that’s how it goes.

Almost a year ago I was on set and I got to talking with one of the other actors. She was a lovely older women who had amazing advice. She told me how she works with schools doing this medical acting thing.
“It pays really well, and helps you with your improv. At least your serious improv.”

So I took a chance and sent an email to UCLA as well as USC given the recommendation of my on-set friend. I immediately heard back from USC that they would keep my name on file and bring it up when they were holding auditions again, and UCLA I didn’t hear a peep.
Assuming this was another lost avenue for my career I forgot about it.
Until a week ago.
While I’m at work I get a call that goes to voice mail. It’s UCLA wanting me to come in and audition for their medical acting on Wednesday. I called them right back and said YES! Yes I will be there.

The audition was at 8AM, and I am not a morning person.
I can wake up in the morning time, I have no problem there. I can shower get dressed make breakfast plan for lunch what have you. But these are somehow a different part of my brain that requires minimal effort. Then there’s the part of the brain that’s decision making and communication. This is always on hiatus pre- 11:30Am (or so). I have made the mistake of sending emails before this time only to realize I’ve sent messages to roommates saying “Draiqns clog. Please fiqx it. Call LAndlord if unablqe”
Somethin’ about those q’s man!
So needless to say I’m foreshadowing my demise.

I get to the location with plenty of time to pay $11 for my parking, and audition that lasts a total of fifteen minutes. That’s reasonable right?
I ride the rickety elevator that creaks up to the 2nd floor (you couldn’t use my parking money to pay for this?) The doors groan open and I see a large easel that says AUDITIONS HERE! --> and then a few sign in sheets.
A whole row of chairs is facing me, only one of them occupied, and I mentally pat myself on the back for being early. I fill out the paperwork as a young woman walks by in earth people clothes.
Earth people clothes are those who wear gaucho pants, dark color tank tops, flowy shawls, glasses, and bobble earrings. I don’t disapprove by any means, I just always find people who wear this kind of outfit a little more “earthy”
She’s as nice as her clothes suggest, but not nearly as quirky as I’d have thought. (I guess I was being a little clothe-ist) She explains the program and how actors are encouraged to improvise. I’m feeling ready when she hands myself and the gentleman beside me two separate sheets of back-story.
“Reviews these, come up with some details, and then we’ll get started.”
My scenario says that I was 4 when my single mother gave me up for adoption. I bounced around in foster homes. I was 6 when I was adopted. 12 when I found out my biological older brother was kept even though I was given away. Today I’m meeting with a case worker to talk about reuniting with my estranged mother.
Alright pretty bare bones let’s see what I can do. I was four when given away so I won’t remember a lot from that but picture memories. I’ll make sure I remembered the day I was given away. Maybe throw in some tears or something. Oh! Maybe mommy said I was going to daycare then never came back. That’s nice and depressing!
Then the foster homes, I should put something silly in there so as not to make it too dark, maybe one of the houses had a lot of kids and I couldn’t wait to leave for the next house?
Let’s see adopted at 6. I’ll have nice adopted parents, good wholesome…doctors? Nooo, that’s too cliché you goof! Lemme see
I remembered passing a bike repair shop on the way over
They own a bike shop! Oh and maybe they had some cute bike metaphors like “You may not have all the pieces to a bike but you can still ride it. But that doesn’t mean it’ll run smooth!” Nice!
By this time they were leading the guy into the room. I’m trying to think of how my character approaches the whole reunion thing when suddenly I hear them start the audition with the male actor.
I try not to listen, but I’m curious. It’s hard to hear because the door muffles the sound so I go back to looking over my sheet of paper.
The muffled voice raise a little
Come on. Focus. His audition has nothing to do with you.
Suddenly I hear this guy start crying. Like full on heave crying.
Shit.
I can cry, but from the info I’m given I don’t feel it’s necessary. I get a little worked up then remember he has a different scenario.
What the hell scenario did they give him? I wonder.
Before I can go back to looking over my notes and back ground history sheet I hear them finish up.

A voice from earth woman is clear through the door.
“Oh wow. Wow. Thank you. That was amazing. Oh geeze, you got me weeping.”

I hear some proud chuckles come from the actor behind the door.
Smarmy little-
“Thank you so, so much for coming in. That was great.”
The door opens and the earth woman is hiding her tears from me.
“I have to go to the bathroom real quick, I’ll be one minute”
And she scoots off to the bathroom avoiding my eye.
What did that guy DO?!

The actor sheepishly comes out of the room, face still a little red.
Great, he really is humble too.
“Break a leg” and he jogs off to the broke down elevator to take him one floor below, and off to tell some loved one the great audition he just had.

Then there’s me. Muttering words under my breath like “make me” and “follow that”

So when the time comes I’m escorted in by the woman who will be “reading” with me, as we wait for the earth woman to return from wiping off her mascara; I’m mean, peeing.
It’s a couple minutes before she runs in and I try not to think too much about what I’m going to be compared to. The reader, I guess you’d call her, comes in like a social worker and we’re off. Only I’m frazzled now. I forgot it’s barely 8AM and my words outside of my head come in clumps of unnecessary pauses. I try to play it off as nerves for reuniting with the mother who gave me up. I try working in the bike metaphor and instead of establishing the bike shop just throw out the sentence: “You may not have all the pieces to a bike but it'll still work, but you won't have a smooth ride”
Were this written in an email it would have been riddled with q’s but instead it was riddled in non sequiturs.
Thanks mouth.
Anytime.
That’s when the reader hits me with, “So the reason you’re here today is your biological brother is dying and needs a kidney”

I do but beg your pardon??
And my mouth says “…what?”
She repeats and my mouth says “I don’t even know him!”

Later my brain would beat itself up reciting the improv adage always choose to know! ALWAYS choose to KNOW!
The information could have been new to me, but the fact that I didn’t know my brother was a big mistake on my part.
Instead I say desperatly "She doesn't even want to see me to know me? She just wants to use me like a cog in her bike?"

That tied together right? Eh? Impressed? No? Uff.
Needless to say earth woman’s tear ducts were as dry as the Sahara, and I was left in a very uncomfortable “You can go now” silence. I shook the reader and earth woman’s hand then made my way quickly out the door.
Grandpa Elevator was there to with doors opened for five minutes before it shut me off from the embarrassment that came from that floor.

Well. Another story for the books.