Archive for September 20, 2007

The Dallas Debutante Debaucle

September 20, 2007

So yesterday I had this audition for the part of a Texas debutante in a TV show. It was a fun part, and I felt great about it and was really excited.

So I get in there all confident-like, and the dude takes one look at me and says, “How old are you?”

“23,” I said. You may think this is an untruth, but you’ll note he didn’t specify whether he meant actual years or how young I felt in spirit. How was I to know?

Apparently this was still the wrong answer, because he said, “They’ll never cast you as Deb. Here. Read for ‘The Mom.'”

Um.

The mom? Really?

So anyway, that happened, and I went home to complain to my roommates and run an errand before heading to work, and then something very interesting happened:

I went to the bathroom, then got up and noticed something in my pants that didn’t seem like it should be there. I thought, did the toilet paper get waylaid in my jeans on its way into the toilet? Surely not. I can be on the scatterbrained side, but come on, now. So I reached in and pulled out… another pair of panties. A balled-up pair of underwear that was outside of the underwear I was wearing, floating around in my jeans. The jeans I had worn to the audition.

I guess when I had worn them before, I took them and my underwear off at the same time and folded the jeans and put them on my “clothes chair.” Then yesterday morning I put them on, not noticing that there was a pair of panties inside. Then went to an audition.

Could it be the casting director thought I looked more like a mom than a teenage debutante because no young woman with a large butt tumor would ever be selected to make her debut into exclusive upper-class Dallas society?

I can’t imagine how I didn’t feel anything the whole time… parking, finding the audition, talking to the security guard, standing, sitting, walking, moving around in front of the casting director and all the other people who were waiting to audition… I can only hope this means the auxiliary, contraband panties were flattened against my butt in a way that made them invisible to the naked eye, and only when I shifted things around in the bathroom did they ball themselves up and appear like a freakish butt goiter.

I can only hope.

zzzzzzzzzz…

September 19, 2007

This has to be short because I’m sick with the cold that’s going around and I’m so, so tired… but before I forget I have to just say that I’ve been listening to Brandi Carlile a lot lately, and as a side note I saw her last week and she is amazing; so badass and incredible… but anyway there’s this song and I swear at one point she says, “my mind is full of raisins.” I know this can’t be, so I listen as hard as I can every time it comes around, but that’s all I can hear. Tomorrow I’ll look up the lyrics and let you know how far off I am, but right now I’m so tired I feel like my mind is full of raisins.

I had an audition today and have a ridiculous story to share. I think this story will make you all wonder why I’m not on a sit-com. Not because it will awe you with tales of my acting acumen, but rather because I pretty much live in a sitcom in which I’m the character who always runs into the doorjam on her way out the door, slips and falls, and walks around with toilet paper on her shoe. I’m that one. If my actual, real life were a sit-com, you’d watch it and go, “Yeah, right, nobody is that ridiculous in real life.” But you’d be wrong. Anyway, so I have this ridiculous story but again I’m dying of tiredness, so I will leave you with one final mysterious tidbit before I go to sleep: I just got a high five from Ryan Gosling. WOOT!

Jiminy Cricket, Minton! Get Your Act Together.

September 17, 2007

Y’all, what is the matter with me? I’m sorry I haven’t written a blentry in forever. I just keep getting distracted with things. Yesterday, for example, there was a one-legged cricket in my bathroom all day. Every time I went to pee, I eyed him suspiciously to make sure he knew I would not tolerate him jumping on me. This was before I knew he only had one leg. At that point, he actually may have had two, because it wasn’t until later that I saw a leg sitting on its own a short distance away from the cricket himself, bless his heart.

I kept hoping he would just disappear like magic, but by the time it was time to go to bed, he was still there, and had in fact hobbled to right in front of the toilet where I would be forced to either step on him with my bare feet or risk him jumping or crawling on me when I sat down. I don’t like killing bugs like crickets because they’re big enough to hear a crunch and make a mess, and plus crickets aren’t gross like some other bugs. At the same time, though, I knew I didn’t want him jumping on me, and I was faced with a call from nature I simply could not ignore… so I got a big plastic cup and a newspaper and hooshed him into the cup with the newspaper, then poured him out the front window into the window box, which is probably a much more pleasant place for a one-legged cricket than a bathroom floor.

Point being, things like this keep happening and things like blog writing keep not happening, so I’m sorry. You might think a cricket in the bathroom is a poor excuse for not writing a blentry, and you are entitled to your opinion. You might also wonder what I was doing while not writing and while the cricket was relaxing in the bathroom, and the answer is: I woke up at 10, showered, rode my bike up to the corner to a massage studio and got a massage, rode home, got back in bed with my laptop and watched episodes of Clark and Michael until I feel asleep, napped for an hour and a half, then got up and went across town to my improv practice, then after practice went to El Guapo with most of my team for half-price bad food, then went home and went to bed. As you can see, I am far too busy and important to spare a moment for blog writing, or “laundry,” or “cleaning my room” for that matter.

P.S. I am SICK! With a dumb cold. I sneezed a billion times in a row last night, and my nose is all tickly. Please feel sorry for me.