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damn you regis
So last night I had a ".com" commercial callback at fucking 7:10pm, which totally screwed up my first night off in a long time. It was dumb. The ad guys threw a bunch of things at me and I did it all perfect – showing I can blah blah blah take directions. Now it comes down to the right look. Out of my hands… unlike your mama last night.
Afterwards M. made some killer lasagna with ground turkey and I was forced to watch as she flipped channels up past the football game…
…to Ally McBeal.
(A chick she knows was debuting on the show.) I’ve avoided that show but occasionally have it inflicted on my sensibilities. Now listen: I never force my girlfriend to watch sports. Nay, I never even watch them when she’s around because they do not interest her, and I don’t, despite how it may often appear, want to just be the typical guy. I want her to be happy and I really can’t enjoy something if it is just being tolerated for my benefit. Oh, but she had a great ol’ time watching Ally. I guess the show is fine. It’s OK. But I know we’re supposed to applaud David E. Frankenstein Kelley for making Fish attracted to an older woman – but if that is the case then why (unlike the older lady on his The Practice) make her a plastic surgery freak like Dyan Cannon??? I don’t get it. She’s fucking scary, man.
And then we watched Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?, but all I could do was yell at the screen: "You Dick!!!", because this 22 year-old jackass was SO stupid. I thought I was going to have an aneurysm when he kept using his LifeLines for stupid shit. (I haven’t been that upset at the television since the other night when we watched The Real World Season Finale. Motherfucker, these people all suck so bad. Kaya? I literally want to bitchslap Kaya and then rip that shit off her forehead: "You’re not Hindu, OK???!!!")
Then I didn’t get any sleep cuz M. and I stayed up talking about a project we’re thinking of doing together (no, we did not have any TapLight love…). Today I agreed to go to this audition for an AFI Grad Thesis film cuz the director heard good things about me from another director blah blah blah. So at lunch today I drive over the hill to AFI and read the 20 page script… Oh My God Is It Awful! It is about a guy who wants to meet Marisa Tomei and then pukes on her shoes. Seriously. That’s the thing. AFI is supposed to be this great film school and it gets so much support from the LA community, but if this school is going to let this total no-talent graduate, it is not worth the land it sits on. So after reading I walked to the lobby planning to just get in my car and drive off. I did that once before at a play audition years ago and felt bad about myself later. So, I turned around and went back to waiting. Finally the director comes out – having forgotten our meeting – then looks at me and says, hmmmmmmmmmm… I think I’ll have you read for the hyper and wacky friend Max instead of the lead. But to my credit, instead of punching him I sat down, read, and walked away with a "Thank you."
Ooooh, update on this. I just checked my messages and homeboy wants me to come back tomorrow to read with the other actors. I gleefully look forward to calling him back and saying, "Thank you but I’ve decided this really isn’t a project I’m interested in working on."
And I think the key for me is this: if you are not good at something, accept it and do something else. I’m not saying don’t take photos, make films, write, play the piano if you enjoy it as a hobby, but if you’re going to try to make your living in such a difficult, amorphous, and competitive field, make sure your ass got either talent, a hook, or some bitchin’ contacts.
And then after enjoying 89 cent McNugget Tuesday, I called the contestant line for Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?
So first they ask you to type in your birth date. I typed 04-25-99, by mistake and they told me I had to be 18 to play, and hung up. I suppose a lot of 6 month old babies are tying up Regis’ line lately. Finally I got through again and entered the correct birth date. They then go on to make you go through a series of 3 "Fast Finger" rounds. They give you four items and you have to put them in order, using the 1,2,3,4 buttons. I misunderstood and assigned letters to the words they gave me (eg: for "Jakarta" I pushed ‘J’ or the ‘5’ key). I promptly lost and was hung up on again.
Well, they let you try twice per day so I called again, armed this time with a knowledge of my actual birth date and the rules. The first question was easy:
Make the following words into the nickname of a former
President:
1 – Father
2 – His
3 – Country
4 – Of
Easy. 1,4,2,3.
Then I moved onto the next one:
Put these #1 hit songs in release order from oldest to
newest:
1 – the boy is mine
2 – american pie
3 – maneater
4 – all shook up
Easy. 4,2,3,1.
So the third and final question:
Put these planets in the order of how many moons they have, from most to least:
1 – jupiter
2 – neptune
3 – saturn
4 – earth
Gulp.
I got it wrong.
And I challenge you to get it right, without looking it up.
I’m calling first thing tomorrow. You won’t get me down, Rege you bastard!
And then I’m reading some journals and come across a great photo of an ex-flame from college on Kymm’s site, of all places. Very random and strange.
And with the sincere idea that it might be better to stay in alone tonight, I just postponed drinks with a former ICM agent who likes my script.
Today, I really think it’s for the best.
The Larry King Happy
Song Corner
