Follow "AmyHasIssues" for some Laughs!


My blog is not meant to offend, hurt, insult, discriminate, accuse, piss off, or alienate anyone.  I write whatever pops into my head. I hope you enjoy them. 

-Amy Wade


In 2009, I left California and moved back to New England to be near my family. One of the things that made me  nervous about this major change in my life was the weather. I've always hated New England weather. But my family is more important, (of course!) so for the last 10 years I've braved the weather with heroic effort. I try to keep my complaints to a minimum, but this past winter DID ME IN.  Now I remember why I hated living in New England. This winter dragged on for like, A DECADE. (Slight exaggeration. Slight.)  The bitter cold, the biting wind-chill, the relentless snowstorms and giant snowbanks that never melted... the mud and slush and freezing rain... cold houses and cold cars... SHOVELING driveways and sidewalks and front steps (I HATE SHOVELING STEPS) and having to clear 12 inches of snow off your car so you can GET IN IT before your lungs freeze... Getting dressed every day takes like a YEAR because you have to pile on ten layers of clothing. New England people seem to be in bad moods all of the time. Maybe it's from a lack of vitamin D. The absence of sunlight for NINE MONTHS might have something to do with it. The dull gray skies and bare branches on the trees make the landscape look brown and DEAD. I miss going on walks and hikes, and sitting at a cafe with my friends. Or how about a pool party or a backyard barbeque? NOPE! Not in New England! It's no fun standing outside when you CAN'T FEEL YOUR FACE. 
By the end of the winter I'm ready to hang myself.
But wait! The warm weather is finally here, and it was the first nice day I could go for a walk. So, I jumped at the opportunity and headed into the woods for a peaceful hike. I was enjoying myself, appreciating the warm air and the beauty of nature all around me.  That's when I started getting slammed in the face with the onslaught of NEW ENGLAND BUGS. Mother nature, give me a break! It's absolutely incredible how New England doesn't let up. It doesn't matter what season it is, there's always something gross about it. Every year I seem to forget about the bugs until they start dive-bombing me. I think it's because the winter is so damaging to my psyche and emotional state of mind that by the time summer comes I'm so looking forward to it that somehow,  I forget how disgusting the bugs are. The tics and fleas and gnats and flies and bees and hornets and stink-bugs and every other kind of nasty creepy crawly thing... Oh! I can't forget about the ants! Giant ant hills with armies of red ants spewing out of the holes. They were EVERYWHERE! Then I walked through a giant cobweb. It was at eye level, so it stretched across my face. AARRGHHH! I started flailing all over the place and then I tripped over a damn tree root and fell into a thorny bush. I didn't even care about the thorns- all I could think about was the spider- where was it? It was probably crawling on my head. I was screaming obscenities so loud I'm sure people could hear me on the other side of town. I regretted going on the damn hike. To make matters worse, suddenly I remembered the news report from the night before about tics and how they've INVADED THE EAST COAST and so of course I was convinced they were all over my legs. I hate tics- they're the nastiest insect of all. Besides cockroaches. I can't say which one is grosser- a cockroach or a tic. I think I'll go with tics because they carry diseases, which means every time you go on a hike, you have to spray yourself with the most poisonous chemicals on earth in order to prevent yourself from getting a disease. How ironic is that? You can choose between getting cancer or lyme disease. Awesome! 
I ended my hike early because I'd sucked in so many freakin' bugs up my nose and in my mouth that I could taste them. How I miss you California! I miss you so much! Please, Mother Nature, can you help New England out a little bit and give us at least one good season? We're starting to look really bad over here.



I was on a flight from Boston to LA. Luckily, I had a window seat. I love the window seat because I like to lean against it and fall asleep. The plane was getting ready to take off and I was excited because the seat next to me was still empty. I closed my eyes and leaned against the window, using my jacket for a pillow. I started daydreaming about sunny skies, warm weather, hiking in the mountains... Then, I heard a woman's voice at the front of the plane. It was a passenger who had almost missed the flight. "Oh, thank you! Thank you!" She was saying to the stewardess as she hurried down the aisle.
I kept my eyes shut, praying she would pass me. Suddenly, I felt the seat next to me move a little bit. "FUCK!" I said to myself. (Or possibly out loud, I'm not sure.) I opened my eyes to see a sweaty woman with huge boobs trying to shove her "carry-on" luggage in the overhead compartment. ("Carry-on" my ASS. It was a giant suitcase bigger than CHINA for chrissakes.) 
"Hi sweety!" She said. Spit came shooting out of her mouth and landed on the seat cushion. "They almost closed the doors on me!" She said, really loud, as if I was deaf or something. She jammed herself into the seat, and then rummaged around for like, a YEAR, looking for her seatbelt. "Are you sure you don't have mine, honey?" She started feeling around on my side of the seat, reaching under my leg. WTF?
"Excuse me," I said. "Yours is right there." I pointed to the belt hanging off the edge of her seat.
"Right! Thanks!" She said, more spit flying out of her mouth.  I almost puked and the plane hadn't even taken off. I leaned my head against the window. A few moments passed. Then the sweaty woman started rummaging through another bag she had put under her seat. "I'm starving!" she said as she pulled a TUNA FISH SANDWICH from the bag. 


The smell of tuna fish ENGULFED THE PLANE.  She took a huge bite from the sandwich. Other people on the plane looked at her in horror. She took another bite. I dry-heaved, praying to God I wouldn't puke all over myself. I wanted to SHOVE HER FACE IN THE TRAY TABLE. What made things worse, was how she was eating it. When she bit into the sandwich, the tuna oozed out of it and fell on her lap. Then she scooped it up with her finger and licked it off. I was gagging. I looked at the woman and she looked at me and then it happened. The puke came shooting out of my mouth- it hit her in the chest and lap and got all over her sandwich. It came fast and furious. Now the plane smelled like tuna-fish and puke. I started to hear other people gag and dry-heave. One person shouted, "Oh my God! I'm going to puke!" And then it became a ripple effect and more passengers started puking. It was a giant PUKE-FEST! The smell inside the airplane was so bad my eyes were watering. The woman yelled at me. "You ruined my sandwich!" 

I wanted to BITCH-SLAP her. I was about to tell her to shove the sandwich up her ASS, but when she yelled at me a huge chunk of tuna came flying out of her mouth and landed on my cheek. I puked again. On her, of course. But she deserved it.



This is something that's been on my mind for a long time and I finally decided to write about it. 

I'M CONFUSED ABOUT THE SEATBELT LAW.  It's illegal to be in a car or truck or van without your seatbelt fastened, but it's okay for CHILDREN to bounce around on a giant bus without any type of safety device to prevent them from FLYING ALL OVER THE PLACE??????


Please don't tell me the reason is because it will cost too much money to put seatbelts on the buses or I WILL PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE.  



I mean, WTF?
First of all, why does the volume go up like, TEN DECIBELS when the commercials come on?  A bomb could go off in my basement and I wouldn't hear it! Why do they do that? Who makes those decisions? Do they take votes on the decibel range? Like, on a scale of 1-10 where 1 is mute and 10 causes DEAFNESS?  I'd like to blast an air-horn directly into their EAR CANAL and ask them if it feels good.
I'd also like to inquire about the LENGTH of the commercials. I swear the FUCKING COMMERCIALS are longer than the shows!!! And they play the SAME ONES OVER AND OVER AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Most of them are PRESCRIPTION DRUG commercials, which means we have to hear about all of the side effects a gazillion times.
It's so much fun to hear about the "possibilities"... dry mouth, constipation, rash, yeast infection, bladder infection, diarrhea, rectal bleeding, cough, congestion, nausea, migraines, dizziness, confusion, trouble swallowing, increased heart-rate, excessive sweating, blindness, impotence, hair loss, SUICIDAL thoughts, (from ANTI-DEPRESSANTS- aren't they supposed to make you happy, instead of wanting to kill yourself?)  numbness in the extremities, the inability to move upon wakening, (my favorite one) and allergic reactions- like DEATH. I love when they say you shouldn't take it if you're allergic to it. WTF? How would you know if you're allergic to it unless you take it?DUH!
Then, when you think the commercials are finally over and the show is about to come back on, that whatshername bitchwhore- I think it's Reba MacIntire? starts singing about KENTUCKY FRIED CHICKEN AND HOW IT'S "FINGER-LICKIN' GOOD" and it makes me want to jump right through the TV screen and shove that guitar up her ASS!


                  PIZZA WITH KID ROCK

I had an audition for a Miller Lite commercial. It went well. They wanted to see me again. My agent was thrilled. I was SHITTING MY PANTS- imagine booking a principal role in a MILLER LITE commercial? They told my agent it was between me and one other girl. The deciding factor would be our hair color. No joke. I'm a brunette- she was a blonde. My agent said they were waiting to see who was cast as the male principal in the spot. If he had dark hair, they'd go with me. Otherwise they would cast the blonde chic.
I waited two agonizing days... I hadn't booked a job in a YEAR, let alone a NATIONAL SPOT- the MONEY IS OUTRAGEOUS for national beer commercials. I was already planning my next vacation... a new apartment, new clothes, maybe a new car... (okay, maybe the new car was pushin' it)

I didn't get the spot. The blonde girl was cast and I was devastated. It gets worse. They called back my agent and said I could be an "extra" in the commercial if I wanted to... OH PLEASE THAT'S LIKE A SLAP IN THE FACE.
Of course I said yes.
I showed up on the set feeling deflated and sorry for myself. It was going to be a long night. This was a big commercial shoot. There were hundreds of "extra's" milling around, waiting to be told what to do. KID ROCK was the star of the commercial. It took place in a huge field with a bon-fire pit. They herded the background actors underneath a cheap tent where we waited for several hours before the shoot began. The wardrobe people handed out hats and sunglasses and other accessories for us to wear. They gave me a big  cowboy hat. I liked it. It made me feel cool.
KID ROCK finally showed up. He was a little tipsy. The director was stressing out and trying to organize the shot. The assistants were pushing and pulling us in every direction- "you go there- no I said over there! You! In the cowboy hat! Come here!"  I rushed over to my position and was handed a beer. "DON'T TOUCH IT!" The assistant snarled. "The beer cans must never touch your lips- it's illegal to show people drinking alcoholic beverages in a commercial."  I knew that already! DUH! It wasn't like I'd just stepped off the bus and it was my first time being an "extra!"
"You- with the cowboy hat! Are you listening? I said come over HERE!"
Ugh. How embarrassing. I hate getting yelled at.  I did what I was told- I stood in front of the bon fire pit and waited for further direction. KID ROCK was sitting in a limousine, drinking beer with his co-stars, including the blonde BITCH. (She wasn't really a bitch, I was just jealous.) Without thinking, I took a swig of my beer. 
"JESUS CHRIST! Cowboy Hat- WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" It was the assistant's voice. I was mortified. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. It was an accident, I swear..."
He gave me a look that could have burned a hole through my skull.
"Don't do it again, Cowboy Hat, or you're going home." The assistant walked away. I was ashamed of myself.  I didn't like the cowboy hat anymore.
When the director yelled "ACTION," we were all supposed to start dancing. There was no music. It feels really DUMB when you're dancing without music. Plus, I have no rhythm. I looked like a total LOSER with my stupid cowboy hat and my lame dancing skills.
The director had a mega phone and was yelling out instructions to everyone. He said a black stretch limousine would pull up to the fire pit. The doors would open and KID ROCK was supposed to step out of the limo, followed by two of his band members, the male principal actor, and, you guessed it- the blonde chic. All I kept thinking was how much my life SUCKED. Instead of riding in a limo with KID ROCK, I was getting yelled at for being a low-life "extra."
After the KID and his posse stepped out of the limo, we were supposed to continue dancing, and laughing, pretending to talk to each other while holding our Miller Lite beer cans. We did twelve takes for this one shot. KID ROCK was hammered. He kept missing his mark and falling all over the place. I thought he was funny. The director didn't.  In the next shot, a PIZZA DELIVERY GUY would show up with pizza and hand out the boxes to random extras. Everyone was supposed to eat the pizza and continue dancing to no music.
The director yelled "ACTION!"  The pizza delivery guy stepped out of his van holding a stack of pizza, 15 boxes high. 
It happened so fast I never knew what hit me.  I was looking across the bon fire pit, at the other extras, when suddenly their expressions changed and their eyes grew wide and they were looking at something above and behind me.
KID ROCK had grabbed the pizza boxes and thrown them into the air. They landed on my head- still stacked.  I was knocked out cold. I woke up in complete darkness. (The cowboy hat was shoved over my eyes and face.) The director yelled "CUT!" A bunch of people came running over to me. They pulled off the cowboy hat and asked me if I was okay. (I wasn't.) Of course, I told them I was fine, just a little dizzy. I was humiliated beyond words.
We resumed shooting immediately. The cowboy hat was dented so they gave me another one. The rest of the shoot lasted 7 hours. I could barely stand when it was over.
As I walked toward the tent to return the cowboy hat, the blonde chic approached me. She said, "KID ROCK wants you to go into his trailer. Follow me."
I followed her to the "VIP" trailers and she opened the door. A cloud of smoke billowed out. I think I got high from it. "Are you Amy?" I heard KID ROCK'S voice from inside. "He knew my NAME?!" I thought to myself.
"Amy! Come in!  Have a beer! I feel bad- I threw pizza on your head. I'm really sorry."
I couldn't believe I was in KID ROCK'S trailer, let alone receiving an apology from him. "What a cool shit," I thought to myself.
If I didn't feel like I'd been run over by a BUS, I would've jumped at the chance to hang out with KID ROCK and his posse. But I was in so much pain, I felt like I was going to puke and the last thing I wanted to do was puke in KID ROCK'S trailer.
He apologized several more times and insisted I stay for a bit, but I politely declined. He was so damn nice I wanted to make out with him. Too bad I couldn't move my neck or head. I made it to my car just in time. I puked in the parking lot. Then I drove home wondering why stupid shit like this always happens to me.


It was 1991. I was in LA pursuing acting. My agent called. I had an audition for Dionne Warwick's PSYCHIC HOTLINE.  
I left early because I had to drive through Beverly Hills to get there. Traffic is always a nightmare in Beverly Hills.
My boyfriend told me to stop at his bar on my way to the audition. He wanted to buy me lunch. He ordered me a Goat Cheese Salad. "I don't eat Goat Cheese," I said. I ate it anyway. I got up to leave and a wave of nausea came over me. Then I felt sharp pains in my abdomen. I started sweating and feeling dizzy. 
I didn't want to miss the audition. It was a big opportunity to get in the door with Dionne Warwick. (I'm kidding) I stifled the nausea and jumped in my car. By the time I arrived at the studio my skin color was pea-green.  I'd never turned colors before. This wasn't good for the camera.
The casting director asked me if I was feeling okay. I didn't respond because I felt like I was going to puke and that definitely wouldn't look good on tape.  
Instead, I sprinted out the door, knowing my agent would dump me for missing such a great opportunity. (kidding again) I didn't care. The pain was that bad. I pulled into a 7-11 parking lot and found a pay phone. (pre-cell phone days) I called my boyfriend. He said it was the goat cheese. It was bad. He was sorry. OH MY GOD I HAD EATEN THE ENTIRE SALAD. He said I should go to an emergency room. I had food poisoning. 
The pain was getting worse by the SECOND. I crawled (literally) into the store and begged anyone to help me. "Is there a doctor in here? A nurse? Anyone who can help me? I have food poisoning!"  By now, I was ROLLING on the filthy, disgusting floor of a 7-11, moaning and crying from the excruciating pains in my stomach. I was begging strangers to help me.
Two men responded. They said they were doctors and I should go with them to their place so they could give me some medicine. 
Sounds shady, right? It was. I didn't give a FLYING FUCK. I thought I was DIEING. The two men drove me to their apartment. One of them pulled out a giant book of MEDICINE. If I hadn't been so sick I would've laughed out loud. This was getting SHADIER by the MINUTE. The guy with the medicine book said he found a drug that would induce vomiting. He went to the pharmacy and returned with a bottle of liquid. I guzzled it. HOLY SHIT it was potent. We all waited for something to happen. I couldn't believe the fucked up situation I was in. What the HELL? Typical of my life, I thought to myself. The three of us were sitting there, waiting. It was awkward. A second later I was running to the bathroom. I puked. Whew! Much better! (not really, but at this point I just wanted to go home) The "medicine man" told me I shouldn't leave yet. He said I had a long way to go before it was over. I insisted on leaving. Medicine Man went back to the 7-11 to get my car. I thanked both of them profusely. I felt like such a LOSER. I ran to my car and drove away. Damn. It was rush hour. I was in gridlock on RODEO DRIVE when the medicine took full effect. It hit me like a TRAIN. I rolled down my window just in time as I began PROJECTILE VOMITING into the street. I felt like Linda Blair in THE EXORCIST. The vomit was SHOOTING OUT OF MY MOUTH LIKE A JET STREAM. I remember looking into the eyes of a horrified woman in a RANGE ROVER- she had 3 kids in the backseat. There was nothing I could do as my vomit hit her passenger side window... there were cars all around me- everyone was watching... IT WAS SO HUMILIATING and the traffic WASN'T MOVING so I had to sit there while people were getting sick all around me from watching the scene. I tried to hide my face. The mother was still gaping at me. Her kids were trying to roll down the back window so they could see the puke on the side of the car. She was yelling at them. Then, it hit me again. HOLY SHIT- there's no stopping it!  This time, I tried to open my door in attempt to avoid hitting her car again. My hand got stuck in the door handle and the projectile vomit was spraying all over me and my steering wheel and my door- I had no options. I leaned out the window again. For the second time I made eye contact with the horrified mother as my vomit sprayed across her windows and doors. 
The traffic started to move. I rolled up my window and tried not to gag when I gripped the steering wheel. 
It was over, right? I couldn't possibly have anything left in my stomach. Now if I could just get the FUCK home. The worst part was being in traffic with the same people who watched me projectile vomit. I wanted to disappear.
It happened 3 more times before I got home. The third time was on Hollywood Boulevard. A group of tourists captured some great photos.

I didn't book the Dionne Warwick spot. My agent dumped me the next day. 


Yes, I cuss a lot. Especially when I write. Obviously, I censor myself in public, but when I'm writing in my own blog, I write whatever I please. Apparently, this has offended some people. Which makes no sense to me, since there's a warning before you enter my blogsite, and then ANOTHER WARNING at the top of my blog. 

So for those of you who might be, (or have been) offended- 



Lighten up my friend, life is too short. 
It's all in FUN. Trust me on that. 


I'm in my car, driving to an audition for a CHEEZE-ITS commercial. I'm stressing out because I just hit a wall of traffic. I slam my head against the steering wheel in frustration.


A car honks behind me. I'm pissed.

ME: "WHAT?!!" I look in my rear-view mirror and throw my hands up. "WE'RE NOT MOVING!"

The driver gives me the finger. I contemplate getting out of my car to PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE, but decide against it. Finally, cars begin to move. I take a secret shortcut along Mulholland Drive and arrive at the casting studio with ten minutes to spare. I'm psyched. I pull into the parking lot. An attendant approaches my car.

ATTENDANT: "What are you doing?"
ME: "I'm here for an audition. Where should I park?"
ATTENDANT: "Not here. No actors allowed to park here. Read the sign."

The attendant points to a large fluorescent orange sign that reads: ABSOLUTELY NO ACTOR PARKING IN THIS LOT. YOU WILL BE FINED AND TOWED AT YOUR OWN EXPENSE.

ME: "That is so MESSED UP. Now I'm going to be late. Can you help me?"
ATTENDANT: "Sure! You can park six blocks east, in the residential district, but watch the signs- they can be tricky. Or, if you're really lucky, there are meters on the street. But they only take quarters, and it's 15 minute parking only. I recommend parking six blocks east."
ME: "OH MY GOD I'm screwed."

The parking attendant leans into my window. 

ATTENDANT: "Unless of course, you have cash."
ME: "Really?! Yes! Hold on- I must have some cash here somewhere!"

I ransack my purse and come up with $7. I offer it to the attendant. He laughs.

ATTENDANT: "You're funny, lady. Take a hike."

Defeated, I start backing out of the lot. In my side-view mirror I see a meter open up across the street. 


I peel out, making skid marks and cutting off a line of traffic. Horns are BLARING as I make an illegal U-TURN and head toward the open meter. Too late. Someone is pulling in at the same time I reach the spot. 


The clock on my dashboard reads 11:55 am. My audition is in 5 minutes. I'm stressing, BIG TIME. I make a sharp turn down a residential street.

ME: (muttering to myself) "Come on... come on...give me an open space..."

I see four trash barrels lined up against the curbside.

ME: "That will do!"

I put the car in park and jump out. The space is perfect. I start pulling the barrels onto the sidewalk. A gang member approaches. I'm almost done moving the barrels. The gang member is watching me. He walks up to the first barrel, and PUSHES IT BACK INTO THE STREET.

ME: "Oh, Hey, excuse me could you put that back please? I'm going to park here."

The GANG MEMBER responds by pushing another barrel back onto the street. 

ME: "You might have misunderstood me." I could feel my anger levels rising. "I'm going to park here."

He moves toward the third barrel. So do I. We both grab a side. He tries to intimidate me with his stare. I STARE RIGHT BACK. 
We hear a door open, then slam shut. Out of the corner of my eye I see three more gang members approaching. I don't budge.

GANG MEMBER: "Don't make me angry, MAMA-CITA. You can't park here. Go somewhere else."

I stay put. I have no plans to move. We are still holding either side of the barrel. His friends surround us.

ME: "I'll put the barrels back when I return. I always do. Now let go so I can park here."
GANG MEMBER: "I said, park somewhere else, BITCH."
GANG MEMBER 2: "You need some help, Miguel? What's this bitch doin with our trash bins?"
GANG MEMBER 3: "Hey PUNTA why you causin trouble?"

I remain silent and continue the stare-down with the first ASSHOLE. 

GANG MEMBER: "What's the matter, bitch? Can't talk?"
GANG MEMBER 2: (to his buddies) "She must be retarded." He laughs at his own comment.
GANG MEMBER 3: "Hey Saul, watch it. My little cousin's a retard."
GANG MEMBER 2: "Sorry bro, I'm just playin."

I'm impatient and annoyed and I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS SHIT.


Instead, he tries to jerk it backwards hoping I'll lose my grip. I don't. He yanks it again. I yank it back. Now it's a TUG-OF-WAR contest. His buddies are cheering him on... I'm pulling as hard as I can. Suddenly, I have an idea. I let go of the barrel. The GANG MEMBER flies backwards, hitting the edge of the sidewalk as the barrel falls on top of him. 
His buddies are hysterical. Now I'm scared. The GANG MEMBER gets up. He looks at me with DEATH in his eyes. My body suddenly freezes. I notice his left arm reaching into his jacket. Everything turns into SLOW MOTION. I brace myself for whatever is about to happen. A light flashes. I turn my head to see a cop car turn down the street and head straight for us. The GANG MEMBERS retreat onto the sidewalk. An officer gets out. He points to the GANG MEMBERS and tells them not to move. One of them makes a run for it. The officer jumps back in his vehicle and takes off, in pursuit. I look at my watch. It reads 12:15 pm. 

ME: "Son of a BITCH! I'm late for my audition!"

I look at the other gang members with disgust and FURY. I feel POSSESSED.


The GANG MEMBERS stand there, speechless. In a rage, I start throwing the barrels back onto the sidewalk, muttering obscenities about life and how much it SUCKS and how I'm LATE for my audition, and all sorts of angry shit like that. I get in my car, put it in reverse, and screech my tires as I maneuver into the spot.

ME: "Damn it! I'm sweating!" I yell out loud, as I jump out of the car and slam the door. 
ME: "FUCK!" I realize I left my headshot in the back seat. 

I fumble for my keys and look up at the GANG MEMBERS, who are still standing there, staring at me. 

GANG MEMBER 2: "You're a crazy bitch!"
ME: I look at him oddly. "NO SHIT, ASSHOLE! YOU JUST FIGURED THAT OUT?!!!"

I grab my headshot and start running toward the casting studio. Halfway down the street I trip over a bump in the sidewalk. My body shoots forward and I skid on my hands and chest.

ME: "Son of a BITCH!" I yell out loud. 

My headshot is crumpled and dirty. My hands are bleeding and my boobs feel like they've been sliced off. I can hear the GANG MEMBERS laughing behind me. 
I arrive at the studio and run inside. A line of beautiful women are sitting in chairs along the wall. They look me up and down. I know I look like HELL.

ME: "Can anyone tell me where to sign in?"
A bubbly blonde actress points to the reception desk. 
ME: "Thank you."

She follows me to the desk.

BUBBLY BLONDE ACTRESS: "Are you here to audition? You have to put your name on the sign-in sheet. Why are your hands all bloody?"

Another actress appears behind me.

OTHER ACTRESS: "You have to sign in at the bottom of the sheet. We were here before you."
ME: (annoyed) "I know that. You don't have to tell me that."
BUBBLY BLONDE ACTRESS: "Are you here for the CHEEZE-ITS commercial, or something else?"
OTHER ACTRESS: (to the BUBBLY BLONDE) "She can't be here for CHEEZE-IT'S. The role is mid-twenties. She's WAY older than that."
BUBBLY BLONDE ACTRESS: "She's probably reading for the mother role- it said late 40's in the breakdown." 

She looks at my headshot.

BUBBLY BLONDE ACTRESS: "Oh my GOD- is that your headshot?"

The top half of my face is partially scraped off.

OTHER ACTRESS: (laughing) "You can't give them that!"

I'm about to respond when the door to the CASTING ROOM opens. The receptionist steps out and walks over to the front desk. She picks up the sign-in sheet and calls out a name.

RECEPTIONIST: "Jennifer Whitman?"

A tall, GORGEOUS blonde stands up. 

RECEPTIONIST: "You may go in now."

The receptionist gawks at me.

RECEPTIONIST: "May I help you with something?"
ME: "Yes, I'm here for the audition."
RECEPTIONIST: "What was your appointment time?"
ME: "Umm.. I'm a little late. It was 12 noon."
RECEPTIONIST: "It's 12:28. You're twenty eight minutes late."
ME: "I'm so sorry, I really am. I ran into some trouble parking- gang members were pushing me around and then I was running and I fell.."
RECEPTIONIST: "Thank you for explaining, Ms..."
ME: "Wade. Amy Wade."
RECEPTIONIST: "Ms. Wade, but it's a big NO-NO to be late in Hollywood. There are no second chances. Have a good day."

I can't believe I blew it AGAIN. The girls are snickering as they watch me exit the studio. I should be humiliated but at this point I don't care anymore. I return to my car. The gang members are gone but there's a ticket on my windshield. 
I read the citation. It's street cleaning day.


I look up and the gang members are back. They are laughing and giving each other HIGH-FIVES.

I drive home thinking it can't get any worse. But of course, it can. And it will.


           NAKED ALIENS and STUNTS

I was living in LA, pursuing my acting dream. I had an audition for a TV movie about aliens. It was for the lead role. They called me back and I ended up booking the job. I was ecstatic! I memorized the script in two days and showed up on the set feeling like a star...
The make-up artist started to apply a thick, green liquid to my face and neck and head... he told me it would harden and it might be difficult to eat or drink. I was confused because my role in the script was not the alien. I was supposed to be human. I inquired about this and the make-up artist looked at me oddly. I started getting nervous and asked to speak with the director right away.

Director: Who are you? What do you want?

I was taken aback.

Me: I'm Amy. Amy Wade, the lead character.

Director: (he laughs out loud) We have a 'name actress' for the lead role. Who are you?

I wanted to die. What an embarrassing moment.

Me: I'm Am-

Director: (interrupting me) I don't have time for this shit. JANICE! Where the fuck is Janice? Someone get my assistant!

The alien make-up was solidifying. I could barely move my lips.
"Janice" came running into the make-up room.

Janice: I'm here, what happened?

Director: Who is this girl?

Janice: I don't know- who are you? What's your name? (looking at her clipboard) You're the alien stunt double.

Me: I'm what?

Janice: An alien, who does stunts. Did I stutter?

The comment made me want to BITCH-SLAP her.

Me: I was cast as the lead character, not the alien.

They laughed.

Director: You're joking, right? You're a no-name. A nobody whose costing me time and money. Janice, you handle this. She needs to be on set in 10 minutes.

He walked away.

Me: But I memorized the whole script! I was cast as "Simtra." That's the-

Janice: (interrupting) Emily, we're past that. MOVING ON... Miguel- do you have the body paint ready?

Me: My name is Amy, not Emily.

Janice: Okay Amy, get rid of your attitude. Now take off your fucking clothes so Miguel can finish with the body make-up. 

Me: Excuse me?

Janice: Jesus Christ, you actors are a pain in my ass. Your character is naked, but you'll be covered in green paint so you won't be able to see anything.

Me: Wait a second, HOLD ON! You want me to do stunt work- NAKED????

Janice: Are you DEAF? Holy shit I just told you- the green paint will cover your body, we'll hardly see anything once Miguel has finished.

I was barely listening. The green shit on my face was hardening- I'm clausterphobic.

Me: Oh my God I can't feel my lips!

Janice: That's okay- you don't have any lines.

I wanted to shove a STICK UP HER ASS.

Me: How much are you paying me for this?

Janice: Two hundred bucks- that's fifty more than what we originally agreed upon.

Me: You want me to be a NAKED ALIEN STUNT DOUBLE FOR $200 BUCKS?!!!

I started to cry but my nostrils were sealed shut and I couldn't breathe.

Me: Someone get this make-up off of me! I'm outta here!

I didn't care if I ever worked with these people again. This SLUT-WHORE was pushing me over the edge.
I couldn't peel the make-up off my face. I started hyperventilating.

Director: (returning) What the fuck is going on? She's supposed to be done by now! The crew is waiting for her to get on the lift for the first stunt!

The director looked at me.

Director: What the fuck are you doing? You're ruining the mask!

I was punching myself in the face, trying to crack the hardened make-up.

Director: You are costing us money! (to Janice) What is her name?

Janice: Emily.

I cracked the mask around my mouth and started pulling off chunks of it.

Me: I'm Amy! My name is Amy! Someone help me get this stuff OFF MY FACE!
Director: (yelling at me) Stop breaking it! (to Janice) Where did you get this girl? 

I punched myself again and the mask broke into a million pieces. I was FREE!


Me: Is that a threat or do you mean I have to pay for the alien mask?

Director: Listen you little BRAT- I will RUIN your name in this town! You can't walk off the set! The crew is waiting for you and we don't have time to hire another stunt double so GET UNDRESSED and GET YOUR ASS ON SET! Janice! Find Mitchell to help Miguel. He can work on another mask while Miguel does the body paint.

At this point, I wasn't embarrassed anymore. My BI-POLAR side was emerging. When that happens, there's no turning back.

Janice walked over to me and tried to tug at the arms of my shirt. This was NOT A SMART MOVE.
"Bi-Polar Amy" took over.


Mitchell and Miguel froze. Janice backed off.
I grabbed my bags and walked out of the make-up room. I wasn't done. I found the director on set with the crew. I was so furious I was shaking. My thoughts were racing and my mind was seeking VENGEANCE.

Me: HEY!! 

The director turned around.


Director: You can't talk to me like that! You work for ME! You will NOT walk off this set!


I started walking toward my car. The director followed me.

Director: Your career is OVER young lady!

I stopped and turned around.

Me: I HAVE NO CAREER, I'm a no-name, remember? Now get away from me!

I was FUMING. He was still following me to my car. The veins in my neck and forehead were BURSTING THROUGH MY SKIN. I grabbed a metal baton out of my car and held it in front of me.

Me: I said, BACK OFF!

Director: Someone call the cops!

I'd gone over the edge. The entire cast and crew had assembled in the background. Some of them were giving me a "thumbs up" sign. Most of them were laughing and enjoying the entertainment.

As I got into my car it dawned on me that I could be arrested for pulling out an illegal weapon. WOW. I sort of fucked myself with that move. I'd have to ditch the baton as soon as possible. I peeled out of the parking lot.

Me: (to myself) A NAKED ALIEN STUNT DOUBLE??? 

I cried the whole way home.

NAKED ALIEN STUNT DOUBLE was one of MANY strange and unfortunate experiences I would have during my twenty years in the pursuit.