GOT CHEEZE-IT'S?

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.

ME: "FUCK!"

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. 


ME: "YESSSS!!!"


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. 


ME: "AAAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!"


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.


ME: "Listen you little PUNK-ASS SHIT-HEAD. LET GO OF THE BARREL."


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.


ME: "WHY DON'T YOU PULL OUT YOUR GLOCKS AND SHOOT ME?!!"  


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. "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. 


ME: "WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!"

GANG MEMBER 2: "You're a crazy bitch!"

ME: I look at him oddly. "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.


ME: "THIS MUST BE A JOKE!"


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.

TYLENOL TROUBLE

My girlfriend called to tell me about an audition for TYLENOL. They were casting female boxers. It was a national spot for the Summer Olympics.

By the time I arrived, the auditions were over. The waiting room was empty and the sign-in sheet was gone. I was about to leave when a door opened down the hall. A young woman came out.  She looked me up and down. I thought she was going to yell at me.

"Are you here for the TYLENOL spot?" She asked. "You must be a boxer. Or a weightlifter."
She was referring to my arms. I have muscular arms. It's freakish. I have issues wearing tank tops. I hate my arms.

"Yes, my name is Amy Wade. I'm a boxer. A friend told me about the audition."

"The auditions are over, but the director will definitely want to see those arms. We changed the spot. No boxers. We're looking for a professional archer."

What the hell was a professional archer? It sounded familiar. I couldn't remember the sport. This was awkward.

I said, "Oh, really? That's cool." What a dumb thing to say.

"Do you have any experience?"

Oh my God. What do I say?

"Sure. I'm not a professional but I've done it before." I had no idea what I was talking about.

"Great! Let's see what you can do!"

FUCK.

She led me down a hallway through a door to the parking lot. There was a tent set up with a table and a camera and lights, etc. On the table was a giant BOW with some arrows next to it.

ARCHERY! ( DUH!)

I'd never shot a bow and arrow before. This was not good.

Her cell phone started ringing. She excused herself and went back inside to take the call. I was panicking. A young man appeared from behind the tent.

"You know how to shoot a bow and arrow?" He asked me.

"No." I said. I couldn't fake this. The bow was HUGE. I didn't even know how to hold it.

The man laughed. "I didn't think so. Let me show you."

He grabbed the bow and demonstrated how to hold it. Then he showed me how to hold the arrow against the bow before releasing it. My arms were shaking. I was nervous the casting director was going to come out in the middle of my lesson. Of course, she did.

"Nice form! All right, let's see how good you are." she said as she came up behind me.

Oh my GOD- should I tell them to clear the area? I looked behind the target. There were some cars parked about 50 yards away. "You've got to be kidding me", I thought to myself.  "I'm going to smash someone's window."

I took a deep breath and released the arrow.

"NICE SHOT!" They both yelled out.

I opened my eyes and realized I'd hit the circle just outside the center! TOTAL BEGINNER'S LUCK. If she asked me to do it again, I'd miss the target.

"We'll be in touch with you, Ms. Wade," the casting director said.

She called the next morning. I couldn't believe it! They cast me! I was going to be in a NATIONAL COMMERCIAL DURING THE SUMMER OLYMPICS! I was ECSTATIC! Then I wanted to kill myself. How was I going to fake this?

I arrived on the set early. The production assistant told me to wait in my trailer and they would come get me for hair and make-up. I had my own TRAILER?! Wow! This would be a FIRST! I'd take a picture of it and send it to my parents! The assistant told me to follow him. We reached a row of trailers and he led me to a door that said "Andy Wade".

"Here we are." He said.

"My name is Amy, not Andy." I told him.

Embarrassing moment. I hate my life.
He was apologetic, as he pulled out a giant black Sharpie from his pocket and scribbled out "Andy", replacing it with, "AMY."  It looked stupid. I decided NOT to take a picture of it.

Twenty minutes later they called me for hair and make-up. I love getting my hair and make-up done. As it turns out, the make-up artist SUCKED and my face looked like SHIT. The hair stylist SUCKED too and she put my hair in the tightest little bun that made my head look like a tennis ball. When I got back to my trailer I looked in the mirror and couldn't believe how UGLY I looked.
This SUCKED.
The production assistant came to get me. I was introduced to the director, the cinematographer, the producers, and the camera crew. They were all looking at my arms. I felt totally self-conscious. Did I say I HATE my arms? (Childhood trauma from being teased by classmates.)

The director told me to aim the arrow to the left of the camera.  I looked at the MILLION DOLLAR piece of equipment and almost shit myself. He showed me where to stand and said we were doing long shots first. Then medium shots, and my close-ups would be last.
Damn it. I was already sweating. It was a really hot day- close to 90 degrees. By the time we did my close-ups I was going to look like a swimmer instead of an archer.
The assistant director asked me if I was ready. I was shaking. "Yes, I think so." I looked at the crew standing near the target. They were too close.  Why didn't they move further away? I felt like I was going to puke.

When the director yelled, "ACTION!" I took a deep breath, and released the arrow. As soon as it left my fingertips I knew it wasn't going to hit the target. SHIT! OH MY GOD! There was a clusterfuck of commotion as everyone dove into the ground, trying to dodge the arrow. My heart stopped. The arrow went through the craft services tent and hit a trailer parked behind it.  Then, everything went SILENT. You could hear a PIN DROP. I wanted to sink into the earth- ALL THE WAY TO CHINA.
This was not a good situation.

"What the HELL was that?" The director said out loud.

"I'm so sorry, I'm really nervous, and sweaty... (gross, I can't believe I said I was "sweaty") the arrow slipped from my fingers. I'll hit the target next time."

There was a long pause before anyone said anything. I expected to be fired. I couldn't believe this was happening to me. Probably for the best. I didn't know what I was doing.

"Back to ONE, everybody. Let's give this another go." The director didn't look at me.
I fought back tears.

"You SUCK, Amy!" My alter ego was floating above my right ear, screaming into it. "You'll never hit the target- you're gonna blow the chance of a lifetime!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I yelled back at EVIL AMY. (She's such a little BITCH.) I wasn't sure if I yelled it out loud or in my head. I was a wreck. I had to hold myself together.

I grabbed the bow and pulled back on the arrow, waiting for the director to yell "ACTION" again.
"CLEAR THE AREA!" The production assistant shouted. He looked as nervous as I did.

The camera's started rolling and I prayed to the LORD OF THE UNIVERSE as I released the arrow. I was concentrating so hard I didn't see where the arrow went. Time STOOD STILL. 

"You hit the target!" I heard a voice yell. 

THANK GOD. I breathed for the first time in ten minutes. The production assistant looked relieved. I gained a little confidence. We repeated this shot at least TWENTY times. I lost count. My arms were DEAD. I couldn't believe I was hitting the target.  Finally, we moved on to the medium shots. Sweat was pouring from my eyebrows like a waterfall. It stung my eyes. I hated myself for sweating so much. Sometimes I think I was supposed to be a man. This thought kept popping into my head and I started obsessing about it. I was probably delusional from dehydration and exhaustion.  The production assistant noticed my fatigue. (My arms shaking uncontrollably might have been a CLUE) I was going to start missing the target and kill somebody. Even the crew was getting nervous. They stood further and further away from the target.
Finally, the director said we were doing close-ups. If I could just hang in there for a few more takes...
By now, I didn't care how gross I looked. I didn't think I'd ever be able to use my arms again. They were going to have to be amputated.
Somehow, I got through ten more rounds of hell. I hardly remember shooting the arrows.  At LAST, the director called it a rap.

Of course, I was so excited, I told EVERYONE and their MOTHERS about my spot in a NATIONAL COMMERCIAL. I didn't have to worry about whether or not my face would be in the commercial. It had to be. I was shooting a bow and arrow. My head was next to the bow for every shot.

The Summer Olympics began. My family and friends were glued to the television, waiting to see me in a Tylenol commercial. The first three days passed. Nothing. On the fourth day, I was eating a bowl of LUCKY CHARMS when, all of a sudden, I saw a gymnast in a commercial. I knew it was my commercial because they were shooting the gymnast the same day I did my spot.  I waited for what seemed like an eternity... the damn gymnast was still on the screen... then, I saw... something... it looked like... an arm?  It took me a second to realize it was MY ARM, in a close-up, with giant VEINS popping out and sweat glistening on my skin... then the camera started to pan upwards... at this point I was on the edge of my seat, praying to GOD the make-up job looked better on camera than it did on the set... and then I saw the lower half of my face- I was getting so excited I stood up and spilled my bowl of LUCKY CHARMS all over the carpet but I didn't care... then the camera stopped, right there, just below my nose, (you could see a pool of sweat on my upper lip- GROSS!) and then the footage turned into slow motion as my fingers released the arrow. The flesh on my lower jaw rippled from the force of the arrow, and then the commercial cut to a swimmer diving into a pool. That was it. 

(Long, awkward pause...)

The disappointment in my heart was so deep I literally dropped to the floor. I felt something wet and sticky under my legs. (The Lucky Charms.) I sat there for a long time. My phone started ringing. I turned it off. What was I going to say? "Yeah, that was my arm! And my lower lip! Wasn't that spectacular?!"
I was in disbelief. Even when I got a break, it slipped away. How fucked up is that? I must have sat there for HOURS, sobbing, then laughing, then sobbing again. It was so damn typical. I was mortified. Whose idea was the slow-motion jaw-rippling effect? GROSS! And the sweat on my upper lip? YUCK! 
Eventually, I had to answer my phone. 
People tried to be supportive and nice: "You looked... umm... well, your arm looked good, Amy." 
My parents: "You looked strong, honey! Like an archer! That's what they wanted! We could tell it was you, dear. Especially by the lower half of your face." 
(They meant well.)

The commercial was so bad, it aired only 4 times. 

What an awesome experience that was.




 

                  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.

                       HOLLYWOOD CASTING COUCH

The year was 2009. It started off like SHIT and remained FULL OF SHIT until the very end, when it became ONE BIG PILE OF SHIT. I got a call from a casting director regarding a film I'd submitted for. He wanted me to audition for the lead role. It was a low-budget, independent project. (not a shocker) I read the script and liked it. Some of the scenes had partial nudity, but nothing raunchy or inappropriate.

The audition went well. The director called me back and said he liked my audition. He asked me to come in again. This time, I met the writer and the producer. I gave another reading. They were very enthusiastic. I went home and felt excited for the first time in months. A few hours later the director called me. He said I was his first pick, but the producer was interested in another actress. "He likes blondes." He said. That sort of creeped me out, but I brushed it off.  He told me there was a party I should go to. The producer would be there and it was a good chance for me to meet him and hopefully impress him enough to cast me instead of the other girl.

I am skeptical of Hollywood film parties. I don't like self-centered, pretentious people, and there is always the potential for casting couch propositions. Still, I had to go. I couldn't  miss an opportunity to be the lead in a film.

I took my friend, Dan, with me. He is a retired bounty hunter. I always felt safe when he was with me. The party was in Hollywood Hills at one of those mansions built into the side of a cliff. The foundation rests on stilts that look like they could snap if too many people were in the house.

I gave my name to the doorman. He let us in. The place was crowded with beautiful men and women.  Dan told me to relax and have fun. He left me for a few minutes to get us both a drink.

"Hey you!" A voice called from behind me.

I turned around.

"How are you?" A tall, skinny guy asked me. I had no idea who he was. I hate when that happens.

"I'm sorry, do I know you from somewhere?"  I didn't recognize him at all.

"No! I was just saying hi because I couldn't resist your beautiful smile!"

GAG ME. Yuck. What a lame pick up. This is why I hate parties. Ugh. Where was Dan?

"I'm sorry, I need to use the restroom." I walked away before he could say anything else.

"Amy Wade!" I heard my name being called. It was the director. I felt so important! He rushed over to me and gave me a "Hollywood Hug." A long, dramatic embrace, like we'd known each other for ten years. 

He pulled me closer to him. "So listen, one of our investors is here... Unfortunately, he also favors blondes. You need to put on a good show to win him over. It's gonna be a tough sell, but I have faith in you."

I felt nervous as hell. I hated Hollywood games. But it's part of the business.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked.

"Impress him. Do whatever you have to do- just land the part. He's at the bar talking to the blonde actress."

I looked in the direction of the bar. The blonde chic was DROP-DEAD gorgeous. I was all done. I had nothing on this girl. The director looked at me. "Don't sell yourself short. You can do it. He's alone now. Go do your thing."

I felt like my knees were going to buckle. I hesitated, took a deep breath, and headed over to the empty seat next to him. When I sat down, he turned and looked at me. He was NASTY. He was big and hairy and sweaty. I almost gagged. I introduced myself and shook his hand. It was wet and clammy. I stifled another gag reflex. He didn't let go of my hand right away. That bothered me.

"So, you must be Amy Wade." He said with a thick middle eastern accent. Was he Arabic? Iranian? Indian? I couldn't tell. "How bad do you want this role?"

Oh boy. Here we go. RED FLAGS. This situation had serious potential for a CASTING COUCH PROPOSITION. 

I was PISSED. Another let-down. I hated his guts and wanted to string him along like he did me. 

I leaned forward, exposing my (fake) cleavage and whispered into his nasty, hairy ear, "Bad enough to do almost anything..."

I wished I hadn't said that. The Investor was looking at me with such intensity I felt like I was naked. It was extremely uncomfortable. He licked his lips. His tongue was gross and slimy. He grabbed my hand and slipped something into it. 
It was a hotel key.  I looked up and saw Dan walking toward us with two drinks in his hands. 

Before I could say anything, Dan stepped in between me and the Investor..

"Hey baby girl! Took me forever to find you!"  He handed me a drink.

"Thanks, Dan." I said.  "Have you met the film's Investor? His name is HAIRY, NASTY, SCUMBAG."

Dan held out his hand to the Investor. "Hello Hairy Nasty Scumbag. I'm Dan. Will I need to kick your ass tonight?"  

I love Dan. He is so direct and matter-of-fact.

The Investor stood up. "Get the fuck out or I'll have you escorted out."

 "No need." I said. "We're leaving. Here's your hotel key." I threw it at him. "You might as well go play with yourself." 

 

Dan and I left. On the ride home we had a few chuckles about it, but I was bummed out.
Damn the Hollywood Casting Couch.

                            COOKIE BRIBE


When I lived in LA, I used to love to go dancing with my girlfriends. It was an excuse to dress up and pretend like we were important. It only worked if we knew the bouncers at the club. If  we didn't, FORGET IT. No club is worth waiting outside in a clusterfuck of desperate wanna-be's standing half naked with skimpy dresses and spiked heels while the MEATHEAD BOUNCERS toyed with you and made you feel humiliated and STUPID each time they let other girls in the club even though you'd been standing there for a half hour.  No club is worth that shit. 


Most of the time, one of us knew somebody who knew somebody and we didn't have to wait with the rest of the schmucks on the sidewalk.
There were a few occasions when I was running late and had to meet the girls there.  Since I wasn't the one with all of the "connections", I always had to worry about getting stranded outside.  One night, we had plans to meet at THE PALMS, in Hollywood. I came up with a silly idea, and decided to give it a try. I baked two dozen chocolate chip cookies and put them in a big, red giftbag. I drove to the club, found street parking (miraculous!) and walked two blocks to the entrance. It was mobbed. At least 60 or 70 people crowded together on the sidewalk, trying to get the bouncers attention to let them in. Ugh. I hated that shit.
I took my red gift bag with the cookies in it and stood halfway in the street, to separate myself from the crowd. I lifted the bag above my head and held it in the air until one of the bouncers looked at me. I winked and pointed at the bag and mouthed the words, "FOR YOU."
I held my breath. This could go in either direction. I prayed.
He was intrigued. The bouncer motioned for me to come to the entrance. I couldn't believe it! It worked! Well, so far anyway... I still had to get INSIDE the club!
I started my way toward the door, but most of the people in line (women, in particular) wouldn't let me by. The bouncer ordered everyone to move aside so I could pass them. He lifted the ropes for me to slip underneath and there I was, standing in front of 70 people who HATED MY GUTS.
I loved it.
He asked me what was in the bag.
I leaned toward him, and whispered, "Cookies. I baked them for you, hoping to bribe you into letting me cut the line." He leaned back against the wall and started laughing. I wasn't sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.
He said, "Are you kidding?"
I said, "No. They're still warm!" I gave him a cookie. "Everyone tells me I make the best chocolate chip cookies."
By now, the other doormen were curious. He told them about the cookie bribe.  They laughed at me. I handed out more cookies. The bouncer introduced me to the owner of the club. He told me I would never have to wait in line as long as I baked cookies for them!
"It's a DEAL!"  I said.


My COOKIE BRIBE worked!
It was a great moment for me. I found my girlfriends in the club. We were taken to the VIP section and served free drinks all night while we danced till DAWN.
That night I learned the VALUE OF A GOOD CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE.

SERIOUSLY?

I've been to the beach a few times this summer. I don't get picked up very often. In fact, almost never. Except the last time I went to the beach. A guy approached me even though I was lying down with my hat completely covering my face. He appeared out of nowhere. I turned my head and suddenly there were feet in front of me. 
"Hi, am I bothering you?"
I took off my hat and sat up. He wasn't bad-looking. Nice physique, big smile..
"Well, not really but-"
"I've been watching you and decided I should come over and say hi."
What a creepy thing to say. He plopped himself down in the sand, right next me. Too close. I inched back.
 "My name's Randy. What's yours?"
I hesitated.
"Michelle."
"You're hot, Michelle."
I laughed out loud. What a jerk. Then he said,
"Well, I've only seen the front. You haven't gone in the water yet, so I don't know what your backside looks like."

SERIOUSLY???????????????

I hate men.
  
 

PLENTY OF FISH.COM

My friend told me about another on-line dating website, called PLENTY OF FISH.COM. I was skeptical. It's a free sight, giving it huge potential for CHEAP men. I hate cheap people, whether it's a man or a woman. But, since I'm a risk taker, (woo-hoo!) I filled out the profile. I hate filling out profiles. It's hard to describe yourself. It takes forever too. (I'm so impatient.) 

I was about to leave the site when I got a "wink" from someone. I admit, I got excited. Another wink came in. I couldn't figure out how to see who was winking at me. I got frustrated. (More impatience.) All of a sudden two more winks came in! Wow! My head was getting big! But how the $#!k do I open them? There were so many icons to click. I was overwhelmed. A window popped up on the screen. Someone wanted to "chat" with me. I couldn't see who it was. I tried every icon. After sitting there for a YEAR, I gave up. I decided to check my emails.

I had twenty new emails. Half of them were spam, but the other half came from PLENTY OF FISH.COM. I clicked on the first one. A woman's picture came up. Uh oh. Did I check the wrong gender box? "Hello sweet girl!  I'm looking to cuddle... I have a bottle of wine. I'm sitting in front of my fireplace, waiting for you. Give me a call..." 
Her code name was TENDER LOVE. 

I thought about it for a minute. She was beautiful. I do like to cuddle... 

I opened the next email.

There was no picture. It said, "You have great biceps- so big and strong..." Yuck! I hate my arms. They make me feel like a man. DELETE.    

The third one had a picture, but I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. It said, "I loved your profile, you are sweeter than butter. Let me spread you on my toast."

WHAT??????????????
DELETE.

I was afraid to open another one. But of course I did.

No picture again. It said, "Hi. I'm bisexual. Do you go both ways?" 

I was getting discouraged.

The next one had a picture of a decent looking guy. Great! A man!

He wrote, "Hi beautiful! I loved reading your profile. Great pic, too. I bet your smile lights up a room."

I melted.   
"I'm a cross-dresser. Does that offend you?"

My life sucks.