A Most Productive Day




This recession has put everyone at a bit of a loss, myself included. So when I actually have things to do throughout the day which pertains to accumulating wealth, I should (in theory) get excited and you know, do my job. But sometimes you just don’t feel like it.

Monday’s Accomplishments
1. Wake up.
2. Drive to casting for a Black Eyed Peas music video. We are asked to be funky, edgy, and wearing lip gloss. This is described as “euro”. I decide on an uncomfortable multicolored Alexander McQueen jumpsuit that I bought a year ago and have only worn three times. I put on some sassy lip gloss.
3. The waiting area for the BEP casting is loaded with girls that look nothing like me and are all under 5’6. This is a room of trashy looking dancers. Not so coincidentally my agent sent a picture in which I look like I’m dancing over to the casting director. I am number 16. I wait around for about thirty minutes until I decide that I do not look hip enough or urban enough to make this worth my while. I leave.
4. I start my drive to Santa Monica. This is for a fairly big money hair job. This only means that you are being compensating for pain and suffering, not actual time working. The last time I worked for this client they told me I was going to be dyed “a nice caramel and honey” which translated to an orange base and a banana stripe down the side of my head. I make two attempts to turn around and head home after recalling the shade of green my hair turned after dying it back brown but finally decide to man up and just go anyway. When they ask if they can layer my hair and dye it back brown again I grit my teeth and say “yeah” through the side of my mouth. I am a liar.
5. I come home and watch an episode of 30 Rock. I want to be Tina Fey.
6. I stop by my agency for them to take polaroids to send to some agencies in Greece. I take off my shoes and put on a bathing suit and pose and pose and pose. My feet are cold on the concrete floor.
7. I have another two hours to kill in which I sit around and pretend to read. My audition is close enough for me to walk but I drive anyway because it is cold and I am lazy. I have been told to be approachable and fun. I am to be lip syncing “Pretty Fly for a White Guy” which I haven’t heard in its entirety since it came out when I was twelve and I thought it was funny. As I sit in the casting office, I can hear the people before me singing through the walls. I am embarrassed for them and when I get up to go inside the people in the hallway say they can’t wait to hear what I can do. It is a fishbowl scenario, only more violating. I go inside, slate my name, grab a microphone and have at it. Apparently I am good at acting like an asshole because they called me back for a director’s session tomorrow.
8. Come home and try to figure out what I’m really supposed to be doing with my life.

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