Back when I lived in Los Angeles and I was absolutely 150% positive I was going to be a famous actress, I did what every other girl who thinks she’s going to famous does: I enrolled in acting class. [Note: A lot of girls who think they’re going to be famous actresses simply stop wearing panties under their knockoff Herve Leger and start doling out BJs. Acting class is technically optional. Do whatever is best for you.] So began my foray into feeling regularly uncomfortable standing up in front of a room of people sitting in the dark, all of whom watched on carefully to see if I was capable of emoting like a Real Live Girl. The results were hit or miss… mostly miss. Although I do recall knocking it out of the goddamn park doing a scene from Gia, where I tell my lesbian ex-girlfriend I am dying of AIDS. I cried more during those ten minutes than I did when my grandma died. (Don’t judge me; she was something between a b-word and a c-word and gave all my inheritance away to my cousin. Thanks, G-ma!).