Security Guards do not let background audience bring in their cell phones as a general rule. This is detrimental to the life of a freelance worker, but a buffer for people's general stupidity.
Actress 1 on a bench, "I have to bring in my phone. When they come at me with the metal detectors, I just say I had a plate put in my pelvis. Bad motorcycle accident. You can strip search me if you want, they never do. They just pass me through."
Actress 2 on a bench, "I just tell them my clit is pierced."
I had to sit in front of a kid in his early 20s who refused to smile or clap during the show. Now you are audience, THAT IS ALL YOU HAVE TO DO! Someone came up and told him, "Production is complaining that you refuse to smile and clap. I am going to have to pull you if you just sit there."
Idiot, "It's just really hard for me."
PA, (tight smile) "What's hard for you? You are just sitting there."
Idiot, "I am just really tired."
They really can be a bunch of assholes.
I booked BAGGAGE today as audience and returned to my favorite game show to work. It is an 8 hour shift, next to a Thai restaurant and damn entertaining. One of the contestants was asked to defend his baggage to a possible date. The baggage being "I haven't had a job in 3 years". His defense was, "I would just rather do background acting and audience work, and write music all the time."
All of us, stood up and applauded him. Whistled. Hooted. The show asked him to change his defense since the general public can not know that people are paid to be audiences on their show.
Then, I was escorted off.
They always put me front and center in the audience, my face is pretty expressive, especially with shock/disgust/wild amusement. Well, they recognized me as a former contestant and said I could never work audience on the show again. :-( I am not too proud to keep coming back to the show I kinda/sorta starred in as a lowly background player. You keep giving me money, I will keep coming back!
That sucks. I liked working that show. And now Jerry Springer and I can never really be friends.
It was the last taping of DON'T FORGET THE LYRICS and lots of guests were volunteering to be in the audience. So those of us who were paid and not needed for the morning were asked to sit out by the dumpster (gotta love Culver Studios) and wait out the morning crowds.
I started a conversation with a young guy, who was fairly handsome. Well he was tall. He was wearing 80s sunglasses so I couldn't really gauge how good looking he really was. He looked very much like Josh Charles. We were discussing the years of WWII, when it ended, who surrendered first.
He found me later when we were being escorted in after lunch. He made a comment that is unmemorable and I took him seriously. He said he was being sarcastic in a way as if to imply that I am not smart enough to get sarcasm. He wanted banter, he would get banter.
He turned to return to his friend and I said, "What you aren't going to talk to me now because I didn't pick up on your sarcasm?"
He said, "I'll talk to you. Do you not like sarcasm?"
I said, "Are you kidding me? Sarcasm and freckles are like an aphrodisiac."
We sat next to each other during the show. His friends were out on the floor, also sitting next to some ladies. I guessed at lunch they decided that they would come back to the show and try to pick up some girls. Lucky me.
He was feeling me out, spoke about how he was a Republican and loved Fox News (which knocked him out of the running to get in my pants straight off) then about DJing and drugs. I matched him. He said he thought I was an accountant type. Yeah . . . funny. He then said, "You're not as square as I thought you were." I said, "Why would you think I am square? Because I use big words?" He was silent, shrugged his shoulder.
He spoke of his ex-girlfriend who was a 40 yr old IBM executive and let him move into her guest house. He proudly announced to me that he used her for the hot tub. From his telling, she was needy and wouldn't leave him alone. I asked how in the world an IBM executive could have enough time on her hands to harass her much younger boy toy. He shrugged his shoulders. He said she kicked him out and he got a place of his own.
I often wonder why men volunteer embellished, SLEAZY, details about themselves if they are trying to establish a physically intimate relationship. I really don't get it.
He spoke of how he saved money to go to Burning Man and wanted to go to an orgy. He asked if I would want to. I said, "If I wasn't in a relationship, I probably would just for the experience." This excited him, "EXACTLY!" He said he might not fully participate, he would just watch and get a hand job.
I looked at him, "You are going to go to an orgy to get . . . a hand job?"
He laughed, then nodded his head. He said he had a girlfriend but was in an open relationship. (They always are, or they are having severe relationship problems)
He said, "I thought that would mean she would be slutty, but it doesn't. Its just very cool and low key."
I said, "You have to be careful, there are lots of STDs out there. You know, one in four people have genital herpes."
He said, "I know, I have genital herpes."
I said, "Oh. Then you should definitely go to an orgy." I shook my head. How is that for sarcasm?
He told me a story of how he nailed some chick in a cemetery and then discovered his first outbreak on a bus. He said he checked his dick and said, "This sucks. But its not that big of a deal. You just dry out your sores and they are gone in a day or so."
I nodded my head and said, "Sure, I heard its not that big of a deal. That said, if I can avoid it, I would rather not have sores on my vagina."
I asked, "How did you broach the subject with your new girlfriends? That must be the most difficult part."
He said, "I don't tell them." Then he laughed. "I figure its going to be wide spread anyway so I might as well help it along."
I am not smiling.
"In the end they will piss me off and I left them a little reminder of my revenge."
Still not smiling.
I thought about the IBM Executive and how now she had genital herpes. And I thought of his girlfriend who possibly doesn't know that she has genital herpes yet, but is spreading herself around freely as if she doesn't.
I said, "I am NEVER having sex again. Thank you."
Again, he laughed, then said something weird. "I am a vampire. I make those girls vampires. That's what we do."
It was a strange thing to say, very dark.
I then noticed he had freckles. What a waste.
He turned to me a couple minutes later and said, "Do you think its wrong that I don't tell them?"
I was applauding a performance on the stage at the time and nodded my head, "Its unethical." The sound of the crowd was loud around me so I had to raise my voice a little, but without judgment.
He grew quiet. We didn't really speak much after that.
We had some lighter exchanges and then went separate ways. I never got his name.
I overslept from general exhaustion and missed my first audition. I then grabbed some footage for my reel from the editor on the feature, since the director was bullshitting me about giving me the footage, and went to do pick ups as a coke head mom on a student short. (*Pick-Ups are scenes or shots that are needed in the final edit, that were neglected or missed during principle photography)
My co-star was playing an 11-yr-old . . . and looked like one. He is 15 yrs old, and very smart and clever. I could see the man inside, patiently waiting for his body to catch up. Those are the best actors, they have perspective on the age they are playing and control- but are much older than they appear.
Abe was up all night editing my reel together. When I arrived at his place late Friday night, I was antsy. He watches movies while editing, and smokes pot. I was exhausted from an intense week and wanted to sleep at some point in the evening. I tried directing him, and every time I did so, he quickly got up, walked outside and took two puffs off of a cigarette.
Abe, "You know saying it is a lot faster than doing it." I said, "I know, I am just helping things along."
We smoked pot in his bedroom and he gave me a massage. Even for a sex addict, I have my priorities in order and asked we to return to the work. My meeting was at 10:30am the next morning, we had less than 12 hours to get a reel finished.
He coldly stood up and returned to his station. I sat down on the floor to watch him and fell asleep against a rolled up carpet. I wandered into his bedroom and fell asleep. At 7am he came in and said, "I am done."
We didn't watch it. I massaged him for 15 minutes and asked him to come to Hollywood with me. He reiterated that he has things to do and can't follow me around Hollywood on all my business. I said, "But that's the only time we can spend together." Silence.
I really think he has some problem with me having MORE business than he does. I would go to his band practice, I would cook or read while he works on his videos (that do not serve as a resume for any set career in his future) . . . just to be with him. He just doesn't . . . want to be spend time with me. The quandary being, he did stay up all night working on my reel.
He restated that he was not going to go to Hollywood with me, but sleep in til 2pm and work on this fucking Red Hot Chili Peppers video that he has spent the last 3 weeks cutting together. He doesn't want to make music videos for a living, so I don't understand what this project means to him, even when I ask. He doesn't think of his future as a path of goals leading in one direction.
So I got up to leave and he said, "What? You aren't even going to kiss me goodbye?"
I came back and pecked him, "Goodbye, Abe."
I left and got back into Pasadena right as the high end, pet food store opened and got the kids food. Then fed everyone, changed into a hot dress and went immediately to my talent agent's interview. I was sent an inquiry letter via my profile on www.lacasting.com. I don't know how seriously to take it yet.
When I arrived, there were so many people in the small waiting room, a line was spilling out into the deteriorating building's stairwell.
The agent saw people for 1-2 minutes a piece, apologized for being brief. I am sure he just wanted to see who would be responsible enough to show up and then go from there.
He met me, said he liked my smile and I need a photograph of that on my headshot. I know I need that. Headshots are $200-$400 and I just don't have the money.
He said he wanted to start me off on commercials, I gave him my reel and we had some small chit chat for my benefit I am sure. Then he asked me to touch base with him later in the week and gave me a very thin, plain business card. We all gotta start somewhere.
Next stop was my first audition. I came in and signed a waiver, which I have never done for an audition before. It basically stated that I wouldn't hold the production company liable for any damages. I have nothing of any value so I signed it.
It is a feature film about a woman who falls in love with a man, later to find out he is a serial rapist. She is drawn to him because of his dark side, I am assuming there is some rape role-play there. I like the premise.
The director was an older guy wearing sunglasses, overweight, balding (of course). He came out and described the plot line to see if I was repulsed. I wasn't. Then he said, "In the end, she castrates him to keep him from his dark side, because she loves him. And he lets her, because he loves her."
I said, "This is my dream project."
He laughed and led me back. Introduced me to the already cast lead actor, who was a bit feminine for my tastes. I am more of a Ralph Fiennes type of gal, not Joesph Fiennes, if you get my meaning. He shook my hand and then looked down at my tits. Pig.
I felt really good about the audition. Playing geeky/flirtatious is my forte. I even threw in a snort laugh at the end.
The director walked me out. I said, "Walking me out to my car, what a gentleman!"
He stopped me and said, "If this doesn't work out . . . " circling his finger in the air, "would you be willing to . . . "
I popped on my sunglasses, "Be a rape victim. Totally. But keep me in mind for the lead."
He smiled and said, "Definitely, you had us all laughing in there." That's right, blow smoke up my ass!!!
Next audition was to play Miss Scarlett in a student production. it was all improv, I was being interrogated by a detective who was actually the plump, young female film student directing the project. In the improv I went from playing dumb, to rude, to flirtatious to bored. I could tell she was wondering if I was a lesbian. When I tried to seduce her with my eyes, she was thrown off, uncomfortable, quiet. Maybe she is a lesbian.
The final audition was for a short. I noticed I was the only white girl auditioning. With my hair and name, I guess people could mistake me for ethnic. The dialogue was written as if English was a second language, and I am just not at that level yet as an actor to pull off anything that complicated.
I went in to the audition when I was called, almost apologetic that my skin was the wrong color. The director, Middle-Eastern, quietly noted my skin color. I did the audition as a newlywed lying in bed with my new, very ethnic husband (played by another actor). They had us do the scene twice, which I always expect . . . even just out of courtesy.
If someone has me in and out, I don't feel like I was given a chance. That said, I have still gotten parts from those auditions. When a director takes the time to give me an adjustment and another run through- I feel like I had time to really nail it.
I was excused. Getting the role is not hopeless, I feel good about my performance.
Leaving the building, I called Abe. After auditions, I like to call my support system (Mom, Lover, whatever. I would call my dogs if I could) . . . I am not sure why. It just feels good. Abe doesn't like to talk on the phone and was really testy with me. I kept asking if I could come down to thank him in person, maybe cook him dinner, and he was blowing me off.
So I hung up on him. Then my phone accidentally called him back. That was awesome. He didn't pick up, so now I look like the Kook that hung up and called him back. Fuck.
I went home and slept for 12 hours. He texted me later that he spent all day perfecting my reel. I thanked him, offered him money. He declined and asked why I have to give him guilt trips. I said, "Because socially you are dodging your girlfriend. I don't get it. It sucks and I deserve better."
Now I have a headache and would rather chain smoke & think than clean. The living room smells like dog piss.