Screen Test Surprise

I survived the dog- eat- dog/ "survivor style" audition procedure for a feature film co- directed by, and costarring, a major Hollywood celebrity.  The celebrity's identity remained a secret, but I immediately embraced the notion that two- years my junior megastar, Justin Bieber, was said celebrity. Admittedly, and unfortunately, I caught a sorry case of Bieber fever and, in preparation for my screen test, imagined myself greeting Mr. Bieber with professionalism and grace instead of passing out or puking. Alas, I was met with a roller-coaster of emotions, (confusion, disappointment, fear, excitement, loss,) when I discovered that my screen test partner was, in actuality, Will I Am from 'The Black Eyed Peas'.

This was my first feature film audition with my new talent agency, and, after somehow stumbling through several rounds of callbacks, one fuck up at a time, I beat out thousands of ladies and secured one of two possible screen test slots for the female star.  I waited eagerly next to my screen test nemesis, a blonde, knowing that, at this stage in the process, a particular 'look' determined who secured the role... an unusual casting circumstance unbeknownst to most industry insiders.  I considered begging the director and his crew, on hands and knees, for said role, professing some unimagined and non- existing love for Will I Am's music, or duking it out with blondie, but concluded that any and all of these methods of persuasion would produce an opposite effect.  Thus, I popped blondie's tires.. just kidding... I proceeded into the room, took my position next to Will I Am, and acted the shit out of the sides...

Several days later, I was met with disappointment when blonde domination came to fruition, and I, in a depressed flurry, subjected myself to the couch with two jars of buttercream frosting.          

Why do I keep subjecting myself to this bullshit?

Simply because I thoroughly enjoy eating, and my unsuccessful endeavors justify said binge eating habits.

In short, Will I Am, I implore you, please, reimburse me for the parking meters, and send me a personal trainer.  As much as I enjoy fueling the economy, one callback at a time, I'll send you a bill in the mail... Perhaps we can discuss logistics over coffee because I am, admittedly, slightly offended by your string of callbacks, leading me on to believe that I, indeed, secured a role in your feature.

Kindly,

(soon to be blonde,)

actor kid

THE Commercial Audition

I spend an hour and a half navigating the twelve mile distance between my house and the audition location.  Once I arrive at the location, with just ten minutes till the audition, I drive aimlessly in circles, searching for an open parking space.  Now, with only two minutes to spare, I park my car in a 'permit required' zone, cross my fingers, and dart into the building.   And after a fifty- two second audition, (slate, profiles, 'catchy one liner' and/ or ridiculous physical gesture,) a parking ticket sits mockingly on my dashboard. 

The whole commercial audition process is relatively degrading… Firstly, you have the limited parking options of either A, paying exorbitant amounts on public parking for a potential 4 seconds of fame, or B, donating to the local economy via a parking ticket.  Next, for a majority of commercial auditions, preparation consists of locating your barcode… I repeat, B-A-R-C-O-D-E.  With the car situated and a barcode in hand, you wait in a room with fifteen other ridiculously attractive individuals, their families, and their families' families, all vying for the same role.  Finally, after you've successfully counted all the lines on the floor three times through, and received a personal history of the child sitting to your right, the intern calls your name.

The audition plays out as such: you enter a room, hand the camera man your barcode, and hit the mark on the floor.  The camera man scans your barcode, then instructs you to engage in an activity, i.e: improvisational bathroom activity.  On this note, ladies, do not, i repeat, do NOT pretend to brush your teeth… you will get a callback, but for all the wrong reasons!  You then slate your name, give your profiles, "brush your hair," and exit the room in under a minute.  Slightly bewildered by the rapidity of your audition, you travel back to your vehicle… but can't remember where you parked it.