Why on earth would I name this post Acting and Getting Screwed, you probably wonder. I was reminiscing about my life five years ago around the same month and day. So much has changed. One of the advantages to blogging. It’s like a mini-journal of your life. Here’s the entry for that day and the reason for the unusual title.

Two auditions over the last several days, both for testimonials. Funny thing, after I was done, I actually wanted to buy the product and service! Hate to admit our dirty little secret, not that you don’t already know, but those are “posers” and “fakers” when you see ads with satisfied customers. Well, not all of them…but, most. Anyway, felt good about both the companies so that helps. In fact, I was feeling really good about today’s audition so I was happily driving home from Marina del Rey – all good and thinking to myself, “what a great day” – until the driver in front of me, who appeared to be going around a car that unexpectedly made a right turn, actually didn’t and I couldn’t stop in time, thereby slightly tapping the back of her bumper…enough to leave a small imprint of a little screw from my front license plate on her rear bumper.

Back to f-ing reality. Nothing like getting screwed by a screw…If I do get lucky enough to book one of the jobs, the pay will probably be eaten up in “bumper” charges. Whatever. Should be starting a new VO job tomorrow. If I can just not jump any more rear ends…couldn’t help myself. You know what I mean. Drive carefully out there.

Thinking back at all the small, non-union gigs I had in comparison to the driving, traffic and gawd-awful auditions, I just can’t imagine how I did it. Has that ever happened to you? Looking back, it seems surreal that I would even consider the concept let alone go through with it…for two+ years. That’s how life works and I’m still grateful for all the experiences. I did the Gene Simmons Family Jewels show. I auditioned at the Playboy TV studios. I did a corporate video for Taco Bell. I got to play a drunk and a cougar. I was in an Ugly Betty commercial. I had people ask me for an autograph (that was strange) and I got to say the F-bomb on camera in a scene over and over again for six hours. I learned what it’s like to stand next to Miss San Diego for almost 30-minutes waiting for our audition, wondering how the casting agent could have possibly requested both of us for the same role and wishing Miss Beauty would stop talking to me since I had to perch my neck back to see her face at the 5’9″ level (from my 5′ 2″).

I also experienced the Miss Creepy auditions in Woodland Hills for a Horror Fest hosting job, during which I sat next to a woman with pet spiders wearing an “I love blood” t-shirt. And, let’s not forget about the big-time role for Swifter (pretty big money, for real) with a limited number of actors – me being one of them – called in. I started the audition and one of the camera operators whispered something to the casting director’s assistant and they both chuckled. (F*ck!) Stay cool, I told myself. Then, at the end, I looked over at the director and she had fallen asleep. What an impression I must have made.

There was also the “pretend you’re in the back of the van” reading when for some reason I decided I should stand up for my lines, resulting in laughter and annoyance from my “pretend husband and kids” reading with me. Not sure the extra sarcasm from the casting director was necessary but I appreciated his irritation when I also handed the “pretend map” to my “pretend husband” during the wrong lines, messing up everyone else’s reactions. Wished I could have “pretended” that entire audition away.

It’s cray-cray for sure but I especially love memories that bring a smile to my face or make me laugh again. Plenty of those. Did tons of other jobs, too, and made some cash but quite happy to know that the auditions are in the past. I still do some local jobs from time to time but no more casting calls!

Hope you have some cray-cray in your past that paints your memories and life with color and fun. Would love to hear about them.