A stolen rant

Before you read this, check out my friend Dan's rad website

www.baldandeffective.com

(Once I learn how to do links I'll set him up proper.) In the meantime, he had an article about celebrity kids (featuring Art Garfunkel's lad) and I posted this comment. I liked it so damn much that I'm stealing it back and posting it here too. That's probably bad form but hey.


I was working at the Jekyll and Hyde club one day long, thank-God-it-was-oh-so-long, ago and who showed up but the Garfunkel scion. It was his birthday (7th? 8th?) and his fuzzy-headed pop thought it'd be fun to bring him to a tourist trap/theme restaurant to celebrate. I was playing the club's suicide counselor (it was a "theme" thing, whatever) so obviously I was the natural choice for the role of Birthday Entertainer. I was supposed to drag the poor kid up on stage and interview him while an anamatronic bat sang him Happy Birthday. Needless to say, the kid wasn't having it. I was stuck in front of a crowd of inebriated tourists with a spotlight trained on me, while this celebrity spawn stared me down like I was the biggest loser on the face of the freaking planet. And at that moment I was.

I hate that kid.

Callbacks are a bitch

So, my callback. I got there early and ran into my favorite audition acquaintance, Tracy. We were soon joined by a minor commercial celebrity - Cheryl. (Trust me, you've seen her.) We were gabbing away about babies (Tracy just had one) and weddings (Cheryl just had one) and having a grand old time until we realized that the callbacks still hadn't started. There was much rushing in and out, plates of donuts and fruit and endless bottles of water delivered by casting underlings, but no actual casting being done. Cheryl rolled her eyes, "I was warned that these people are difficult." Difficult? How difficult could it be? All we're doing is holding a freaking sign.

Finally Tracy was called in. When she came back out, the expression on her face was clear: This was gonna suck. "They were... just keep a sense of humor about you, that's all I have to say. The director... just know that he's going to hate everything you do and you'll be fine." Ah, good. Cheryl went in next and was right back out. "Okay, the director is one of those people who isn't clear until you've made a mistake, then he likes to make you feel like it's your fault." She tried to give me some direction but was interrupted by David, the casting director. David is my champion, my favorite of favorites, but when I walked up there was no smile - it was all business. The room was full of frustrated looking ad people, too busy typing away on their IMacs to look up. David told me we were doing things a little differently than in the original audition... then the director took over. He was foreign, Italian? He told me that I was now suppposed to be in a business meeting and that "I should sense" that there was a friend over my right shoulder. I was then to lift up my notes and show the sign with the themepark info, but no let anyone in the "meeting" see it.

I pretended I was taking notes. I "sensed" someone over my shoulder. I subtly held up the sign and CUT.

Agitated voice accompanied by long, exaggerated sigh. "Okay, you held up that sign WAY too long. Everyone in the meeting would have seen it. Again."

I did it again, this time merely flashing the sign and CUT.

Agitated voice. Long, exaggerated sigh, accompanied by hands tossed in the air. "Well it was shorter but I lost the story. And take your glasses off, I'm losing everything with you. Again."

At this point I just wanted the hell out. I did it again - fast, no glasses, "story", whatever. I was up and practically out the door before he finished his (half-hearted) thank you. Cheryl summed up the experience perfectly: "I almost feel sorry for the person who books it."

Luckily (?), that person was not me.

Overheard

10:51 AM – March 28, 2005

Overheard

Little boy throwing a tantrum in Manhattan Plaza elevator. Grandparents gently scold, to which boy responds,

“But the Easter Bunny can’t see me in the elevator!”

I'll get to it

I realize that I haven't told the callback story yet but I promise I'm getting to it. I'm still trying to find the humor.

Auditionista

I had an audition yesterday for Universal Orlando Themeparks. I was supposed to be a secretary holding a sign. ("Okay... You are defiant! You are... Kathy Griffin-esque. It is you and them against Corporate America! But keep it small.)

The sign listed details of Universal Studios' latest vacation package. I held the sign while staring intently into the lens, hoping squinty eyes conveyed... something fierce.

"Okay, let's do another variation. You are raging against The Man! But keep it small."

I started intently into the lens, adding a small Elvis-like snarl, hoping squinty eyes and snarl conveyed... something.

Apparently it did because I have a callback today. I suspect it was because I wore glasses.

DOTS!

Get out your reading glasses! (Damn this print's tiny!) Hopefully somebody (Dan) can come over and show me how to make it bigger (Dan).

Overheard

Two enormous goombahs standing in front of Rite Aid on 50th & 8th:

"Fucker put a hit on him. POW! POW-POW-POW!"

I know kung fu?

New favorite movie:

HERO

By the director of House of Flying daggers. Yes, it's in Japanese (*Chinese, whatever) but as long as you can read you'll be fine. At first I thought it was going to be a Matrix/Crouching Tiger rip-off but once you get past the first (slightly confusing) 20 minutes or so it gets great. The story is fantastic but the visuals are the killer - I've never seen anything like it.

A 360 on the learning curve

First off, let me say this: Nerves? They are a bitch.

The "honey wagons" were parked on 64th and Madison. I was immediately greeted by the costumer and the first AD and introduced to Brian, my assistant for the day. I got changed (in my trailer) and Brian (my assistant) walked me over to the zoo where they were finishing up some shots with Stephanie March. (She came over and introduced herself. Yes, she's gorgeous.) Then we got in a van and headed over to our set, this swank office building overlooking The Plaza. (By the way, the set dressing on SVU is incredible! They'd asked the guy playing my boss for personal photos and all around his office were things they'd made with them. They’d gone so far as to superimpose a uniform and add him to military photos, complete with medals and a certificate of honorable discharge. All that stuff must've taken hours and nobody will ever even see it!)

Now, I’ve done commercials. I’ve done the soaps. I thought I knew my way around a camera... Yeah, I fucked up so many takes. (It’s all so technical! Hold the door here so you don’t block this. Stand to the right so you don’t block that. All the stuff! I've mostly just stood in place in commercials!) I mean, who knew you need to pause before saying your line? (In case they need to edit.) All of this meant take after take (after take after take) which meant that I spent most of the day feeling like a big pile of stink. But luckily I was in the scene with Diane Neil (*Neal, whatever) who is, officially, my new girl crush. She was so funny and cool and made me feel like everything I did was great. She told me stories about how, when she booked the job, she had diarrhea for two days. (And thought she might shit herself during the shoot, she was so nervous.) She yakked on the couch about the calls she gets from one of the producers who loves to tell her that she’s becoming “so fat. SO fat. MORBIDLY OBESE.”, all while eating Combos and a Mounds bar from the craft services table. Her relaxation calmed my ass down (it also helped that she took the blame for all my mistakes) and helped salvage my special day. I think I’m a little in love.

After the shoot was over, the crew announced the names of people wrapping for the day (when my name was called Diane started cheering really loud. Again, love.) then the director came up and gave me a kiss and said how great I did. There was much hugging and back slapping from the crew... Imagine the wrap parties!

Then I went back to my trailer and stole my name off the door.

Final highlights:

- Have I mentioned my trailer?

- I was referred to as "First Team". (crew code for principal/lead. I've always been Second Team or Background. First Team feels way cooler.)

- I had a stand-in! A STAND-IN!

Baby, I'm a star

Gotta say this for SVU - they treat even the peons like gold. I have one flipping line and you'd think I hung the moon! A girl could get used to this.

My fitting took place in a huge costume warehouse in the fabric district. The showroom was nothing special - concrete floors, flourescent lights - but then they ushered into the waiting area and... whoa. It was flea market nirvana. There were 20 antique globes, several Warhol-esque versions of some Asian guy, artfully grouped piles of old horseshoes, as well as leather rocking chairs and wheelbarrow tables and boxes made out of old wooden rulers, all placed just so. (The owner must've spent a year's salary on Ebay.)

SVU's area was a small room in the back, mostly filled with police uniforms and suits. They started pulling some rather sexy little numbers which I thought was a little odd since I was supposed to be meek and mousy but the head of wardrobe whispered that the director was going a different direction, "Like maybe you and your boss are having a little something on the side, if you know what I mean". Cool! The costume people were having a ball dressing me since they rarely get to do anything besides blue collar or cop ("Oh my God, yellow! We never get to use yellow!") and I felt sufficiently fussed over. It's amazing how much they agonized over my shoes. Shoes, I must point out, you will never see!

Can't wait to see the treatment I get on set. I'm hoping for a manservant.

Save the aisle seat

Movie recommendation:

Shaun of the Dead

You will laugh your ass off. Seriously - you will have no ass left.

At long last...

I totally forgot it was St. Patty's day. I was walking around for a good ten minutes thinking, "Wow, there's a sure a lot of drunk people! And so much green!" but then I saw the funny hats and the leprachaun wigs and the piles of puke (At noon! Jesus, people!) and I remembered. At least I didn't get pelted with a green bagel.

Sorry I was gone so long. I was shilling children's clothing to buyers from around the globe (read: Jersey). They paid me and fed me so I spent the bulk of the three days helping people choose between pink and leopard print onesies from our Tiger Chiffon collection and pink and leopard print onesies from our Cotton Candy Tiger collection. (It took every ounce of strength not to scream, "It's LEOPARD! LEOPARD!" But I didn't.)

What else... Oh yeah - did I mention that I'm going to be a huge television star? Yes, after ten years of living in New York City I finally had an audition for Law and Order. Ladies and gentlemen, say hello to "Joanna - an extremely meek and mousy secretary" who will have one (count 'em!) ONE WHOLE LINE on the season finale!

"I'm so sorry... Ms. Novack, the police called. They said it was urgent."

That's RIGHT!

I shoot tomorrow. I'll tell you all about it.

This comes in layette and infant...

No posting until I stop working this insane children's clothing trade show. I never want to see another child-size ANYTHING ever again ever.

It's a helluva town!

One thing you can say about New York City - it's never boring.

- This morning two people practically come to blows over a pair of chairs at the Angel Street Thrift Store. I got there at the crack of early to stake my claim on a particularly gorgeous skirt I'd had my eye on (so Prada!) and was glad I did because five minutes later a crowd had gathered. Almost immediately after the doors opened a shouting match broke out - a man and a woman were going at it over a pair of vintage metal rockers. The woman had taken the tag off and was trying to pay but the man sat down in one of the chairs and refused to move. I seriously thought they were going to have to call the cops, it was great.

- Down in the meatpacking district I saw a woman walking a dog so small it was practically invisible. Not that that stopped her from dressing it in a full-on POLICE UNIFORM. Miniature jacket (with badge), an itsy-bitsy cop's hat and the kicker: teeny-weeny police boots. You know that poor thing got it's ass kicked at the dog run.

I'm a slave 4 U

My dreamboat of a hubby bought me an Ipod mini for my birthday! It's so cool and small and aerodynamic which will be fun when I throw it across the room because I can't figure the damned thing out. Oh the cliche of it all; A woman in her early late 20's (shut it) can't figure out the high tech thingy-thing! She even made the eight year old she babysits show her how to use it! Har-har, laugh at the old lady...

Let me ask you this: Would an "old lady" download Usher? Or the Black-Eyed Peas? Or that really catchy Maroon 5 song that's been out forever? Would the elderly even CONSIDER Britney? (Just one song... and maybe "Toxic")

That's RIGHT. Bring it! BRING IT!

Dammit

Blogger.com is all farked up so I'm limiting my posting until they get it together. Hopefully that will be today. I'm 33 and don't have time for these Mickey Mouse games. (An Ebadi shout-out to the TWHS-ers in the hizzouse!)

They say it's my birthday!

No post today as it's still my birthday for another hour and 15 minutes and I still have champage to drink and husbands to... say hello to. (Hi mom!)

Naaaaay!

It was an 11-hour shift last night. It was a benefit for the School of American Ballet (sponsored by Hermes - ahem, ahem). They'd transformed Jazz at Lincoln Center into this over-the-top Midsummer Night's Dream event. Jesus, they'd even built castles and shit! People entered the dining room through this gigantic "star wall" (really a black velvet curtain embedded with twinkle lights) with fog and music and met by - ohgodohgodohgod - waiters. dressed like horses. (ohgod!ohgod!ohgod!) Yes, some costume designer had created horses heads and these poor sons of bitches had to wear them while escorting people to their tables! People were notified that dinner was being served by the sounds of horses whinnying and hooves clop-clop-clopping! And the horse waiters weren't even paid extra!

(Apparently they chose the waiters based on "Who would have fun with it". They knew better than to ask me.)

Other tidbits:

- Chelsea Clinton was sitting at the table next to mine. I got to serve her wine. (She's surprisingly beautiful in person and allergic to shellfish.)

- I got $20 for bringing a woman a glass of wine.

- A man at my table was wearing a leather tuxedo jacket. I wanted to trade.

- Bryan Ferry from Roxy Music performed. I was underwhelmed.

Your turn

So I'm out to dinner last night with Dan and Suzannah and Dan mentions (squawks, growls) that I need a theme for my blog. You have to have a theme? Where is it written that you have to have a theme? I don't need no stinking theme!

Except now I want one. So, you who read this blog, here's your assignment: Ideas for a theme. I thought I was cornering a jaunty "Girl in the City" vibe but clearly that's not enough. What would you, dear readers, like to see me writing about? (Ah, pandering to the masses! Good!)
I'll check back in after catering.

Ohm

On Friday I had an audition for an AOL commercial. The spot took place in a yoga class so the waiting room was filled with lithe young women exuding unnerving amounts of preternatural calm. Since competitiveness is frowned on in yogic circles (the karma!), everyone just sat around looking stoned, cooing soothingly about "their practice". ("I don't even notice how it makes my body look, I'm just in it for the bliss...")

We filed in and met the casting director, a refreshingly real Gal Friday-type who started sizing us up for character assignments. The lines were -

"What about viruses?"
"What about spam?"
"What about my kids?"
and
"I can't swim!"

At first she tried to give me the "What about spam?" line but quickly realized that my brilliance is of the panicky kind and switched me to the much more ham-able "I can't swim". I suspect the other girls were so busy out zenning each other that they were unable to muster the appropriate amounts of adorable anxiety to compete with me, the SHAOLIN MASTER.

Stay tuned.

Sex bomb

"It's all about TECHNIQUE man! And I'm a SHAOLIN MASTER!"

- Homeless man on the 1 train, loudly touting his sexual prowess to nobody in particular.

yuck

I'm on a brief hiatus until I stop drowning in my own sweat or can breathe, whichever comes first.

Why God, WHY?!

Maintenance just informed me that we have "a major leakage issue" behind our walls and so tomorrow they're going to have to remove our toilet.

Those of you who know me, let me repeat:
THEY'RE REMOVING OUR TOILET TOMORROW.

There's a strong chance that I will not survive.

50 jobs worse than yours

Today I walked past a tiny little Mexican dressed like a hot pepper. It was obviously a homemade affair, just two pieces of bright orange material glued together to form something vaguely triangular with his round little belly sandwiched in between. All you could see was his angry little face peering out of the hole in the center. With an itsy bitsy wave of fury he shoved a menu in my hand before storming off to accost unsuspecting Gap shoppers.

You go pepper, go!

Do dogs get this sick?

Since I just got bitchsmacked by my friend Dan for not posting regularly, I just wanted to let everyone know that I'm sick as a (insert cleverness here). Tinkerbell's trying to help by pacing back and forth in front of the computer, pausing every now and then to lean her butt squarely into my face. Nice.

I worked a 10 hour shift last night at a party at Asia Society. $1000 a plate (!!!) to eat the same food we eat at almost every event. (Crab salad, rack of lamb, potato terrine, and lychee nut flan, in case you're wondering.) There was a cocktail reception before and after, with some incredibly famous female DJ from India spinning at the latter. It's comforting to know that Indian people dance just as dorkily as their Causacian counterparts.