action
yesterday, i bluffed shot my commercial.
location: malibu. lighting: otherworldly.
makeup: concealing.
freckles, eyebrow burns & melasma begone.*
my co-stars, the koi.
sundown, hair-down. an entire can of hairspray for the "yoga instructor".
me!
it's a wrap! my end of the day bubbly.
*not my photo.
she's got bette davis ????
how should i preface this?
i'm a lazy girl. i'm a vain girl. i'm a lazy, vain girl. but i'm also, dare i say..... cheap?
let me explain.
it's not my nature to fork over my hard-earned cash for someone to wash my feet and hands every week, when i can paint my toes for free.i do see a professional every month or so for cuticle overhaul and {let's be honest} THE foot rub, but my nail haunts are of the drop-in type; never the same place twice, the kind where the technician always asks my ethnicity, and then debates my answer, convinced my japanese father is really a vietnamese liar.
tissue-paper thin nail beds {a result of the gel craze}, and a nasty nick to my thumb, has only compounded my at-home polishing skills and conviction to save money .
another area where i find it difficult to spend whence i can do it at home for free is my eyebrows:
pluck, pluck, trim, trim, pluck, trim, pluck.
easy.
it's tedious, a little time-consuming, but come on? if i can brew my own coffee, i can groom my own, silly eyebrows.
yet, of late, i'll admit, the brows haven't been getting the attention they've needed.
unruly is an understatement. try disorderly and drunken. my eyebrows have been violating city ordinances left and right.
the thing is, tweezers involve dexterity, and like i stated earlier: i'm a lazy girl!
at the end of the day flossing feels like brain surgery. add tweezers? aaaaaaaah!!
early saturday evening i was driving home to my darling, most handsome husband. my hands at ten and two, i glanced down at what looked like an episode of intervention: my nails were riddled with chips and cracks, as if i, myself, had been smoking the crack. not wanting to look ugly betty for hunkiest, i u-turned polly into the first nail salon i saw: "Top of Nails Salon."
i swear to god that's what the sign says. the grammar alone should have been my first clue warning.
all i wanted was a polish change. my intentions were good. no wash, no massage, no flower. i even had my own polish. but, no i couldn't leave well enough alone. inspired by the sharpie drawn eyebrows of my nail tech, i casually asked if "top of nails" also offered eyebrow waxing. her hesitation should have been my second clue warning.
palms in the air as my top coat dried, i shuffled into a back room where another sharpie-browed lass slathered molten lava wax on my baby brows, after which she left the room to watch her version of a telanovela. at least that's how long it felt. i was tempted to pull the lava strips off myself, but seeing as she was the "professional" i kept them there and waited.
and waited, and waited.
when she finally returned the heat had subsided as did any feeling in my face. but upon ripping the wax off, along with three layers of skin, the feeling came back, as did my fluency in profanity.
thinking/hoping the scalding was more just a feeling rather than an actual look, although i WAS suspicious when medusa didn't offer me a mirror to show me her finished product, i paid the lousy $6 bucks, and hightailed it out of the fancy "sah-lohn".
much to my sadness, although 100% deserving, it looked just as bad as it felt. actually worse. where there was one set of brows, there are now two: one black, one cherry red. kind of like licorice.
i officially hate licorice.
i look RIDICULOUS!!! and it's all my fault. i am lazy, i am vain, i am cheap.
i am also in a ton of pain. these are deep burns. i am in a constant state of aloe vera application. i've researched, and aloe vera seems to be the call for the quickest, safest, no-scar healing antidote.
how excited will the director of this week's commercial be when he sees this hot mess walk on to set? not exactly the zen vision he hired. thank god for concealer.
any other beauty horror stories out there you care to share?
i think we can all agree this one's pretty awesome!!!
monday happy to you m'loves!
you're hired
much to my surprise, and to ganesha, the hindu yoga god of success and destroyer of evils and obstacles, i was cast as yoga instructor girl in an upcoming commercial. unfortunately, i can't get into specifics regarding the project...all very hush-hush. i'm sure this secrecy is merely a test to see if i can pull off clandestine, espionage type character work for when they next offer me the part of nikita's long, lost baby sister.
if ever a role i thought i blew {literally} it was for yoga instructor girl. coming off last week's yoga class sentiments, i wasn't exactly feeling my zen walking into the audition. but like they say, fake it till he falls asleep...or something like that.
i repeated this mantra as i crept up to l.a. in 17 mile an hour traffic, not exactly the perfect way to get into, "calm, serene, sweet, trusting" mode....as the audition ticket called for. rather i was amped, pissed, sweaty and ready to kick some fellow yogi ass.
the audition began with a quick interview of the history of my yoga practice. obviously they are not regular readers. bringing them up to snuff...and maybe a little beyond? i recapped my long and formidable background with yoga {omitting that the bulk of this time was spent at opposite sides of the ring: yoga triumphant, me tko'd with the referee calling the match and an ambulance}.
but no, i suddenly had the confidence of a tiara'd toddler, preparing the casting director for the magic he was about to witness.
i don't just practice yoga, i am yoga.
downward dog? pfft. try downward great dane mofo!
i don't just tree, i grow a house in my tree and have a fucking tea party!
and so i began:
big, giant breath in-through-the-nose.
pause...
louder-more giant-hock-a-loogie-breath-out-through-the-MOUTH(!!!!!!!)
now if you're not in to yoga, that last sentence won't mean a thing to you, but even if you've taken intro to yoga you know that even the greenest baby ever to step on a mat, breathes through the nose. my dog, priscilla, even knows how to ujjayi breathe.
but not jackass here. nope, there i was all the confidence in the county, exhaling like i was trying to bust a breathalyzer.
miraculously, they called me back. this time i left my ego in orange county and kept my mouth shut {a good way to live, no?}.
it must have worked. my agent called last night to tell me i am booked.
happy dance.
downward katie
today i have an audition for yoga-girl...or rather yoga~instructor~girl.
should be a no-brainer. i'm a girl {woman? lady? broad? gal?}
i am an instructor:....pilates, spin, barre, some yoga, very little yoga actually, but i do take yoga.
sort of.
let me explain.
yoga is my thai food. i LOVE thai food. can't get enough of it. but i have to be in the right mood for it. i have to be absolutely, stomach growling, starving for the curry, lime, lemongrass coterie of noodles pad thai'd. otherwise you're forcing a well hydrated horse to drink. same with yoga, my body {with all her bruises and special needs} likes to thirst for the deep backbends and sweeping movements of vinyasa. and lately my limbs and spine have fancied more of a pilates rehab rather than the virabhadrasana 1 ilk, nevertheless i try to make a date, once a week with my sticky mat.
one thing i DO take away from all my downward dog sessions is a deeper sense of self, a truer heart, and an expanded, more inspired mind. my talented instructors always have the ability to unearth a meaningful, more authentic piece of my soul needing to emerge. for instance, during yesterday's "practice", while our hot-bodied, raquel welch-beautiful yogi, guided the rest of class into hand stands and arm balances, my use of profanity and name calling took on a whole new ardor and ingenuity that can only stem from yoga class:
bitch-face.
ass-head.
fuck-monkey.
scab-eater.
turkey-whore.
{in through the nose, out through the nose}.
and all this anger at someone i love and adore. someone who, out of my omgirl nomad leggings, i call a dear friend, someone i'd break bread with {fresh from the oven sourdough for me, raw ezekiel spelt for her}; a give a ride to the airport kind of friend, but ask me to throw my legs up in the air....and i don't care how friggin nice or pretty you are....i'll cut you!
there's something about balancing on my arms and going upside down....i lose my head and my air. all i can feel is my left hamstring, right rotator cuff, my aunt's cancer, court on wednesday, the 750, ooo dying in somalia, my neighbor's brain tumor, my friends' turmoil over their son, another aunt's broken heart, my father. i need an oxygen tank to breathe.
the flow flies away, the fear soars in.
child's pose.
if yesterday's class told me anything it's that i'm in dire need of my yoga. my brain is a bounce house of fret and un-focus, my body is broken down and walloped.
i'm return to the mat a true humble warrior.
and scene..take II...
i promise not to make this blog into auditiongirl.com, but some things just need to be committed to paper post.
yesterday's grocery-store mom audition was yet another episode in the twilight zone of the hollywood shuffle.
by now, i have accepted the fact that any part i'm up for has the adjunct "ethnic" specification written in the role description:
ethnic mom, ethnic yoga girl, ethnic driver, ethnic girlfriend, ethnic wife.....ethnic food.
yesterday's casting was no exception. it was a bevy of dark-haired, dark-skinned, exotic looking honeys, and judging by the multiple countries represented, it would have made a kick-ass potluck.
from far away it looked like roll call for the united nations. in fact after our audition we all had to get back, and vote on what to do with syria.
the ad which will run in pakistan, china, india and singapore, will promote a very popular deodorizing body wash.
in the spot, ethnic grocery mom does her best to convince ethnic child to wash dirty, stinky self with said soapy sanitizer.
signing in, i was promptly given a call sheet where i listed my measurements and contact information. having received my completed and somewhat truthful form {cup-size wishes it were an A} i was then asked by the casting director, which language will you be speaking?
shall i give you more time to read that sentence again?
yes, which "language" would i be delivering my two lines in?
um, is english not an option? - i asked.
oh, it is. but most of the girls have another language they speak, and it's easier to assign them to a country.
is jive a country?
crickets.
giving me the once-over, 5 times(!), she decided i was best suited for the pakistani group.
if you've haven't seen me in person let me just clarify, if ever there was a country in which i do not look to originate from, it's pakistan. i had clearly pissed her off.
as i moseyed my way over to the pakistan bench, i couldn't believe my eyes when i saw one of my fellow pakistani sisters sitting there with an actual, real live, diaper-wearing baby!
clearly, she was taking this "grocery mom" thing to a whole new level. she actually brought a fucking baby in! did she think this was going to better her chances?! to show the director that she was, in fact, a real, post-partum mom!? i was furious.
had i known we could bring in our own props, i would have marched in a genuine, 4-wheeling, cart from albertson's.
take that lady! you may be a real mom, but i'm a real muthafuckin' grocery shopper; here's my frequent shopper card to prove it. wanna see my coupons?
hollywood is a dog eat dog, dog eat baby world m'loves. you sometimes have to stoop. apparently this lady was stooping with her baby.
fortunately the director wasn't having it. baby was not allowed into the audition. but rather than take the loss and skip the chance to hawk smelly soap, pakistan grocery mom #1 pleaded with the bench to watch her baby while she went in and read.
i'm not a mom, but i have been around actresses and one thing i don't think i'd ever do is leave my baby with a bunch of hungry, hollywood competitors.
it didn't really matter because none of these bitches {a room 20 plus} offered to help.
so, you guessed it, ethnic grocery mom #2 {ME} got my childless ass up, and watched baby "krishna" while his mommy probably stole my role.
we ran, we spun, we played with my phone, he played with the buttons on my sweater and tried to eat my ponytail. although he was too young to walk, he weighed enough to get his driver's license.
by the time his mom came out i was a sweaty, drippy mess {i was now offering to buy the soap we were trying to sell}, my makeup had melted into my bra, and krishna had fallen asleep from exhaustion.
as grateful as she was, her gratitude is doing nothing for my aching back.
and as for the audition, it went great.
well, that is if it were running in hawaii.
weekend happy m'loves
a photo of baby krishna and i playing in the halls. he loved looking at himself on the camera-phone
and scene...
last week’s adventures in groveling actress-land involved a last-minute {aren’t they all} audition for a fancy-nancy german car.
the role called for a woman in her thirties: ✓
casual style: ✓
ethnic: {pfft, whatever?} ✓
5’6”-5'9”: ✓
and a cute personality:…..it’s called acting.
with a face full of makeup, i lurched up the 405 freeway, my beast riding in the backseat, her smiling head out the window for the entire commute.
the waiting room consisted of 17 fellow 5’7”-5'9", lindsay price look-a-likes; all frantically mastering high-eyebrows, the duckface model pout, and furiously arranging and re-arranging shaggy, layered, over-razored bangs, in the desperate hope that a 1/16th of inch follicle placement to the right or left, will make or break a 20 second interview.
print auditions are my favorite. they’re lightening quick. you're in and out.
a couple of photographs face on, turn to the left, turn to the right, and you’re finished. what i imagine being arrested is like....without the cavity search....unless you're auditioning for certain film schools.
this audition was a bit different. the casting agent wanted to film me talking “in a natural, normal manner.” so in order to get a “natural, normal” dialogue he asked me a "natural, normal" question:
"katie, tell me what sort of stuff are you doing with your summer? hanging with your friends? going to the beach?, movies?"
um, wut?
did i misread the number on the door? was this an audition for icarly?
how old does this guy think i am?
“what was I doing with my summer??????” suddenly I was back at villa park high, telling my 11th grade english class my june, july and august adventures.
“ummmmmm…….i’m like, totally going to the beach alot, and um, hanging out with my friends, and ummm, seeing movies and stuff, working on my keg stand at kristin's house, my setting for varsity volleyball, and just being chill, ya know. but, like don't worry, i'm totally doing my required reading and all, so it’s like way cool, and stuff.”
{heel-ball change, finger snap, smack palm……heel-ball change, finger-snap, smack palm}
or something like that...
judging by the nodding of head as i gave my summer dissertation you'd think that i'd not only landed the spot, but that they were throwing in a brand new convertible too.
time will tell. as i said before it's called ahhhhhct-TING.
today's call is for grocery shopping mom. ethnic, of course.
i brushed up on my character by buying ralph's out of their pink & white frosted animal cookies.
i like to be prepared.
thursday happy to you m'loves.
scenes from an audition
two fridays ago i thought i was home free: my classes were taught, my clients were whipped tight and firm for the weekend's scantily clad endeavors, the beast was shiny clean.
the first afternoon off in months, and just as i pulled polly into her cool, ensconcing garage my phone started blowing up like an illegal, fourth of july firework.
mayday! mayday!
i had a last minute commercial audition.
my role? ethnic mom #2. not #1, number TWO, and they needed me to be up in west hollywood an hour ago. which according to google maps traffic alerts yielded me there in 2.12 hours.
always armed with an emergency makeup kit, i threw polly in reverse and thanked the satellite radio gods.
here are some shots of the afternoon:
hair. check!
makeup. check!
land rover was casting a commercial as well. i had to share a waiting room with rugged, navy seal-looking model types.
note to self: next time bring my single girlfriends.
my post-audition reward.
my favorite coffee bean: sunset & holloway. more star sightings than a lakers' playoff game, ample parking and the baristas always remember your drink and name.
one caveat: even the filthiest, crack addicted, would-do-anything-for-a-buck-vagrant would still, even for a thousand dollars, not use their restroom. although shia lebouf......did.
i'm still waiting to hear about ethnic mom #2. i don't know think my scowl at crying baby #4 helped my chances. but for the record, camera wasn't rolling during said prima donna's subsequent meltdowns, so the kid should have kept it together.
i don't care what kind of "method" actor he was.
and scene.....
i have a commercial audition today. they're calling for an upscale, asian professional girl.
okay?
well, i'm sure my competition {let's not kid ourselves that's what they are} will show up in smiles, skirts, kitten heels, hips matchstick slim; pretty and polite.
i could go my normal route: a witty {in my version}, freckle-faced, overly caffeinated, overly sweet, overly-hipped, half-jap. typically attired in jeans, a strappy sandal, stripey tank, and yummy, blankety sweater. more a fresh from the coast rather than straight from soho house.
but last week's acting class emphasized playing the opposites. working your unexpected.
i'm thinking liu wen fierce. nothing is more diametric or not in the cards. 
if i choose this detour, i'd wear my girliest man-suit and stilts for heels.
my attitude: aloof.
arms: akimbo.
mouth: vapidly ajar.
deeply digging into my mako shark japanese ancestry i'll tiger lily my competition out of said "disney hotel" spot.
yes. i said "disney".
maybe a quick mulan run through before my drive up might be more advantageous.
crushed berry velvet works so well in southern california june.
especially sitting in 405 traffic. 
who am i kidding?
i'll go into casting, like i typically do, a buffoonery of manners and a smothering of courtesy, wearing something utterly appropriate and identical to my fellow starlets.
asian cool, i don't have....but this little fantasy you obliged me was fun.
wednesday happy m'loves.
twin sister! paging my twin sister!
come out, come out wherever you are!
alas billy goats, i don't really have a genetic duplicate....
can you imagine the world cheese shortage?
although i love the maggie q suggestions...
{well maybe not TWIN....more like distant, thinner, vietnamese cousin}
but if such genetic duplicate existed,
today i'd mortar and pestle my double into a fine, spreadable pesto, as we'd divide and conquer my whacked, over-committed day.
8 different places to be, two different counties, luggage to pack, beasts to feed and tangle with, and peeps who need to be squeezed and tucked.
i have another stab session with dr. sugar lips, and one big audition this morning.
fingers, legs, toes, eyes crossed that all goes well.
wednesday happy to you m'loves.
bitch twitch
so give or take two weeks ago i became the proud owner of a twitch.
lower, right eyelid, 1 second intervals. 24 hours a day.
i felt the moment she {again like my cat i sense my twitch is a lass} commandeered my orbital socket.
a stressful telephone conversation; one better served me had i ranted and kicked rather than sweetly smiled and acquiesced.
a common coulda-woulda-shoulda jingle in my life.
*twitch*twitch*twitch*twitch*twitch*twitch*
my peeper beeper isn't overtly obvious, but a casting director did send me skidaddle after picking it up on camera.
what's going on with your eye?
ummmmmmmmmmm.....
my enigmatic sparkle? my fetching twinkle? my star quality?
couldn't i fill a niche like little people do? like heavily tattooed guy? super tan, wrinkled, old lady? i could be girl with fucked up, quivering eye.
the good wife should be calling any minute, right?
google {or as my mother calls it 'goggle'} says i need to relax and exercise.
yeah let me get right on that exercise.
for yesterday i was only able to get six hours of pilates and spin class in.
for now i'll make do with my quasi-quiet computer time; meditate into fields of dandelion peace and stillness.
om........
{lotus position, padma mudrā fingers, ujjayi breath, brain quiet, jaw soft}
dance party in my right eyelid.
no mention
so yesterday's infomercial turned out to be a bucket of silly. i'm not supposed to name the company specifically...but if you were following my tweets....beans were spilled.
not really my kind of workout, there were only two of us hired talent {and i'm using that word 'talent' generously...with myself......of course}
the rest were 'franchisee' owners..wink-hint-wink-hint.
lovely ladies.
and along with an auto tuned, 156 bpm version of shakira's 'whenever, whenever' on heavy repeat, i also will have the following mantra sending me into the weekend:
no makeup!!!
no mirrors!!!
no men!!!
what's your stirring mantra m'loves?
weekend happy to you!
the next shake weight?
so i'm shooting an infomercial today. the details are vague to say the least.
i was told it's "fitness" related.
the audition consisted of a mere photograph taken of my person and face.
let's speculate what's in store.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hwocdImA6Z8&feature=player_embedded]
cowboy is very hip these days, no? everyone's trying to get their true grit on. maybe my pilates pelvic tilting skills will come in handy on dem der' saddle.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BOAO4SX8N3o&feature=related]
perhaps i'll luck out and get a mini maui vacation with the hawaii chair .
if you can sit, you can get fit!!
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pij33oHFyT0&feature=player_embedded#at=12]
slim suit! message to woman at 0:25 trust me you don't that dress to fit honey.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1aUFZL9R04Y&feature=player_embedded#at=12]
um...i think this 'three-minute miracle' can also get you pregnant.
i'll need a giant clause in my contract if this is today's product.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8eLU5wYWKd4&feature=player_embedded#at=47]
and i know this really isn't fitness, but go-girl can be used in conjunction with fitness endeavors.
at least with 'go-girl' i'll stop taking life.....sitting down.
making you a star
the last two days have been a lesson in holding my tongue; actually more like hoover damming it.
i've been on set finishing up a webseries, filming scenes poolside.
luckily for me and my cheese plate fetish, my character is of professional dress: conservative suit.
my good fortune seemed to have run its course at costume though. my three lines of dialogue yielded 8 hours of green room down time with scantily clad, bikini-girl extras.
compensated in industry exposure {no pun intended}, free food, mindless time in the sun and the occasional makeout session with greasy actor, these girls candied up the melrose place courtyard like willy wonka's factory after charlie went home.
fresh-faced and eager to please, they swapped spit with the crew and swapped stories with each other that had me begging the prop master for real bullets to use in the gun...on myself of course.
on hour two, miss tennessee charmed us with her knowledge of nasal piercings and husband stealing. i now know that one can get yeast infections in one's nose if nasal stud is not properly cleansed. miss tennessee also revealed the wonderful world of bear meat cuisine. i'm menu planning my next dinner party as i type.
a charmer with a chrysanthemum tattooed on her nipple, no not a daisy you stupid bitch a chrysanthemum, is looking for a classy place to "git" a serving job...she "reckons bubba gumps or ruby tuesdays" as her contenders. forgive my snark, but this is the same girl who snottily snapped at me she doesn't smoke, but occasionally "dips".
these are the g-rated version of the days' conversation. i wish i could go into the q and a of what the girls would do and not do {there wasn't much and i had to use google for some of it} for playboy, but by then i was calling hospitals looking for where i could get the nearest penicillin shot and finding out if i could get airlifted out as well.
one of the crew teased me for not chatting it up with the extras.
but tell me what exactly could i add to the sob-fest of what happens when you turn 25 when "yer shit gets really fucking old"?
they talked triple d implants, accepting trips with directors if it meant getting parts in tv shows, and whether taking golden seal will clear up a drug test.
these are the same conversations from 10 years ago when i started this business.
different girls. same stories.
gotta love the hollywood dream.
monday happy....truly.
yesterday morning, while turning the pages of my sunday times,
yes, i still read my paper in paper form: black inked finger tips, loud rustling pages flapping in the porch wind,
occasionally catching fire from my fresh cut grass scented table-top candle, causing mass hysteria among the beasts and
just making me look plain silly as i hop up and down in my 1994 grey (once green) bathrobe in front of the passing
neighbors attempting to snuff out flying, fiery news embers.
but back to my reading. as i followed the front page story of japan's anguish onto pages 7 and 8
my attention kept diverting to the giant ads sandwiching the heartache.
i tried to read about chiyako ito's tearjerking story of her barn collapsing, flattening all her tractors and
cars, blocking any way to get food, water or any other aid.
yet, through those tears, bloomingdales kept dazzling me to the right and left with the of power of spring colorblocking.
apparently, an absolute must!!!
so there it is. bloomingdales solves the dilemma.
just what ms. ito needs. get her a nice little jil sander get up, and she's good to go.
food and water be damned.
albeit ridiculous, this dichotomy was exactly the laugh i'd been waiting for.
it lifted me up, a bit, from the heaviness i'd been feeling all weekend.
later on i was watching the documentary joan rivers: a piece of work,
{a great movie if you're on the fence about becoming an actor.....YOU WON'T after watching}
whether you find her funny or not she makes a good point: we need to find the humor.
she says when terrible, horrific things happen like 9/11, humor helps us get through the sadness.
it's true, when i think back to some of my bluest moments i can also remember some sick fits of laughter.
so i'm not only sending japan condolences and thoughts of love & support,
i'm also hoping they're able to find their smiles and good humor...maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon.
monday happy to you m'loves.
i tumble for ya
good morning m'loves.
how was your weekend fancy?
i finally caught the rest burned on my brain after 38 hours of non-stop push.
like a miraculous well of fresh water in an arid, parched desert; i wolfed that nap greedily and hungrily down.
hours later, pillows still marked their sweet, supporting care on the side of my face;
my badge of honor for the weekend toil.
so loves are you as obsessed with tumblr as i am?
{can you say late to the game}
lost, lost i tell you!
for days, hours and hours in the tumble.
obviously i, too, had to join the party.
goodniteirene now has a tumblr page.
do you? let me know.
also, are you tweeting m'dears...anyone's tweets i'm missing?
find both my tumblr and tweets over there on the right, a little higher up...see it?
monday happy to you m'loves.
weekend happy
dears by the time most of you read this, i will be reaching my 28th hour of wakefulness.
that's actually a misrepresentation.
wakefulness implies eyes bright and energy bursting.
alas, i am neither.
a middle of the night call time has rendered me limp and speaking in baby.
yesterday's nap was as elusive as a healed broken heart.
i come up for air on tuesday. bringing a snorkel just in case.
tell m'loves; what wonderful plans are on deck for your weekend?
robbed
nothing against the other nominees, but the the ivy must be serving funny mushrooms in that grilled vegetable salad.
how else could such colossal neglect have occurred?
the tom ford gown alone would have been enough to get her on the ballot you buffoons!
best dressed aside; she is, in my opinion, the top girl in her game.
has been ever since her as the world turns days.
{yes, i watched her even then}
never the same lass twice, and never forgettable.
well, my only hope is that since she now has the night of march 25th free; she'll be somewhere else, filming something even more fabulous for me to see next year.
my magic formula
today i have a 10am call time.
regrettably, last night's sleep count clocked in at a dismal 4 hours.
lucky for me there is a solution to the done in mess that is my face.....
hair
makeup
and fairy dust.
image for source
method of mourning
tonight is a big audition; a gut wrenching scene.
a september 11th survivor, a mother of a toddler, a woman bereft of her best friend.
i am none of these.
my preparation has drained me of all of light. i feel hollow and broken.
my condolences to the hand which tries to glue me back together.
i'll never know even a sliver of a real victim's agony.
thus more reason to honor them with every cell of my scene.
in gratitude.
image for source.