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.