Entries from August 2011


August 22, 2011

so twitchy has officially been with me for 6 months. if she were a baby, i’d be easing her into solid foods {oatmeal and rice- since they’re more fiber rich and less constipating}, and introducing the sippy cup.

but she is not a baby. she is not something i birthed from the bliss of my happy marriage. nor did she stem from a deep need to create new life in the genetic ice blended of my husband and me.

this hooch just showed her unwelcome, irritating self in and up into my lower, right eyelid. she settled in, pulled up a chair, ordered a pizza, watched a little direct-tv, went through my clothes and made herself at home. and she’s been there, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, save for a couple of hours, post mexican vacation bliss.

attempting to rid this unwanted houseguest, i went through a solid round of acupuncture. although soothing and calming, the needles were a bust. it was a bit confusing when my persian doctor would extol the merits of chinese medicine, but then tell me she was praying to jesus for my recovery. my meridians didn’t know whether to make the sign of the cross, bow or kneel.

my potassium, magnesium, b-vitamin, and caffeine levels have all been checked too…i’m a big time supplementer as it is, but now, just for good measure, i’m a mega-supplementer. i’m my own GNC store these days. yet it’s done nothing for the party bus in my eye.

two weeks ago, after a three-month wait, i finally was able to get in to see the wonder woman of eye specialty. doctor eye-fix-you-up was going to cease the six month mardi gras in lower right peeper.

as i was lead into the exam room i had to harness my deep, diaphragmatic breathing. i was excited and anxious. i was hopeful doctor-sight-for-sore-eyes was going to find twitchy a new home. i snuggled down into the large, vinyl reclining chair and waited to be cured.

three hours and 48 minutes later, i was still in the chair, still had not seen  doctor-eye-have-better-things-to-do and was one month’s salary poorer. rather than kill the wait time with the provided woman’s day and runner’s world magazines, i killed my bank account with ipad shopping. new shoes from net-a-porter, a doo-dad from 1st dibs and some potions from beautyhabit.com. i was getting confirmation receipts as well as s.o.s alerts from my bank wondering if my credit card had been stolen.

when doctor-eye-get-waiting-room-kickbacks-from-american-express finally appeared, i was so grateful for the shopping intervention, i couldn’t get angry for the wait; and after all this was the woman who was about to work a miracle.

she shined blinding lights in my irises, checked my vision {20-15 thank you very much}, squirted some drops which made me cry, not tear, cry, and finished with 2 rounds of what felt like ping-pong paddles to my eyeballs. afterward, i had the disposition of declawed cat who had been given a cold, wet bath.

i was not a happy kitten. even with new fancy shoes coming in the mail.

dr. kiss-my-ass had determined that my twitch issue wasn’t of a vision origin, and decided that the best solution was to inject botox into the trouble-making party. she also decided that somewhere down the line i should come back and get a “very simple, out-patient surgery, to remove the deep, puffy bags under {my} eyes.”

doctor, you also should decide what kind of, in-patient, surgery you will need after i break your face! 

although i was not exactly thrilled with the botox idea {a giant needle of botulism into my bottom eyelid?}, i signed the waiver agreeing to possible permanent disfigurement and loss of vision, betting my money {what was left} that this woman knew best.

in went the needle. i silenced my scream, but not my tears. twitchy did her version of a scream, and twitched in hammer-time. i actually felt a bit guilty for my 6-month old, baby twitch. doctor-i -hate-children told me the botox {did you know botulism means sausage in latin} takes a couple of days to take effect.

i stumbled out, hand covering my right eye, protecting my now beloved cub.

coming home, exhausted from the ocular rape, i fell into bed, and tried to nap my morning beating, to my bank account and my eye, away.

waking up, the first thing i felt was the absence of twitchy. she was gone! hand to cheek, that reverberation down my face had vanished. something felt strange though. was it just that i was so used to my eye fluttering, that “normal face” now felt odd. i ran to the mirror to check out my miracle:

yes, my twitch had fled my lower, right eyelid.

but the little minx had journeyed her way up to my upper, left brow.


it has been three-plus weeks post socket assault. bitch twitch continues her artist in residence status. she’s partial to my lower, right barker lounger, but occasionally spices it up in the high, left loft.

i’m at a loss. i go back to doctor-my-numbing-cream-sucks in september. stay tuned.

monday happy m’loves.

and scene..take II…

August 19, 2011

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? 


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…

August 18, 2011

 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.

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