quiet on the set!

September 9, 2013

camdenchoc (1 of 1)-3


i’ve missed you.

i am back from my vacation, and cannon-balling smack into the middle of this deep end, called life.

this weekend i worked with a fantastic crew as i shot videos and ads for vitagoods.com.

vitagoods is a company who supports healthy living; they have a wide range of uber-cool and useful products to promote and support a healthful lifestyle.

they’re NOT paying me write or say this…but i did love all of their products….that hasn’t always been the case…hello fox searchlight.

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keeping camera ready for nine straight hours took its toll.

thank you urban decay.

my naked palette2 and naked skin liquid high-definition makeup proved itself under the hot lights and HDR {aka extremely ruthless} photography. i guarantee you it was a man who invented this unforgiving digital form of photography.

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i’m a major sucker for a teleprompter. this baby was kourtney to my lamar.

we all could use a little teleprompting in our lives….nothing like a pre-edit to keep you out of sticky situations…#byebyeTMI

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kraft services gone fancy!

this espresso machine and i formed a deep, lasting, carnal bond.

i want the sound of ground beans as my new white noise setting on my bedside clock.

the whir and crunch works like a temple massage to my tension headaches.

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here i am getting caught taking one of my hundreds of espresso breaks.

a long day made manageable and fun courtesy of caffeine and lovely people.

thank you vitagoods for a great shoot.

monday happy to you m’loves.

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breathe out

November 20, 2012

sunday morning prior to the rooster’s cock-a-doodle, the hunkiest and i were riding shotgun down the 101 highway for our annual thanksgiving trek up north.

my favorite vacation ever, a tradition that goes back to my years in the single digits, our thanksgiving trip to pebble beach is like no other experience for me.

one part nostalgia: my safest, happiest, hands up in the air, twirling without a care in the world, usually with my dad filming, childhood memories all seem to swerve back to “pebble”.

two parts visual magnificence: asia, europe, the tropical paradises of the world, none of them hold a candle, in my opinion to the beauty of this grand coast line. my keg of god replenished on these visits; even on the years when i’m indifferent on the whole existence of that grander good.

even the seven hour drive is a treat. the roads were hudson river school inspired. a mixture of stormy grey thunder clouds, doused with wicked cerulean skies, and an indecisive, coy sun that, at times, made the hills come alive with hues of lime and green apple.

the holiday season officially commenced with my first grande bold of the year in a big, red cup!

with coffee in hand, we jingle bell’d our way down the highway.

our tenor and soprano sang back up on the fa-la-lahs, and did a brutal “away in the manger.”

during the concert intermission we supplemented the silence with more coffee and books on c.d. 

ken follet’s fall of the giants is a highly entertaining, historical fiction novel spanning early 20th century europe and north america as the world’s super powers come to battle in the first world war. 

while not the most cerebral of novels, camus it’s not, it’s the perfect book to listen to on a drive. i’m digging the elements from high school history that i forgot, and the fun, soap opera-like bits of intrigue and romance hook you in, both men and women. 

due to the caffeine stops, canine breaks, and overall dawdling attitude of our drive there was no record time made. but we did make it to property before our daily sunset walk.

let the exhalation begin. 

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taking the plunge

June 7, 2012

are you currently gazing into crystalline waters of new experience and chance?

do you long to frolic with un-met dolphins, splash in warmer, deeper, maybe even more torrential, grandiose seas?

are your toes perched atop a spring-board able to bound you up and out into the clouds?

two and half years ago i took a big plunge. i returned to my beloved acting. that burn in my belly every time i saw a julianne moore performance or watched inside the actor’s studio was becoming more of a brush fire, and i knew if i didn’t make one final crack, the flame would never cease.

i am satisfied with my apple bite back into the bid’ness. i booked enough work to not feel like a has been, and i had some hilarious fact’s of life-like moments during the audition process. but the drive up to l.a. every day for mostly print work, was becoming a hassle, and missing my classes was taking its toll.

 i, now, crave anew, the electricity of an endeavor.

it doesn’t have to be career oriented either, maybe a new hobby or homestead project.

but i’m ready to dive deep.

tell me m’loves, are taking any new plunges? thinking about them?

you know how i just LOVE hearing from you.

thursday happy to you.

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christmas present no.2

May 31, 2012

2012 is going to be one fine holiday film season.

i was jumping for joy last week for the great gatsby premier…..

but that’s cucumber water compared to the strawberry milkshake coming out on the same day: tom hopper, the director of the king’s speech, will release his version of les miserables on december 25th as well.

thank you santa.

one of my first memories at the theater, les miserables had me smitten from the first chords of the bass and drums.

it was under the dark lights, and with the swelling orchestra felt in my lungs and throat, that the acting bug first embed its pinchers under my skin and never let go.

no doubt this film version will delight, the cast is loaded:

russel crowe is at the helm, portraying the vile and cruel, but heavily tortured soul, javert.

sweet, annie hathaway will exercise her pipes as the poor, dying mother fantine.

amanda seyfried, a trained soprano, will most surely beguile us as the the darling, innocent cosette, with the dashing eddie redmayne as marius.

samantha banks plays my prized role: the down on her luck eponine. who, in my opinion gets the best scenes and songs.

and the hugh-jack-of all trades-man will lead the cast as the dauntless, devoted, redemptive jean valjean.

les miserables: the french revolution, the reformation of a thief into an honest man, the sacrifice of a mother for her child, romantic love, love from afar-not returned, and social justice.

i love this story.

take a look at the trailer:

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see you at the movies m’loves.

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year in review…..

December 30, 2011

goodbye 2011.

can i get you a cab?

this year can’t end fast enough for me.

it was a top five suck, i must say.

i try not to be that girl who bares each & every single maudlin bullet point of a bad situation….so much has been lifted from la blog.

but we prolly all know, twitchy didn’t appear because of the lack of stress in my life.

yet even in the sadness and heartache, there was beaucoup de light and levity.

i had a oodles of fun with you guys playing the safe word game.

and it’s always a lovely time when i get to  visit with fellow blogger friends.

i was able to get a few acting gigs.

although, i definitely had my share of audition horror stories.

hunkiest and i escaped to waters blue & sands white.

this year, i raged. i ranted. but i also loved {fettuncine alfredo-that is}

and i finally did get my sorry ass up into crow pose.

but i still hate it.

 and of course i still am drinking coffee.

 a new year’s happy to you m’loves.

you’ve kept me dripping with grateful and coated in felicity.

thank you from the bottom of my beholden heart.

to 2012!

see you on the other side of sunday.

dedicated to my truest…..

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November 10, 2011

moshi, moshi

today i have an audition for “ASIAN, sushi hostess”.

and just as it’s written above, ASIAN is clearly underlined, tagged and delineated in the casting notes; which is so crucial and material, because otherwise i’d definitely be working the whole “east-german” sushi hostess role. you know?  the trend that seems to be sweeping the nation? i mean the girls needed to do something after a life of flip turns and vitamins.

i’m actually perfect for this role. in college, my first job ever was as a hostess at a sushi bar.

you couldn’t cue a better cliché: west l.a. hot spot sushi + ucla half-japanese, freshman girl. the owner, fresh from his third stint in rehab, encouraged me to do shots with the patrons on my first night.

stone cold sober, i quit at the end of it. domo arigato.

thursday happy to you m’loves.

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September 23, 2011

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”.


it’s a wrap! my end of the day bubbly.

*not my photo.

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she’s got bette davis ????

September 19, 2011

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.


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!

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you’re hired

September 15, 2011

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.


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.

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downward katie

September 8, 2011

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:






{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.

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