Acting

action

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”.

me!

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

*not my photo.

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.

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

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.

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.

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