written at a small studio in Manhattan
Sitting in a studio in midtown, waiting to do a workshop. It's been one of those days, where all of my appointments are two hours apart and fifteen minutes away from each other. I started at 9:30, and I really haven't stopped. I'll be done by nine, though - plenty of time to kick it with Big Bird and Maxine for a couple of hours before passing out.
These workshops are weird. All of these actors, freshly scrubbed and pressed, looking for the tip that will give them a leg up, hoping to meet the person that will give them their Big Break. I have to admit that it's hard to resist the temptation to chat up some of the finer-looking ladies here - there are always a couple that are off-the-charts. I find that chasing girls causes me to lose focus though, so I have to satisfy myself with a glance here and there.
There is one exception to this rule - the assistant to the casting director is close to my physical ideal - she's so gorgeous she makes me a little bit dumber. I don't want to ruin my chances at working with these people someday, but if I get her alone, I'm going to have to ask her out.
One of the annoying things about these things is that there are also quite a few people who are - how can I be nice about this? I can't, so I'll just say it - they're bad. Really horrid. I applaud them for having the bravery to get up here and do this, but I feel bad that casting directors take advantage of people who clearly aren't ready. But hey, what are you gonna do?
I'm 15 minutes away from showtime, so I should look over my lines and focus (as I write this, the hot assistant just walked across my field of vision, along with 2 other beautiful women - this will be easier said than done).