Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Springer-ing forward

Jer-ry!  Jer-ry!  Jer-ry!  For those of you who may not know, I got a new job!  Ow-ow!  I am the newest production assistant at The Jerry Springer Show.  

This is not your ordinary PA job.  In my last two weeks, I have not had a day that didn't involve communication with a prostitute, baby-daddy, or drug-addict.  In most cases, I conversed, at length, with all three.  Special moments include taking strippers to lunch, bribing people with cigarettes and browsing craigslist's "erotic" section for leads.  Hardly anything seems shocking after watching a few hefty women earn their "Jerry beads".  

I'm exhausted and out of words for today, but stay tuned for my final thought.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

This is the post that your mother warned you about. I've been avoiding it for weeks now.  It's personal.  It's revealing.  Parents, hide your children.  It's about *record scratch*- Dating.  

Now, I've been trying for some time to get back on the dating horse; though I'd really consider it less of a horse and more of a testy, over-sized mule.    

Ah, the heck with it, I signed up with Match.com.  Stop your snickering. I already confessed that I've been dancing around exploiting myself, but frankly, my stories are getting too juicy (and too ridiculous) to keep to myself.

With respect to my suitors (sounds better than "internet creeps"), I won't dive into the (thankfully, not-so) intimate details.  All of my dates have been nice guys, however, they each march to the beat of a different drum.  I don't even hear their drum.  Okay, they're from another tribe altogether; a tribe of socially inept men who worship me as their queen.  (Imagine the Waponi Woo tribe from Joe Versus the Volcano minus the love for orange soda.)

Awkward highlights from dates include, but are not limited to, the following:
  • Being physically swept up and carried down Michigan Avenue amidst many, many on-lookers for blocks and blocks...
  • 1-Hour late date.
  • Two words:  Lazy eye.
  • Me offering to pay for my $11 drink, him offering to pick up the entire bill.  Upon accepting his offer, he stops and suggests that we go halfsies... This is particularly annoying seeing as how his drink was WAY MORE EXPENSIVE THAN MINE.  
  • Awkward "really glad we met" followed by long gazes...eek!
Match.com guarantees that you will "Meet someone special in 6 months".  The legal folks at Match must be using the loose, urban definition of "special"; one who is short of a few social chromosomes.  

To my friends, steer clear of internet dating.  Do not be tempted by scientific methods, commercials featuring joyful couples or by a a promising guarantee.  

To my enemies, sign up!  Buy all the bells and whistles and be prepared to meet a truly special person.    
       
  

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

hollywood nights


It all started with the desperate need to escape the Chicago cold.  In a half-joking, but mostly serious e-mail to some well-connected friends, I offered my services to the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.  In a spontaneous blink of an eye, Travelocity confirmed my flight and I was off to Hollywood for two and a half weeks of independent contractor work. 

 

I wasn’t exactly sure what my job involved… but I knew that I would be working with “credentials” for the Oscars.  (I would scrub the toilet heads, if it meant being within a one mile radius of the most glamorous night in Hollywood and away from the a negative thirty wind-chill).  I’m not going to fib, the first week and a half went a little slow.  Hours and hours of sitting in a trailer waiting for various members of the press, security, distinguished guests and vendors to stroll in was not my idea of a chic work environment.  Fortunately, I somehow managed to demonstrate some level of professionalism that earned me the privilege to go to Capitol Records for a “special assignment”.

 

For those of you who tuned in to the 81st Academy Awards, you might remember a number of musical acts.  These acts were kept very hush-hush and Beyonce Knowles even used an alias code name to attend rehearsals.  Dozens of orchestra and choir members needed credentials for the show, so I was sent to Capitol Records to do just that. 

 

Capitol Records, a private recording studio- closed to the public, turned out to be quite a treat.  The prestigious Diamond Awards (over 100 million copies sold) lined the lobby including the crystal awards for “Sgt. Peppers” and “Abbey Road”.  The hallways seemed to echo of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Ella Fitzgerald, and John Lennon with every quiet step around dusty road boxes.  At the end of a particularly narrow hallway, I peered into the studio in which the Beatles recorded.  I imagined John and Paul stumbling into the black and white tiled bathrooms to partake in “extracurricular” activities.

 

On to rehearsal.

 

After humbly exploring the studio, I set up the credentialing table with my partners in crime and waited patiently for rehearsal to begin.  Members of the orchestra filed in one by and one and sat to be photographed, including my first celebrity encounter- Dermot Mulroney (handsome actor of “My Best Friend’s Wedding”, “The Family Stone”, and “Must Love Dogs” fame).  Shortly thereafter, Hugh Jackman, Vanessa Hudgens & Zac Efron (“HSM”), Amanda Seyfried & Dominic Cooper (“Mamma Mia”) and Baz Lurhman (“Moulin Rouge”) also arrived. 

 

I thought that would be the extent of my brush with fame, but I turned out to be far more fortunate than I could have ever dreamed.  By some grace of God, I was asked if I would like to work the “Artist’s Entrance”.

 

Obviously, not all of the celebrities walk the red carpet.  If they did, Joan and Melissa Rivers would have a 10 hour pre-show… and I’m pretty sure NO ONE wants to see (or listen to) that.  Many of the celebs take alternate entrances- particularly the hush-hush presenters.  In the rehearsals leading up to the big show, I welcomed/saw/spoke to the following unbelievable list of people:  Will and Jada Pinkett Smith, Jack Black, Ben Stiller, Christine Taylor, Beyonce, Goldie Hawn, Jerry Lewis, Jen Aniston, Natalie Portman, Anne Hathaway, Tilda Swinton, Tim Gunn, Robin Roberts, Bruce Vilanch, Gayle King, Nicole Kidman, Keith Urban and John Legend.  Most of these encounters were kept brief and professional- but there were a few stand-out moments.

 

Jen Aniston gave me a smile, wink and a little cheek click (patented “FRIENDS” style… I practically have my own spot on the Central Perk sofa).

 

Christine Taylor said she felt like she was taking a school photo, so I asked her if she’d like a pink telephone or a soccer ball.  She said she’d prefer a sideways baseball cap.  We girlishly laughed at our own jokes.

 

Goldie Hawn wasn’t feeling very well, so I gave her assistant my bottle of Airbourne for Goldie to have. 

 

Tim Gunn wanted a good photo, so Su and I told him to “make it work”. 

 

I accidentally de-activated Robin Roberts credential- but then fixed it super quick… she couldn’t have been sweeter or more patient.

 

John Legend stood behind me and touched my shoulder as I took his girlfriend’s credential photo.  He is a fine lookin’ man.    

 

Will and Jada Smith, and Hugh Jackman all personally thanked us for our work on the show.

 

The most personal moment I had was with Anne Hathaway. We were the only two people in the ladies bathroom and we were washing our hands next to each other.  In an awkward silence, I piped up and wished her to “break a leg”.  She genuinely smiled, thanked me and commented on how she was both excited and nervous.  There was a sense of relief in her voice as if she really needed to say it out loud.  I told her that her father was simply “beaming” and very, very proud of her.  She laughed and said that he does that even when she hiccups.  We laughed and parted ways…but it was a special, private moment with Ms. Hathaway. 

 

Sigh

 

Those were my encounters leading UP to the big night.

 

The day of the show, I reported to the office at 6:45 am.  I worked until 1, grabbed food at crew feed and then slipped into my gown to be back at work for Red Carpet arrivals by 2.  I was not able to be seated in the Kodak for the Awards, but I did freely wander in and out of the Kodak Lobby; downing free Moet Champagne at the bar alongside James Franco (who smiled at me- woo!).  In the ladies room I washed my hands between Alicia Keys and Sophia Loren.  Baz Lurhman’s handsome, Australian assistant bought me a champagne on Baz’s dime (thanks Mr. Lurhman) and on my way back to the bar, Sean Penn and I nearly collided.  Still glowing from MILK’s best screenplay win, he smiled and said excuse me.  En route to my post, I pardoned myself past William Defoe and found myself being helped down the Red Carpet stairs with all my flutes of champagne by numerous men in tuxedos.  I briefly stood next to Miley Cyrus and her mother before moving on to other conquests. 

 

James Franco smiled at me again as he left in his limo. 

 

Before the show Mickey Rourke was being scooted along by members of his entourage.  He looked at me and said “I don’t know why everyone’s in such a rush, this thing lasts 4 friggin’ hours” and then he was off.

 

Daniel Craig (Bond, James Bond) thanked me on his way out.  I didn’t notice if his drinks were shaken or stirred.  ;)

 

After the show was over, I walked the Red Carpet with the celebs who were on their way to Vanity Fair, Elton John’s Party and various other events.  It was then that I swept past Ron Howard, Anthony Hopkins, and Marissa Tormei.

 

Unbelievable.  My night amongst the stars ended with a pleasant night’s sleep at the Renaissance Hotel, where I, once again, ran into Tim Gunn in the elevator.  I saw him look me up and down.  I hope he liked “who” I was wearing. 

 

16 hour days and many trips to Starbucks… sounds like misery, but the payoff was incredible.  I feel like the production world would be a great fit for me.  I wouldn’t feel like my theatrical background was completely kaput, but I could flourish in the “business” of “the business”. 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunday, January 25, 2009

epiphanies and elegies


FACT:  I've been neglecting my blog.  

FACT:  Most of my focused internet time has been devoted to the seemingly insurmountable job-hunt.  

FICTION:  I know exactly what I'm doing with my life.

So far Chicago has taught me a lot of things.  I've discovered little gems such as:

-It's a silent compliment when someone sits next to you on the bus or the train.  It really means that you're the least unfortunate looking (and/or smelling) person around.

- 10.25% sales tax sucks.

-In a big city, it is important to be green and eco-friendly.  GreenPeace has their foot soldiers on every corner and they WILL follow you.

-If you give up your seat to an old man, a young idiot with their ipod on will immediately take a load off.  

My experience in Chicago has provided me with more than the survival tips above.  I've come to the realization that I no longer want to be an actress.  I actually feel slightly relieved to scratch something off the list.  I know that I'd like to be a professional.  I want a job that I can confidently refer to as a "career".  I'm hoping to wiggle, charm, elbow, and shove my way into a job that may even allow me to be slightly creative.  Structured creativity.  That's what I want.  Wait a second... isn't that called coloring?  Well, either way.  I was always very good at being creative inside the lines :)

Monday, December 29, 2008

The "Other" Bail-out Plan for Detroit


Sunday, the Detroit Lions became the first team in NFL history to go 0-16.  To keep with the trend and general motif Michigan,  I think we should bail them out.  This idea is not so original...but read on.

The MO?  The 2009 Draft.

As a nation, it is our duty to see that no more embarrassment come to the "Motor City".  In my Bail-out plan, we allow the Lions to draft in '09 by applying the rules of the classic Parker Brothers board game, Scrabble.  The new rules would read as follows: You may use a [draft pick] to exchange all, some, or none of the [players and/or coaching staff]. To do this, place your discarded [players and/or coaching staff] facedown. Draw the same number of [players and/or coaching staff] from the pool, then mix your discarded [players and/or coach](s) into the pool. This ends your turn.

As described, Roger Goodell would place his hand inside a cotton drawstring bag filled with the names of current Lions AND potential draft picks.  He would then pull out names and Voila!  Brand new Detroit Lions!  There is a risk, of course, that the commish might pull out "dumped" players, (i.e. Jon Kitna/Dan Orlovsky).  

In exchange, the new and improved Lions promise reform in an effort to become an endzone viable team.  




Friday, December 19, 2008

Bozo Blagojevich


In 2001, Bozo the Clown's Super Sunday Show was cancelled due to "increased competition from newer children's cable channels".  So what became of the lovable, pie-throwing Clown?  I suppose most might assume Bozo retired; hung up his over-sized shoes and hit up the Big Top in Tahiti. 

I suspect otherwise.

I think he became Governor of Illinois.     

Maybe Governor Blagojevich thought he could play the Grand Prize Game with President Elect, Barack Obama's senate seat?  I bet Jesse Jackson Jr would have coughed up some cash if there had been Archway Cookies and a crisp one-hundred dollar bill at stake.  

Blago, you're a Bozo.  Give it up and resign already.




Thursday, December 11, 2008

Break-in at 600 N. Michigan

Seriously?  The most ridiculous things happen to me.  

I actually got off work at a reasonable hour this evening (before midnight) and as a result of the early dismissal, everyone was particularly anxious to scoot out the door.  Apparently... very anxious.  And apparently, surprisingly fast.  Immediately after clocking out, I grabbed my belongings and went directly to the ladies room.  I couldn't have been in there any longer than 2 minutes but by the time I was making way to the front door, all of the upstairs lights were out.  Upon reaching the front door, I found myself to be alone with the rhythmic beep of the alarm.  "Well, this can't be good," I thought.   I put my hand on the front door, closed my eyes and pushed.  

Locked.

I looked out to Michigan Avenue in time to see two Eddie Bauer managers strolling away across the busy intersection.  I flung my body against the window; both fists clenched and banging against the cold window pane like Fred Flintstone screaming for Wilma.  Shrieking, I called out to the Magnificent Mile for help.  I pounded so hard that my vibrations rattled down the giant "Holiday Sale" signs from the two story windows and simultaneously set off wildly alarming security alarms.  (As an objective side note, the alarm was entirely effective as a deterrent. Any robber, thief, or crook would probably pee themselves; God knows, I almost did.)  

Still screaming and erratically slamming my body against the huge windows, the passers by stared at me with looks of wonder.  "Yes, I'm looting the place in a trapper hat, Hollister jacket, Abercrombie scarf and furry snow boots... HELP ME".    

Alarms blaring, lights flashing, and the window display rapidly being destroyed by my seizure-like fit, I saw my managers do a triple-take  and sprint back to the storefront.

Needless to say, they settled the alarm and apologetically let me out.  Coincidentally, I've decided that the buddy-system is extremely underrated.