It's Raining Men (Every Specimen?) Part Two

I thought I had outgrown the old (and unnecessary) "Leave room for Jesus" warning from various school dance chaperone's and my Dad. Dad taught me the most perfect way to thwart unwanted closeness regardless of respective strength. Try this with me now. Bend your arm so that it it 90 degrees to your hip. Place your elbow directly on your hip bone. Hold steady. Now have a buddy try to push closer while in typical school dance posture. Brilliant right?

Never did I think I would need this move as a 20-something while out dancing and hanging with my friends. Here we go.

THE TOUCHER - "don't give me no lines and keep your hands to yourself"
Even before I moved to San Francisco I had heard that the Mission neighborhood was an awesome place to head out for dinner, but that I probably wouldn't feel "cool enough" to actually live there. After all, even though I own a pair of skinny jeans and have long been a fan of Chuck Taylor's, I very rarely wear them together. I have my sister LDL and her "toothpicks in a bucket" comment to thank for that. But when I got a tweet/text from an old friend from college telling me that she and her bridal/bachelorette party had finished with their tour of Napa and had moved on to 16th street, I put on some shoes, grabbed my Clipper card and headed out the door. Truthfully, I would have gone anywhere for a chance to catch up with JMH.

JMH and her posse of hilariously fun women were hanging out at a small establishment called Double Dutch. It's one of those places where the long and narrow entrance lends itself perfectly to the crowded bar and then dance floor layout (not unlike Roberts' in Nashville). After jamming out for a while the whole group was in need of refreshments. Since I was getting a bit claustropobic on the dance floor, I ventured out to the bar. While trying to purchase a few tasty adult beverages a member of the JMH posse (and a new pal of mine) saunters over and challenges me to see if I can get someone else to pay. This is not my game. I am terrible at this game. I would MUCH rather fork over my hard earned cash than have to pretend to be interested. But I accidentally made eye contact, my new friend was fired up and thus began the slippery slope.

With our ice cold drinks (paid for by me) and followed by two new, eager young men, we head back to the dance floor. Man in the red shirt had a signature move. It's called "let me see if I can grope you without you hitting me". Since this is a family oriented blog, I'll leave it at that. But it was awful and he did it to everyone. At once point, I was sandwiched between him and his collection of eager friends, saved only by my ability to slip through small spaces like I was coated with vaseline. Also, I have a pretty mean right hook. JMH and the posse thought it was pretty hysterical. I'm sure the distraught and exasperated look on my face was awesome. But alas, the night was ending, the bouncer was escorting us out and our new red shirted friend was sticking a little too close for comfort.

And then, JMH reared back, turned to old red shirt and said "YOU need to watch your hands". He recoiled, confused and embarrassed and then reached for my waist to hug me close. +see beginning paragraph for my next move+ Caught off guard by my swift reflexes he tried again, this time from behind me and told JMH "it's what you girls want. It's why you dance." And then FIRE shot out of her eyesockets and she said. . . .

Well, actually, that's Bill Cosby's line. But you get the point. Girlfriends Unite: 1 Red Shirt Posse: negative one billion.

two weeks

for those of you who tune in for pictures of sweet p...

forgive me for the lack of update. 

we have been busy over here,

 but i am not sure what we have to show for it. 

clean clothes, food, a couple new friends, new favorite things...

like watermelon.

we have put together a couple more pieces of furniture...

we watched the masters...

stopped by a local coffee shop after our doctor appointment...

learned that sprout #2 is a GIRL!

and so we danced a little bit..

stay tuned for more excitement later! 

i mean, i'm not holding out on any stories from you -

i might think of them later.











It's Raining Men (Hallelujah?) Part One

First things first: Nothing has changed in my personal life and I definitely am not trying to go all Elizabeth Taylor out here on the West Coast. I've never really been a fan of giant jewelry. That being said, I realized while sharing a few of my most recent stories with LDL that they all involve some kind of bizarro conversation with a strange man. I've done my best to categorize them.

THE GAMBLER - "know when to walk away; know when to run"

Recently I was invited to an event by a member of senior management for my company. It was hosted by the Asian American Society of Architects and Engineers. The event included dinner (Chinese) and a speaker who happened to be the project manager for an upcoming $4.6 billion sewer reconstruction project. The goal was to present a good image about our company. I'm the token "diverse engineer" (as a white female - duh). Anyway, during the meet and greet mingling session everyone jostled for a place between the presenter's table in the front of the room and the bar. Being the crazy observant person that I am (it's not normal to locate an exit immediately?), I spot an unfortunate looking character. He is definitely passed middle age, shorter than 5'8", wearing an old school Texas-style string neck tie, transition glasses midway through transitioning and a hat that is best described as a cross between a cowboy hat and one used by fishermen. Flaps tied up obviously. I've sketched a picture: please remember I am an artist by desire only.

So this man "Walter" saddles up next to my manager, a co-worker and myself and begins selling his trade. Ignoring me. Turns out he is a "private consultant" looking to be paid by the hour for engineering work. It was clear he did not think I was important enough to impress and bypassed me when handing out his business card. As he was leaving, he scooted up behind me and whispered in my right ear. Immediately I am two things: Perturbed and Losing. Because he is speaking into an ear that hasn't worked in 27 years it appears by my body language (turned toward him, neck arched, reading lips) that I am actually interested in what he is saying. What's really happening is that I am listening intently, desperate not to accidentally volunteer for something. What follows is a series of questions that I deem totally inappropriate and so I lie. I lie easily. It's scary how easy it was to make things up. It saved me this time but oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive. Self-defense is excusable right?

Gambler: What's your name? How old are you? Where do you live? Do you have roommates? What are your favorite places to go? Can I look you up on your firm's website? I notice you aren't wearing a ring - good thing for guys like me. Have you ever been to The Starlight Lounge? I'm there practically every night. I'd love to take you to dinner there. No? Huh. Okay, well if you change your mind or just want to stop by it is located - location conveniently forgotten. Enjoy your evening. Here is my card in case you want to get in touch. Extra long gaze into my eyes and purposeful finger graze. I threw up in my mouth a bit.

It's funny how when he was looking for work he didn't have enough business cards to hand one to me but when he is looking for company at the Starlight Lounge he has plenty. Gross.

So that's it folks. Just another day in the life of a young(ish) engineer, desperate to break free of cubicle land.

Never fail. Just Get Rejected.

This industry of mine is certainly an interesting one. I can't think of another line of work where getting rejected can be deemed as a success. Technically, I guess that's not really true here either, but it is certainly looked more positively on than most businesses. Basically the whole process is based on rejections that hopefully eventually lead to success. Let me explain.

The most basic of rejections pretty much comes before a word is spoken. More often than not(there are a few exceptions) if you do not fit exactly the physical characteristics envisioned, you don't get a chance to even read for the part. Now, this particular brand of rejection isn't that bad, because you generally don't hear about it. But every now and again you'll hear how you are too tall, short, thin, fat or have the wrong hair color, eye color, skin color (or hue), blah blah blah.

Next there is the first real level of rejection. Auditioning and getting a, "Thanks" and that's it. Never a real good sign. Other versions of this are,"Ok, thanks" "Great, thanks" "thanks for coming" etc. Sometimes its tough to tell if the powers that be like you at all. Sometimes they make it obvious enough. BUT, getting those first few auditions are also a success because it's better than not getting sent on them at all. That level of "success" fades fairly quickly.

You then get to the callbacks. This rejection level is a special kind of suck, because it means you were actually liked enough to get brought back, meaning you actually have a shot. Again, there is an element of success because you got out of the first round. This level of "success" sticks around, well, I don't really know because I haven't moved past thinking of it as a success yet, so maybe it never does fade.

Probably the most painful rejection notice is being on first refusal, then released. You were selected. You're the guy. You're in. Until you're not. Brutal.

Now, why am I torturing you with my Dante-esque levels of rejection? Well, I've experienced a good number of levels within the past few weeks.

In my last post, or thereabouts, I told you readers about my journey to Atlanta to be rejected. However, I later found out that the casting director called(or emailed or otherwise notified) my agent to say how much she liked me and looks forward to having me back. So, success? Kinda. There isn't really anything to show for it, but the rejection was less terrible.

I also submitted two taped auditions for feature films. One here locally in Orlando, and the other in LA. Didn't hear a word back from either. At all. So I really have no idea how much I sucked, or if I did at all and wasn't the right body type, blah blah blah, or they didn't like my shirt, or a million other things you(I) let run through your(my) head.

Now, I did submit a taped audition to a webseries thing that films in Jacksonville, which I was asked to then drive up for a callback. And ended up booking a part. Probably for free, but the experience/exposure will be good, right? And it's a SAG contract, so that'll be helpful when the inevitable LA move comes. Oh, and I got to kiss a girl (blushing).

Also am shooting a UCF film this week. And have a rehearsal for a "feature film" shooting semi-locally next month. I used quotes there because, we're really only shooting a 10 min promo now, and (fingers crossed) the feature later. And the dates have already been pushed back once. So we shall see.

This may have been a slightly long, rambling post, and for that I apologize. Maybe you'll be interested in why generally try and temper any sort of emotions about my journey, and sometimes(most times) am bad at answering any sort of questions.

Oh, and I went on an audition for a Sonny's BBQ commercial, and got a callback only to not hear back(which means no).

I try not to feel like a 16(or 30) year-old girl sitting by the phone waiting for the cute guy from English class(or the Lodge) to call.

Success to you all.

Or less sucky rejection.

heartbreaker

b goes to school two nights a week.

he works from home these days, but is generally not around,

you know, all those conference calls.

so p gets so excited when b appears from upstairs!

last night, was the first night he was also

visibly upset when he learned he couldn't go to school.

dad gathered all of his school things,

p grabbed huggle buggle bear,

dad put on his coat,

sweet p pulled out his coat and thrust it into b's hands -

and then put his arm out

(this is how he helps us dress him)

not yet, sweet p -

you still get to stay home with mom...

like it or not!

saddest scene ever watching p watch b

drive away... i think b maybe even got a little

misty eyed.

who wouldn't!?

p.s. i am also obviously playing with picasa editing our photos -

sometimes they turn out, and sometimes they don't

pull your weight around here!

since we are at a new, bigger place,

we obviously have more space to clean.

and it gets overwhelming at times.

(though we love it).

so everyone in the family is expected to

pull their own weight around here.

and p man, well, he's a big boy!

good thing he LOVES it.

this is p man setting up his cleaning supplies

and the next three he uses some elbow grease

and baby safe floor cleaner.

such a thorough little cleaner.

and as if scrubbing the floor yesterday wasn't enough,

he decided today the floor was still a bit dusty.

he loves the swiffer.

i regret that we did not capture a picture of

p's reaction when we took his cleaning supplies

away from him.

complete and total breakdown.



in addition to p's new walking skills, & cleaning skills,

he is also apparently getting all of his teeth.

he doesn't seem to mind too much.

and he is sleeping much better in his new room.

in other news,

just a little over a week before we get to tell

little p man if he is having a brother or sister...

something tells me he will love being a big brother.





Don't Do It

From the desk of: Things I don't recommend doing....

Driving to Atlanta and back from Orlando within a 18 hour span.

Now, why would I do such a thing? The pursuit of the dream, I guess you could say. Not too long ago, I submitted a taped audition for a film that is shooting in LA through my agent up in Charlotte. So, when I checked my phone in between raining 3s and dropping dimes on the Rollins Basketball hardwood (reliving my basketball camp days with Coach K and Coach Kyle), and saw a VM from my agent up there, I was excited. "Could it be? Is this my big break?" These are the thoughts that were going through my head as I listened to the message. Turns out the message had nothing to do with that. But, it did contain some exciting news. The casting director for Tyler Perry Studios wanted to see me for an audition for "House of Payne." So, I was pumped about that. The audition was in Atlanta, and on Thursday at 11 am. I got the message Tuesday night at 9 pm. And was scheduled to work for a friends cleaning business Wednesday afternoon/night.

Any parents may want to read this next part with your eyes closed.

After I finally put the mop up(after 6 hours of vacuuming/mopping) and got showered up to hit the road, it was roundabout 9:30. Only 6+ hours(and miles and miles) to go before I sleep. Of course the parental units wanted me to stop along the way for a good nights sleep, and safety or something like that. But I was too amped up on adrenaline(and/or 5 hr energy) to do any sleeping anyway. I arrived at my cousins place around 330 and settled in for a "good nights rest." Well, that didn't really happen. I slept for a couple hours, then woke up for a while. That happened a couple times. When I have to wake up for something I want to do, but think I may sleep through it, I always wake up in a panic that I have indeed slept through it. Which doesn't really help the sleeping process.

Ok, you can open your eyes now.

Anywho, I then ventured out to find the studio for my audition, and ran through about one million different scenarios of how it would go down. I do this often in my head. It's exhausting. I get there, go into the security place, sign in, sign a non-disclosure agreement and am informed that if I wander around the studio, I'll be escorted out. Noted. The waiting area had very comfortable chairs, which was nice. And there was only a few other guys there, which makes you feel like you have better odds. Numbers and things. As a general rule, I try not to listen to the people that audition in front of me, cause it can throw what you have prepared off. But, I couldn't not listen to the guy that went first(I was second). He was terrible. That's probably mean and unfair, but, he was. I felt kinda good about that, which obviously makes me a bad person.

I then went in to meet the casting director and we chatted about this and that, and she was a very pleasant person, which, believe it or not, most casting directors are not. Probably because they have to deal with people all day everyday, most of whom are weird. So we do the read, and I was pretty happy with it, which is always nice, because who wants to drive 6 hours for a 5 minute audition and have it suck? Not this guy. She said it was great and she loved me, which you really don't get that often. She went on to say even if I don't get this role, she'd have me back to read in the future. Pretty much the best audition I've been to yet. Bonus. Back in the car. 6 hours back to the O.

Well, now two days have passed and I haven't heard anything, which means I didn't get it. I know, you're all devastated. Thank you. Hopefully she meant the whole thing about having me back in the future. I'm pretty sure she did. She seemed pretty genuine about it.

Regardless, it was a great experience, and I think I made a good contact there, which could pay dividends in the future. Head up, on to the next one.

Faithful readers, good news is coming soon. I feel it. Also sort of thinking about a coast switch in the semi-near future. Not next week or anything, but not years away either. Go big or go home, right?

Till next time...