This belief was solidified by a recent string of auditions. Much like all other areas of my life, I am failing at acting. It's like watching a toddler trying to feed itself. It's messy and disconcerting and elicits a lot of pity, but also a smidge of joy, from curious onlookers.
Let's start last week when I was called in to audition for a new sitcom on Fox. I was elated! I knew this was going to be my big break. I got the script and began to memorize when I noticed something was off. There was a reference to licking feet and I thought maybe I had missed something. I had. Turns out I was auditioning for the role of "transvestite." IS THIS A JOKE?! Do you know what that means? It means the fine people of said Fox sitcom released a description of a transvestite into the ether, my agent then read this malarkey and thought, "Oh my God…we have someone who's perfect" and then submitted my picture. Fox then agreed that I was indeed transvestite material which brings us to the audition portion of things.
Casting Agent: Can you lower your voice?
Me: Um…I mean…I can but this just in, I'm actually a woman.
CA: Sure, whatever, just talk lower buddy.
I mean…I guess the thing that's most upsetting here is that I didn't get the role and I thought, "HOW DARE THEY! I AM A GREAT TRANSVESTITE! I'M BASICALLY A MAN! I WAS PERFECT FOR THAT ROLE!"
It's complicated and embarrassing. A few days later, I was called in to audition for a commercial that contained a lot of text. I'm not sure if you heard but I was a theater major. Lots of text = no problem. I spent the day memorizing. I insisted on reciting my lines to anyone who would listen. I called everyone I knew and rehearsed my lines into their voicemails. I. Was. Ready. When I arrived at the casting agency I looked around at the room of desperate women – women who spend their days counting calories and dodging gluten. While these women were starving themselves and scouring through racks of half-priced tunics at Ross, I was studying my craft. I had gusto and sustenance and I thought it a shame that all these bitches had struggled in traffic just to have their asses handed to them by a chubby Midwesterner.
When I went into my audition, lines ready to go, the casting agent gave me some instructions.
CA: Ok great, so you're going to walk from over here with this bowl and this apple, sit down at this table, address your imaginary daughter, show this card to the camera and smile!
Me: Got it.
Me While Slowly Ambling Around The Room Like A Deer Caught In The Headlights: Ah ga ga ga ga ga aahhhhh ga gaaa ga ga gaaa ga ga gagaa
CA: *stunned silence*
Me: *horrified expression*
CA: Ok great, we'll let you know.
WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED IN THERE! I was distraught. I literally turned actually retarded as soon as I got into the room. Apparently I'm the type of actor WHO CAN'T HOLD AN APPLE AND SAY WORDS AT THE SAME TIME!
It was demoralizing. Today was no different when I drove to Santa Monica to audition for the role of "conservative put-together mom." As you can imagine, this took a lot of work and I was pretty impressed by the results. As I strutted my stuff down Santa Monica Blvd., I was feeling totally in control. I was wearing a very cute and conservative dress, my hair was coiffed, my make-up was set, and my pearls were dangling demurely. I got into the waiting room and smirked – once again, I have outdone myself. It was at this point that I noticed my ankle was itching. As I looked down, I realized it was covered in blood – CAUSE I HAD ATTEMPTED TO SHAVE MY LEGS THIS MORNING – LIKE A MOTHER FUCKING LADY!
AHHHHHHH! It's pointless. Some people are just bad at all things. It's not my fault really. I mean it's not like I'm not trying! Sure…maybe it's a sign from God that I should be doing something different with my life. But I assure you, I've tried! I can't cook, I'm terrible at being attractive, and I'm horrible at men. The only areas in which I've ever excelled are sex with strangers and a bevy of narcotics which further proves my point THAT I WAS PERFECT FOR THAT TRANSVESTITE ROLE! Ugh…