persephone33: (We're actors)
( Feb. 27th, 2009 05:26 pm)
I adore it when my breasts make it into a picture, and not my head.



I can hope for a better picture in Sunday's paper.  Maybe they'll get an earlobe.  The article's here, if you're interested.  I got interviewed for Sunday's article.  Here's hoping I don't sound like an idiot.

(And no.  :D  That is not the dress from hell.  I left my camera at the theatre last night, or I would have posted a picture today. :))

So, for the first time in over a year, I went to an audition for a play.

It's a funny script, for a play called The Clean House, by Sarah Ruhl. It's about a Portuguese maid, a comedienne in her own country who comes to America as a housekeeper and gets depressed when she cleans. (Short version.) And I got read several times for the uptight doctor/employer of said maid. It's a funny part, one I really like and I think I read well, despite the director announcing that he'd like to go with a cast in their 50's and 60's.

Okay, then why did the call have ages 35-60? Huh? Riddle me that, Batman!

Then when it's all over, the director calls me over and says, "Carrie, why don't you come back tomorrow and read for the maid."

Wha huh?

If you said, "Carrie, go look more Irish," I couldn't. Auburn hair, pale skin, freckles.

I do not look Portuguese. Not even a little. Not even if I dyed my hair (which, incidentally, I do not want to do).

I don't think I have a shot at either role. I'm too young (!?) for the doctor and too Caucasian for the maid.I think what he wants me to do is read the joke monologue the way I think it should be done, so that the other younger, Latina looking girls will know how to interp. Which makes me growly, sort of. And feel a little used.

Ah, well. At least I got a callback.
So, I took my first acting workshop in years today.  At the behest of my 'agent.'  We'll put 'agent' in quotation marks 'til she actually comes up with some work for me.

For the most part, it was alright.  The speaker was an L.A. producer, Marilyn Atlas, and she was a strong force, but the class itself?  Not scintillating.  I learned a little about auditioning for film, but nothing common sense would not have told me.  And it was a workshop for teens and adults?  But there were KIDS there.  Like 12 year-old giggly girls.  I really tried to keep the eye rolling to a minimum.  Some of them were extremely talented, but most of them just need to go hang out at the mall food court.  Don't waste my time, or anyone else's. 

One of them patted my arm when I finished a scene and said, "That was so good.  What, are you like, twenty five?"

I... might have sneered at her.  Do not PAT me.  I rocked that little workshop.  Pimped myself, as it were.  My soul is a little sore from being sold all afternoon .

Grah.  Fricking agent.  Acting.  Blah.

So, yes.  Please.  Get me  voiceovers if you don't like my weight, and quit telling me I need to lose a few, or get me a freaking Jenny Craig commercial for crying out loud.  But no more workshops with the preteen set, and if it's all the same to you, come up with more challenging material.

Thanks.


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As I sit and listen to the presidential debate and my husband's growing ire of political bitchiness and doublespeak, I am going to squee about two TV shows that I've immersed myself in for the last few weeks.

Friday Night Lights and Supernatural, baby.  For the EYE CANDY, y'all.

I'm mean, they really are great shows.  Well shot, well written and well acted, but oh, man.  The prettiness.

I think it's great that they've managed to go three+ seasons of Supernatural without love interests for the boys..  I love that.  I mean, the storyline doesn't exactly lend itself to that, and to hear Nolan, Sam and Dean should just kiss already and get it over with (I hit him every time he makes disparaging remarks about Sammy's sexuality, by the way.  He's sensitive!) but the way the new season is going is just brilliant.  I can't wait.  The age old tale of brother against brother.  Epic.  And the fact that Nolan and Dean have the same 'shoot first and ask questions later' attitude.  And the MUSIC...  and the CAR...  Le sigh.

But Friday Night Lights.  Guhuhuhuhuh. [livejournal.com profile] jandjsalmon ,[livejournal.com profile] airmidm  and[livejournal.com profile] seegrim  all told me to watch it years ago, it seems like.  But as a theatre teacher in West Texas, I RAIL against football.  I loathe it.  Can't stand it.  The coaches pay grade is WAY above anyone else's...  And why?  Because they teach boys how to play a GAME.  (I have no illusions about what I do.  I live in a world of pretend, but let me have my prejudices.)  Anyway, I watched the first two episodes at the beginning of June, and then got distracted by something sparkly, but I'm back, and I've watched a GLUT of it in the last two weeks.  Now, I live in West Texas, and I have first hand experience with the actual football team the Dillon Panthers are based on, and let me tell you, that cult-like mentality?  With the whole town living and breathing for the football players?  True. Story.  It's scary-spooky.

But I ignored the football, and focused on the people.  Coach?  Cute as a button.  Mrs. Coach?  Sexy as all get out.  Riggins?  (Kelly, I thought Greg was cute enough before?  But now I gotta say I'm a little jealous of Tracey.)  The sheer BEAUTY that is Taylor Kitsch should not be allowed.  I mean, complexion?  Eyes?  Smile?  I seriously want to die.  And I know it's sacrilege, but I actually want him and Lila to get together.  I want him to get what he wants.  I can't help it..  And really, do NOT even get me started on Matt Saracen.  Fricking adorable.  The unsure demeanor, the soulful eyes, the shoulders? (The lips?)  I wanted to punch Julie right in her forehead for dumping him. (And I realize that they're supposed to be in high school, but whatever.)  I adore, adore, adore him.  The end of season two was SO sad.  I almost cried.  And I'm not admitting anything, but I may have even squealed and gotten chills at some of the football parts.  Maybe.

In other news, I'm newly with the Anderson Talent Agency, so I can start actually working again and being productive, since I really have a LOT of spare time on my hands.  So cross your fingers for voiceovers and commercials.  Or a walk-on or extra in FNL.  (I would die...  giggle hysterically and DIE.)

And my sweet Katie Bell is a sick puppy dog  She might have adrenal problems or diabetes.  Poor baby.  She's curled up next to me, being her sweet self.

That's all the news.  Back to listening to Nolan swear at the television...

One of my former students, Patrick Andrews, who I'm also proud to also call a friend, had this write up in the Chicago Sun. 

We were in my first show at ALTtogether.  Brighton Beach Memoirs, by Neil Simon.   It is still one of the (acting)theatre experiences that I hold most dear.

I miss him!
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