Sunday, January 29, 2012

If a Stranger Just Helped You Climb Over a Wall, It’s Probably Time To Take Your Ass Home

Published 1/29/2012

You know what I did last weekend? I ate copious amounts of Pinkberry and had a Degrassi marathon with one of my friends. That might sound lame but for one: Degrassi is no joke, those plots tackle some seriously adult subject matter, and two: like most logical people who actually live in close proximity to Hollywood, I rarely feel the need to partake of the nightlife, especially not on a Saturday. Between the tourists, the parking situation and the general hassle, I’d almost rather watch In Time again… almost.
In any event, I’d already resolved that last night I would explore Hollywood with a smile on my face because my favorite local band, The Herbert Bail Orchestra was playing at The Bardot.  The first place I tried to park must have thought I was a tourist because the valet tried to charge me 20… no sir! We are not in New York. Any Angeleno worth their salt knows not to pay more than 10, but maybe 5 if you’re patient  or nothing if you’re early and you find a meter. So after locating a suitable parking lot I made my way to what I thought was The Bardot. I then proceeded to mistakenly spend  15 minutes in line for Avalon because they’re connected, but I didn’t mind the wait because I used the time to mentally lampoon the bouncer. He had platinum blond highlights in his hair and a trench coat and I’m pretty sure the look he was giving me was Blue Steel. Is this the fucking Matrix? 1999 wants its misguided fashion choices back, sir.
Once I made it to the proper destination, the lovely @WilsonsGuide and I played a couple rounds of “Vagrant or Hipster.”  It really is hard to tell sometimes- what did hygiene ever do to them? I also noticed that I’d managed to find one of the few places in LA that allows smoking indoors. I mean I guess that’s cool for the smokers out there, but all I know is that I left smelling like the inside of an American Spirit. Thanks hipsters. Carcinogenic ambiance aside, Bardot is actually pretty neat (yes, I said neat) and Herbert Bail was the bees knees as usual.  Also I got a free CD so I’m attempting to learn the words to Bullet as we speak.
So usually upon departing  your Saturday night soiree there may be a late breakfast, a drunken hookup, or near arrest, but those things happen regularly during business hours in Hollywood, so for all intents and purposes, the exciting part of your evening has ended. I would not be so lucky.  As I left Bardot I noticed to my dismay that Vine was blocked off at Hollywood and upon further investigation I found that there  was quite a large bomb threat and that I would not be able to get my car because it was inside the explosive perimeter. Are you serious? I found myself with other disgruntled revelers who could also not access Selma and parts of Sunset. We were told that it might be hours before we could retrieve our cars, even though as far as I could see, nothing was actually exploding. Oh how I wished I would’ve parked in that 20 dollar lot that was less like The Hurt Locker and more like a regular parking lot with non-exploding cars in it… #losing.
I began to become acutely aware of how much my feet hurt and started the unpleasant task of rousing my friends who were drunk , asleep or both, in the hopes that someone would not only come rescue me, but bring me back to Hollywood in the morning to get my car. Somewhere in the midst of this tomfoolery an exceedingly sketchy man may or may not have attempted to grab me, but thank goodness for the tranny who picked that exact moment to compliment my shoes and scare him away! Oh, and it gets worse. A girl in a similar predicament overheard my frantic conversation and told me that if I hiked to another part of Sunset I could sneak inside the bomb perimeter and get my car, as law enforcement was allowing people to leave but not enter. She suggested we use the buddy system since she had to go the same way, so I agreed and gave myself a mental high-five for arbitrarily choosing not to drink that night.  I shudder to think what would have happened had I been inebriated.
As we neared the promise land that was the lot that held my car, I realized with dismay that there was a wall between the lot I was cutting through and the one I needed to be in. If ever a stranger offers you a boost over  a wall, which you may or may not be climbing to avoid police detection, that’s a pretty strong indication that your evening has gone awry... So I let a stranger help push me over a wall... with my heels and my short, short dress on. HOT. ASS. MESS. One of my friends was kind enough to point out that this sort of thing only happens to me and she was entirely correct. A STRANGER HELPED ME CLIMB OVER A WALL.!  “Stranger” and “wall” and "bomb" and "threat" are words that are bad news on their own, but together…  So yeah, about that Herbert Bail Orchestra…

Venue: 3 (I want to give it a 5 but it seriously smells like a gas station bathroom. They don’t even smoke inside in Europe anymore- take that shit outside!)
Alcohol Situation: N/A (I was my own designated driver, but an extremely wasted hussy fell on the floor so I’m guessing the libations were sufficient.)
Actual Beneficial Networking Achieved:3
Personal Victory/Dignity Retained: -2 (I climbed over a  fucking wall in a dress. It’s like my life turned into outtakes from Bridesmaids for five minutes)
Atmosphere: #winning (Yes for music, yes for atmosphere, yes for eye candy, no for air quality)

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

So Wait, That's Not a Thing?

Published 1/25/2012

So I spent most of the day in mourning because Ryan Gosling was snubbed by the Academy yesterday for his performances in both Drive and The Ides of March. What the eff is that about?! Before launching an #occupytheOscars campaign however,  I remembered that awards season is mired in politics, lobbying and facades.  The fact of the matter is that Drive was not what the previews made it out to be, and The Ides of March was a little slow and far too reminiscent of Primary Colors. Ultimately these factors resulted in two wonderful performances  by the love of my life being overlooked. In any event, I was reminded  that so many things in Hollywood are not in fact as they appear on TV… gasp! In light of  this unwelcome brush with reality I feel compelled to dispel five myths about and/or perpetuated by Tinseltown.
1)      People run through the airport after people they love.
That actually doesn’t happen. In movies, lovers realize that that special someone is indeed the one, and not only make it to the airport on time, but proceed to find the object of their affection. Anyone who’s ever been to LA would know that scenario is absolutely impossible! Even under the best circumstances there is no way that anyone could make it from I don’t know, Ventura Blvd in Studio City to LAX in 30 minutes. And IF they could, have you been to LAX?  One would have to randomly guess the right terminal, park in the labyrinthical structure, and evade the TSA. You’re not catching the woman of your dreams. Send that bitch a text!
2)      Hollywood is full of beautiful people.
It’s really not. What it does have is loads of girls with botox, scores of women with implants, and a plethora of dames with weaves… and they are not cute. I know this may be hard to believe, but this town is replete with people who should only ever attempt to do voiceover work or make careers out of being character actors.  For every ten people who will be told by casting directors  that  they “have a very interesting look,” there is one attractive person,  who incidentally may be on their way to audition for a reality show…
3)      The beach is five minutes away from everything.
The beach is in Santa Monica and Venice and Manhattan and Malibu. I know that the crafty editing at the beginning of shows like The Hills implies that everyone can walk outside and feel the sand in their toes but guess what: they can’t. There is no beach in Glendale. The beach is not in West Hollywood. The Beach is not in Beverly Hills and it is most definitely not in Valley Village. Spoiler alert: you might see the ocean in cities with “beach” in the name.
4)      Hollywood Boulevard is clean and exciting.
It is neither. Hollywood Blvd may in fact be the most disgusting place in the entirety of the West Coast. Remember the opening  scene in Pretty Woman? That is one of the most accurate depictions of what that famous street looks like, and that was 20 years ago. Between coked out adults in costume, a myriad of homeless vagrants and a Walk of Fame that is cracked in many places, the street is a hot mess. As for exciting- only if you’re a tourist. After dark, Hollywood Blvd is hands down the scariest, sketchiest place in LA County.
5)      The casting couch is a thing of the past.
 *rolls eyes* …that is all.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Shit Hollywood Girls Say... Part Deux

Published 1/15/2012

It has occurred to me that this particular meme has more than jumped the shark as the interwebs have recently been flooded with shit (various groups of people) say. On the other hand, there is absolutely no place for creativity in Hollywood, absolutely none damn it! Also, I had more footage… so please indulge in Shit Hollywood Girls Say 2.
                                                          Shit Hollywood Girls Say II

Thursday, January 12, 2012

You're an Actress, Right?

Published 1/12/2012
Ahhh Hollywood, such a warm, friendly, genuine place…or not. So in my usually futile attempt to network,  I decided to attend yet another @Infolist sponsored shindig at Skybar  a couple nights ago. I was secretly hoping that my third time there would be a charm, although I was fully prepared to spend the evening having a “me party” all by my lonesome like Amy Adams in The Muppet Movie.  After going through my usual routine of having my friends renege, feign sleepiness, and flat out ignore my implorations to join me, I embarked on yet another singular evening in Weho.
By the time you read this it may be 2013, because I’m pretty sure I waited an entire year at the bar. That doesn’t usually happen there but it was rather crowded and the bartender was exceptionally douchey, which was another first for Skybar. Anywho, before I could devise some new, innovative way to look desirable and important while drinking alone and pretending to text people, I was approached by someone who was mistakenly laboring under the delusion that it is okay to combine pick-up lines from The Fresh Prince of Bel Air with Hollywood bullshit.  He said, and I quote “ It is so unfair the way the light reflects off of your beautiful face.  You’re an actress right?”
Stop right there sir. There are so many things wrong with that statement, but I’ll just focus on one:  Anyone who’s been in LA for more than an hour should know that the actress question is a red flag. It means either A) You think using the word “actress” will flatter me into sleeping with you, or B) You work for Barbizon, John Robert Powers, Pro Scouts or  a similarly sketchy “agency” and will attempt to convince me to pay 1200+ for specialized acting classes and agency showcases which will not in fact  improve my career. I know I look young and impressionable but I know better, so please try that on any one of those eager looking girls standing by the pool over yonder. They look DTF to me, so…
 *this person turned out not to be either of the aforementioned brands of douche, but 99 percent of the time,  your first response to lines like that should be to run away*
I anticipated spending  the rest of the night doing figure eights around the pool and the heat lamps pretending to “look for my friend” but I didn’t have to because I met fellow writer @wilsonsguide  and had a nice little “industry secret” sharing session (I have no industry secrets.) Lame pick up lines aside, the evening turned out to be rather successful, although my meter for success is based solely on whether or not I stand by myself for two hours. I think I need to raise my standards.
Venue: 5
Alcohol Situation: 3 (I seriously had a birthday while I was waiting.)
Actual Beneficial Networking Achieved:2
Personal Victory/Dignity Retained: 4
Atmosphere: 5

Thursday, January 5, 2012

Yay, It's 2012

Published 1/5/2012

So for those of you just tuning in to the rantings of my underpaid life, I’m one of thousands of foolhardy aspiring  writers/actresses trying to make a name for myself in Tinseltown. In 2011 I tried my darndest to do something worthy of TMZ but alas, a starving artist I remain. After attending  one film festival abroad, registering with a multitude of casting services, working two internships, landing one agency meeting,  earning a paltry sum of $204 doing background work, submitting a kajillion query letters and participating in various free acting classes which included The Emotional One, The Aussie One, The Angry One(absolutely nothing is worse than a bitter acting coach), The One Hidden in a Questionable Theatre off of Pico, The New Age-y One, and The Improv One,  it occurs to me that I may need to adopt a new strategy.
My plan to network my way to fame is failing miserably, which is bad news bears for me, particularly as a writer. My success as a female scribe in Hollywood depends largely on creating meaningful relationships with people who have a vested interest in my career my willingness to give oral  and my ability to write the most uninspired, low brow, star vehicles imaginable.  This is allegedly the era of the spec script comeback, but IMDBPro tells me that the future will continue to be filled with remakes, sequels, 3D re-releases and franchise reboots that will disappoint critics and audiences alike. Lucky for me, I have long given up on selling a screenplay with any freshness or artistic integrity and have come up with a list of stories that I am positive will land me an agent and spark bidding wars the second I type “Fade Out.”
The Bridge Over the River Kwai: I know what you’re thinking, period dramas don’t always do that well, especially if they’re not released around the holidays. I have a simple solution: The Americans would be vampires, the Japanese would be zombies and the River Kwai would be a time space continuum. I can already feel Daft Punk volunteering to do the score…
Say Anything: Because apparently it’s not too soon to start ruining introducing classics to a new generation films from the 80s. I can imagine the casting will be something like Zac Efron or Robert Pattinson and Kat Dennings in this epic tale of first love.
Sucker Punch 2:Bitch Slap : Because it’s almost witty, but really because studio execs cannot be bothered to think of a more creative title. It also lends itself to awesomely bad casting: In addition to Emily Browning this one could make use of Diana Argon, Alexis Bledel, Brittany Snow and Emma Roberts. I smell a Teen Choice Award!
Billy Elliot 2: Don’t you want to see a hot Scottish actor (or someone who can pull off a convincing accent) have some Black Swan-y psychological breakdown? I sure do.
Wildcard: A psychological thriller based on Uno. If there can be movies based on Battleship and Candyland, I don’t think this is too much of a stretch. Just imagine Clive Owen trying to save his estranged, drug addict  daughter Mila Kunis from a world where Draw-2 and Skip are dangerous words.
Gumby the Musical:  A Pixar revival of the claymation series . I’m definitely rooting for it to be voiced by Eddie Murphy, Neil Patrick Harris, Jason Segal, and heck, why not let Nikki Minaj take a shot at voice acting.
Good Night Moon, a Space Odyssey:  Nothing is sacred in Hollywood, as has been proven by the fates of  various Dr. Seuss classics and my personal favorite, Where The Wild Things Are. I’m thinking a live-action feature with animated shenanigans thrown in. Quick someone call Jim Carrey and Jack Black!
Laverne and Shirley: Baywatch and Saved by the Bell are headed to the silver screen, so why not revive this story of two broke girls from New York with loads of chutzpah? Except instead of trying to survive on low-wage jobs, one of them should turn into a werewolf or something, or more predictably have an annoying meet-cute with a handsome stranger on the subway. Complications ensue. Summer tentpole anyone?
I’m sorry if I painted too grim a picture of the near future of cinema, but facts are facts my friends. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go start writing my fairytale inspired, 3-D futuristic zombie teen comedy  based on characters from a failing comic book franchise set in a Gotham-like version of new York. Oh what’s that Zach Snyder, you’re itching to helm this….
*if you’re up for more industry lampooning, check out my parody Shit Hollywood Girls Say if you haven’t already*