What a fun time I had this past Friday working on Talk Show with Spike Ferensten. Those folks, from the people in the office to the rest of the crew, are like real tomato ketchup – nothin’ but the best. Based on the confidentiality agreement I signed, I’m not really at liberty to discuss a lot of the details regarding what I shot, or at least I think I’m not. To be honest, I just kinda glanced over those couple pieces of paper. “Sure, I’ll sign it” But just to be safe, suffice it to say that there were multiple wardrobe changes involving me and some sweet outfits, a wig, and breast enhancers. The kind that, with a little super sticky tape and some wardrobe stylist ingenuity, could be adhered to my hairy mams for quite a long while. My boobies were beaten up by day’s end, but that’s just show biz my friends. I hear all the great ones have similar tragic taping stories. Mel Gibson in “What Women Want”, Steve Carell in “The 40 Year-Old Virgin”, Dustin Diamond in “Saved by the Bell” Season 2, Episode 8: Miss Bayside.
This was where I was gonna post a couple visuals, but after looking at them myself and noting the fact that, if you’ve read previous entries you are well aware of my bologna sized areolas, for me to show you those again, in a bruised state – well, it would just be irresponsible on my part and in good conscience I just can’t do it.
The fact that I was being paid to show my boobs for once, wasn’t the only thing that made this an atypical LA day. Nope. It was the rain that cometh down for the majority of it that also deviated from the normal everyday experience. This little precipitation caused us to not be able to shoot some of the exterior shots, so fortunately for me and a couple other folks, we will likely be back next week for another day of shooting. This pleases both me and the guy from Time Warner who keeps calling about my past due internet bill. Hey buddy, when it works only half the time and when it does it’s a step up from dial-up, I’m gonna give you half the bill. Capeesh? Or maybe the fine folks at DirecTV will find a little something in their post Christmas satellite stocking? Who knows which bills will now read: PAID IN FULL.
I’ll tell ya more about when my little bit will air after I find out for certain, but I’m pretty sure it’s going to be on either this coming Saturday, January 31 or the following Saturday, February 7. The show airs on FOX at 11/10 C. So if late-night programs are not your bag, feel free to toss in a half inch tape in the ole Magnovox or set your DVR for a later viewing.
If my parents weren’t proud of me and my acting pursuits yet, how can they not be, now? Cut to my Dad at his monthly poker game. “So, Jim. Was that little John David I saw on that Spike Berenstain show on FOX dancing around, in a two-piece showing off his “muscular pecs”? My Dad’s response, “Hey, what’s wild? One-eyed Jacks and threes, or is it twos? Boy, these Sloppy Joes really are good tonight. I’m gonna grab another Rolling Rock, can I get ya anything?”
As I sat in my valet parking spot, wrapped for the day and wondering why I never spend the $1.98 to fill up my windshield washer fluid, I contemplated whether the incessant rain would cause the cancellation of the 6:30 PM boot camp. So I blew a call into Dustin to see if I should make my way up to Sherman Oaks or continue westerly toward my home. You know what he said? He came at me with the Postman’s Creed: Rain or Shine. Damn, even though it was 4:30 at this point, I wasn’t exactly giddy about the prospect of driving in the intermittent rain to then run on wet grass and sweat up my scuba suit. Oh, I forgot to mention. This was the first day we used the suit during class. I’d given her a couple trial runs at Bally’s and determined that the sweat that pours off me while wearing the suit will not only cause my shoes to feel as though I had just gone swimming in them, but it will also require me to pay very good attention to balance on the treadmill toward the end of the work out. It tends to get a little slippery when wet.
These are the sweat tracks that form when I wear the suit.
In the two weeks I’ve been campin’, I have had the misfortune of attending this class once before. It’s not that it’s harder or longer which bugs me, but for some reason each time this class either ends or begins with a conversation about diet and for some reason there’s been 2-3 girls who seem intent on championing the vegan cause. I’m not buying it, and I don’t feel Dustin is either, because he always just concludes with, “Hey, it doesn’t matter what your diet is if you don’t include exercise. If you eat too much of anything and don’t burn more calories than you ingest, you’re not only NOT going to lose weight but you’ll probably gain weight.” It’s not really calculus.
You know who else joined me and the other dedicated campers that night? Quicks. I know, can you believe it? She missed the 8:30 AM because, she too, was doing some acting in a commercial advertisement. Some kinda women’s health drink I believe. Well, I told her I was bummed I couldn’t attend the speed dating earlier in the week and she then proceeded to tell me how “disastrous” that night was. She said she ended up having 5 guys and 4 girls and the result was ZERO matches. In here 10 years of doing this, she said she’d never had nobody match up. I guess the recession hits speed dating just as hard as some of the other Main Street businesses. She said it looks good for me to get in on this coming week’s event in Santa Monica, so keep your fingers crossed.
I guess Dustin thinks of everything and that’s why we’re able to go “rain or shine”, cause we didn’t even enter the rain-soaked grass. Instead, we busted out an exercise called Parking Lot Pick-Up, which is basically the same as suicides that you might run in a gym on a basketball court. Except out here, you use the designated lines of each parking spot to run to and drop your little rubber band thingie and then sprint back to the starting point. Repeat that about 12 times or so up and down the parking lot. It sucked.
Then we used the curb to do some step-ups, scissor (butterfly) kicks, side kicks….Shit, we just basically kept jumping up and down, on and off the curb until my calves, thighs and hammies were burning.
Throw in some laps around the parking lot and some partner stretching and we called it a night. I got paired up with a chick who looked as though she could have worked background on TJ Hooker some twenty five years ago.. She was sportin’ a navy blue LAPD sweatsuit – the crew neck top and the baggy bottoms. I asked her if she was just a fan or if that’s who her employer indeed was. Bad idea. She blathered on for the next 5 minutes about how she’d been a dispatcher for two years and was hoping to move up and then she wasn’t sure if that’s what she wanted to do and then she thought well maybe she couldn’t do it because of the physicality involved…… FUCK! I was simply trying to make fun of her outfit and instead got a inside look at the operations of the LAPD. She wasn’t a very good stretcher either. I may be fat, but I’m a limber sunnuva bitch. You gotta use a little pressure. Just ask Steve Bickham the next time you see him. He’ll tell ya the stories from high school baseball off-season circuit training and my ability to touch my toes to the wall behind me while standing up. It’s true, I tell ya. Those previous 2-3 sentences may have sounded a bit gay, but in the correct context they were perfectly hetero statements.
Saturday started off with me attending a couple casting director workshops in Universal City. I got involved with this actor’s co-op group last October at the recommendation of my manager. There are some fees involved, but it gives me a chance to read for some influential casting directors in both TV and Film that I otherwise might not be able to get in front of unless they called me in for an audition. I’ve taken about 10 or so since joining and haven’t had anything come from it as of yet, but I’m hopeful that these will result in some auditions in the coming months. It’s because of this potential benefit that I keep coming back for more and allow myself to overlook the annoying folks that sometimes attend. It’s not that I dislike all actors, it’s just that I really don’t fancy listening to those who insist on spinning the tales of their great acting lore, all the while bad-mouthing other, steadily working actors who they deem as no good. Sure, who’s the guy taking the class right now? Right. I don’t think Vince Vaughn is gonna be coming to one of these anytime soon, but you keep referring to him as a hack and we’ll see how far that gets ya.
There’s this one girl, and I use that word very loosely because I look more feminine than she does with her Sarah Jessica Parkeresque nose and big hoodie sweatshirt with the hip-hugging jeans and stilletto heels. I caught a glimpse of the headshot she passing around. Can somebody say airbrushed? Well, anyhoo she’s been in attendance at a few of the classes I’ve taken and she asks the same question every time. I paraphrase, but it’s something like, “Does your office/show do a lot of stunt casting?” What she means by this, is for example, the show Eli Stone on ABC cast Katie Holmes in a few episodes this past year in an effort to attract more buzz/viewers. How I Met Your Mother did it with Britney Spears. The response doesn’t even matter because as one casting director told her, “How does the answer to that question help you as an actor Do you want to hear that ‘Yes, fewer roles are now going to be offered to you’?” Shows are going to continue to cast named actors all the time. So, until you become a named actor, you’re not gonna be considered for that role anyway. So who cares?
After the first class at 10:00 AM, I had a little break so I headed over to El Pollo Loco for what I anticipated would be my usual relaxing lunch consisting of a citrus-marinated, flame-grilled chicken breast, steamed broccoli/cauliflower/carrot medley and this stupid little side salad they have. This salad is nothing more than iceberg with some shredded cheese on it, but I swear when I add a plastic dish or two of their Pico De Gallo, it’s as if the Salad Gods themselves are smiling down upon me – each and every bite. It’s effen’ GOOD. Lemme back up a bit. I say this is my usual lunch because since November 12, 2008 I have been an active participant on the Lindora diet – I’ll let you google them for more specific info. But, it’s a moderate protein, minimal carbs type of thing and El Pollo Loco has some stuff that meets their approval. So, I’ve been hitting one near my apartment at least 2-3 times a week since learning that it was an option.
This family evidently enjoys their Crazy Chicken just as much as I do, but in a sloppier, more disgusting manner. The lady in the dark pink feigned embarrassment when I asked to take the photo, but I’m pretty confident the scene would be similar back at the duplex.
And I thought I needed some moist towelettes.
Unfortunately, my typically positive lunch experience was going to be thrown for a loop right from the start. “I’m sorry sir, we don’t have any breasts” I’m sorry, what? “We don’t have any breasts right now”. It took me hearing it again to sink in, but now I realized the girl behind the register was telling me there were no breasts to be had. Who’s manning the grill back there? Didn’t he or she just happen to glance over at some point and realize they were running low and should maybe take a little initiative and throw some more bird boobs on the grill? Seems to me like that’s the first thing you might learn when you’re training to work at a place that specializes in selling grilled chicken. Okay, so there are none available right now, but how long can it take to cook ’em right? “It’ll be 30 minutes before they’re ready” You gotta be shittin’ me. What the hell’s their heat source, 4 Mexicans, each armed with a Zippo lighter? Fuck, that’s not gonna work cause I gotsta be back in class by one. It’s a good thing I came prepared and was able to bust out a pouch of tuna from my stash in the Corolla. Nothing more appetizing than seeing some fat guy hunched over a bag of tuna, picking it out with a plastic fork like a cat or something, right?
I’m very happy that no other El Pollo Loco I have visited plays the shitty music that this one did. It’s as if I was at a Mexican circus and the guy behind the calliope new lots of songs, but they all sounded the same and so it played like one continuous song that lasted for the entire show.
If you happened to catch my Facebook status #134 a few weeks ago, then you’re aware of my continuing disappointment with Bally Total Fitness. Sure, I pay $11 a month so I guess I shouldn’t bitch too much. But, like I mentioned before we’ve got the old naked guy who uses the hand dryer to dry off his gonads, there’s the Belching Asian who seems to always find the treadmill right next to me, the Mantis Man who uses the equipment, but merely to balance upon while he stretches and lastly there’s the Bally TV programming, that up until today played primarily music videos from the 80s, with a tendency to play Phil Collins “Sussudio” a lot. Well, today they took a big step and jumped two decades when they added the Foo Fighter’s”Times Like These” to the play list.
After today though, I’m gonna take back all of the bad things I ever thought and/or uttered about Bally’s. Because had I not been a member in good standing I would not have been able to see and capture this wonderful photo of a guy just doing his thing – pedaling away on a recumbent bike.
You can't see it, but in small print at the bottom it reads, "Unless you can justify the taking of a picture for comedic purposes"
What in the world does this fat white guy want?
I told the guy next me to me on the treadmill, that if I didn't make it back alive, to tell my family I love them.
This was taken as I was seated nearby “stretching, watching TV and texting” and was some 20 minutes before I was able to muster the courage to ask him if I could take his picture.
I can’t help but wonder what this guy’s inner dialogue is when he’s getting ready to leave for the gym:
“Okay, I gots my towel. My water bottle. My headphones. What else? I feel like I’m missing somethin’…..Oh, right I’m doing cardio today so I gotta put on my ridiculously thick, amazingly gaudy, entirely useless, stainless steel rope necklace”
Here’s how I used to roll back in the late 80s. Gold herringbone all the way. Probably had to mow at least four of the neighbor’s lawns to save up enough money to purchase this fine piece of jewelry.
Just your typical night before the SATs high jinks.
I capped off this glorious Sunday with a quick jaunt over to my inconveniently located 2.3 miles away Chipotle restaurant. Depending on whether I was meeting Senner or flying solo, there were two within walking distance for me when I lived in Chicago. Ah, just another thing I miss about the greatest city in the world. I digress. Well, I’m a little low on dough right now so it only made sense to use the remaining $2.36 on the gift card I received in my Christmas stocking and buy myself a little chicken salad. I employed this savings tactic some 8-10 months ago when I cashed in my Carl’s Jr cheeseburger gift cards – all 40 of them that remained from my first place finish in the locally sponsored CBS/How I Met Your Mother karaoke contest. I don’t recommend eating Carl’s Jr. 3-4 times a week for a month. You’ll more than likely gain a few pounds. At least I think I did.
I’d forgotten how much better it is than El Pollo Loco. I’ll be taking some liberties with my increased carb consumption this next week and I think multiple trips to Chipotle will be involved. The only reason I really bring up this uneventful trip is because I just so happened to run into fellow camper and speed dating diva, Quicks. It appears she’s a fan of the Chipotle as well and chooses to conduct high-powered meetings in their courtyard seating. I’m more of a “let’s eat inside cause I don’t like bugs” kinda of a guy so I opted not to join her and her guests, but wished her well and said I’d see her in the AM.
Speaking of the AM, I should probably get moving toward sleepy time. My pajamas don’t put on themselves. Am I right. or am I right?