Click the link above to check out the article I wrote for Commentarista about surviving Hollywood speak. Don't worry, there's no quiz.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Hollywood isn't like any other place. Where else would you find an entire city obsessed by the world of make believe? Of course, there's nothing truer than the old statement "it's not showFRIENDS, it's showBUSINESS. " This is, most definitely, a business. And, like any business, it comes with its own set of rules and regulations. Lesson One: Language. I majored in Spanish and speak it fluently, but nothing prepared me for this.
Monday, June 13, 2011
I really could sub-head this post: The Things I Do for Money.
It's no secret that times are tough, economically speaking. Most of us will do whatever we can for some additional money. In my case, that even included...audience work.
What's audience work, you ask? Well, let me explain. Do you ever watch television shows that are "filmed in front of a live studio audience"? These can include game shows, variety programs, talk shows, etc. It may surprise you to hear that a lot of times the audiences for those shows are paid. It's pretty good work, actually. Easy enough, really, and you can meet some interesting people.
The last show I worked stuck me in the front row. I get it. I was wearing a nice black dress. Totally camera appropriate. However, those shows usually want cheering and enthusiasm. That gets really taxing after about four takes for even the most cheerful and enthusiastic of people. And, honey, I am not the most cheerful and enthusiastic of people. We were there for about six hours with no bathroom break, no water and only a candy bar to keep our sugar up and energy high. Unfortunately, all that did was give me a massive headache. I apologise to the good people casting that particular show. You asked for this:
And this is me:
I should probably sit in the back next time.
Monday, June 6, 2011
It seems to be a source of great debate. Should a woman keep her last name after she gets married? In these days where the divorce rate is 50%, is changing your name more trouble than it's worth?
Frankly, I'm all for name changing, but I have a really rough last name (and, no, it's not Fitzgerald). Check out my newest article at The Zeros Before the One and let me know where you stand on the whole debate.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Lately, The Boyfriend has become addicted to Groupon, the site where you can find lots of cool deals on things in your area. Like me, he's not one to pass up a deal so we've found ourselves with a lot of interesting things (ie a dental cleaning at a local clinic -- only $25!). Last night he presented me with a Groupon for a Korean BBQ joint in our neighborhood. I'd never had Korean BBQ before, but what the heck? I'm cultured, right?
We walked in and were instantly greeted by men in white chef's aprons screaming at us. Straight up screaming. I jumped about ten feet and cowered near The Boyfriend. He smiled politely and gave them our name, quietly pointing out to me that they were just saying hello. Strike one for me.
The waiter lead us to a table in the back. It was a large table for two people, with a grill in the middle. That gave me immediate pause. What the heck was a grill doing there? Did I...did I have to cook the food myself? Wasn't the point of going to a restaurant to have someone else do the cooking for me?
The shouting continued as we attempted to order. It took several tries, but we finally got our point across to the lovely-yet-not-English-speaking gentleman waiting on us. The Boyfriend gazed at me tenderly and leaned over to whisper in my ear:
"Calm down. You look petrified."
Strike two for me.
The food began to arrive. There were a few vegetables I couldn't identify and a few meats that I could. As I feared, it was raw. The Boyfriend and I exchanged a glance. "It'll be fine," he said firmly. "It's an adventure. You love adventures." Well, yes, but not if they could possibly end in food poisoning.
After figuring out how to turn the table on, The Boyfriend began to throw things onto the grill. I watched cautiously, nibbling on some broccoli. "Here," he said, piling some cooked meat on to my plate. "You're supposed to wrap it in the lettuce. Go on."
I tentatively took a bite. It was good. 'Nother bite. REALLY good. Huh. Maybe there was something to this cook-your-own-BBQ after all.
The place was an all you can eat joint, and The Boyfriend takes FULL advantage of things like that. We didn't leave until nearly 10:30 at night. By that point, I had come around to the idea of Korean BBQ...although the three gin and tonics that I had consumed may have aided in my epiphany.
I cheerfully bounced out of the restaurant, smiling at the staff that I passed. Once again, they shouted at us.
"GOOD BYE! THANK YOU!" I shouted back. The Boyfriend shook his head.
Strike three for me.