Spam Talks Back

No I won't, Spam. I know you filmed me when I was sleeping...but I thought you were, too, Computer. Screensaver: go to your room.

Owlways Moore

When I was very young, my parents and I lived with our good friends the Moores in Philadelphia. My father wrote me recently:

HootHoot was a stump, a tree section that was standing in the Moores' yard, that looked like an owl. We named it HootHoot and would look out the window at it. I remember especially how it looked in the snow, with its "ears" sticking up like an owl's.

The ability to turn inanimate objects into friends, appreciation of woodland creatures, love of Moore...thank you, formative years.

We Both Like Products in Boxes!

Ever since those Progressive ads with the lovely and charming Stephanie Courtney began playing, I've had a bee in my bonnet about being in them. I may be a perfectly able commercial actor, but how often do you get to see someone that doesn't look like a straight-up Midwestern catalog cut-out or a polished alpha-dork (male) take to the 15-second screen? Flo is both great and ground-breaking. This month there were open tryouts to win a role in a commercial helping her sell more insurance, so of course I strapped on my red lipstick, Flo-hair and pumped up my girl-nerdiness and headed to the audition. Instead of just the usual suspects, random tourists wandered through like lost cattle, stopping to creepily tell the cameras of their Flobsessions. Hey, it's harder than you'd think to improvise 30 seconds of pitch to an imaginary character while on a glossy white stage facing both casting directors and a throng of foreigners straight off the star-watching bus! As geeky as I was in the swimming pool lighting, I hope those CDs keep in mind the standup bits that preceeded taping...and that I came with enough enthusiasm to drown a gaggle of kindergartners. Cross your fingers that I make it to the next round! You can watch me attempt to help Flo here.

Fake Jon Hamm Sighting

The irresistible Jon Hamm lives in my neighborhood. Naturally, I see him all the time. It's just that it's never actually him. Here comes a car with a swarthy gentleman at the wheel...as it approaches, I see it's fake Jon Hamm. Or a man standing at the edge of a driveway in a dapper jacket: fake Jon Hamm. Mustachioed Jon Hamm, short Jon Hamm, old man Jon Hamm. Asian Jon Hamm, lady Jon Hamm, even dog Jon Hamm. To each I want to tell how much I love their show and dream of being on it, as I give a friendly pat to fake Jon Hamm's walker or a scratch behind his fluffy ears.

My Kingdom for a Kingdom

Between the studio apartment hemmed in by neighbor's Guitar Hero and untoward nighttime calls, and a so-called friend recently thieving some of my intellectual property, I cry out for a kingdom of my own. Then comes Census 2010, in which all Americans are (supposedly) accounted for. The poll makes it clear you may not have a permanent location; still, you need to be counted in. From whence do I come and whither shall I go? This is the stuff of midday naps, as one gathers strength to find out how to come home.

STARmeter Up 1,116%!

"STARmeter rankings provide a snapshot of who's popular based on the searches of millions of IMDb users. Updated weekly, these rankings also graph the popularity of people over time and determine which events affect public awareness," says IMDb. The Internet Movie Database tracks it all, and provides weekly analysis of whose star is rising or falling. Having your rating swoop up means that in the last week you were searched for significantly more than in the week prior. Does it mean much, unless you're in the top ten or hundred? Maybe not. Nonetheless, I've got a smile on my face. Thanks, fans! (All three of you.) Keep clicking!

The Marriage Ref

Larry David, Madonna, Ricky Gervais: the last people I'd take relationship advice from. Then again, I don't have a costume-wearing lizard that trumps my husband or my dead lover's fake leg in a closet. I never thought I'd say this about a reality show, but I love "The Marriage Ref."

New Rules for Models

After experiencing today's print model audition for Disney, I have come up with some rules that ought to be enforced here-on-out. Models may not have their own union to corral and protect them, but here's the short list of my personal instructions:

1. Do not end any sentence with a preposition. Please employ standard English. I am not going to dignify your question by telling you 'where the audition's at.'

2. Do not operate under the assumption that you are funny and can execute impressions. Do not attempt an impersonation without changing your tone, vocal patterning, facial muscles, or general demeanor. Do not look around the room proudly after you have done so, assuming you are a comedic genius, merely waiting to be discovered while being photographed in jeans.

3. Do not mock the rest of the world by eating ice cream as you wait to have your fatless body fetishized by casting directors. Seriously. Especially not mint chip.

I Am An Expert Email

How do so many recent "experts" have my email address? These people, who I have never met, claim to know all there is to know about nutrition, yoga, meditation, enlightenment, and the entertainment industry. Part of what's comical is how each one writes as if they alone hold the key to my happiness, followed by a fee for a seminar/book/MP3/consultation. If you responded to each email with exuberance--the answer to my problems has come!--you'd do nothing but hand over credit card numbers to an endless parade of the recently anointed. Colon hydrotherapist who will help you find God! Yoga teacher who trains you to see through your elbows! Creator of subliminal tapes who will take you back out of menopause! Guy who bussed here yesterday will get top agents to sign you!

I should write them back. Thanks for your contact information, I'd say. Just send me your bank routing number. You'll appreciate the great offer I have to give, to teach you everything you've yet to learn. Such a deal, you say? I may be the ruler of the free world, but I am still benevolent.

Just Look At Yourself

"You're not pregnant," said the woman working at the pet store. "So why are you wearing a maternity dress?"

How did she know?

Look, it was $4 on sale at Target, and I bought an extra-small. So I'm the size of an extra-small pregnant woman; so what? Yeah, it's like wearing a sack, but it's not like there's a baby-shaped pouch where a baby would go. I'm a recessionista: cheap dress, no baby inside.

Meanwhile back at the acting studio, they've started offering a new feature where they tape all our workshops and give us access to the tape. Reviewing your work from the night before has many benefits; you consider the difference between what you thought you did and what you actually did. The lighting and production values distort you some, but nonetheless, your performance stands. The only question left is the eternal one: Do you see what I see?

Dustbuster!

All supposed huge causes of happiness, show some respect for the little things that make us (dare say I?) just about as thrilled in the moment. The ability to bust dust in handheld form is now mine: and it's red as a lobster! I will be using my new baby to eradicate dirt, doubt, and nagging suspicions. Those fears are never right anyway; like a hairball, they sit on the carpet trying to attach to the heels of shoes. Calling on the visions of the surrealists, I may employ a little Dali to redo such mental food chains.

Shoutouts

Hey, Apple: when you launch iScroll, I hope it comes with a trumpeting medieval page.

Hey, SoBe Life Water: actually, water is "life water."

Hey, Hands: you book that national commercial tomorrow. For once, Face is off the hook.

You Know You're Jewish When

...It's Friday around 3:45 PM and you start craving challah. I may be a bad Jew but I'm still tuned in. Genetic and cultural imprint, you make me hungry.

I'd better buy some potatoes for when my Irish roots come a-knocking on the 17th.

Also some hot sauce. Because I ran out of it.

Happiness Farm

My best friend Krista came from Amsterdam to visit and brought me a happiness farm. For happiness, clearly one must have a cow, horse, tractor, and tree. If you think you can't put a price on happiness, well, that may be true; but the farm that makes it is 1 Euro 49.

Somewhere There's An Island With Our Name on It

And now for a shout-out to the concept of vacation, and ideally, being taken on one. Open air! Taupe sands! Azure seas! I know I live in Los Angeles with its southern California weather, but I dream of respite off the hamster wheel just like everybody else.

Behold, As a Young Woman Strains To Stay Awake Past Eleven

Someday, perhaps my friends will have their shows around the same time as the early bird special. My iron-clad bedtime and I would like that. Zzzzz...what!? Yes, I'm getting dressed to head out to Upright Citizen's Brigade Theater...

Oscars 2010

Here are the votes I'd most like to make this year:

BEST PICTURE: "District 9." Avatar, schmavatar. Besides, we all know how I feel about claw hand.

ACTOR IN A LEADING ROLE: Sharlto Copley for "District 9."

ACTRESS IN A LEADING ROLE: Meryl Streep for "Julie & Julia." Who knew there was that much comedic genius in the gold standard of acting...and yet, who's surprised?

ACTRESS IN A SUPPORTING ROLE: Mo'Nique for "Precious." Also, Mo'Nique for "Phat Girlz," Mo'Nique for standup, and Mo'Nique for coolness.

ANIMATED FEATURE FILM: "Fantastic Mr. Fox." A most adorable and satisfying film from Wes Anderson.

DIRECTOR: Pedro Almodovar. I know, I know; he wasn't nominated. So what?

FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM: "Broken Embraces."

Everyone Deserves Love, Even If They Don't Have a Pulse

Today I filmed my scenes in "April," in which I play a government-appointed social worker on the case of an adopted misfit high school student, who happens to be a zombie. Shot in mockumentary style, I was interviewed about the case; fantastic director Mike Piccirillo had me doing both straight takes and off-the-cuff improvs. Comedy and the undead: this is what it takes to turn me into an eager beaver, driving down the freeway at 4:45 AM.

The Answer to A Lot of Things

When I have kids, they may be cute, but right now this baby rabbit found on the interwebs takes the prize. Think about it: What's the cutest tiny animal you've seen of late? Baby bunny! Should I diversify my stock portfolio? Baby bunny! From whence do I come, and whither do I go? Baby bunny!

I Have the Following

Actor's Access...pushing me to define what is negotiable from what isn't. Scenes with clowns? Dances with scarves? Eating a chicken wing?

Hair Face

Here are the options on Actor's Access I can check off about my facial hair, and all I have to say is:
...Curtain?