Silent Parrot

Three days before my birthday, an anonymous package at my doorstep holds imported brown sugar cubes. In fact, the exact brown sugar cubes I love. From who, and with what meaning? I need a trick to get Polly to talk, or at least find the pirate she comes from. For now: sweet coffee.

Snoopyclaus

And the award for the only commercial aspect of Christmas I can tolerate goes to...Snoopyclaus.

Mah na ma na.

Even this bus stop bench can't fight the feeling! Would it be so wrong if I went to see "The Muppets" for the third time? (Am I a muppet or a (wo)man?)

More Hollywood Math

Actress A hired to double for the legs of actress B hired to enact the real-life story of actress C. Three women: and the fake doctor's office and gynecology stirrups that unite them all. Stranger than fiction, say the legs.

Talking Pony Does Not Talk on Pony

Facial Hair for Literacy

Behold, as the Silverlake branch of the Los Angeles library resorts to mustaches in order to increase engagement with reading material!

Slightly Imperfect

As of 9 AM on Monday, I wrapped on a short film called "Slightly Imperfect," in which I played a character described as a cross between a Riot Grrrl and Carl Sagan (by way of Pauley Perrette). The concept of "dream girl" does not usually conjure up a record store employee with astrophysicist-level smarts and dark fuschia streaks in her hair...but why not? Souvenirs from set: Halloween cat underpants, a set of spidery eyelashes, the knowledge that slightly imperfect scheduling--a nonstop night shoot--cannot take me down.

Wedge Bucket

A place for everything and everything in its place. Hence, on a Warner Brothers sound stage, this bucket for wooden wedges. The Burbank beaver community couldn't be happier; Los Angeles river be dammed! (Wocka, wocka.)

Adage of Cabbage

Looking like some Teenwolf heirloom variety, these brussel sprouts from Whole Foods begged to be taken home. Expressive, wild, surely with a kick to the palate: they lured me in with what appeared to be the Brassica family equivalent of my true desires. Enough with being put in a box, bound down in leafy regularity: attempts to fit in be damned! I yam what I yam, says Popeye, or in this case, Come sprout, come sprout, whatever you are!

Hollywood Parking Math

1 Master acting class + 1 plate of breakfast potatoes = 1 Hollywood tow experience = 1 taxi ride + 1 really good friend giving a lift + towing fee + parking ticket = $592.90. I hope that comes with a studio apartment.

The Meaning of 11/1/11

Ooh, it's so mysterious! Perhaps it means there are five fingers on the piano keys of time. Hopefully accompanied by a singer with perfect pitch.

My Seven Little Words

Dancing, rabbits, sailors, skies, fanciness? Wordsmithery aside, I call espionage on the company that made this game I downloaded. Or, at the end of the day, I point the finger both ways, sigh, and call one night at the Echoplex away from total hipsterdom. (And, thanks to the mention of goblets, the slightest hint of Renaissance Fair.)

Nut Milk Band

Amazon keeps plying me with this sunny image I keep confusing for a new band's album cover. Nut Milk Band! Give us a listen! Meanwhile, the nutmilk bag I purchased ages ago is still doing the work it was made to do. There's something to be said for golden oldies.

You Are Already Naked. There is No Reason Not To Follow Your Heart.

Finally, some street cred for calligraphy! Bless you, Steve Jobs.

Clown Ballet

Today, this funny lady took one of LA's newly forged ballet-meets-Pilates-yoga-and-weights classes. What's the difference between me and the disturbing clown sculpture protruding from that CVS pharmacy in Santa Monica? At least I was done working out at the end of an hour...and then got to take my white gloves and top hat off.

Books and Cookies

This Santa Monica storefront's name is quite a promise. In short, everything you could possibly want under one roof. Plus a plush speaking version of that pigeon you're not supposed to let drive the bus (I prefer to imagine his voice in my head).

A Lot of Lions

Actual Advertisement Used to Entice Theatergoers

All the world's a stage...or at least it is on this poster.

Love's Gas

Love's gas: not to be confused with hate's electricity, or indifference's two sticks rubbed together to make a fire when camping in the woods.

Waste Please

The garbage receptacles on the Disney lot impel passersby to use them for their trash, but the statement also could be read as a command to create more trash. As in, "Please, in our 1930s font, make haste to make waste!" Maybe to keep Mickey Mouse, in his guise as the sorcerer's apprentice, occupied. Cue broom.

Ocular Recognition vs. Linguistic Cue

Do I really have to count? Ugghh, math. One, two, ohhh...FIVE pens. Well, that saved me a load of trouble.

Still Life with Old Lady Items

Because that's how I roll.

Happy September 19th

With much love and joy: past, present, and future.

(Also, ideally a living room with a 1950s-style mural like this one. There's a Monday wish for you: "I want a lake!")

I Wish My Ferrets Were That Nice To Me

Yet another opportunity to enjoy mockumentary "April," this time through online film festival OneCloudFest.

Pleasant Relief

A recent excavation trip in a friend's family garage uncovered this vintage bottle of "Pleasant Relief," a medicine designed to casually lighten the internal mood with its fictional pinkhood and gracious font. Here's to the manufacturer composing a version for the twenty-first century, in which the malaise brought on by the altered tempo of lifestyle is easily washed away with one spoonful, or perhaps two. I call it "Lovely Reintegration," or "Enough with the Facebook."

Paid Kiss

Earlier this week I worked on location in a Hollywood hot spot. I spent the morning hanging around Eva Longoria's Beso, soaked with beer and liquor from every night it'd seen before, and full of flashy but mop-able surfaces. How else can you explain dark red snakeprint couch cushions, seemingly leather from far away but as safe from stains as a kindergartner's plastic seat? In the light of day the clear vat of vodka and pineapple, the splashes of light fixtures, the dark floors all seemed like a cheap setup for getting laid; more viable as a television set than a real-life activity: and there I was in the middle of it. Proving my point that in order to get me to go to a nightclub, you have to pay me.

Mermaid vs. Dog Voice

Tomorrow I will be in a production office performing all of the female dog voices in "Beverly Hills Chihuahua 3" instead of auditioning to be a mermaid in an advertisement to sell pirate alcohol, because they need a stand-in for the dog voices and I am not a "professional mermaid" (actual quote from casting). Am I am a professional female dog? No, I am not a bitch, but I will stand in for several small furry ones tomorrow. That's just the life of an unprofessional mermaid.

Dirt Girls in a Grout...in Italian

The stateside wait for my Swiffer ad continues, but a friend unearthed this version currently playing in Italy. As my agent pointed out, one commenter wondered "Qual è il senso intrinseco di questo spot??" which translates roughly to wondering what the deeper meaning of it all is. I'm just guessing here, but: how awesome dirt-covered high heels are? How funny it is to personify dirt as a pack of girls-on-the-town? That you should clean stuff with a great product such as this one?

God In Our Own Image

They say man is made in God's image, but the modeling works both ways. Donut shop? Donut God.

Take My Hand, I'm A Stranger in Parad-Ice

Western set, circa the early 1800s, filmed on a ranch in 99 degree weather: I'm garbed in layers of skirts and blouses, saddled with boots, basket, and hat. To my rescue: the set medic. His equipment: a latex glove filled with ice. Take my hand...

For the Foreground

Just think how lovely it will be when I spend more time working as a principal actor than my side hustle in the background. As in this episode of "Friends With Benefits," rather than being an ogling bystander ("Stop laughing at me," Ryan Hansen pleaded with me), I too could be a naked man hailing a taxi.

Happy Anniversary, Los Angeles!

Today marks four years since I moved to Los Angeles. Here's to hoping this year, as my Hollywood life heads towards kindergarten, that I land a glorious alphabet of great roles. (And that nap time ends soon, so I can go run around the yard and play.)

Wheat Do You Want From Me?

Through all portals of the internet, I am being stalked by a Spanish-speaking piece of frosted wheat. He enjoys doing a balancing act with a pencil and furrowing his brows for emphasis. Not merely a static picture, he moves through his frame, enticing me with his breakfast concept...himself. I close the browser and sneak off to have a banana, which has neither face nor foreign tongue, proposition, or circus act.

Fuzzy Face

In case you ever get tired of growing your own, the machine at my laundromat will provide. Note: extreme chin cleft may or may not be included. Fuzzy eyebrows sold separately. Machine wash warm, dry flat.

Found My Wolf

Thanks to this graffiti in Echo Park, I now know where wolves hide. It turns out: under mattresses. Princess and a little more than just a pea.

Chipmunk Watching

Faith in gods or angels leaves us wondering how we can be sure they're watching over us. As for faith in science, where's the face that watches? Faith in the chipmunk lurking in a casting studio window? I trust he will keep an eye on that parking meter for me.

Things I Wear to an Audition Where I Am Supposed To Look Like I’m Lounging At Home That I Would Never Wear Lounging At Home

A push-up bra
Mascara
Hairspray
Sunscreen
Shoes
Clothes

Too Many Marshmallows

My besty recently received the equivalent of an F+ (failed, but with a gold star?) in her graduate art course. The instructor cited that a primary reason was her excessive use of marshmallows in her work. My guess is that he's like a witch that would melt when wet, but only with hot chocolate.

Casting by Keratin

Sometimes it seems so important to have just the right hair for auditions that perhaps one's hair should have its own headshot. Check out the growth from these fine dermal follicles! Peep my keratin bundles! The natural tendency when parsing a photograph, however, is to find a visual entry point: in essence, to find eyes to look into. That is why a gluestick and googlies are a helpful add-on to such an 8x10. Way to stand out in a pack.

Nerd Prank

Boy, I sure showed my coworker when I got out the label maker and attached alternate endings to the word "trans" emblazoned on her backpack! How transgressive of me. Snigger, snigger!

Koan for Businessmen

Don't get so distracted by noticing a gorilla playing basketball that you do not see a gorilla ambling across a canvas-covered chair. Who moved your cheese? How do you artfully go to war? How did that gorilla turn green? Meditate, then consult NASDAQ.

Wooly Pockets

Everywhere I went in San Francisco this weekend, there were plants growing out of wooly pockets. Plants hanging in stores, plants on walls, plants hung in the air. Encased in fall clothes on the summer day, I pondered whether I too was staying sufficiently hydrated, and whether any uprooting to go back to Los Angeles would merely be a matter of undoing a simple grommet from a nail.

No Pink Berry Parking

This parking lot sign, halfway between Trader Joe's and Pinkberry, has a bit of a speech impediment. No Pink. Berry Parking. The color pink not welcome, only berries allowed to park. The color pink cannot park here. If you are the musical artist named Pink, you must go to a different grocery store. If you are a solo berry, you may pull your car into this space. Note that this sign is only over one spot, so all fuschias and large fruit may abandon their vehicles all around. But like a tooth with a smile full of teeth, what could a cherry possibly purchase in a produce section?

Deschanel Doppelganger Moment

Look, it's me and the rest of the cast of my new sitcom on FOX!

Just kidding. I passed on that dress at Anthropologie in favor of something at Kate Spade. But can you really be sure those aren't my jazz hands?

Callback of Snowflakes

When we think of competition, usually it's 94% vs. 95%, close vs. closer, strong vs. stronger. Often we judge by putting two or more highly similar possibilities side by side, to see which choice has the edge. At today's callback, each of the men and each of the women were so distinct that we could have been going in for entirely different parts. Rather than select on a "better than" basis, the director and clients are now able to choose boldly; one pick not superior to another on any superficial standard, but rather on the basis of something more subjective, soulful. The kind of casting from the heart, the kind that counts.

Important Notes For Sunday's Hollywood Networking Event

Congratulations! This card printed on a printer that came free with our office computer was made just for you! We want to maximize use of our color ink cartridge so whenever possible, we used a rainbow color scheme! See this 3/4 inch by 1 inch photo? It was taken at an event we held three years ago and from the backs of people and the slightest indication they are standing near a pool, you can tell it was a success!

We need to know right away if you want to be a star, as demonstrated by your presence at our Hollywood networking event. Important people have already sent in their RSVPs, which is to say that if you do not come you will probably miss the chance of a lifetime to stand with them near a pool and try to become famous. Plus there will be soft drinks!

The dress code is conservative Polynesian attire. No exceptions. It is very important that you mingle luau-style, and climb the ladder/break the glass ceiling/get your big break while looking like you could hula-hoop or play the ukulele. There is no charge to attend, but you are expected to give us all your extra money.

You are cordially invited. To attend! This! Special! Event! Designed exclusively for you. Because we are under the impression that "exclusive" can include everyone on our mailing list, and that you will drop everything to wear an oversized shirt with palm trees on it in order to meet your destiny of getting hit on by an out-of-work producer.

Yes

What if everything you most want is on offer to you...right now?

What if you're the one delaying your own good, by refusing to take the risk to claim what's yours?

What if the fear you feel is only a mirage, and under its ghostly form is the ability to experience total and complete happiness?

(Including some really good juice.)

Venice, Vidi, Vici

In lieu of an Italian vacation, I spent yesterday in Venice. Substitute a forty-five minute drive for an eleven hour flight. Substitute grains of sand on the beach for legions of pigeons. Substitute a parade of teen skateboarders for slick commuters on Vespas. Substitute eating salad with yuzu-carrot-ginger dressing and iced green tea next to a surf shop for pasta marinara and wine at a trattoria in a piazza. Substitute a fantastic friend walking about with me for my true love beside me. Substitute all this with all intention for that, too.

Reasons You Cannot Wear That to Work, As Explained by an Logician

You now have before you the new dress code policy for your workplace. Perhaps management did not fully go over the reasons behind these choices for the staff. I, a highly skilled analyst, will now explain to you why.

* Attire that reveals a midriff. This is clearly because women's belly buttons are where the man sticks his, you know. (Have I ever...? I have spent the last seventeen years at MIT. What do you think?) Not to mention the belly button is where the baby used to be attached to the mother, so it's like being reminded of your pretty coworker hanging out with another woman, when she was young and naked all the time.

* Skirts that are shorter than three inches above the knee when in a standing position. Measurements are taken this way to respect the disabilities of our staff that cannot sit or lie down. Why the knee? It's where the leg stops being the calf, and becomes sexy. Three inches above the knee puts us at approximately seventeen inches away from the belly button.

* Attire that is designated as sleepwear, underwear, or swimwear. This is so that clients and coworkers alike will not get confused, thinking you are about to take a nap, get undressed, or do the breaststroke. In fact, although their perceptual apparatuses may provide them with data points suggesting you are not participating in these activities, you may in fact already be doing these things. Management does not have time to tell you to wake up or stay out of the deep end.

* Attire that has offensive and/or derogatory terminology or graphics. With the use of and/or, you can no longer get away with something offensive but not derogatory, or derogatory but not offensive. For instance, whereas you once could wear a t-shirt worshipping Satan (offensive, but not derogatory, since Satan seems to have an open-door policy), or a t-shirt proclaiming your hatred of marshmallows (derogatory, but not particularly offensive since marshmallows are not actually that delicious), you cannot don slurs to any gender, national, or ethnic group. Note that non-offensive and non-derogatory graphics and terminology are not mentioned, ergo you are free to wear a dress printed with cheerful dancing unicorns playing in vats of butter.

* Heels should be no higher than three and a half inches. This is because anyone who wears four inch heels will be able to reach stuff on the top shelves better. What did we buy a ladder for, then? We spent our hard-earned money on that ladder. Wear flats.

* Any attire that is provocative, inappropriately revealing, or see-through. Look: if you're going to choose an outfit with mysteriously good French seams that allows us to witness your clavicle through a peep-hole in the garment, just go work somewhere else. It is not worth the damage that will be done by our staff falling over in shock at the sight of you, disturbed that underneath those clothes you are naked and over that nakedness are those...those clothes.

Mature Alternatives to Wearing a Self-Esteem T-Shirt

In the spirit of the Roaring 20s, step out in a hat worn at a rakish angle, paired with spats and a shiny cane.

Dress up as God’s creation, which you so ever much are, as demonstrated by wearing lilies of the valley pinned to every surface of your white pantsuit.

Have self-esteem.