Bake It Frost It Picture Take It

"Say cupcakes!" my lovely and talented photographer Erin Gibson urged, as we worked the big cartoon eyes and wavy (read: comedy) hair. Sitting in a West Hollywood garage in a tank top, you think to yourself, This is February, and maybe these photographs will launch my career, but right now—"CUPCAKES!"

Sleepless in Silverlake

It's been a good long while since I went nearly sleepless, but last night there was no rest for the wounded. In dreams we get some murky license for whimsy and experimentation, but in waking life it's all reality, reality, reality. Without the respite of my Zzzzs, I had to rely entirely on what was visible to my eyes but nonetheless seemed like apparitions:

*My cell phone displaying a photograph from the first of the year. In it, I simultaneously look deeply unglamorous and incredibly happy, proving there is an inverse relationship between makeup and joy.

*An episode of "Weeds" playing on my laptop, in which I ride a bicycle and the pink blotch of t-shirt with me in it keeps wending its way through various scenes. No one would know it's me; I am secretly haunting another narrative world.

*Vegan mochi ball ice cream. All those years of wishing they would make a non-dairy alternative produced the desired outcome, there in my hand. Don't pinch or dream me, I'm awake.

Infant Formula

What better vending machine to have in the lobby of a casting center that includes a modeling agency than one with a baby wearing lipstick and drinking its body weight in Coke?

An Illicit Word from Noodles

In my spam folder: an email from Official Pasta Boat, regarding TV Pasta Boat. I'm unfamiliar with TV Pasta Boat; is it related to Major Theatrical Release Pasta Boat? What about Unofficial Pasta Boat: when I get mail from that guy, can I take him seriously? "Make dinner fast, quick, and easy"...Pasta Boat, do you have somewhere else to go? I thought we'd spend some quality time together. After all, I'm guessing you are an entire boat full of pasta, and are here because I am hungry. Wait, spam folder...it's time to come clean about what's in your sauce.

Agency My Agency

Here in Hollywood, when we say "signed across the board," we're not referring to an autograph on a Monopoly set, but rather an agency representing an actor both theatrically (film and television) and commercially. I scribbled on one such plank, so to speak, today.

I'm thrilled to be working with RPM Talent Agency, which has recently merged with The Agency, which has recently merged with my resume, which has recently passed "Go" and collected $200*, 10% of which will go to what I can only hope will be called Agency The Agency, so that the next phase of my career is lead by a glorious typo wrapped in an enigma and coated with a delicious chocolately network contract.

We're on the move...

*Monopoly joke, for those foreign children who were busy in the outside-world, rather than chewing on the machinations of tiny plastic dogs and hats.

Socks At Last

Quiet love stories have clout, too. As I moved my delicates into my new chest of drawers, not one but two pairs of socks were reunited with their mates. Really, these socks were left for dead. "The laundromat clearly ate them," the legend went. But they held out, and timing took the reigns. Cozied up together again, dreaming of hikes and jogs, they're right where they're meant to be.