And Now For A Serious Message

Got crossed out: couldn't have been too important.

New Headshots!

For those of you with "real" jobs, imagine if your entire day-to-day career came down to a 1" x 1" square photo of you on a computer screen. Hence, the need for new shots as soon as the old ones stop getting you in the door. I'm ready for my yogurt commercial, Mr. DeMille.

Just When I Once Again Want to Break Up With Hollywood, It Brings Me Roses

The words you try not to hold your breath for, after a casting professional watches you perform:

You're in the right line of work.

I think I made that giant gaudy porcelain player's mask on the wall proud.

Once Upon a Laundromat

Gents, if you fear being untoward with compliments about our most obvious lady attributes, take a piece of advice from a spunky septuagenarian I chatted with at the laundromat today. A dashing television host once picked her out of a lineup of pinups to have on his show. "Did you find her in a crackerjack box?" a terribly rude caller asked. "No!" he said, "I'll tell you why I picked her, other than that she smells awfully nice...I'm just queer for ankles! And she's got the best pair I've ever seen!"

Cosigns

On my way to a meeting with a photographer this afternoon, everywhere I drove there was one film or television production or another buzzing along. Aside from the obvious Honeywagons, craft services trucks, and massive lighting equipment, these events are signified by square yellow signs with large block lettering on them. Shorthand for arriving crew, they instruct you where to park by their presence. As I headed into Hollywood I kept track of the messages coming to me from the cosmos:

AUDREY-->

RUSH

HE

PORKCHOP

Am I to stop a man from eating meat? Or is the man in question about as full of life as a porkchop? Perhaps it's a message from Penny: Come back! Forget flying; I'm for pigs writing. And if there's really going to be a movie called "Audrey," me in it...except for the fact that it was filming on the block where I used to live, to which I never want to return. Hollywood Mad Libs, sign by sign.

Medium Pig

Today on the set of "Medium" I got to hang out with a pig (and I don't mean yet another soulless illiterate Hollywood type). Penny, being a versatile actor, was open to starring as male Barney. She looked ever so fetching in her white rope and black eye makeup. Pig! PIG ON SET! Rendering a previously mentally addled moi totally and completely smitten.

I have got to start hanging out in mud puddles more often.

One Bunny Two Bunny

Easter: that time of year when friends get together for brunch and consider buying the overpriced bundles of shiny jelly beans at the cafe counter. How I miss those days in which the holiday meant skipping through the melting snow to see a matinee of "Twilight of the Cockroaches." Thank you, mother and Japanese cinema!

Jobs-in-the-Night

Sleepless me, dear Reader, could use an excuse for all this tossing and turning. I have to be up this early! I'm trading stock on New York time! Or: Yes, I really am going to that 5 AM Bikram class. Or: I am a superhuman who thrives on three hours of Zzzzs; off to write a bestseller!

It's not that I'm knee-deep in the actor's dilemma. No no. I'm just up stitching waistcoats for a trio of amphibians for a 1920s-themed act involving tiny vintage scooters. Sewing takes time. Frogs are slippery.

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?

The Success of Almost

On one hand, the dress that almost looks okay is going to Goodwill this afternoon. On the other hand, almost getting fantastic parts is reason to celebrate. In this banner month, among other auditions and wins, I went to producers for two television roles to shoot this last week: I was in the final few up for the job. If there's a puffy balloon with such congratulations printed upon its silvery stomach, I'm sending it to myself.

Once I drop off that dress. Time for what will be even better.

Oh, and the Hail

Today in Studio City it HAILED. Was it terribly cold or blustery in Los Angeles? No. Sure, it was drizzling a bit when I entered the workshop...in just a t-shirt and jacket. But just as my scene partner and I finished our first read, chunks of ice were slamming into the pavement outside. For our second round, we had to compete with that effect on a tin roof. Making one's acting more interesting than hail in southern California: there's a goal.

Life Choices!: Escalade vs. Washing Machine

How ludicrous to own a pair of pricey jeans that have to be washed at a sticky laundromat, I thought, loading the machine. My personal meditation on incongruous price points, however, was cut short by a woman pulling up to do laundry at the same place...in an Escalade. The vehicle was so large I wondered why she hadn't used space in the back to install her own washer and dryer, let alone purchased laundry machines and then used the rest of the money to buy a human-sized car. Would I rather be pay for a giant gas-guzzler, or would I rather hang and fold in the comfort of my own home? Fear that I was mowing over small children as I drove, or not have to lug dirty clothes around town? Look like a tool, or have clean loot? The MSRP on a brand-new Cadillac Escalade is $62,495 to $84,125. Washer/dryer combos run about $550-$1600. And in case you were wondering, no, the woman did not have an entourage following her out of the mothership. Just a sleepy husband and one tiny kid to announce her life choices.

This and That

Perusing the virtual designer aisles of my favorite internet store, I found this covet-worthy piece. Yes! Oodles of buckles! Why is it that I seek freedom in life, but bondage in skirts?

Why is it we want at once this, and its opposite that?

Today at Cowboys & Turbans, a Mexican-Indian lunch spot in Silverlake, I ate a burrito filled with tofu and spinach tikka masala and pondered this question.

Child of Pudding

Did you know Hermes makes an adhesive-note case? Yes, it's $240. We children of pudding need animal skin around our Post-its.

Our faces have similar requirements. There's colostrum from cows in moisturizer; not just any breast milk but the first breast milk, for newborns. Then there's Evolence, containing collagen from pigs' tendons, for plumper lips.

For those animal rights activists out there, forget the cases, the creams, the porcine injections, but do not forget the need to look like your pucker is mutating in its own separate human. There's collagen out there to support your ethical needs, made from human foreskin tissue. It's lab-grown, but with your priorities in life, you both are and look like a dick.

Money on Rollerskates

Oft has this blog been found through searching, strangely enough, for "ponysex." Talking Pony, not, You-Know Pony! Here are some of the more obscure ways readership for this mothership (of thoughts from me to you) has been obtained (English teacher says: Stop using the passive voice!):

+ "Vegetable eat palace"

+ "Turning into bushy squirrel"

+ "Audrey pony man"

+ "Free call: talking without pony"

+ "Where are the trannies on Sunday?"

+ "Tranny talking about how it is"

And

+ "Sexy Armenian mister"

Animals, man-erals, transsexuals: and here I thought I was just doodling my comedic sensibility. That, and receiving money on rollerskates.

AudreyDundeeHannah.com Update

My main website now features a new version of my bio in which I make clear my key selling points (no, it's not about the born-on date), celebrate my recent joining of AFTRA (The American Federation of Television and Radio Artists), and includes a clip of my work on "Ted Sampon: Househusband" for FOX in my reel. If the photos look different to you, that's because you are squinting and imagining me wearing a pirate outfit. Yes, I know, I should be in a pirate movie where girls and parrots sail the seven seas pillaging for gold. Obvs.

No Talking in the Library

Ooh, the Los Angeles public library is so secretive! I sent them an email about a faulty charge for an overdue book already returned, and got this response:

Dear Audrey,

Since we cannot verify the identity of email users, and for security reasons, we cannot discuss library account information or access a patron's library account in response to email inquiries.

Thank you for contacting the Los Angeles Public Library.

Librarian E.

"Librarian E": that's got to be the code name given when she was inducted into the Secret Order of the Loanable Book. Unfortunately, I cannot verify her identity, or if she is actually a robot sent to steal away tomes given back on time. It wouldn't be safe for me to live in this world if I knew.

Inspirational Corner

A Chinese proverb states, "When the wrong person uses the right means, the right means then have the wrong effect." Basically, the phony, regardless of tricks, twists, and turns is never going to unseat the true hero. Only our champion can pull the sword out of the stone, or tame the lion, or win the girl. This is great news: it means when we are right for the part, we're already right before we've even stepped up to bat. We must bat; we must become good at batting; but we will triumph. Thank you, resurrection flag on Archangel Gabriel's trumpet.

She Doesn't Know How To Sew, Just Wants Bees on Mesh

Out of dignity and respect, I dare not say the name of the hilarious television star that I had the privilege of improvising with at today's producer's session. I will, however, mention that across town at lunch a little while later Bruce Vilanch was sitting at the table next to mine and nicknamed me "Miuccia" after I told a bunch of Prada jokes. Funny celebrities everywhere, do not think I won't try to charm you with fashion insight; or in the case of the audition, charm. At least I hope they took my work and are wearing it like a bracelet that goes with all their outfits.

Big Dreams Come True, Like Noodles

As I stroll righteously through my big famousness, brushing my hair with ruby dust and plucking strands of emeralds from my teeth after a good salad, I wish to advise my constituents of not only the virtues of various hot sauces , but also the way of the noodle. After all, this week I did in fact receive my first unsolicited fan letter and autograph request. (Those I solicited turned me down, but mostly because my friends already have notes I've given them, and that.) Big dreams may begin with hot sauce, but they continue on with pasta:

#1 Mung bean threads. Also known as glass noodles, they are see-through and chewy as the dickens. Charles in particular made for an excellent granola bar.
#2 Rice sticks. The wider the better. Ideally, a house-sized surfboard of rice stick with gentleman callers in the form of bok choy atop.
#3 Brown rice spaghetti. It's like brown rice, but in a different shape and without all the self-satisfaction. Doesn't it look menacing, as if it were made of processed white flour, all cuddled up under that blanket of marinara?

Thus concludes my latest grocery suggestion, from my famous mouth to yours, but not in an intimate way; at least not while you're still chewing that gum.

Advice for Valentine's Day: Toys

Wondering what the face of a stuffed animal bought for a girl on Valentine's Day should look like? Look no further than the photograph above. See the childlike neediness, the addled eyes? It's like you're saying with this gift, I love you, and I know you probably want a baby, so here's one I don't have to take care of and you can put on a shelf somewhere next to your copies of Simone de Beauvoir from college.

Write the Feem Toon, Sing the Feem Toon

As I prepare for a big audition today, I think of what and what not to do. Particularly I think of "Little Britain" character Dennis Waterman, an out-of-work actor who turns down gigs unless all of his demands are met: "So they want me to star in it, write the feem toon, sing the feem toon..." Imagining myself at Sony pulling a Dennis relaxes me. After all, of course they want me to write the feem toon for this pilot.

Whole Fools Market

Let's suppose I had a terrible nut allergy, in which case I'd obviously choose to stroll alongside the bins with nuts in them, close enough to read any fine or bold print. Then I'd come upon a case of pistachios, with a sign affixed to it reading "Warning: this product may contain nuts or is processed in a facility that uses nuts." Well, what are they using the nuts for? Is it for putting the nuts in nut bins? In case you were or weren't hoping to purchase nuts? I don't like the look of that peanut drawing, either. Far too vague.

A Casting Professional Understands

He barely let me get in a handful of the script's words before saying, "You're wrong for Perky, read for Whiney." Another victory for casting professionals, who always seem to know I shine as the put-out bitch. I read for Whiney. Waving goodbye he said, "See you at callbacks!"

A brief memo on the day's festivities: No, I am not watching the Superbowl. I went to an audition for a campy play about nuns and now I am happily roasting potatoes. The end.

May We Make A Movie Suggestion

After carefully listing off all the qualities I enjoy in a good DVD rental, Netflix scratches its head and comes to this conclusion:
Netflix: trying to play it safe with me after that Third Reich suggestion.

The Rain in Los Angeles Falls Mainly On No One

Oh my gosh! The sky is crying. That's weird; this is the desert. Is there a propmaster and the special effects department standing by to create the effect? No. Strange!

We have a saying in Hollywood: If it's raining, go to your audition. Meaning: You will get the job, because no one else will be there. That is, if you don't get maimed by crazy drivers navigating the wet streets on your way to read for the part.

Beauty School Dropout

Dear Career Gods,

Please let my talented comedy writer friend create a short about a pubic hairstylist and cast me in the lead role. Let there be a series of flashback scenes in which my character drops out of beauty school while wearing a miniskirt covered in sunglasses. May I be chased by several other actors, including an older one crossing herself while she rushes me with a broom. And may a poster of my face (including wig) that reads "DO NOT HIRE THIS WOMAN" be left on a street where we were shooting in a suburb of Los Angeles.

Many thanks,
Audrey

The Cafeteria Made Me Do It

Wait, what am I doing in this room at mid-day? Why is there a brown sack in my hand? From whence does this craving for fruit rollups come? Be a good girl and do what the nice building says.

Imbolc, or Greetings From the Celtic Reconstructionists!

Huzzah, it's Badger Day! In which virginal girls carry dolls that look like hedgehogs and call them Brigid! And inside those dolls is an egg which can only balance perfectly when the sun is at 15 degrees of Aquarius! Which is also the nadir of its orbit, so that sun is feeling cocky! That sun is so high above you that it gets to pick whether winter ends in six weeks or spring begins in six weeks! What I'm saying is that sun has an attitude and might skip school today but there's nothing you can do about it! Don't forget the ewe's milk, and meet me somewhere we can smother some fire!