Sad Candy Machines

Gentlemen and women of the candy, please refill your machines. They look so sad empty, and we're not giving you a quarter for those last three M&Ms.

The German Diplomat Proust Voiceover

My friend Tim Youker baked me President's Day cookies and mailed them in a box with shreds from his PhD dissertation, so naturally I couldn't resist reading some of them. Then I came across some snippets of words in my own files; temporary "poetry" tattoos from when I was a teenager. I present to you the mash-up I made of the body art and the academic musings.

Handsome Justin

There comes a time in every young woman's life when she needs a cup of black coffee and a friend to listen. Thank you, Handsome Coffee Roasters, for providing such a beaver. Justin was both kind and supportive as I wiled away the afternoon, face deep in my notebook. While I support him if he chooses to return to finish his PhD in American History, he sure does his job here well (and what orange teeth, what shiny fur). He has to pick up the slack: after all, one of the baristas has a broken arm, for the love of espresso. I bet Justin secretly works for WoodSmithe and chewed down the exposed beams in the shop himself. So silent and still...yet so capable of multitasking.

Scottish Tagger, Yo

There it is spraypainted on a downtown Los Angeles wall: my middle name, which was my great aunt's first name, from the city in Scotland with which our family has history. Sweet: a Scottish tagger on the loose in the arts district. Represent!

With Character/Personality (Not Her Face)

Every now and then casting notices suspiciously reference oneself. The screenshot above is only a mild example of this phenomenon. For instance, there might be a breakdown which calls for an actress who has been practicing yoga her whole life, whose favorite hobbies are vegan cooking, sewing, and reading about neurobiology and socioeconomic trends, and whose measurements are X-Y-Z. In other words, so very me. The beauty of such a listing is that I will submit myself for the casting director to call in and will not get called in to essentially play the role of myself. "You're everything we're looking for," they might say, "So we went with someone else."

An Actor Prepares

The closest thing I come to Method is using my brunch partner's bacon to make a face. Trust me, the work is better this way. And...scene.

Look Back in Wonderment

Here's a portrait of the actress at four or five. What blows my mind is that I'm the same person: haircut, taste in outfits, stance, and all. In fact, this is probably exactly how I look acting in my master class with Dan Ireland, except a little taller (5'9"). This is the essence of performance to me: looking out in the world in wonder, taking it in, reflecting it back. There I am in my dad's studio in SoHo, one of his paintings in the background, the perfect set. Check out the stool: maybe I'm about to climb on it and do a Beckett monologue. Even if it takes me a decade or two.

Double Day Job

Since most actors aren't fortunate enough to have work every day, we rely on the occasional job to fill in the gaps. This year, I've done a whole lot of body doubling. I've been the head, shoulders, butt, and legs of other actresses and models, shot from behind or from far away. Often I'll be on set with the person I'm playing a copy of, and like a loyal bodyguard, I think, I've got your back.

Advice From a Disgruntled Unicorn

Bathe.

Polish your horn once in awhile.

You're not special just because you know what a picaresque novel is.

I am not a photo opportunity. I don't even like taking pictures with my family. My head always comes out too big.

New Headshots by David Muller

Fresh for 2012, here are two of the faces I now use to greet the world, thanks to the talented photographer David Muller.

Here Sign Up Inside

It's 2012!

There are great things I'm looking forward to this year, including a record-breaking pilot season ahead with over 200 already purchased to be made (I shudder to think of a recent year where there were only about 22 in which one could be cast), the results of the new headshots I had taken at the end of last month, and of course, whatever new seaweed-based snack Trader Joe's manages to invent.

My attitude for this year is indeed about putting your name on the dotted line within. In other words, enough with the second-guessing and the trying to be what you think they'll want, in all categories. Tune in to what you know as your truth. Out with old and in with the bold. Here, sign up inside!

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