In another world or time, I would be born a male, a shortish pug-ish man with a Frenchy sounding name. I would create an award winning cult comedy series set in an office and then go on to create and star in a series about being an extra. An extra that has a ridiculous agent.
Alas, I was born a female. A shortish pug-ish female. Who works in a office and has a secret life as a comedy performer/actor and a ridiculous agent. Pity Ricky is just that much more talented than me. And has a penis. I am sure thats the only difference.
The call went like this:
"OK, I have an audition for you. I am not sure what its for. I forgot to write down the name of the company. Anyway, its tomorrow. The role of a bridesmaid. Oh, you're still overweight aren't you? Because its for a fat bridesmaid."
My confidence is sky-high. Self esteem through the roof.
I go for the audition. I am in a room with four other females of various size, shapes and colours. Its clear they are going for the "real people" look.
They ask us to improvise a scene in a womens rest room where we are all gossiping about the wedding we are in attedance of. This should be a piece of cake. Except its an audition and the rules of performance have gone out the window. We have two minutes to try to stay afloat as a crazy woman steamrolls the scene with a tyrant about an illicit affair with the groom and how she is going to ruin the honeymoon. Its all I can do not to abandon the scene, but then I definitely will not be in the running for role of toilet extra.
All this to sell a phone.
"Yep, still a fatty".
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
With stories like these, I've decided not to trust people with too many vowels in their name... who wear pyjamas in the daytime... and wigs...
For what it's worth, we were just talking about Les Mis and I was (pardon the pun) singing praises of your jazzing-up of said musical numbers. Power on! :)
Post a Comment