I went to a callback yesterday for a job that I’m definitely booking because if there’s one thing I know about this town, it’s that forcing your hair into beachy waves and whitening your teeth with a homemade peroxide solution equals a successful career!
I arrived at this callback in the same clothes I wore for the first audition, two days before. I felt like a homeless person who has a crumpled business suit tucked away for special occasions.
In the casting office lobby, I found a bunch of “Moms” like me but more symmetrical, child actors with their real Moms and nannies, and some nerdy looking “Dads”. All the kids were glued to iPhones and iPads. A slurry of psychotic sounding music was softly annoying everyone.
The casting director announced the next grouping of Dad, Mom and kid. “OK! Next up, is…. Tiffany, Mark, and Slayden-Jet-Applesauce.” The kids had the cool names. Continue reading
So…it’s been a while since I’ve gone on an audition. “OMG it’s pilot season! What’s wrong with her?!” My brain bitches to my heart. And my heart responds with a don’t-interrupt-me-while-I’m-eating-ice-cream-and-watching-Long-Island-Medium-and-feeling-sad-for-myself “– I don’t know.”
I did finally get an audition through my agent, for the first time in forever. For a crappy play. In a town a hundred miles away. That is the actual distance. I’m pretty sure she hates me.
At least she didn’t ask me what I would do with my kids, if I got hired to do a show. “Um, leave ‘em at home with some water and a really big bowl of cheese puffs, obviously. It’s just a couple months.”
I declined the theater audition, but I did go on a self-submitted audition for an allergy medicine. I was just getting over a cold. I. Was. Ready.
I walked in to a really backed-up cattle call type situation. And all the cows looked like me. “Moo. Did you sign in?” “Moo. No. The casting assistant is still at lunch, Moo.” “Ok. Moo.” I held my head shot like a top secret document. I hate for other actors to see my dorky picture. Or my resume, on the back. It’s tough because there’s not a benign third side.
All us actresses read the casting call, so we all looked like “Fresh! On the go! Not-Mom-ish!” Some gals did that in UGGS, some did it in flats. And one girl did it in animal print peep-toe platform heels. Continue reading
So… my friend Dan Magro and I put this fun little show together.
It’s called Sleepover with Dan & Lauren and it premieres TONITE. So. Cancel your normal Monday Funday plans (what? That is not a thing) and glue your smartphone to your eyeballs at 8pm Pennsylvania time and 5pm California time to watch us.
Without spoiling anything, and to enjoy this very first episode, you’ll need: A nice cocktail, your favorite PJ’s, a jar of Vaseline, some good rope, a tarp, like – a lot of Febreeze… wait. No. That’s for this other thing… Continue reading
Hey you’uns! (I dunno — trying a colloquial Pennsylvania-ism, not from my town…)
How are you guys? Knee deep in a juice cleanse? Day 8 of not smoking? Did anyone time travel when 2014 struck? The other day I was driving around LA and saw more than one vintage car and thought “Omg, what if I time traveled and didn’t know it!” The radio assured me that I was safe and sound in the 70s. It was on a classic rock station.
I gotta be honest. 2014 is off to a discombobulated start for me. But enough about you, let’s talk about what I did for Xmas! Continue reading
Most nights at my delivery job, I experience a series of “I wanna quit right now”, and “I hate this”, and “Secret Clinical Strength Stress Sweat deodorant really phoning it in” - type moments.
Recently, I had a conversation with a girl in her early twenties who looked like she just woke up at 8pm, the two of us standing in the doorway of her ginormous Hollywood Hills home — about how delivery driving “isn’t like, the worst job you could have”. I agreed, like a proper second class citizen. And neither of us could come up with any examples of heinous-er occupations. I said “Yeah. It’s… pretty… um. It can be fun…”
She closed the door of the home her billionaire father built for her. Well, first he bought the $8M lot, demolished the house on the property, and constructed her a nice new $12M one. Like ya do. It’s literally Monopoly come to life around there.
And I’m the iron, just trying to get a house on Mediterranean.
OK, so I’m not a babies person. I don’t coo over spit up and “oopsies!” about poopsies. I’m that girl testing different nail polishes at Target, hearing a kid throw down a tantrum, thinking “OH. See? It is so hard to raise kids. Now… should I do a hot pink for winter…” And if I catch a whiff of poopy diaper, I will gag. I literally have to breathe through my mouth and find the nearest exit. I’m almost gagging thinking about it.
But, I am deeply in love with my sister’s kids. And not just cuz they have my same coloring, and I hope they think I’m the “fun” Aunt someday.
No. It’s because my sister Les loves them so much. And I love her so much. And I can almost relive our own childhood through these new people. These very tiny people, named Hudson and (NKOTB) Hadley. I now have the complete set.