As I put all of these things in order, it becomes increasingly clear that I only audition for things that sound like porn. This was my first theater audition, and it was at a theater which is part of a three-stage consortium called “Papoosian Stages,” because they are owned by a guy named Jon Papoose.*
*I change the names of the people in this blog because I don't want to be a jerk.
The three stages are actually three small theaters in the top of a strip mall on La Brea Avenue, next to an insurance agent and across the street from a Burger King. The audition description for “Girlesque” describes an all-female musical revue in which girls take off enough clothes to make the audience happy and leave enough on to keep their parents happy. My boyfriend was especially opposed to my auditioning for “Girlesque,” because, in his words, “What are people going to think when that’s the only credit on your resume?” I thought that he was probably right. I was, after all, embarrassed to tell people that I even had this audition. I just lied and told them that I was doing something else. But, again, saying yes to the universe sometimes means saying yes to “Girlesque,” so on a cloudy Sunday afternoon, I walked up the steps to the second level of the “what’s it called?” shopping center, and found an auditorium full of eager women sitting in pew-style seats, looking at a pear-shaped man with shoulder length, heavily blown-dry hair, and a khaki vest with many pockets that closed by Velcro. This was Jon Papoose.
He opened this meeting of the minds with a hearty welcome:
“Welcome to Papoosian Stages. My name is Jon Papoose. And I bet your asking yourselves, ‘How much is this going to cost?” And I’m here to tell you that being in a show at Papoosian Stages is 100%, with no exceptions, Free. I know…you’re all like, “What? It’s free to perform here?” And I’m here to say, “Yeah. It’s about talent here. Not paying to play.”
Jon Papoose’s assumed inner monologue somehow did not match my actual thoughts, which were closer to, “Why would you have to pay to be in a play? That’s retarded.”
I looked up and these women were entranced. They laughed, they nodded vigorously, they looked at each other knowingly. Jon Papoose was in rapture.
“So….the show here is called Girlesque. And no, it’s not a strip show. Will you have to strip in this show? Yes. Will you have to dance? Yes. But have parents come see this show? Yes. Even boyfriends have come see this show. Friends, everyone can come see this show. And also…I’m in a committed relationship. So…” He then relayed a funny story about a woman played the nurse in a previous production of the play. The costume that she'd bought for the play malfunctioned, exposing her nipples to the whole crowd. What fun.
My thoughts wandered to the fact that parents will see anything. My grandparents saw me in an all-female play about the men of the French Revolution. I kissed a girl, caressed another one, spoke at length about the world being a “festering wound, with creation as its rot,” and was guillotined with a symbolic chopping block and a bucket of red paint. And they’re not even my parents. They’re once removed.
Jon Papoose goes on. “So the show isn’t about stripping. It’s about the various female fantasy characters…you know…the nurse, the French maid, the housewife, the stripper…all coming together to tell their stories. So, it puts a face with the fantasy really. They’re all united by this central character, Madame X. She’s also a stripper. I know these things because I wrote the play.”
Jon Papoose seems to write an awful lot of his own material. For example, I was also invited to Dark Side of the Moon, an interpretive, wordless theater piece set to the music of Pink Floyd’s Album of the same name. John Papoose wrote that too.
Now, we begin— a very softspoken redhead, dubbed by John Papoose as the assistant director comes onstage to teach us the dances that we will be doing for our auditions. The audition only consists of dancing. I am sensing a theme.
30 women crowd onstage to learn this dance, and I try to commit, but my mind is bouncing between various distracting thoughts:
“Where did all of these capable-looking, attractive women find this audition posting?”
“That girl can really do a high-kick. She’s, like, a real dancer!”
“I really don’t know how to dance. This is going to be awfully embarrassing.”
The red-headed dance instructor teaches us a routine that strings together a variety of high-kicks, 360-degree hip gyrations, and the coup de grace, a move in which one juts one’s chest out while simultaneously raising one’s arms perfectly vertically. She says, “If any of you have ever stripped before, you’ll recognize this one.”
Throughout all of this, John Papoose sits in the back of the room, at his computer. He retreated with the reassuring words, “Don’t worry. I won’t watch you.”
After about 30 minutes of learning this routine, we are put into groups of 4 to perform this dance. I perform twice. I again, am reminded that I am NOT a triple threat. I leave. I am still amazed at how many women, how many talented, beautiful, women will fight for roles in Girlesque.
This brings on my first pang of panic…I really am in a big city, filled with a huge number of people who want to do exactly what I want to do, and who are all following the same plan that I’ve made. I knew that before, but I hadn't necessarily experienced it yet. Not tangibly. In my mind, this was all meant to go very differently. I was supposed to audition for something very low-profile, get cast, and then do it, standing out as the clearly brilliant rookie, the one whom everybody talks about, saying, “Wow…she’s really talented…have we seen her on television?”
Instead, I’m auditioning for something not only low-profile but demeaning, and half of the city has turned out. I feel like the blind wandering along with the blind, and most of these blind people have more stage-presence and movement ability than I do.
This experience left me feeling...creepy. I thought I could walk into this place, feeling snarky and superior, get some writing material out of it and move on to something more my speed. Now, I feel like I’m at the dark and confusing bottom of a totem pole that diverts in such a way that I don’t even know how to get to the top.
I had to stop wallowing quickly, because I had to go to an audition for a play called “The Knight Who Was Afraid of the Dark.” This one required no dancing, but singing. And after that, I was off to audition for a UNICEF Public Service announcement, and a silent student film in which I had to move my lips to look like I was speaking French, and an independent feature about a guy who accidentally takes a Viagra and has to go through a zany day with a constant erection.
Still at the bottom, but looking up. (?)
Until next time,
The Girl who was Afraid of Girlesque
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Panic at the Shower
After my schoolgirl’s try at auditioning for a music video, the other audition requests kept rolling in. It was like some things in the universe aligned in such a way that resulted in many auditions over the course of two weeks. Before giving you the snapshots of these auditions, I must refresh you on my policy: Say Yes. To everything. (within wide limits).
The point? To tell the universe: I am here, and I am ready for anything! Translation: Beggars can’t be choosers.
So….after I danced for Vetiver, I went to a smattering of other auditions, the following posts should act as a verbal photo album of the weeks of February 7th-14th.
Snapshot #1: Panic Shower
Despite the name, this was not a production company making snuff films. It’s actually a pretty interesting company doing web shorts that I thought were really cool—you should check out their website, which is www.panicshower.com. This audition was for a web series entitled “The Windsor Park Series,” in which people sit on a park bench in Glendale and have conversations while a security camera is on them. I read for the part of “Miranda, cute, quirky, and in love with her new boyfriend.” My lines were things like, “Fine…I’m gonna put mayonnaise all over your pillow,” and other flirty things that would make any onlooker (or security guard ordered to review these security tapes) feel rather nauseous. It was a good script. I prepared diligently, memorizing the lines rehearsing my movements, just as Michael Caine told me to do in his book on acting for the camera. I prepared as he prepared for the movie Zulu or any other movie he did. You know…Batman. Other British Films. Michael Caine is very big on preparation, just FYI. The auditions took place in a law office in Pasadena, I, along with many other actors, sat in the waiting room for around 40 minutes. A possibly mistake of Pad Thai for lunch made the proximity of a nicely furnished restroom a nice amenity. I went in, did my thing, got some good feedback, and read another scene for good measure.
Later that evening, I was called on my phone by one of the nice guys running the audition saying, “We think you’re great, and we’d like you to come back for a callback.” I was happy, but not thrilled. I had not yet discovered the rarity of the words, “We think you’re great.” But I’ll tell you now….I haven’t heard them since that night.
Until next time,
Leaving you with a cliffhanger...
The point? To tell the universe: I am here, and I am ready for anything! Translation: Beggars can’t be choosers.
So….after I danced for Vetiver, I went to a smattering of other auditions, the following posts should act as a verbal photo album of the weeks of February 7th-14th.
Snapshot #1: Panic Shower
Despite the name, this was not a production company making snuff films. It’s actually a pretty interesting company doing web shorts that I thought were really cool—you should check out their website, which is www.panicshower.com. This audition was for a web series entitled “The Windsor Park Series,” in which people sit on a park bench in Glendale and have conversations while a security camera is on them. I read for the part of “Miranda, cute, quirky, and in love with her new boyfriend.” My lines were things like, “Fine…I’m gonna put mayonnaise all over your pillow,” and other flirty things that would make any onlooker (or security guard ordered to review these security tapes) feel rather nauseous. It was a good script. I prepared diligently, memorizing the lines rehearsing my movements, just as Michael Caine told me to do in his book on acting for the camera. I prepared as he prepared for the movie Zulu or any other movie he did. You know…Batman. Other British Films. Michael Caine is very big on preparation, just FYI. The auditions took place in a law office in Pasadena, I, along with many other actors, sat in the waiting room for around 40 minutes. A possibly mistake of Pad Thai for lunch made the proximity of a nicely furnished restroom a nice amenity. I went in, did my thing, got some good feedback, and read another scene for good measure.
Later that evening, I was called on my phone by one of the nice guys running the audition saying, “We think you’re great, and we’d like you to come back for a callback.” I was happy, but not thrilled. I had not yet discovered the rarity of the words, “We think you’re great.” But I’ll tell you now….I haven’t heard them since that night.
Until next time,
Leaving you with a cliffhanger...
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
I Go To My First Audition
I submitted on LA Casting for about a week. Possibly five days, and I didn’t hear anything from anyone. Possibly because of patience and possibly because I reduced all of my physical measurements by a few more pounds/inches, I began to get audition notices. They came slowly at first, and one of them was not an audition but a very strange letter asking me my views on whether human beings have souls and where these souls go when we die.
The first actual audition I got came on February 4th, 2009. It was for a music video for a band called Vetiver, an indy, folksy, country-infused band with an audible aura that seemed to tell me, “Take a rest. You deserve it. I know how hard you’ve been working.” The lead singer looked a bit like he’d steal your parents’ liquor.
Take a look, they’re actually quite good:
www.vetiverse.com
I know what the band sounds like, what the lead singer looks like, and an embarrassing amount of additional information because I, with the zeal of a first-time, eager to please, somewhat clueless auditionee, did as much background research as possible on said band. Did you know that Vetiver is actually a type of grass that originates in India? Or that musicians such as Joanna Newsome (a favorite of mine), and the Fleet Foxes were featured on Vetiver’s first album? Or that the casting director auditioning me took improv class at Upright Citizen’s Brigade with a friend of mine and has done video work on the “Tim and Eric Awesome Show Good Job!” I found all of this information on the internet. I was taught that one must do research on a role. The type of research that I did is perhaps indicative of my lack of experience.
However, armed with much personal information about many people peripherally involved in this music video project, I drove to Hollywood on a rare rainy day for my big audition. 3:30 PM. I arrived at 3:00 PM, at the latest. I parked and then walked down the street to a Mobile gas station to use the restroom. In the process, my shoes, canvas flats resembling ace bandages in their color and resilience, became soaked to the point of no return. I too became soaked, because it never rains in California. So, somehow, I’ve entirely forgotten how to prepare myself for the rain. I was wearing a very short (sleeved and otherwise) dress, which was also soaked by the end of things.
However, I arrived with enthusiasm, finding my way into an empty office at around 3:20. Nobody was there. I waited on the landing, pretending to arrive a couple more times, until I heard voices upstairs and finally, two young men emerged, wearing jeans and plaid button downs, hair unkempt, ironic scowls on their faces.
“You’re early,” the chubby one said.
“I know! I’m soaked. I was like, waiting outside, and I was totally unprepared for the rain, and it’s like, my feet are so wet. Yikes! I was waiting downstairs, but it’s like…I’m here. Right? Hahaha…” I thought that acting like the adorably flustered-yet-suprisingly-talented young female archetype would steal their hearts and win me the role in this music video.
“Oh. Sorry to hear that,” the one with the thin face said.
“I can wait downstairs. I’ll just go back downstairs.” I started walking down the stairs.
“Don’t worry about it.” They began looking at me as though I might be entirely out of my mind.
“Can I help?” I watched as the thin-faced and chubby hip guys began to move tables and chairs around in the office, putting two tables on top of each other.
“First you wanted to leave, and now you want to help? Make up your mind.”
“Hahaha…okay.” I stand and watch.
They finish moving furniture and lead me into a smaller off-shoot office where there is a camera on a tripod.
“How long have you been here?” Thin, hip, up-and-coming music videographer asks me. Code: Have you ever interacted with another human being before?
I tell him. Five months. He nods. He now begins to instruct me for the audition. I am to look longingly, as though I’m waiting for a long lost love to come to me, but he never shows up.
20 seconds passes. I try to long for someone.
“Ok. Great.”
Now, I am to dance.
This is the problem. It’s not so much that I don’t dance, it’s that I can’t. I have rhythm, but it’s the kind of rhythm that enables me to tap my toes in time with a song or clap on cue. Once, in my representation of Judah in “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat,” I was nominated for an award for my standout performance in “movement and song.” It took me months to learn the jazz squares required of me, and I use that chapter in my life to claim that I have “dance/movement experience” when asked.
Music is put on, I am asked to dance, as though said-lost-lover has returned. I smile, I raise my hands in the air in my traditional “I’m confident enough to dance,” gesture reserved for select parties, and I…dance.
After giving them a final requested demonstration of a “bad girl,” I leave. I give them my “theatrical” headshot, and someone says that I look like I’ve seen a ghost. In the headshot. Then, I leave, feeling pretty good about the whole thing, for some reason.
I do not get a call. But still, I feel triumphant. I am an actress in Los Angeles, because I have done what actresses do in Los Angeles: they audition! Who cares if I got cast? Plenty of actors, the best actors audition a TON and don’t get cast! I am living the dream.
Until next time,
Everything’s Coming Up Roses
The first actual audition I got came on February 4th, 2009. It was for a music video for a band called Vetiver, an indy, folksy, country-infused band with an audible aura that seemed to tell me, “Take a rest. You deserve it. I know how hard you’ve been working.” The lead singer looked a bit like he’d steal your parents’ liquor.
Take a look, they’re actually quite good:
www.vetiverse.com
I know what the band sounds like, what the lead singer looks like, and an embarrassing amount of additional information because I, with the zeal of a first-time, eager to please, somewhat clueless auditionee, did as much background research as possible on said band. Did you know that Vetiver is actually a type of grass that originates in India? Or that musicians such as Joanna Newsome (a favorite of mine), and the Fleet Foxes were featured on Vetiver’s first album? Or that the casting director auditioning me took improv class at Upright Citizen’s Brigade with a friend of mine and has done video work on the “Tim and Eric Awesome Show Good Job!” I found all of this information on the internet. I was taught that one must do research on a role. The type of research that I did is perhaps indicative of my lack of experience.
However, armed with much personal information about many people peripherally involved in this music video project, I drove to Hollywood on a rare rainy day for my big audition. 3:30 PM. I arrived at 3:00 PM, at the latest. I parked and then walked down the street to a Mobile gas station to use the restroom. In the process, my shoes, canvas flats resembling ace bandages in their color and resilience, became soaked to the point of no return. I too became soaked, because it never rains in California. So, somehow, I’ve entirely forgotten how to prepare myself for the rain. I was wearing a very short (sleeved and otherwise) dress, which was also soaked by the end of things.
However, I arrived with enthusiasm, finding my way into an empty office at around 3:20. Nobody was there. I waited on the landing, pretending to arrive a couple more times, until I heard voices upstairs and finally, two young men emerged, wearing jeans and plaid button downs, hair unkempt, ironic scowls on their faces.
“You’re early,” the chubby one said.
“I know! I’m soaked. I was like, waiting outside, and I was totally unprepared for the rain, and it’s like, my feet are so wet. Yikes! I was waiting downstairs, but it’s like…I’m here. Right? Hahaha…” I thought that acting like the adorably flustered-yet-suprisingly-talented young female archetype would steal their hearts and win me the role in this music video.
“Oh. Sorry to hear that,” the one with the thin face said.
“I can wait downstairs. I’ll just go back downstairs.” I started walking down the stairs.
“Don’t worry about it.” They began looking at me as though I might be entirely out of my mind.
“Can I help?” I watched as the thin-faced and chubby hip guys began to move tables and chairs around in the office, putting two tables on top of each other.
“First you wanted to leave, and now you want to help? Make up your mind.”
“Hahaha…okay.” I stand and watch.
They finish moving furniture and lead me into a smaller off-shoot office where there is a camera on a tripod.
“How long have you been here?” Thin, hip, up-and-coming music videographer asks me. Code: Have you ever interacted with another human being before?
I tell him. Five months. He nods. He now begins to instruct me for the audition. I am to look longingly, as though I’m waiting for a long lost love to come to me, but he never shows up.
20 seconds passes. I try to long for someone.
“Ok. Great.”
Now, I am to dance.
This is the problem. It’s not so much that I don’t dance, it’s that I can’t. I have rhythm, but it’s the kind of rhythm that enables me to tap my toes in time with a song or clap on cue. Once, in my representation of Judah in “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat,” I was nominated for an award for my standout performance in “movement and song.” It took me months to learn the jazz squares required of me, and I use that chapter in my life to claim that I have “dance/movement experience” when asked.
Music is put on, I am asked to dance, as though said-lost-lover has returned. I smile, I raise my hands in the air in my traditional “I’m confident enough to dance,” gesture reserved for select parties, and I…dance.
After giving them a final requested demonstration of a “bad girl,” I leave. I give them my “theatrical” headshot, and someone says that I look like I’ve seen a ghost. In the headshot. Then, I leave, feeling pretty good about the whole thing, for some reason.
I do not get a call. But still, I feel triumphant. I am an actress in Los Angeles, because I have done what actresses do in Los Angeles: they audition! Who cares if I got cast? Plenty of actors, the best actors audition a TON and don’t get cast! I am living the dream.
Until next time,
Everything’s Coming Up Roses
I Join LA Casting
On February 4th, 2009, I went to my first audition in Los Angeles. Yes. That is correct. The first audition, other than my audition for my Groundlings Improv Class, which I eventually failed. Perhaps due to karma’s response to my decidedly bad attitude during the audition process. Perhaps because when I started an improvised scene, my teacher’s most frequent note for me was, “Don’t look like a deer in headlights.” Here’s another apt characterization: Toward the end of my six-week class, we did a somewhat catty exercise in which we did imitations of everyone else in the class. My impressionists stood very rigidly in front of the class and began to scream. Not everyone in the world of Groundlings Improv passes each level. So, for the fist time in my life, I was ordered to repeat a grade.
That is neither here nor there. I am, after all, planning to talk about my first real audition. Here’s how it happened. I came back to LA on January 4th, after a refreshing Christmas/New Year’s time in New Jersey, committed to fulfilling my New Year’s resolution, which was/is “Act.” In as many ways as possible. So, the way that one gets auditions in LA when one has no agent, no union membership, and relatively no resume is through a lovely little site called “LA Casting.”
For only $9.99 a month, $25 for my first uploaded headshot, and $10 for each additional headshot when added at the same time as original headshot, I am now the proud owner of an LA Casting profile. This consists of a heavily-retouched headshot of myself smiling, a less-retouched photo of myself asking the camera “what the fuck are you looking at?”, and a resume that tries its best to pump my community theatre experiences into robust credits. For example, if you are a friend of mine who happened to work with me on, say, an informal musical performance at the Wesley Foundation Student Methodist Chapel, congratulations! You are now a credited director of “Behold The Lamb of God, a Christmas Cantata.”
You can also find out my height (I added an inch), weight (I subtracted six pounds), and my bra, waist, and hip size (I tried to measure these using a tape measure, and then I made them up). I’m fairly certain that most people do this, because I often stumble upon profiles and headshots in which people (women) state that they are 5’10’’ and 102 pounds. That’s pretty much physiologically impossible, and in their photos, these women rarely look like they have terminal illnesses. If you’re going to lie about how tall and thin you are, you have to be smart enough to know how thin is too thin. Like literally, too thin to make any sense.
Anyway, if you’re curious, you can see my LA Casting Profile at
www.lacasting.com/madelinewalter .
All I ask is that you refrain from ridiculing me too much…because the thing about LA casting is that this profile is what gets me in the door to an audition. Any audition. Every day, I get about 30 emails notifying me of auditions that fit my demographic, which is “Caucasian Female, 18-30.”
Some of these roles are somewhat appropriate for me:
Louisa in “Sex, Relationships,and Sometimes...Love”- Lead - Female / 25 to 50 / All Ethnicities - This part is a jewish Lesbian who has breast cancer, she is from Brooklyn and through it all has an enormous sense of Humor.
Some of them are stretches:
Booty Girl in “Hip Hop Video”- Featured Female / 18 to 24 / All Ethnicities - Prominently featured. Must be a strong/confident hip-hop dancer. Sexy. Willing to wear GoGo style outfit.
Many of them are mildly degrading toward women:
The Slut in “Phone Sex Grandma”- Supporting - Female / 25 to 40 / All Ethnicities - The small-town local town slut
Some of them are clearly scams:
Variety Acts - Guest-Star - Male or Female / 10 to 50 / All Ethnicities -We are looking for great talent here. Do you sing? Dance? Act? Tell a a good joke? Have great songwriting skills? Able to bust a move or rap? If you think you have what it takes, then we want to hear from you! PLEASE LET US KNOW YOUR TALENT IN YOUR SUBMISSION!
Some of them are clearly porn:
Nymphs in “The Plunge of Icarus”- Featured Female / 22 to 29 / African Am, AfricanAm, Asian, Caucasian, East-In, East-Ind, Middle-East, MidEastern, Mixed - The nymphs are all presented in extreme body paints/nude with masks and elaborate headresses and jewelry. (Must be legally 18 and older to participate) Nudity (in body paints) with simulated sex in surreal orgy scene(s). Will consider male partner/spouse/associate (on approval) for photo model partner on camera (submit photo also). Minimal shoot days - estimating 1 day
Some of them are incredibly eye-opening:
Twins in “Weight Loss Drug Ad” - Guest-Star Female / 20 to 65 / All Ethnicities - I am looking for real identical twins! One must be obviously heavier than the other...this is for our "before and afters" of our product. This is a wieght loss product...so the twins must look like the same person..just after shedding the extra weight.
And I submit for nearly all of them. Other than auditions calling for nudity, an "androgenous physical build," or a "booty girl," I submit, based on the philosphy that now is my time to say yes to everything, to take it all in, use it all as a learning experience, to keep buying small lottery tickets from the universe, because you never know when it's your time. I didn't come here to be a snob. I came here to start at the bottom of a ladder that I've always wanted to climb. And sometimes, fate requires you to submit yourself as a "jewish lesbian with breast cancer." Sometimes.
Until next time,
NOT the small-town-slut in "Phone Sex Grandma"
That is neither here nor there. I am, after all, planning to talk about my first real audition. Here’s how it happened. I came back to LA on January 4th, after a refreshing Christmas/New Year’s time in New Jersey, committed to fulfilling my New Year’s resolution, which was/is “Act.” In as many ways as possible. So, the way that one gets auditions in LA when one has no agent, no union membership, and relatively no resume is through a lovely little site called “LA Casting.”
For only $9.99 a month, $25 for my first uploaded headshot, and $10 for each additional headshot when added at the same time as original headshot, I am now the proud owner of an LA Casting profile. This consists of a heavily-retouched headshot of myself smiling, a less-retouched photo of myself asking the camera “what the fuck are you looking at?”, and a resume that tries its best to pump my community theatre experiences into robust credits. For example, if you are a friend of mine who happened to work with me on, say, an informal musical performance at the Wesley Foundation Student Methodist Chapel, congratulations! You are now a credited director of “Behold The Lamb of God, a Christmas Cantata.”
You can also find out my height (I added an inch), weight (I subtracted six pounds), and my bra, waist, and hip size (I tried to measure these using a tape measure, and then I made them up). I’m fairly certain that most people do this, because I often stumble upon profiles and headshots in which people (women) state that they are 5’10’’ and 102 pounds. That’s pretty much physiologically impossible, and in their photos, these women rarely look like they have terminal illnesses. If you’re going to lie about how tall and thin you are, you have to be smart enough to know how thin is too thin. Like literally, too thin to make any sense.
Anyway, if you’re curious, you can see my LA Casting Profile at
www.lacasting.com/madelinewalter .
All I ask is that you refrain from ridiculing me too much…because the thing about LA casting is that this profile is what gets me in the door to an audition. Any audition. Every day, I get about 30 emails notifying me of auditions that fit my demographic, which is “Caucasian Female, 18-30.”
Some of these roles are somewhat appropriate for me:
Louisa in “Sex, Relationships,and Sometimes...Love”- Lead - Female / 25 to 50 / All Ethnicities - This part is a jewish Lesbian who has breast cancer, she is from Brooklyn and through it all has an enormous sense of Humor.
Some of them are stretches:
Booty Girl in “Hip Hop Video”- Featured Female / 18 to 24 / All Ethnicities - Prominently featured. Must be a strong/confident hip-hop dancer. Sexy. Willing to wear GoGo style outfit.
Many of them are mildly degrading toward women:
The Slut in “Phone Sex Grandma”- Supporting - Female / 25 to 40 / All Ethnicities - The small-town local town slut
Some of them are clearly scams:
Variety Acts - Guest-Star - Male or Female / 10 to 50 / All Ethnicities -We are looking for great talent here. Do you sing? Dance? Act? Tell a a good joke? Have great songwriting skills? Able to bust a move or rap? If you think you have what it takes, then we want to hear from you! PLEASE LET US KNOW YOUR TALENT IN YOUR SUBMISSION!
Some of them are clearly porn:
Nymphs in “The Plunge of Icarus”- Featured Female / 22 to 29 / African Am, AfricanAm, Asian, Caucasian, East-In, East-Ind, Middle-East, MidEastern, Mixed - The nymphs are all presented in extreme body paints/nude with masks and elaborate headresses and jewelry. (Must be legally 18 and older to participate) Nudity (in body paints) with simulated sex in surreal orgy scene(s). Will consider male partner/spouse/associate (on approval) for photo model partner on camera (submit photo also). Minimal shoot days - estimating 1 day
Some of them are incredibly eye-opening:
Twins in “Weight Loss Drug Ad” - Guest-Star Female / 20 to 65 / All Ethnicities - I am looking for real identical twins! One must be obviously heavier than the other...this is for our "before and afters" of our product. This is a wieght loss product...so the twins must look like the same person..just after shedding the extra weight.
And I submit for nearly all of them. Other than auditions calling for nudity, an "androgenous physical build," or a "booty girl," I submit, based on the philosphy that now is my time to say yes to everything, to take it all in, use it all as a learning experience, to keep buying small lottery tickets from the universe, because you never know when it's your time. I didn't come here to be a snob. I came here to start at the bottom of a ladder that I've always wanted to climb. And sometimes, fate requires you to submit yourself as a "jewish lesbian with breast cancer." Sometimes.
Until next time,
NOT the small-town-slut in "Phone Sex Grandma"
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