Bag Lady No More!

When I was a youngster, my mother tells me my fears were not that of an average child's: not spiders, or dragons or monsters in the closet, no. My Mom says I was afraid of becoming a Bag Lady when I grew up. She said when we'd pass buskers or beggers, I would tug at her skirt like CarolAnne from Poltergeist must've at JoBeth Williams, screaming at her own mother from the other side of hell. The reason I was shaking in my Princess Leia loafers was because deep down? I knew I had potential to BE THAT. Not a standard Street Person, per se, but a very fashionable homeless lady, maybe a Day Player from Dynasty, a visiting actress staying on your couch or over at the Motel 6. I knew in my little tiny subconscious that I would grow up to be a woman addicted to change and someone who ended up moving 40 times in her adult life. Carting around my leopard print coats, my Fluvog kitten heels and my trunks of costume jewelry, I became the very thing the skittered me as a youngen. So, now, as I write this to you I am calling Amistad on those troubidorian days, my wanderlust years, and settling down. I found a gorgeous apartment, nestled right in the cool area of town equipped with all the vintage fineries AND a modern kitchen. It's a Future Dinner Party Dream. Someone call Vince Vaughn and get him to do the pelvic thrusts on a diner table and say, "Baby's all grown'd up!!!" Baby's all growned up, indeed.

"Restless..."

This is from a short I wrapped last night (at 6 AM !!!) where I played a 1920's prostituée. It was only a 2 day shoot and everyone was really nice and I think the movie will end up looking aces. If Todd Haynes is reading this: now, what was that about your Collette film??

Is that Freegan Rock? Well, turn it up!!

Maybe I'm a little late on the bandwagon but I just heard about "Freeganism" which is a movement -- shoot, nevermind. Here's what Wikepedia says:
Freeganism is an anti-consumerism lifestyle whereby people employ alternative living strategies based on "limited participation in the conventional economy and minimal consumption of resources." Freegans embrace community, generosity, social concern, freedom, cooperation, and sharing in opposition to a society based on materialism, moral apathy, competition, conformity, and greed."[1] The lifestyle involves salvaging discarded, unspoiled food from supermarket dumpsters that have passed their expiration date, but are still edible and nutritious. They salvage the food not because they are poor or homeless, but as a political statement.[2][3]
And I wanted to sign myself up, because I like to redefine myself as often as possible and jump on hip bandwagons like MySpace and Blogspot so I can feel, well, hip. NO ONE wants to appear out of the know. I really like the anti-consumerism/anti-corporate part about it because I like Mom & Pop shops and I hate competition and greed. Plus, waste really bugs me. But I'm not going to dumpster dive for food; THAT'S where I draw the line. I must come uup with my own name, my own made-up belief system that says all that stuff that Freegan says without garbage germs and I'm still allowed to eat a steak once in awhile. Hmm.

Booked, Booked and what an asshole!

So, as some of my MySpace friends know: I booked the Toyota commercial (3 of them: excuse me while I brush off my shoulders) and I booked the Mistress short film, "Restless." I got a call back from The Stressed Out Biz Professional, but that Director was a Dick so I almost hope I don't get that job. Nothing really funny to say here but I'm gearing up to my Stand-up routine at Harvey's Comedy Club so stay tuned...

Update

And so it goes:
Tues: Audition for Toyota playing a "natural, non-made-up Pacific Northwesterner". Read: Barfey R.E.I. shit and flannel with soy carob-mocha as prop.
Wed: 3:20, Stressed out Mom: cue the Working Girl soundtrack, don the Reebok Hi-tops layered with nude nylons, slouchy socks and a Power Suit.
6:00, Mistress in bra and chinoise.
Thurs: A cracked out Hooker with a heart 'o gold.
Lord help me.
PS: Does anyone have some thigh-hi's I can borrow? No, wait, got 'em.

The things I do to be an actor...

OK. The top of January I was in Seattle for an audition that was casting the role of "Barista: piercings a plus!" So I trekked on down to Claire's, that jewelry shop where teenagers adorn themselves in Hello Kitty earings and Hanna Montana hair falls. It was rather surreal asking the sales girl I was looking for "anything that can be pierced, without actually piercing it." So I was corralled toward THE CASE. It was a lock down, this piercing aisle. And she looped her keys around in a finger-hula-hoop, weilding them as a high-security prison guard would at San Quentin. I found magnetic piercings galore. After stocking up on some faux hoops for the nose and lip, I promenaded down to 1st Ave. where the bead store was, still searching for that ever-evasive eyebrow ring. I found facets that I later cut with pliers and forceably pinched my skin, maneuvering what one would hope would portray my look: A Human Tackle Box. I smeared red eyeshadow on and did my best Suicide Girl impression and plotted on. The other day I had the big bi-annual "Generals" theatre auditions in PDX, a scary ordeal in which one crams two contrasting monologues: a contemporary piece and a classic one timed in 3 minutes (oh, and they'll call "time" on your ass). Since my pieces where hand-heavy, I decided to dawn fake nails for the gig (see above). Right as I'm going on, one popped off and I had to think of that lone missing nail all throughout an early Scorsese piece and a Shakespearean Cleopatra. I felt like my right hand looked like a 3-legged dog. I have 4 other auditions this week and lord knows who I'll have to become for them. Are you there god? It's me, Gigi. Why was I blessed with this gift of theatricality? I mean, it's a gift AND a curse...

Do you want some cheese with that Whine?

Today? I bought a coat. And not a vintage fur one I dumpster dove out of a Salvation Army bin, either! It is actually my first "utilitarian" coat: long, black, puffy with special tags on it that say things like: "water-proof" and "thinsulate." Tres, chic, no? I had to break down because it's a freaking ARCTICBLAST out there. I overheard my neighbor tell his child, "You know, if you leave any part of your body unexposed for longer than ten minutes, you'll get frostbite." I don't really think that's true, but I do applaud his effort of instilling the fear of blackened bodily parts amputated off his young son.
Question: Why is everyone hiding? People get to be such babies this time of year! I keep reading blogs about hibernation, the art of doing nothing, people avoiding people. Brew youreslf a cup of cocoa and read a goddamn book! Jesus. Phone people back, why don't you? Incorporate the fine art of letter writing. If the latest aberrant news of Heath Ledger taught us anything, it's that artful people don't last.
Appreicate those in your life who are.

PS: I was thinking if terrorists wanted a new weapon, why not a spork from KFC? Only because it would make great copy.
Great. Now my blog has just been flagged by the CIA. I guess I'll have to wear my aluminum foil hat and staple cheese to the roof again.