I did the math today and discovered that on my current sleep schedule I'm averaging six "nights" of sleep per week. I guess six out of seven ain't bad. And I guess that's why I feel like I feel now. It’s catching-up to me.
"It's in Surrey, near the border," said the message telling me where the set has moved.
THE border?
Looking at my old friend Google Maps (it's the best; true that, DOUBLE TRUE), and checking on my public transit options (fun fact: Vancouver is the first place on earth Google Maps has added this option. This is also the first time I've used parenthesis twice in the same sentence) I found the quickest bus route would take about two-and-a-half hours. This is when I used the old noodle, and after the smell of burning wood dissipated, I decided to call in a favour. I asked my good choir buddy to give me a lift, figuring I had a snowball's chance in Helsinki that she’d say yes, but remarkably she agreed to "chauffeur" my famous keister right to the set. Brilliant.
My call time was for 7:30 Thursday night, so I asked for the night off from work, not really caring what the response was, I was just giving my manager the heads-up that I, under no circumstances, would be working for him that night. But I was working Wednesday night. Oh, and then I had training Thursday morning.
Since I'm with this shiny, new security company, I need to go through their extra, “Superhost” customer service training, which included such fun facts as: 96% of unsatisfied customers don't complain about poor service, they just don't go back to the place. What the hell does that matter to us? Our "customers" most often are the employees of the company, so what are they gonna do if we don’t satisfy them? Not come back to work? This training was a vicious waste of four, sleep-depriving hours, but at least I got my new pants; which I need to get hemmed. And the convenience doesn't stop here, I promise you.
During the training, the First Assistant Production Coordinator called me and told me there were "revisions" for that night. Revisions, eh? He said he’d e-mail them to me. I Then called my current security company to find out my hire date and when my six months "training pay" period was up.
"Uh, it's nine months, says so right on the contract you signed."
Please, no.
This was basically the last thing I needed to hear. Now, to save $1100 and not quit the company I am no co-employed with, I need to bring my "Transfer of License" form to them, have them fill it out, and bring it back to my new company. The fun never ends. Now I need to figure-out a way to serve the two masters for three more months. I asked them to e-mail my record of employment to me, and when I came home, lo and behold, the only e-mail received was the “revisions” (none of which had affected me), and not the record of employment. In fact, as of this writing I’ve yet to receive it, which doesn’t surprise me considering this companies record of generally being a terrible company. In fact, hands-down the worst company I’ve ever worked for. It’s not the worst job I’ve ever had, but it seems everyone in this company has their head jammed in a spot in which no head should be able to fit.
I tried sleeping through the afternoon before going to set that night, when I got a call from the agent.
"You've got an audition for Battlestar Gallactica tomorrow at 2:50 in North Van. There's no lines, but I want you to get the sides prepare before tomorrow."
Well, there goes my "recovery" day. I’ve never actually watched an episode of BSG, but it’s pretty popular with its fans, and looks like a pretty BA show.
He then called me back two seconds later.
"Oh, and with Battlestar they do not want any plot leaked, so I need to fax you the sides. You got a fax number?"
Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me.
"Uh, no."
"Do you know someone who does? C'mon, you gotta know someone."
I know LOTS of people, but I'll have to check my fax number database to see who I can get the sides faxed to in like, THREE HOURS. I napped a bit longer, and figured that these sides ain't gettin' to me, unless some guy named "Fax" brings them to my door.
"I'll leave it in an envelope near the pillar to your left outside the office."
Or that, that works too. I realized I needed new resumes anyway, so he stuffed them in the envelope too. My Chauff' picked me up at his office, and we were off.
We made really good time (would have made BETTER time had we stayed on HWY 99S, and not gone on 91 and then 99N, but I digress) and miraculously found the place, even with my wrong directions. I hit my trailer, and here's where the story blacks-out for fear of Fox's lawyers coming after me. I promise you, nothing interesting happened between my arrival and when I was told I was wrapped at 5:30am. Not even shooting. So after all the travel there and back again, I ended-up doing nothing. But hey, still got paid for it, and now await the call for when I'll be going to set again. Hopefully the set will be closer, but I won't be complaining about travel costs when the check finally arrives.
I got home Friday morning and slept like a rock for four hours, and felt pretty good when I woke-up for my afternoon audition. Basically I went to North Van, went in the room and said nothing, and came home. I chugged a Xience and hit the gym, being a day behind as it is, I really couldn't skip it again. When I got home, my phone had a Voicemail.
"Hello, it's Dan (one of my agent's assistants) you have an audition in North Van (good, didn't blow the one today, apparently) for the MOW (movie-of-the-week) 'Spectacular!'"
Oh no, I've heard of this. It's a musical. Well, at least that's what I THOUGHT, until I read the breakdown, and found-out that it's only PART musical. The character I'm going out for actually hates musicians and musicals and is an insurance salesman to make ends meet for him and his rock star wannabe brother. How strikingly true to life. It’s a massive eight-pager, the longest I’ve gotten yet, so it’s gonna need some coaching, either Sunday morning, Monday morning or both. Thank God for my acting coach for giving me options. I’ll check the sides and see where I’m at on my own, and if I feel like I need the work, well acting always comes first, so I may have to miss my drum solo at choir on Sunday. The drummer and some other choir peeps are hitting Whistler this weekend, and being the only male who doesn’t play an instrument, I’m supposed to be on the conga to keep time.
Before Sunday is Saturday and after I work tonight I need to go to the downtown location Saturday morning at 11am for more training. When I asked my manager how long this would take, he said only about an hour, since I know the systems out in Burnaby already. Let’s hope so, I’ll need as much rest as I can get Saturday before work that night, and going either to coaching or to mass Sunday morning, then the Foo Fighters concert that night. I’ve had this planned for months. I still want to go see Rush in May, but I’m not sure if any tickets are left, but at least I know a guy who wants to see them with me. Iron Maiden in June, on the other hand, I might have to go to alone. C’mon, it’s an “early days” tour, how can I miss it?
Saturday is the last graveyard shift, and it seems to be the only thing that’s coming at a good time for me. Everything this week has just seemed to pile-up on me, but once the new job gets figured out, I should be OK. I’m hoping to get on the job board with the company that lost the EA contract, which means they’ll call me to work, but I won’t be at a specific site, and I’ll never answer their phone calls. Seriously, screw them.
Having sleepless days is different than sleepless nights. I feel dried-out, my throat is dry and pained, I’m cotton-mouthed, and no amount of water can relieve it. I have red rings around my irises from napping with my contacts on (whoops). Now the palms of my hands are blotchy and have become very sensitive to temperature and touch. They feel tingly, and now there are red spots on my arms too. Good thing I finally received my BC Health Card, so I can go visit a walk-in clinic about this … if I can find the time.
Matthew 6:24 says: "No one can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.” I’m currently serving six: My agent, Chris Columbus, my choir, my two security companies, and EA. Let’s simplify things by saying I love the first three and hate the last three, but I have to serve wealth.
God does a lot, but until he pays my debts, my many masters must I serve.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Back In The I.L.Y.B.C.
Thank God for God.
He's given me some great friends, some who leave chocolate trials when I get home from work, some who I sing his praises with, and some who make a killer Easter dinner.
He was also smiling upon me today.
I made the mistake of going to bed late last night, knowing I had a job interview at 10am at a place I've never been before. This was with the security company that will be taking over the site where I currently work. My buddy Mike has already been hired by them, and it seems a bunch of people at this site are jumping ship.
So I gave the interview, and they basically hired me on the spot, and I'm hoping this goes swimmingly with the changes I'm making: First of all, I'll be working more shifts at the downtown location, which will be far easier to get to transportation-wise. Second, I'll be working in the evenings, which means no more graveyards, which will be awesome. I'll finally get to sleep when it's dark out, maybe make less use of my gender-bending sleep mask. The only catch with evenings is, sometimes a call back or audition arises, in which case acting will always come first. Let's hope this new company can find guards to cover shifts easier, and if I get canned because I've missed too many shifts, then so be it. I mean, yeah, a job is extremely important for making a living, but security is not my career choice; I didn't move to exotic Vancouver, BC for an exciting career in the fast-paced, ever-expanding security industry. No sir, if I get canned I'll have a replacement in no time. It's happened to worse people.
With all the new hire paperwork I ended-up having to fill-out, I had to boot from my job interview to my 12:30 audition for, wait for it ... a Wal-Mart commercial. Oh yeah.
This was actually a lot of fun, I had nothing to prepare, so I just had to show-up and look pretty, which is basically all I do, and do well. The scenario for the commercial was a husband, wife and daughter all pondering what summer-time goodies they will want to blow their money on for their backyard. I was auditioning for the strapping young Wal-Mart Sales Associate who, with much joviality, jollity, and Jon-Bon-Jovi-ty, gestures to where they can pick-up their crap. I mean, goodies, pick-up their goodies. For commercials they're after a look, especially for non-speaking parts, which mine would be. At least it wasn't a "cattle-call", where they line-up a bunch of actors and all have them answer a dumb question about themselves.
"OK, William, where did you get that snappy vest?"
"I peeled it off the carcass of the last guy to ask me that question."
I forgot that hey-la, hey-la, my agent's back (hopefully, there's not gonna be trouble). He left me a Voicemail during my audish, and I wish he had called earlier, because my smile would have been anything but forced for the audition.
"You didn't finish the shots the other night, did you?" he asked in reference to a certain movie I had worked on.
"No, we didn't," I said, hoping for what he'd say next.
"Are you available Thursday night the 27th to finish it?"
Uhm, no, I have to work my shift as a security guard, can they reschedule?
The preceding thought was brought to you by: Career suicide.
He asked if I had seen any of the other actors that booked the parts for which I went out for previously.
"No, I didn't see any of the other actors I went out aGAYnst."
"What did you get say?"
Oops.
"Did I sound too Canadian for you just then?"
"Yer damn right you did."
I hung-up, elated, then immediately deflated when I asked if I was too late to put the sides on tape that he sent me last Friday.
"Yeah, yeah it is."
"What's the time limit when you give me something like that?"
"Two to three days."
Well, now I know. It was a crazy past week or so, but I still could have done it, I just wasn't fast enough. Also, he was out of town, and it was the first optional thing he's given me, so he wasn't upset when I missed the boat. I felt worse for my dad who shelled the $10 to order the script online, but he and I agreed that the show wasn't anything to get excited over, and my character was pretty dull.
I know that last statement flies in the face of everything an actor SHOULDN'T do (judge the piece, judge the character, cry "bad writing", or "dull character") but from an audience perspective, it's nothing I would want to watch, so why would I want to act in it? I'm a beggar who can't be a chooser at this point, but still, what you work on represents you professionally, and if you don't want to do something, you should have the option; not that I'm sure there will be things I do now that I cringe at in the future. In fact, I have a ton of those already.
I got home, and was miraculously able to nap and have a dream where Eddie Vedder was arguing with a friend of mine.
Why can't people just LEAVE EDDIE ALONE!
He's given me some great friends, some who leave chocolate trials when I get home from work, some who I sing his praises with, and some who make a killer Easter dinner.
He was also smiling upon me today.
I made the mistake of going to bed late last night, knowing I had a job interview at 10am at a place I've never been before. This was with the security company that will be taking over the site where I currently work. My buddy Mike has already been hired by them, and it seems a bunch of people at this site are jumping ship.
So I gave the interview, and they basically hired me on the spot, and I'm hoping this goes swimmingly with the changes I'm making: First of all, I'll be working more shifts at the downtown location, which will be far easier to get to transportation-wise. Second, I'll be working in the evenings, which means no more graveyards, which will be awesome. I'll finally get to sleep when it's dark out, maybe make less use of my gender-bending sleep mask. The only catch with evenings is, sometimes a call back or audition arises, in which case acting will always come first. Let's hope this new company can find guards to cover shifts easier, and if I get canned because I've missed too many shifts, then so be it. I mean, yeah, a job is extremely important for making a living, but security is not my career choice; I didn't move to exotic Vancouver, BC for an exciting career in the fast-paced, ever-expanding security industry. No sir, if I get canned I'll have a replacement in no time. It's happened to worse people.
With all the new hire paperwork I ended-up having to fill-out, I had to boot from my job interview to my 12:30 audition for, wait for it ... a Wal-Mart commercial. Oh yeah.
This was actually a lot of fun, I had nothing to prepare, so I just had to show-up and look pretty, which is basically all I do, and do well. The scenario for the commercial was a husband, wife and daughter all pondering what summer-time goodies they will want to blow their money on for their backyard. I was auditioning for the strapping young Wal-Mart Sales Associate who, with much joviality, jollity, and Jon-Bon-Jovi-ty, gestures to where they can pick-up their crap. I mean, goodies, pick-up their goodies. For commercials they're after a look, especially for non-speaking parts, which mine would be. At least it wasn't a "cattle-call", where they line-up a bunch of actors and all have them answer a dumb question about themselves.
"OK, William, where did you get that snappy vest?"
"I peeled it off the carcass of the last guy to ask me that question."
I forgot that hey-la, hey-la, my agent's back (hopefully, there's not gonna be trouble). He left me a Voicemail during my audish, and I wish he had called earlier, because my smile would have been anything but forced for the audition.
"You didn't finish the shots the other night, did you?" he asked in reference to a certain movie I had worked on.
"No, we didn't," I said, hoping for what he'd say next.
"Are you available Thursday night the 27th to finish it?"
Uhm, no, I have to work my shift as a security guard, can they reschedule?
The preceding thought was brought to you by: Career suicide.
He asked if I had seen any of the other actors that booked the parts for which I went out for previously.
"No, I didn't see any of the other actors I went out aGAYnst."
"What did you get say?"
Oops.
"Did I sound too Canadian for you just then?"
"Yer damn right you did."
I hung-up, elated, then immediately deflated when I asked if I was too late to put the sides on tape that he sent me last Friday.
"Yeah, yeah it is."
"What's the time limit when you give me something like that?"
"Two to three days."
Well, now I know. It was a crazy past week or so, but I still could have done it, I just wasn't fast enough. Also, he was out of town, and it was the first optional thing he's given me, so he wasn't upset when I missed the boat. I felt worse for my dad who shelled the $10 to order the script online, but he and I agreed that the show wasn't anything to get excited over, and my character was pretty dull.
I know that last statement flies in the face of everything an actor SHOULDN'T do (judge the piece, judge the character, cry "bad writing", or "dull character") but from an audience perspective, it's nothing I would want to watch, so why would I want to act in it? I'm a beggar who can't be a chooser at this point, but still, what you work on represents you professionally, and if you don't want to do something, you should have the option; not that I'm sure there will be things I do now that I cringe at in the future. In fact, I have a ton of those already.
I got home, and was miraculously able to nap and have a dream where Eddie Vedder was arguing with a friend of mine.
Why can't people just LEAVE EDDIE ALONE!
Friday, March 21, 2008
I'll Never Get Away From Him ...
All I'm going to say about being on set is that it was great, and I want more. A whole lot more. Like, this really lit a fire under my tuccus, I'll tell you what.
Coming home from the gym tonight, I see a man and his family coming toward me on the sidewalk. There was something familiar to this guy; it was Chris Columbus.
"Hey!" I said, quite surprised, and he shot me a "hey!" back, equally as stunned.
He stopped walking and told his family about me, and we wished each other the best and went on our merry ways. Chris Columbus: All around great guy.
Unless he cuts my scene.
Coming home from the gym tonight, I see a man and his family coming toward me on the sidewalk. There was something familiar to this guy; it was Chris Columbus.
"Hey!" I said, quite surprised, and he shot me a "hey!" back, equally as stunned.
He stopped walking and told his family about me, and we wished each other the best and went on our merry ways. Chris Columbus: All around great guy.
Unless he cuts my scene.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
"So I Hear You've Got a Blog ... "
... is what the nice lady said to me in the hair/make-up trailer. I was stunned.
"How did you know?"
"Oh, someone told me."
She went on to explain that when I signed-on for the movie (I don't remember signing a "contract" per se) that there's a confidentiality agreement involved, and though it would very fun and exciting to write all about my first day on major set, I don't want to get the Fox legal team on my tuccus. I sure don't.
"You also don't want to be out of the movie. This could kick-start your career, you don't want to ruin it."
Now, here's my biz class in action: people know what you do online. If you broadcast something to the entire internet, they will find it, and it's in a company's best interest to know who is talking and what they're saying, especially when dealing with confidentiality agreements. Also be mindful of what you put online: pictures, what you say to others, it can all be tracked, and easily.
Really, I appreciate the courtesy (and maybe she is a fan, who knows) because I didn't really know what I could or couldn't say about being on set, and I still don't, but now that I know people are watching, I'll be more careful.
Obviously I'll still be talking about the auditions; I don’t sign anything until I'm hired. However when I go to set, those days will be kept to me and those closest to me, not broadcast for the world to see. Really, the less I say about the actual gigs the better, and if you want to know anything about the movie … go watch it.
I would rather write about it, though. I really wanted to tell people what a day on set was like, without giving anything away anything about the scene or the plot, but I also need to be careful about what I say about other people. I try to be mindful of naming names, and I like to think I only speak highly of most people, but I still need to be careful. I wanted this Blog to be the outsider's eye into the wacky world of entertainment, but I still need to make sure I have a career to write about. This is where the “I Love You, Beth Cooper” saga ends.
Remember when I suggested a PSA that said "Internet Blogs: are you sure you know who's reading?"
I guess I'm not so sure.
"How did you know?"
"Oh, someone told me."
She went on to explain that when I signed-on for the movie (I don't remember signing a "contract" per se) that there's a confidentiality agreement involved, and though it would very fun and exciting to write all about my first day on major set, I don't want to get the Fox legal team on my tuccus. I sure don't.
"You also don't want to be out of the movie. This could kick-start your career, you don't want to ruin it."
Now, here's my biz class in action: people know what you do online. If you broadcast something to the entire internet, they will find it, and it's in a company's best interest to know who is talking and what they're saying, especially when dealing with confidentiality agreements. Also be mindful of what you put online: pictures, what you say to others, it can all be tracked, and easily.
Really, I appreciate the courtesy (and maybe she is a fan, who knows) because I didn't really know what I could or couldn't say about being on set, and I still don't, but now that I know people are watching, I'll be more careful.
Obviously I'll still be talking about the auditions; I don’t sign anything until I'm hired. However when I go to set, those days will be kept to me and those closest to me, not broadcast for the world to see. Really, the less I say about the actual gigs the better, and if you want to know anything about the movie … go watch it.
I would rather write about it, though. I really wanted to tell people what a day on set was like, without giving anything away anything about the scene or the plot, but I also need to be careful about what I say about other people. I try to be mindful of naming names, and I like to think I only speak highly of most people, but I still need to be careful. I wanted this Blog to be the outsider's eye into the wacky world of entertainment, but I still need to make sure I have a career to write about. This is where the “I Love You, Beth Cooper” saga ends.
Remember when I suggested a PSA that said "Internet Blogs: are you sure you know who's reading?"
I guess I'm not so sure.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Super Smashed, Brother
Well, what else is Shamrock Day for?
On Sunday I decided to finally enter this gen of game consoles, and stuck with the ol' tried and true Nintendo. Their elusive white box debuted in November 2006, and it's still nigh impossible to get in this town in March 2008, except if you know where to look. It's my way of celebrating the first gig, and also my way of breaking one of the cardinal rules of acting: don't count your money before you get it (I think that applies more so if you're expecting residuals, but still).
The Wii rules for many reasons I shan’t indulge in here, lest I increase the "nerd quotient" of these bloggings by 14% (it already sits at a staggering 58% as it is), but I will say that the Virtual Console is the best freaking thing ever. I can play Metroid, Star Fox, Mario, and Zelda all on the same console ... and then have them all smash the ever-loving bejesus out of each other in the same game. Sweet. My roomie has a bunch of games, so huzzah for not having to buy any. Yet.
Also, when did the Mooseheads get those black jerseys that say "Halifax" across the front? They're pretty boss.
Monday I was on my way to get the appropriate liquid encouragement for the evening's festivities, and got involved in an impromptu 100m dash with my lady roommate, when from the heavens above, the dainty, wisp of a woman I was with was smashed on the noodle with a Subway bag full of water from one of the higher rooms of the hotel that’s directly across from our apartment. Couldn't make it up if I tried, one minute I'm yelling "way to go track star!" and the next, in a huge splash, she's on her hands and knees, soaking wet, confused, upset and hurt. Her new iPod was knocked from her hand, but thankfully that wasn't broken, and though she had a headache, there wasn't anything worse than that and a tiny cut on her scalp.
A guy from a across the street saw the whole thing, and took it upon himself to talk to the people at the hotel desk about it. They had security try to find the room, but it was difficult; it could have come from anywhere. So with no one reprimanded there wasn't much to do but leave our phone numbers for a follow-up. It's not the hotel's fault, but it is their guests that preformed the act, so they’ll have to shoulder the responsibility. The whole thing was just such a wacky incident, and we were laughing about it soon after.
After the roomies got back from class, we engaged in a night of drunken Smash Bros., "Would You Rather?" and the always-disappointing late-night trip to Denny's. It's the most fun I've had in a while.
Now, with yesterday's revelations, the Wii may get paid-off before I get paid for actually acting. Here’s why:
I got a call from Kevin, the wardrobe guy (no word from the lion or witch, yet) telling me my costume fitting is Wednesday at 2pm. Uhm, I thought I was going to set Wednesday?
"No, it's for Thursday, the 20th."
OK, I thought, I've been wrong before (recall the "Altitude" callback where I showed-up a full 24 hours early for the audition.)
So, I just took Kevin's word for it, and went back to sleep.
My agent's assistant called later, and sounded surprised when I told her of the change. She said she'd call back and figure things out, and, without having to play tennis before getting back to me, called just a few minutes later.
"What time did the wardrobe guy call you?"
"Uh, it was like 10 ... 10:45, 'round there."
"OK, well we're going to get you compensation. If it was before ten, then we'd only get 50%, but since it was within 24 hours, it's the day-rate minus the buy-out."
The day-rate is around $330 for an actor. That’s $330 for doing nothing.
"Also, they have you credited as 'William Vaughan’; do you want the 'C.' in there?"
"Uh, yeah, tell 'em to put that in there, better be consistent," even though imdb.com makes note of people being credited slightly differently. For example Philip Seymour Hoffman's "Alternate names" are: Philip S. Hoffman / Philip Hoffman / Phillip Seymour Hoffman (two l's)/ Phil Hoffman.
While grocery shopping later that day, the 2nd Assistant Director called me (amid a torrent of dramatic phone calls, you don't wanna know.)
"So, your fitting is tomorrow at 2pm, but Chris wants to see people in hair and make-up before they go to set, so can you make it to (somewhere, I forget what she said) at around 6pm tomorrow? We're doing night shoots."
Well, the night time is the right time for me, and seeing him the day before will take care of any pre-shoot jitters. Now I'll have to fall violently, un-workably ill on Thursday night instead. It's so hard to plan a good sickness these days.
With all this happening, I still need to put that pilot audition on tape for the LA person. I’ll have to sleep tomorrow morning, so that’s out, and I’ll need to sleep Thursday before I go to set, so it looks like Friday it is, but it’s Good Friday, so the studios may be closed. Putting stuff on tape is actually a real pain when you have to find your own reader, call to book the time (the studio I called yesterday was closed at 4:15) and pay for them to tape you. But hey, show me the guy who said it’d be easy, and I’ll show you a guy that the drug-sniffing dogs would have a field-day over.
Also, work is short-staffed in our final weeks of the contract, so they’ve been calling me to work overtime (I had to do 13 ½ hours on Friday night) which couldn’t happen at a worse time. The company taking-over the security contract is paying a prettier penny, so it may be worth my while to get on with them and stay here a while. Well, we’ll see if any restaurants want me first. With the never-ending renovations upstairs, sleeping in the day is once again an upstream swim, so graveyard has lost its “appeal”. It’ll be over soon.
At least the Foo Fighter’s concert is on Sunday instead of Saturday (what’s with me being a day early for EVERYTHING?) so I can make that without any problems … except I’ll have to miss going to Empire Theatres by myself to watch Wrestlemania 24.
Aaannd, the “nerd quotient” just hit 65% with that last remark. A new record!
On Sunday I decided to finally enter this gen of game consoles, and stuck with the ol' tried and true Nintendo. Their elusive white box debuted in November 2006, and it's still nigh impossible to get in this town in March 2008, except if you know where to look. It's my way of celebrating the first gig, and also my way of breaking one of the cardinal rules of acting: don't count your money before you get it (I think that applies more so if you're expecting residuals, but still).
The Wii rules for many reasons I shan’t indulge in here, lest I increase the "nerd quotient" of these bloggings by 14% (it already sits at a staggering 58% as it is), but I will say that the Virtual Console is the best freaking thing ever. I can play Metroid, Star Fox, Mario, and Zelda all on the same console ... and then have them all smash the ever-loving bejesus out of each other in the same game. Sweet. My roomie has a bunch of games, so huzzah for not having to buy any. Yet.
Also, when did the Mooseheads get those black jerseys that say "Halifax" across the front? They're pretty boss.
Monday I was on my way to get the appropriate liquid encouragement for the evening's festivities, and got involved in an impromptu 100m dash with my lady roommate, when from the heavens above, the dainty, wisp of a woman I was with was smashed on the noodle with a Subway bag full of water from one of the higher rooms of the hotel that’s directly across from our apartment. Couldn't make it up if I tried, one minute I'm yelling "way to go track star!" and the next, in a huge splash, she's on her hands and knees, soaking wet, confused, upset and hurt. Her new iPod was knocked from her hand, but thankfully that wasn't broken, and though she had a headache, there wasn't anything worse than that and a tiny cut on her scalp.
A guy from a across the street saw the whole thing, and took it upon himself to talk to the people at the hotel desk about it. They had security try to find the room, but it was difficult; it could have come from anywhere. So with no one reprimanded there wasn't much to do but leave our phone numbers for a follow-up. It's not the hotel's fault, but it is their guests that preformed the act, so they’ll have to shoulder the responsibility. The whole thing was just such a wacky incident, and we were laughing about it soon after.
After the roomies got back from class, we engaged in a night of drunken Smash Bros., "Would You Rather?" and the always-disappointing late-night trip to Denny's. It's the most fun I've had in a while.
Now, with yesterday's revelations, the Wii may get paid-off before I get paid for actually acting. Here’s why:
I got a call from Kevin, the wardrobe guy (no word from the lion or witch, yet) telling me my costume fitting is Wednesday at 2pm. Uhm, I thought I was going to set Wednesday?
"No, it's for Thursday, the 20th."
OK, I thought, I've been wrong before (recall the "Altitude" callback where I showed-up a full 24 hours early for the audition.)
So, I just took Kevin's word for it, and went back to sleep.
My agent's assistant called later, and sounded surprised when I told her of the change. She said she'd call back and figure things out, and, without having to play tennis before getting back to me, called just a few minutes later.
"What time did the wardrobe guy call you?"
"Uh, it was like 10 ... 10:45, 'round there."
"OK, well we're going to get you compensation. If it was before ten, then we'd only get 50%, but since it was within 24 hours, it's the day-rate minus the buy-out."
The day-rate is around $330 for an actor. That’s $330 for doing nothing.
"Also, they have you credited as 'William Vaughan’; do you want the 'C.' in there?"
"Uh, yeah, tell 'em to put that in there, better be consistent," even though imdb.com makes note of people being credited slightly differently. For example Philip Seymour Hoffman's "Alternate names" are: Philip S. Hoffman / Philip Hoffman / Phillip Seymour Hoffman (two l's)/ Phil Hoffman.
While grocery shopping later that day, the 2nd Assistant Director called me (amid a torrent of dramatic phone calls, you don't wanna know.)
"So, your fitting is tomorrow at 2pm, but Chris wants to see people in hair and make-up before they go to set, so can you make it to (somewhere, I forget what she said) at around 6pm tomorrow? We're doing night shoots."
Well, the night time is the right time for me, and seeing him the day before will take care of any pre-shoot jitters. Now I'll have to fall violently, un-workably ill on Thursday night instead. It's so hard to plan a good sickness these days.
With all this happening, I still need to put that pilot audition on tape for the LA person. I’ll have to sleep tomorrow morning, so that’s out, and I’ll need to sleep Thursday before I go to set, so it looks like Friday it is, but it’s Good Friday, so the studios may be closed. Putting stuff on tape is actually a real pain when you have to find your own reader, call to book the time (the studio I called yesterday was closed at 4:15) and pay for them to tape you. But hey, show me the guy who said it’d be easy, and I’ll show you a guy that the drug-sniffing dogs would have a field-day over.
Also, work is short-staffed in our final weeks of the contract, so they’ve been calling me to work overtime (I had to do 13 ½ hours on Friday night) which couldn’t happen at a worse time. The company taking-over the security contract is paying a prettier penny, so it may be worth my while to get on with them and stay here a while. Well, we’ll see if any restaurants want me first. With the never-ending renovations upstairs, sleeping in the day is once again an upstream swim, so graveyard has lost its “appeal”. It’ll be over soon.
At least the Foo Fighter’s concert is on Sunday instead of Saturday (what’s with me being a day early for EVERYTHING?) so I can make that without any problems … except I’ll have to miss going to Empire Theatres by myself to watch Wrestlemania 24.
Aaannd, the “nerd quotient” just hit 65% with that last remark. A new record!
Friday, March 14, 2008
"I Love You, Chris Columbus"
This week's been pretty dead acting-wise. The last time I talked with my agent before today was Monday before going to my "Paul Bergie" audition for "I Love You, Beth Cooper". I left him a message after the audition, and went on my merry way.
The apartment directly above mine has been the proverbial pile of manure to my fly of rage in the past months, as it seems someone up there thought themselves as quite the Mike Holmes and decided to pound the every loving material out of their floor. Now, they were very respectful, keeping their activity between the hours of 9-5, which-- wait, that's exactly when I'm trying to sleep. That's a horrible time to be pounding the floor, and it caused me to pound my fists into the headboard in unseen retaliation.
So this week I see a notice saying that "a condo on the 20th floor" will be renovating in the "coming weeks". Fan-damn-tastic. They will be starting the JACKHAMMERING OF THE FLOOR on OR AROUND March 12, and MAY NEED some EXTRA TIME to finish-up on the 13th. It didn't take me long to ascertain that "a condo" was the same condo that the aforementioned screw-it-yourselfer owned. Well, at least they gave us fair warning, which was enough for me call-in a favour and sleep on my buddy/co-worker/classmate's couch in an apartment that didn’t have an audio re-enactment of November 9, 1989. I'm not too good with couches, they’re far too cramped for my liking, so I was lucky when his roommate (and my buddy/classmate as well) let me use his bed while he left for work for the day.
So far this week, I've been without a quiet home to sleep in, I found out that the loan in my RBC account needs to be paid back (I forgot that there's Provincial Loan AND a National Loan ... oops), and I found out where I'll be working security when the contract I'm on is up. Good week to not have to worry about auditioning.
So today in my buddy’s bed, my agent finally calls.
"Are you frustrated yet?"
Now this is one of the reasons I like him so much: he gets it. He understands that there’s a lot of work to be done, but there’s gotta be a reward at some point. Was mine ever coming?
"Uh, yeah," I replied, trying to downplay how I feel.
"Don't be, just keep working hard, and things will click for you."
That's all I can do is work. It's been my philosophy all along, and it's something my agent stands-by. He wants his clients to work hard, because talent and looks can only get you so far. If you've got the work ethic, things WILL happen for you, plain and simple.
He asked me if I wanted to put something on tape for a Manager in LA that he'll be visiting next week. This is the first optional thing he's slid my way, and of course I'll take it. It's for a show called "Harper's Island", this is for the pilot. It's going to be directed by John Turtletaub (National Treasure, National Treasure: Book of Secrets, and National Treasure: Weekend at Lincoln’s). I'm not entirely sure what it's about (the website with the script asks you to pay $10 to download it), so I'll just have to stick with what my sides say, and go from there.
So I tried to get to sleep again, remembering that both "I Love You, Beth Cooper" and "Jennifer's Body" (which I kind of gave-up on, but they never said no outright) begin shooting on Monday. Looks like after auditioning for four different characters, all four of them in front of the esteemed director of “I Love You, Beth Cooper”, I'm coming away with naught but the stories I’ve written here.
The phone woke me up a few hours later and all fears were relieved.
"You just booked yourself your first little gig."
Awesome.
I booked Paul Bergie on "I Love You, Beth Cooper", shooting Wednesday, and paying actor’s scale rate plus 130% buy-out. I don't really know what that means exactly, other than it means more money, which rules.
"This is just the beginning, there will be bigger ones," he told me.
I have no doubts there, and what better way to start-out than, literally, the smallest way an actor CAN start-out? At least this one-liner is memorable.
"Is it something Grammy can watch?" my mom asked.
"A-hah, no," I said. I don't even think she could watch it, but I digress.
"Oh no, you don't saying any bad words, do you?"
"No, but if I had one of the other parts I would."
23, on my own in Vancouver, a working actor, and I still gotta make sure I don't say any naughty words, even if they're written for me and I'm paid to say them.
My folks were happy for me, of course, and I called my brother. It was his birthday today, and he asked if my getting the part was my birthday present to him. I should have said yes.
"How much is the phone bill this month?" (we're on a family plan, and the payments are withdrawn from my account).
"Aw, don't worry about it, I'll pay for it."
"Are you sure? That's expensive."
It is, but when you consider how self-involved I am that I was surprised when Facebook had to remind me that my bro's b-day was coming up, and that I had no idea or plan to get him anything, something expensive should be my penalty.
I talked for a good long time to a good dear friend of mine back home. We have a, a-hem, past together, and have gone lengths of time with nada communicado, but we're cool now. Everything was going great until she asked why I'm not dating. That just stopped me dead. Y'see, I can talk about anything, for hours, but when it comes to that, I'm about as expert as a palsy victim doing brain surgery with a pipe wrench (thank you, Frank Miller.) Seriously, I had a girl ask me why I'm not interested in her, and I just stuttered and stammered, and I don't even think I answered her question at all. I'm not going to delve too far into it, but I'll just say "it's complicated" right now.
"You're just goal-oriented," she said. Yeah, that works. And really, with the schedule I'm maintaining, I hardly have time for myself, let alone someone else. I can't even honestly say I don't WANT to see someone; I just can't. And I can't even articulate my thoughts better here. If I feel like it, I'll write about my internet "dating" history. That'll be good for a laugh.
I came back from the gym and my room-to-the-mate tells me that a guy from the costume department called me, and to call him back before 9pm. It was 9:07pm when I found this out. Did I dare risk it all and call him anyway, throwing caution and my future into the wind? Yeah, I did.
“Costume department, Kevin speaking.”
"Hello, this is Will."
"Uh, refresh my memory again?"
"From 'I Love You, Beth Cooper', I'm playing Paul."
"Oh, Paul BERGIE! Yes, yes, I need to get your sizes."
He hadn't even seen a picture of me yet, so he asked my eye colour, hair colour, my height, approximate weight, and the few things I knew off-hand such as waist, inseam, shoe size, etc. The one thing I didn't know what suit size, so he had to talk me through finding the size on my suit jacket.
"It should be on a white tag in the inside left breast pocket."
"Uh, I don't see a number, it just says 'Joseph and Feiss'"
"Oh, so it's a Moores suit."
Well, now he knows what a high roller I am. I finally found the size, and I let him know the suit was a little big for me. Like, I really stressed that point.
"And, are there any colours you just won't wear?"
"I'll be honest with you man, I really don't care, throw anything on me." Little does he know, he's dealing with the least-fashionable actor he's ever worked with. He let me know he'd call me Monday to arrange for a costume fitting on Tuesday (which I think I get paid for also, have to ask the agent about that).
So after all this acting excitement, I was looking forward to going out to a dinner party for some of my friends in Richmond Saturday night, when I checked the work schedule and see that Saturday's day shift is a "split shift", and I see my usual 2330-0730 has become 2330-1130. You gotta be kidding me. There's no way I can be in Burnaby at 11:30am and then Richmond at 7:30pm and sleep enough that I won't die from working Saturday night and being up all day Sunday to sing in the choir.
I’m shooting on Wednesday, and since work isn't allowing any nights off until the contract is up, on Tuesday night I shall fall violently ill and make a miraculous recovery come the next morning. I’m sorry, but I refuse to pull a “Chasing Stories” and stay up for three straight days for my first day on a professional set. I've taken one night off since starting with the company, and now they aren't allowing anymore? Go right to hell. There are priorities, and I certainly won’t give them to the company that outright lied to us about how they were handling placement after the contract is up.
Obviously I can't quit now. I still need a job, and especially after finding out how much money I owe for my loans, I gotta be careful with my money. But there are alternatives to security.
The job hunt begins again, starting this week.
The apartment directly above mine has been the proverbial pile of manure to my fly of rage in the past months, as it seems someone up there thought themselves as quite the Mike Holmes and decided to pound the every loving material out of their floor. Now, they were very respectful, keeping their activity between the hours of 9-5, which-- wait, that's exactly when I'm trying to sleep. That's a horrible time to be pounding the floor, and it caused me to pound my fists into the headboard in unseen retaliation.
So this week I see a notice saying that "a condo on the 20th floor" will be renovating in the "coming weeks". Fan-damn-tastic. They will be starting the JACKHAMMERING OF THE FLOOR on OR AROUND March 12, and MAY NEED some EXTRA TIME to finish-up on the 13th. It didn't take me long to ascertain that "a condo" was the same condo that the aforementioned screw-it-yourselfer owned. Well, at least they gave us fair warning, which was enough for me call-in a favour and sleep on my buddy/co-worker/classmate's couch in an apartment that didn’t have an audio re-enactment of November 9, 1989. I'm not too good with couches, they’re far too cramped for my liking, so I was lucky when his roommate (and my buddy/classmate as well) let me use his bed while he left for work for the day.
So far this week, I've been without a quiet home to sleep in, I found out that the loan in my RBC account needs to be paid back (I forgot that there's Provincial Loan AND a National Loan ... oops), and I found out where I'll be working security when the contract I'm on is up. Good week to not have to worry about auditioning.
So today in my buddy’s bed, my agent finally calls.
"Are you frustrated yet?"
Now this is one of the reasons I like him so much: he gets it. He understands that there’s a lot of work to be done, but there’s gotta be a reward at some point. Was mine ever coming?
"Uh, yeah," I replied, trying to downplay how I feel.
"Don't be, just keep working hard, and things will click for you."
That's all I can do is work. It's been my philosophy all along, and it's something my agent stands-by. He wants his clients to work hard, because talent and looks can only get you so far. If you've got the work ethic, things WILL happen for you, plain and simple.
He asked me if I wanted to put something on tape for a Manager in LA that he'll be visiting next week. This is the first optional thing he's slid my way, and of course I'll take it. It's for a show called "Harper's Island", this is for the pilot. It's going to be directed by John Turtletaub (National Treasure, National Treasure: Book of Secrets, and National Treasure: Weekend at Lincoln’s). I'm not entirely sure what it's about (the website with the script asks you to pay $10 to download it), so I'll just have to stick with what my sides say, and go from there.
So I tried to get to sleep again, remembering that both "I Love You, Beth Cooper" and "Jennifer's Body" (which I kind of gave-up on, but they never said no outright) begin shooting on Monday. Looks like after auditioning for four different characters, all four of them in front of the esteemed director of “I Love You, Beth Cooper”, I'm coming away with naught but the stories I’ve written here.
The phone woke me up a few hours later and all fears were relieved.
"You just booked yourself your first little gig."
Awesome.
I booked Paul Bergie on "I Love You, Beth Cooper", shooting Wednesday, and paying actor’s scale rate plus 130% buy-out. I don't really know what that means exactly, other than it means more money, which rules.
"This is just the beginning, there will be bigger ones," he told me.
I have no doubts there, and what better way to start-out than, literally, the smallest way an actor CAN start-out? At least this one-liner is memorable.
"Is it something Grammy can watch?" my mom asked.
"A-hah, no," I said. I don't even think she could watch it, but I digress.
"Oh no, you don't saying any bad words, do you?"
"No, but if I had one of the other parts I would."
23, on my own in Vancouver, a working actor, and I still gotta make sure I don't say any naughty words, even if they're written for me and I'm paid to say them.
My folks were happy for me, of course, and I called my brother. It was his birthday today, and he asked if my getting the part was my birthday present to him. I should have said yes.
"How much is the phone bill this month?" (we're on a family plan, and the payments are withdrawn from my account).
"Aw, don't worry about it, I'll pay for it."
"Are you sure? That's expensive."
It is, but when you consider how self-involved I am that I was surprised when Facebook had to remind me that my bro's b-day was coming up, and that I had no idea or plan to get him anything, something expensive should be my penalty.
I talked for a good long time to a good dear friend of mine back home. We have a, a-hem, past together, and have gone lengths of time with nada communicado, but we're cool now. Everything was going great until she asked why I'm not dating. That just stopped me dead. Y'see, I can talk about anything, for hours, but when it comes to that, I'm about as expert as a palsy victim doing brain surgery with a pipe wrench (thank you, Frank Miller.) Seriously, I had a girl ask me why I'm not interested in her, and I just stuttered and stammered, and I don't even think I answered her question at all. I'm not going to delve too far into it, but I'll just say "it's complicated" right now.
"You're just goal-oriented," she said. Yeah, that works. And really, with the schedule I'm maintaining, I hardly have time for myself, let alone someone else. I can't even honestly say I don't WANT to see someone; I just can't. And I can't even articulate my thoughts better here. If I feel like it, I'll write about my internet "dating" history. That'll be good for a laugh.
I came back from the gym and my room-to-the-mate tells me that a guy from the costume department called me, and to call him back before 9pm. It was 9:07pm when I found this out. Did I dare risk it all and call him anyway, throwing caution and my future into the wind? Yeah, I did.
“Costume department, Kevin speaking.”
"Hello, this is Will."
"Uh, refresh my memory again?"
"From 'I Love You, Beth Cooper', I'm playing Paul."
"Oh, Paul BERGIE! Yes, yes, I need to get your sizes."
He hadn't even seen a picture of me yet, so he asked my eye colour, hair colour, my height, approximate weight, and the few things I knew off-hand such as waist, inseam, shoe size, etc. The one thing I didn't know what suit size, so he had to talk me through finding the size on my suit jacket.
"It should be on a white tag in the inside left breast pocket."
"Uh, I don't see a number, it just says 'Joseph and Feiss'"
"Oh, so it's a Moores suit."
Well, now he knows what a high roller I am. I finally found the size, and I let him know the suit was a little big for me. Like, I really stressed that point.
"And, are there any colours you just won't wear?"
"I'll be honest with you man, I really don't care, throw anything on me." Little does he know, he's dealing with the least-fashionable actor he's ever worked with. He let me know he'd call me Monday to arrange for a costume fitting on Tuesday (which I think I get paid for also, have to ask the agent about that).
So after all this acting excitement, I was looking forward to going out to a dinner party for some of my friends in Richmond Saturday night, when I checked the work schedule and see that Saturday's day shift is a "split shift", and I see my usual 2330-0730 has become 2330-1130. You gotta be kidding me. There's no way I can be in Burnaby at 11:30am and then Richmond at 7:30pm and sleep enough that I won't die from working Saturday night and being up all day Sunday to sing in the choir.
I’m shooting on Wednesday, and since work isn't allowing any nights off until the contract is up, on Tuesday night I shall fall violently ill and make a miraculous recovery come the next morning. I’m sorry, but I refuse to pull a “Chasing Stories” and stay up for three straight days for my first day on a professional set. I've taken one night off since starting with the company, and now they aren't allowing anymore? Go right to hell. There are priorities, and I certainly won’t give them to the company that outright lied to us about how they were handling placement after the contract is up.
Obviously I can't quit now. I still need a job, and especially after finding out how much money I owe for my loans, I gotta be careful with my money. But there are alternatives to security.
The job hunt begins again, starting this week.
Monday, March 10, 2008
"A Man Of Many Roles"
Yesterday my agent called me,
"Goddammit, they want you to read for Beth Cooper again. You read for them on Friday, right?"
"Yeah," (wrong, I read for them on Wednesday.)
"For Paul Bergie?"
"No, I read for Dustin on Wednesday."
"Oh ... OK. I'll give her a call and call you back."
Alright.
So I'm thinking he'll call back in like, five minutes. This totally put me on edge for the rest of the night, as I wonder if he called the wrong guy, or if he didn't what this fourth character will be about. About five agonizing hours later, I see that I missed his call (had my phone on vibrate 'cuz I was having a text message conversation while at dinner, and keeping it on loud would be the height of rudeness.) For some reason my phone wasn't connecting to the network, so I had to call my voicemail from the phone of the persons house I was at. I could hardly hear the message from that phone, so I called again from mine and heard:
"So we got it figured out, I was just playing tennis, that's why I'm getting back to you now (I didn't mind waiting, nope, not at all). So you've got an audition at 6:10 for Paul Bergie, it's a producer-director session. It's a one-liner, so I'll get to the office early tomorrow to send it to you ... you shouldn't need too many hours to work on it."
So I've gone from lead character, to incidental character, to lead character's buddy, to one line in a flashback. But hey, a gig's a gig, and I'm in no position to complain about getting anything. I mean, after this audition I'll have auditioned in front of Columbus three times, so that's pretty dang cool.
So today I got everything together to be out of the house at 1 o'clock because we were having the carpet in the apartment cleaned. We stuck around until the guy was finished, which was around 2:30 or so, and headed to Metrotown in Burnaby to kill some time while we waited for the carpet to dry. I called my agent while I was there,
"You've been in their room four times, I asked them why couldn't they just give it to you (at least I wasn't the only one thinking this), but they had to see the guys there for a callback."
I only spent about 45 minutes there at Metrotown before I had to hop the SkyTrain to get to the SeaBus to grab the bus to get to the studio's "side entrance". I enter the waiting room to see the usual crew of handsome-lookin' dudes, and I instantly become dismayed when I a guy I know as a VFS grad was there for the same part. Looks like my dream will never be realized where I walk into a completely empty waiting room where the Casting Assistant comes out to tell me that no one else showed-up, so they'll just give to me. Oh, and here's the keys to a new BMW, it's just taking-up space on the lot, you might as well have it, just mind the briefcase full of money in the trunk, I guess you can have that too.
Columbus and Radcliffe enter, late, and the actors start pourin' in. I get my turn, and right away Chris says "You're back!"
"That's right," I say.
"You are a man of many roles" (how 'bout you just give me one aready!)
"Well, that's the actor's way." Wasn't even sure what I meant by that, but I hoped it made me sound like a professional go-getter.
I read my ... line, and Chris said that the read was good, but he wanted me to take a bit more time with it. So there, now he's directed me, cool. As I was leaving the room the Casting Assistant asked me if I can read for "Loser Clerk". "I already did," I said, so this thing just turned into a "Loser Clerk" callback. The guy who auditioned for "Paul Bergie" after me was also asked to read for our favourite convenience store employee. There were some other guys in the room being called back for him too ... but no Jason. Take that, times two! I read "Loser Clerk", and held the last moment of the audition as I was leaving, just to have some fun with it, show them I'm in good spirits, and a blast to have on set, I mean, I'm just a riot.
When I got home, I received feedback from the general audition I did last week (the one I was lat-- I mean, right on time for.) The e-mail read "pretty good comic timing, great character look."
I'm the guy who puts the word "character" in "actor". Wait, that doesn't make any sense. I mean, I'm the guy who ADDS the word "char" to "actor" to make "character". Yeah, that's a lot better.
"Goddammit, they want you to read for Beth Cooper again. You read for them on Friday, right?"
"Yeah," (wrong, I read for them on Wednesday.)
"For Paul Bergie?"
"No, I read for Dustin on Wednesday."
"Oh ... OK. I'll give her a call and call you back."
Alright.
So I'm thinking he'll call back in like, five minutes. This totally put me on edge for the rest of the night, as I wonder if he called the wrong guy, or if he didn't what this fourth character will be about. About five agonizing hours later, I see that I missed his call (had my phone on vibrate 'cuz I was having a text message conversation while at dinner, and keeping it on loud would be the height of rudeness.) For some reason my phone wasn't connecting to the network, so I had to call my voicemail from the phone of the persons house I was at. I could hardly hear the message from that phone, so I called again from mine and heard:
"So we got it figured out, I was just playing tennis, that's why I'm getting back to you now (I didn't mind waiting, nope, not at all). So you've got an audition at 6:10 for Paul Bergie, it's a producer-director session. It's a one-liner, so I'll get to the office early tomorrow to send it to you ... you shouldn't need too many hours to work on it."
So I've gone from lead character, to incidental character, to lead character's buddy, to one line in a flashback. But hey, a gig's a gig, and I'm in no position to complain about getting anything. I mean, after this audition I'll have auditioned in front of Columbus three times, so that's pretty dang cool.
So today I got everything together to be out of the house at 1 o'clock because we were having the carpet in the apartment cleaned. We stuck around until the guy was finished, which was around 2:30 or so, and headed to Metrotown in Burnaby to kill some time while we waited for the carpet to dry. I called my agent while I was there,
"You've been in their room four times, I asked them why couldn't they just give it to you (at least I wasn't the only one thinking this), but they had to see the guys there for a callback."
I only spent about 45 minutes there at Metrotown before I had to hop the SkyTrain to get to the SeaBus to grab the bus to get to the studio's "side entrance". I enter the waiting room to see the usual crew of handsome-lookin' dudes, and I instantly become dismayed when I a guy I know as a VFS grad was there for the same part. Looks like my dream will never be realized where I walk into a completely empty waiting room where the Casting Assistant comes out to tell me that no one else showed-up, so they'll just give to me. Oh, and here's the keys to a new BMW, it's just taking-up space on the lot, you might as well have it, just mind the briefcase full of money in the trunk, I guess you can have that too.
Columbus and Radcliffe enter, late, and the actors start pourin' in. I get my turn, and right away Chris says "You're back!"
"That's right," I say.
"You are a man of many roles" (how 'bout you just give me one aready!)
"Well, that's the actor's way." Wasn't even sure what I meant by that, but I hoped it made me sound like a professional go-getter.
I read my ... line, and Chris said that the read was good, but he wanted me to take a bit more time with it. So there, now he's directed me, cool. As I was leaving the room the Casting Assistant asked me if I can read for "Loser Clerk". "I already did," I said, so this thing just turned into a "Loser Clerk" callback. The guy who auditioned for "Paul Bergie" after me was also asked to read for our favourite convenience store employee. There were some other guys in the room being called back for him too ... but no Jason. Take that, times two! I read "Loser Clerk", and held the last moment of the audition as I was leaving, just to have some fun with it, show them I'm in good spirits, and a blast to have on set, I mean, I'm just a riot.
When I got home, I received feedback from the general audition I did last week (the one I was lat-- I mean, right on time for.) The e-mail read "pretty good comic timing, great character look."
I'm the guy who puts the word "character" in "actor". Wait, that doesn't make any sense. I mean, I'm the guy who ADDS the word "char" to "actor" to make "character". Yeah, that's a lot better.
Friday, March 07, 2008
" ... And Is All Man"
"*pant*, thanks man."
I grunt, as the guy pulls-off the bar with ease and points-out the holder-things that hold the weights on. I couldn't tell what he was saying as James Hetfield was screaming in my ear something about hitting the lights. Yeah, I'll use those holder things next time. So great, I had to have a guy pull the bar off my chest at the gym, I might as well go to the beach and have a bully knock-over my sandcastle and kick sand in my face, and then have a pen break in my shirt pocket to complete the nerd trifecta.
To be fair, I was exhausted from the day before, and working that night. I had to squeeze in work-out this morning before my coaching, because there was no way I was sleeping for five hours and trying to work-out before going to work tonight. I'm lucky I only had that one incident and didn't end-up giving "skull-crushers" some legit street-cred.
More about the audition, the character's name is Chris Hart, which is about the coolest combination of names ever. The show is called "Revolution", set in the 22nd century (like I said, by the guy who produced/directed Battlestar Gallactica) about the United States colonizing a planet called "New America" (catchy name). It's really a story about the family relationships, which I can get behind. This is a story about a family that lost everything, and the one son who had no choice but to keep them all together. It doesn't work as a movie, so it's a good thing it's a TV series.
My agent used this line in the e-mail to "sell" me to the Casting Director, and I just have to write this quote here because I'm getting it tattooed on my chest in olde-English-style writing and also carved on my gravestone:
"He is good, and is all man"
I swear to God my agent wrote that. He asked me yesterday if I was getting a big head from all these auditions, and I told him my neck was killing me; well, it's his fault, if he's going to keep writing stuff like this!
I decided to wear my suit to look older and professional. I mean, the dude runs his dad's company, so he'd be pretty well-dressed, right? Well I wasn't. In fact, I looked like I ran my dad's company in my dad's suit. I'm tellin' ya, wearing this thing I could leap out a plane at 30,000 ft. without a parachute and be just like one of those squirrels that can fly (what are those called again?) It's the $150 Moores special and I bought it about 4-and-a-half years ago for a wedding. Since then, I've worn it at weddings, funerals, Christmas Mass, I've wrestled in it, did a monologue while putting it on, and wore it for a set of head shots. I think I need to get it "taken-in" but really it should just be taken in to a Salvation Army bin to be done with. At least I got some shoe polish to cover-up the salt-lines on them from salting the EA parking lot.
I take the SkyTrain and walk about nine blocks to get to the acting coaches house. I couldn't find an RBC ATM, so I had to get cash-back from the Chinese guy at the convenience store (dude gave me a $50 bill, who DOES that?) because I didn't have enough on me for the coaching and the necessary Taxi ride to get to the audition on time. I had no idea how much the coaching would cost, having never worked with this person before. She could have charged $300/hour for all I know. I find the house and ring the white doorbell, and a guy in shorts and bare feet comes around the back of the house.
"Uh, I'm here for Iris," I stammered.
"Oh, are you here for a coaching?" The man asked.
"Uh, yeah."
"I'm Fred, her husband."
Fred looked like an actor, with his nice hair and good looks, and he let me into their home. He showed me the "studio", which was very similar to an audition room, with a camera, and special lighting, which totally bested VFS' plain ol' rooms. They even had a green room, which made me think wow, how many actors do they coach at time that they need a green room? and I also thought this is going to cost me. All these rooms were very interesting, but there was one I was interested in above all others.
"Where's your bathroom?"
Iris came down after a few minutes of waiting in their very posh green room, and before we got to work, she asked what time my audition was.
"1:25."
"Oh, I should have gotten you in here earlier, maybe." You think?
"Do you have a car?" she asked, and I somehow managed to swallow the gulp of Propel I just took.
"Nah, I'll take a cab."
So we got to work, and she reminded me so much of my third-term acting teacher I swear they could be brother and sister, although she was a bit softer and nicer (must be an east-coast thing, she was born in Amherst). I called the cab to be at her door for one o'clock, and paid Iris way less than I expected, less than my VFS coaches were charging even.
In the cab we hit bad traffic, and I start to get worried around 20 after one.
"Can you tell them I might be a bit late?" I asked my agent from my cell phone.
"Uh, I don't know if that's gonna work, they have a pretty tight schedule."
Oh God, do NOT tell me I've done all this work for nothing.
"Where are you?"
"12th and Cambie."
"Oh, that part of town is terrible, I'll call them for you."
Thanks, guy.
We cleared the traffic soon-after the phone call and I roll-up to the building right at 1:25. I pay the man and dash for my little acting life.
I enter the room and see Jared, whom loyal readers should recall is the guy I read against for "Kevin" in "I Love You, Beth Cooper" and more recently "Dustin" in the sure-fire hit "I Love You, Beth Cooper". Jared's a cool guy, and always wishes me a fractured limb before I enter the audition room or as he's leaving. Right back atcha big guy. They're running behind, which is just grand, and I enter the room after about 15 minutes or so.
I read the first scene, took some direction, ran it again, and then ran the second scene. The Casting Director I read with said "good," which is about as good as I could ask for, and I was outta there. It felt good to me, thanks to Iris' coaching.
"Sometimes you just need a coach to get over the hump," my agent said when I called him afterward.
"Yeah, I'm definitely keeping her number," I said, and he laughed.
I talked to my folks, who saw fit to send me some money to help with my growing phone bill and number of cab rides. I wonder if that's a hint to call them more often (although I've been talking to them now more than ever with all these auditions). I appreciate it all the same, although I've taken a bit of pride in my financial independence. But hey, if someone says "here's money" when you're in my position, you say "gimme-- I mean ... thanks".
Before coming to work, I found out that my lady roommate is short-listed for a commercial, which she is, like, so excited over. She's had a rough go over the last few days, losing sleep over a friend of hers who's having some major surgery. I'm praying for her friend, and for her commercial, although the excitement she'll exude if she books it may be too much to bear. We're talkin' broken windows from the jubilant screams here.
I grunt, as the guy pulls-off the bar with ease and points-out the holder-things that hold the weights on. I couldn't tell what he was saying as James Hetfield was screaming in my ear something about hitting the lights. Yeah, I'll use those holder things next time. So great, I had to have a guy pull the bar off my chest at the gym, I might as well go to the beach and have a bully knock-over my sandcastle and kick sand in my face, and then have a pen break in my shirt pocket to complete the nerd trifecta.
To be fair, I was exhausted from the day before, and working that night. I had to squeeze in work-out this morning before my coaching, because there was no way I was sleeping for five hours and trying to work-out before going to work tonight. I'm lucky I only had that one incident and didn't end-up giving "skull-crushers" some legit street-cred.
More about the audition, the character's name is Chris Hart, which is about the coolest combination of names ever. The show is called "Revolution", set in the 22nd century (like I said, by the guy who produced/directed Battlestar Gallactica) about the United States colonizing a planet called "New America" (catchy name). It's really a story about the family relationships, which I can get behind. This is a story about a family that lost everything, and the one son who had no choice but to keep them all together. It doesn't work as a movie, so it's a good thing it's a TV series.
My agent used this line in the e-mail to "sell" me to the Casting Director, and I just have to write this quote here because I'm getting it tattooed on my chest in olde-English-style writing and also carved on my gravestone:
"He is good, and is all man"
I swear to God my agent wrote that. He asked me yesterday if I was getting a big head from all these auditions, and I told him my neck was killing me; well, it's his fault, if he's going to keep writing stuff like this!
I decided to wear my suit to look older and professional. I mean, the dude runs his dad's company, so he'd be pretty well-dressed, right? Well I wasn't. In fact, I looked like I ran my dad's company in my dad's suit. I'm tellin' ya, wearing this thing I could leap out a plane at 30,000 ft. without a parachute and be just like one of those squirrels that can fly (what are those called again?) It's the $150 Moores special and I bought it about 4-and-a-half years ago for a wedding. Since then, I've worn it at weddings, funerals, Christmas Mass, I've wrestled in it, did a monologue while putting it on, and wore it for a set of head shots. I think I need to get it "taken-in" but really it should just be taken in to a Salvation Army bin to be done with. At least I got some shoe polish to cover-up the salt-lines on them from salting the EA parking lot.
I take the SkyTrain and walk about nine blocks to get to the acting coaches house. I couldn't find an RBC ATM, so I had to get cash-back from the Chinese guy at the convenience store (dude gave me a $50 bill, who DOES that?) because I didn't have enough on me for the coaching and the necessary Taxi ride to get to the audition on time. I had no idea how much the coaching would cost, having never worked with this person before. She could have charged $300/hour for all I know. I find the house and ring the white doorbell, and a guy in shorts and bare feet comes around the back of the house.
"Uh, I'm here for Iris," I stammered.
"Oh, are you here for a coaching?" The man asked.
"Uh, yeah."
"I'm Fred, her husband."
Fred looked like an actor, with his nice hair and good looks, and he let me into their home. He showed me the "studio", which was very similar to an audition room, with a camera, and special lighting, which totally bested VFS' plain ol' rooms. They even had a green room, which made me think wow, how many actors do they coach at time that they need a green room? and I also thought this is going to cost me. All these rooms were very interesting, but there was one I was interested in above all others.
"Where's your bathroom?"
Iris came down after a few minutes of waiting in their very posh green room, and before we got to work, she asked what time my audition was.
"1:25."
"Oh, I should have gotten you in here earlier, maybe." You think?
"Do you have a car?" she asked, and I somehow managed to swallow the gulp of Propel I just took.
"Nah, I'll take a cab."
So we got to work, and she reminded me so much of my third-term acting teacher I swear they could be brother and sister, although she was a bit softer and nicer (must be an east-coast thing, she was born in Amherst). I called the cab to be at her door for one o'clock, and paid Iris way less than I expected, less than my VFS coaches were charging even.
In the cab we hit bad traffic, and I start to get worried around 20 after one.
"Can you tell them I might be a bit late?" I asked my agent from my cell phone.
"Uh, I don't know if that's gonna work, they have a pretty tight schedule."
Oh God, do NOT tell me I've done all this work for nothing.
"Where are you?"
"12th and Cambie."
"Oh, that part of town is terrible, I'll call them for you."
Thanks, guy.
We cleared the traffic soon-after the phone call and I roll-up to the building right at 1:25. I pay the man and dash for my little acting life.
I enter the room and see Jared, whom loyal readers should recall is the guy I read against for "Kevin" in "I Love You, Beth Cooper" and more recently "Dustin" in the sure-fire hit "I Love You, Beth Cooper". Jared's a cool guy, and always wishes me a fractured limb before I enter the audition room or as he's leaving. Right back atcha big guy. They're running behind, which is just grand, and I enter the room after about 15 minutes or so.
I read the first scene, took some direction, ran it again, and then ran the second scene. The Casting Director I read with said "good," which is about as good as I could ask for, and I was outta there. It felt good to me, thanks to Iris' coaching.
"Sometimes you just need a coach to get over the hump," my agent said when I called him afterward.
"Yeah, I'm definitely keeping her number," I said, and he laughed.
I talked to my folks, who saw fit to send me some money to help with my growing phone bill and number of cab rides. I wonder if that's a hint to call them more often (although I've been talking to them now more than ever with all these auditions). I appreciate it all the same, although I've taken a bit of pride in my financial independence. But hey, if someone says "here's money" when you're in my position, you say "gimme-- I mean ... thanks".
Before coming to work, I found out that my lady roommate is short-listed for a commercial, which she is, like, so excited over. She's had a rough go over the last few days, losing sleep over a friend of hers who's having some major surgery. I'm praying for her friend, and for her commercial, although the excitement she'll exude if she books it may be too much to bear. We're talkin' broken windows from the jubilant screams here.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
"You're Going To Have a Crazy Day"
I thought I'd put my phone on "silent" today. I was expecting a call from Securiguard regarding my reassignment when the contract is up at the end of the month, but they could wait, and if my agent called, I'd just get back to him ASAP. I've been up since I bolted (literally) out of bed at 9:35am Tuesday, and I needs me shut-eye. I get a call from nature that I answer before going to bed, and take a look at my phone to see: 1 missed call. The agent. Well, since I'm up ...
He left me a voicemail that simply said "call me", so call him I did.
"Did you just wake-up?"
"Uh, yeah," it was easier to say than "I haven't really slept yet."
"Key-rist, the life of an actor," or the life of a graveyard security worker, but we'll go with actor, "what are you doing at 2 o'clock today?"
Sleeping. "Nothing!"
"Well, I want you to come in and do a voice thing."
Voice thing? Can't get anymore vague than that, and I try to sleep for a few hours more before I go in to do something with my voice.
While waiting for my luxurious acting transport to arrive (read: bus) that old cad calls again.
"You're going to have a crazy day."
Great.
"They want you for 'I Love You, Beth Cooper' at 3:45 to read for Dustin, but they want you to read Kevin."
Wha?
Dustin is one of Kevin's army buddies, and when I read "Loser Clerk" last week, Dustin was being read by all black guys. I let my agent know this.
"Yeah, well, they want to go this way with it. It's a producer/director session."
So Columbus, we meet again at last.
When I arrive at the agency, I find out this "voice thing" is another radio commercial for, drum roll please ... oven-roasted almonds. Just smashing. Before I did this, my agent gave me the "Dustin" sides, and was telling me he was trying to get me an audition for a new series his friend Michael Rymer (producer and director of Battlestar Gallactica) was working on. He said Michael saw my head shot, and thought I looked too young, by my agent pressed for me, saying I was more mature than I looked. It's that danged youthful head shot he made me get, curse the day! We got to talking about how expensive it can be to be an actor, paying for transport and tapings like I did yesterday, and like Sara had to today.
"She's been putting a lot of things on tape for LA, she's getting pretty well-known down there," and as he walked away he casually mentioned, "They know about you, too."
I discovered the agency has a recording studio attached to it, and I tried my best to be youthful and energetic with these danged almonds, but I just didn't get there. I was being coached my my agent's daughter who wants me to listen to the radio to hear what the other guys are doing and how they're sounding. They want me to take a workshop, which I don't mind. Anything to improve myself, really.
I grabbed another luxurious city bus back to my apartment, and my agent calls again to tell me I have an audition for Michael Rymer's pilot tomorrow at 1:25. Hoo boy. He says it's a big one, which just relaxes me further. At the apartment, I grabbed my old "Kevin" sides, and figured an audition of this magnitude called for the most luxurious transport that money could buy: taxi!
The $27 taxi ride gets me there about 30 minutes early, which is just my style. I head to building #4 where a sign on the door says to use the entrance on the other side of the building. I enter side 2 and sign-in and wait for a bit and then get asked to wait over on side 1, since I'd be going in last and there wasn't much room on side 2 (they were casting for "Supernatural" on side 1.) While I'm waiting, I hear the Casting Assistant say "the execs are here," and I immediately sit-up straight when I hear them chattering outside the door. In comes Chris Columbus and his fellow explorers, and I greet them with a "Hey, man!" like we're old buddies, which we pretty much are. I say hi to the producers, and following all of them is Jared, they guy I read against for Kevin, that also didn't get it (it went to Brendan ... or that LA guy, we're not quite sure.) We both basically have no idea what's going on when they tell us to read one scene from Kevin's sides, and we might not even DO Dustin's, But hey, we're acting in front of Columbus again, so who are we to complain. We also both thought we're at least likely to get SOMETHING from all of this.
We get ushered back over to side 2, where I see a young middle-eastern looking guy holding sides for "Loser Clerk." Take THAT, Jason!
I go into the room, give everyone a "'sup?" and see that they remembered me. I read the "Kevin" scene and Chris said "that was awesome," and then read Dustin's stuff that I just got this afternoon. It was only about four lines or so, but they were split-up over four scenes and were a little tough as far as eye-lines go, but I made the most of it. I just had fun with it, and the guys seemed to like it.
I call my agent afterwards, as I do with every audition, and he tells me about an acting coach the agency "believes in" that he'd like me to work with for tomorrow's audition. It's a big deal, so I'll need some big help. I give her a call, and I work with her tomorrow at noon, right before my audition. I tried to sleep this evening, but the roomie was chatting and watching TV the next room over, which woke me up, and couldn't put to sleep again.
So tonight I work, tomorrow, I'll get home, go to the gym in the morning, go to my coaching, go to my audition and then ... sleep. So long as I don't have another "crazy day."
And to think, I would have slept through all of this had I not checked my phone this morning.
He left me a voicemail that simply said "call me", so call him I did.
"Did you just wake-up?"
"Uh, yeah," it was easier to say than "I haven't really slept yet."
"Key-rist, the life of an actor," or the life of a graveyard security worker, but we'll go with actor, "what are you doing at 2 o'clock today?"
Sleeping. "Nothing!"
"Well, I want you to come in and do a voice thing."
Voice thing? Can't get anymore vague than that, and I try to sleep for a few hours more before I go in to do something with my voice.
While waiting for my luxurious acting transport to arrive (read: bus) that old cad calls again.
"You're going to have a crazy day."
Great.
"They want you for 'I Love You, Beth Cooper' at 3:45 to read for Dustin, but they want you to read Kevin."
Wha?
Dustin is one of Kevin's army buddies, and when I read "Loser Clerk" last week, Dustin was being read by all black guys. I let my agent know this.
"Yeah, well, they want to go this way with it. It's a producer/director session."
So Columbus, we meet again at last.
When I arrive at the agency, I find out this "voice thing" is another radio commercial for, drum roll please ... oven-roasted almonds. Just smashing. Before I did this, my agent gave me the "Dustin" sides, and was telling me he was trying to get me an audition for a new series his friend Michael Rymer (producer and director of Battlestar Gallactica) was working on. He said Michael saw my head shot, and thought I looked too young, by my agent pressed for me, saying I was more mature than I looked. It's that danged youthful head shot he made me get, curse the day! We got to talking about how expensive it can be to be an actor, paying for transport and tapings like I did yesterday, and like Sara had to today.
"She's been putting a lot of things on tape for LA, she's getting pretty well-known down there," and as he walked away he casually mentioned, "They know about you, too."
I discovered the agency has a recording studio attached to it, and I tried my best to be youthful and energetic with these danged almonds, but I just didn't get there. I was being coached my my agent's daughter who wants me to listen to the radio to hear what the other guys are doing and how they're sounding. They want me to take a workshop, which I don't mind. Anything to improve myself, really.
I grabbed another luxurious city bus back to my apartment, and my agent calls again to tell me I have an audition for Michael Rymer's pilot tomorrow at 1:25. Hoo boy. He says it's a big one, which just relaxes me further. At the apartment, I grabbed my old "Kevin" sides, and figured an audition of this magnitude called for the most luxurious transport that money could buy: taxi!
The $27 taxi ride gets me there about 30 minutes early, which is just my style. I head to building #4 where a sign on the door says to use the entrance on the other side of the building. I enter side 2 and sign-in and wait for a bit and then get asked to wait over on side 1, since I'd be going in last and there wasn't much room on side 2 (they were casting for "Supernatural" on side 1.) While I'm waiting, I hear the Casting Assistant say "the execs are here," and I immediately sit-up straight when I hear them chattering outside the door. In comes Chris Columbus and his fellow explorers, and I greet them with a "Hey, man!" like we're old buddies, which we pretty much are. I say hi to the producers, and following all of them is Jared, they guy I read against for Kevin, that also didn't get it (it went to Brendan ... or that LA guy, we're not quite sure.) We both basically have no idea what's going on when they tell us to read one scene from Kevin's sides, and we might not even DO Dustin's, But hey, we're acting in front of Columbus again, so who are we to complain. We also both thought we're at least likely to get SOMETHING from all of this.
We get ushered back over to side 2, where I see a young middle-eastern looking guy holding sides for "Loser Clerk." Take THAT, Jason!
I go into the room, give everyone a "'sup?" and see that they remembered me. I read the "Kevin" scene and Chris said "that was awesome," and then read Dustin's stuff that I just got this afternoon. It was only about four lines or so, but they were split-up over four scenes and were a little tough as far as eye-lines go, but I made the most of it. I just had fun with it, and the guys seemed to like it.
I call my agent afterwards, as I do with every audition, and he tells me about an acting coach the agency "believes in" that he'd like me to work with for tomorrow's audition. It's a big deal, so I'll need some big help. I give her a call, and I work with her tomorrow at noon, right before my audition. I tried to sleep this evening, but the roomie was chatting and watching TV the next room over, which woke me up, and couldn't put to sleep again.
So tonight I work, tomorrow, I'll get home, go to the gym in the morning, go to my coaching, go to my audition and then ... sleep. So long as I don't have another "crazy day."
And to think, I would have slept through all of this had I not checked my phone this morning.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
A Stupid Clock, Playing Stupid Clock Games
Oh God, not again.
It's the worst feeling in the world. Luckily I've only experienced it a few times, in grade 12 math and when I was working on a student film late last year.
My call time for the general audition today was 9:50am. I set my alarm for 8:30, and off to a restless sleep I went. Wake-up ... 9:35am. The alarm was set for 8:30 ... pm.
I shouted a word that rhymed with "duck", which had nothing at all to do with the enigmatic water fowl. I had no time to think so I just slapped on some presentable clothes over my still-haven't-showered-from-the-gym body and bolted it. I mean, I ran, and I am not a runner at all, but thankfully the little cardio I do at the gym seemed to pay-off this day.
Luckily again, this building was downtown, only a few blocks from where I live, so it was bolt-able. I bumped into a guy I knew from VFS, and breathlessly told him what agent I'm with after he asked. He knew where this office was, and I followed him there, and opened the door to see my great friend Sara, whose call time was the same time I first looked at the clock after dreaming about eating a giant marshmallow (still don't know where my pillow wen- oh look, a feather. Odd).
What a relief. Then, to relieve myself further, I took the fish-key chained key to the little actors room, where I got walked-in-on by a guy in a business suit. It's just going to be one of those days, isn't it?
I went in the audition room, and met the Casting Directors. Like I said, this was a "general" audition, which means they weren't casting for anything specific, they just wanted us to bring a scene we'd be cast for and show our stuff ... and then act (rim shot). I did one of the scenes from "House Party" that I would be taping later (looked like I was the first to do it, as my roommate told me they seemed tired of hearing it by the time he got it in the afternoon). Well, something has to go my way.
My other great roommate went with me to help me put this "House Party" scene on tape. One of the Casting Directors (the people casting for "Altitude") let us use their room and camera person. Putting it on tape was great, no Casting Director to impress there, it was just me, the camera man and my reader, whom I rehearsed the scene with beforehand, so we had a good report (sorry, rapport). I did a couple takes of each scene, which was a bonus, and then I got to watch the tape back, which was another bonus, because any time I get to see my lovely face on tape is a good thing. I mean, just look at me.
So as the acting continues to go well, my "professional" life suffers. The security company I work for (not gonna say their name, but they wear yellow jackets) lost the contract at the company I work at (not gonna say their name, but they make a lot of sports video games). It seems any contracted place I work at loses their contract in the end. The call centre I worked at before moving to Vancouver (not gonna say- oh screw it, it was Minacs) lost their HP Home & Home Office store campaign ... after I left the company. So that one didn't affect me too much, but I did know some people who had to get placed at some other campaign, whether they wanted it or not, or beat the streets for some new calls to answer.
So that's what I'm faced with now. As of March 31, no more SkyTrain rides to Burnaby. No more endless coffee. No more Facebook TV trivia (my Addicted To Futurama score is 14000. That's 1400 questions that I've answered correctly). No more Blogs ... well, that's not true, but it's going to be harder to find time for it, depending on where I'm placed.
Luckily a third that my six months with the company (which is mandatory if I want them to pay for the training they put me through) is up early next month, so if I get placed somewhere awful, I won't be there for long. Then it's job findin' time again. I'll be looking to get on at a restaurant, somewhere walkable downtown. Having zero serving experience is not playing in my favour, and the fact that I'm not a hot chick makes it two strikes. At least there's a lot of food service joints in Vancouver, so there's plenty of choice, and it's an industry where you can make good money as you advance up the ladder. Security is just awful, you can't go anywhere but another security company, and I'm really only interested in the site that we're losing.
So early next month I'll dust-off the uncle Bucks and give my best "please hire me" smile I can muster. Oh well, it's a change, and I'm used to that
It's the worst feeling in the world. Luckily I've only experienced it a few times, in grade 12 math and when I was working on a student film late last year.
My call time for the general audition today was 9:50am. I set my alarm for 8:30, and off to a restless sleep I went. Wake-up ... 9:35am. The alarm was set for 8:30 ... pm.
I shouted a word that rhymed with "duck", which had nothing at all to do with the enigmatic water fowl. I had no time to think so I just slapped on some presentable clothes over my still-haven't-showered-from-the-gym body and bolted it. I mean, I ran, and I am not a runner at all, but thankfully the little cardio I do at the gym seemed to pay-off this day.
Luckily again, this building was downtown, only a few blocks from where I live, so it was bolt-able. I bumped into a guy I knew from VFS, and breathlessly told him what agent I'm with after he asked. He knew where this office was, and I followed him there, and opened the door to see my great friend Sara, whose call time was the same time I first looked at the clock after dreaming about eating a giant marshmallow (still don't know where my pillow wen- oh look, a feather. Odd).
What a relief. Then, to relieve myself further, I took the fish-key chained key to the little actors room, where I got walked-in-on by a guy in a business suit. It's just going to be one of those days, isn't it?
I went in the audition room, and met the Casting Directors. Like I said, this was a "general" audition, which means they weren't casting for anything specific, they just wanted us to bring a scene we'd be cast for and show our stuff ... and then act (rim shot). I did one of the scenes from "House Party" that I would be taping later (looked like I was the first to do it, as my roommate told me they seemed tired of hearing it by the time he got it in the afternoon). Well, something has to go my way.
My other great roommate went with me to help me put this "House Party" scene on tape. One of the Casting Directors (the people casting for "Altitude") let us use their room and camera person. Putting it on tape was great, no Casting Director to impress there, it was just me, the camera man and my reader, whom I rehearsed the scene with beforehand, so we had a good report (sorry, rapport). I did a couple takes of each scene, which was a bonus, and then I got to watch the tape back, which was another bonus, because any time I get to see my lovely face on tape is a good thing. I mean, just look at me.
So as the acting continues to go well, my "professional" life suffers. The security company I work for (not gonna say their name, but they wear yellow jackets) lost the contract at the company I work at (not gonna say their name, but they make a lot of sports video games). It seems any contracted place I work at loses their contract in the end. The call centre I worked at before moving to Vancouver (not gonna say- oh screw it, it was Minacs) lost their HP Home & Home Office store campaign ... after I left the company. So that one didn't affect me too much, but I did know some people who had to get placed at some other campaign, whether they wanted it or not, or beat the streets for some new calls to answer.
So that's what I'm faced with now. As of March 31, no more SkyTrain rides to Burnaby. No more endless coffee. No more Facebook TV trivia (my Addicted To Futurama score is 14000. That's 1400 questions that I've answered correctly). No more Blogs ... well, that's not true, but it's going to be harder to find time for it, depending on where I'm placed.
Luckily a third that my six months with the company (which is mandatory if I want them to pay for the training they put me through) is up early next month, so if I get placed somewhere awful, I won't be there for long. Then it's job findin' time again. I'll be looking to get on at a restaurant, somewhere walkable downtown. Having zero serving experience is not playing in my favour, and the fact that I'm not a hot chick makes it two strikes. At least there's a lot of food service joints in Vancouver, so there's plenty of choice, and it's an industry where you can make good money as you advance up the ladder. Security is just awful, you can't go anywhere but another security company, and I'm really only interested in the site that we're losing.
So early next month I'll dust-off the uncle Bucks and give my best "please hire me" smile I can muster. Oh well, it's a change, and I'm used to that
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Damn You, Jason!
My "Roll-up" record improves to 2-3, winning another glorious coffee, which means another rim to roll-up. I'll let you all know ASAP how that goes! I know you all care so much! !!
Nothing gives me more motivation to blog than data-entry, which is what I'm currently faced with at work. So let's you and I have a chat, shall we?
Awesome, I thought as I signed-in at North Shore Studios for my second (third?) "I Love You, Beth Cooper" audition. I'm the only guy here for this part, I realized when I scanned-through all the names and saw I was the only guy with the privilege of reading for Loser Clerk. The only other guys in the room were auditioning for the role of one of the friends of the character for which I was first submitted (me and Brendan kinda thought that if they were going to "give" me any role, it'd be the role of one of the friends.) I'm definitely not going to be "given" this role, as all the guys reading for it were black, which I don’t real “read” as (although I did play a Puerto-Rican before, so you could say that ethnicities are my specialty, along with commenting on the state of a woman’s pants upon arrival in a foreign land.)
So I'm feeling pretty good, no one else in the waiting room, I'm calm, I'm cool, I'm collect. Then one guy walks in, whom the casting assistant recognizes immediately, gives him a mug with his name on it, and pulls-out a chair with the same. She snaps her fingers and a frantic-looking teenager with a headset and clipboard rushes out of nowhere to ask this man if there's anything he can get for him, coffee, tea, Carmel macchiato. This man is Jason, and he's out for the same part I am. I even recognized him from a distance (I wasn't wearing my glasses or contacts, my dang pink-eye made Loser Clerk look like Enraged Clerk) from a number of commercials and TV shows, including that car commercial where he's playing with all the knobblies and whirly-bobs in this awesome automobile when his S/O comes along and puts the kibosh on all that. I enter the audition room, which is much sparser than it was last time, and I do my thing and feel pretty good about it.
It was certainly one of my better ones, because I "found" something in the room, which meant the discoveries I made while working on it continued right up until I did it for the Casting Director. That may not make much sense to the “normies” (non-acting folk), but the actors should get it. The “little people” just wouldn’t understand.
I exit the room, and see Jason putting on a red apron, looking like a real winner of a Loser Clerk, talking to the Casting Assistant about how wearing glasses never comes-across in the audition, how it seems too cartoony. Good thing I didn’t wear mine, although it made it more difficult to "connect" (more acting parlance, I apologize, normies) to that big light blur I was acting with.
So the Jason thing threw me, and this is where it hit me that I really need to practice what I preach. There's no controlling who you go in against, you're really only competing with yourself. So why should I be upset when I go up against the pros? If anything, I should be flattered. I've said a million times, you don't audition to get the part; you audition to get another audition. So what does it matter if the other guy gets it? At least they're seeing me, and these are huge Casting Directors who cast for huge projects.
"You know what this means? It means you're on their list, they like your work, and if you don't get the bigger parts, they'll see you for these smaller parts," explains my agent. Role size doesn’t matter to me at this stage. I'm lucky that I got as far as I did with for the roles for which I was called-back.
"And the nice thing about going-out for these big features is that they pay 130% buy-out, so even if you're just an actor ("actor" means you have at least one line, but less than ... eight? I think) you're making over a grand a day." Oh yeah, I forgot that I’d get paid for this.
I get home and plan to sleep between 1pm-7pm, go to the gym, eat, and go to work. Of course I go to sleep and my phone rings every hour or so, either being work, or my agent. Work can screw itself (they wanted me to start early), but the agent I never tire of hearing from. I missed his call, so I get this voice-mail: "You've never done this before, but I want you to put something on tape for this Casting Director, I'll send you an e-mail with the details." Something on tape? This could only mean one thing: Los Angeles.
I helped my great friend, Sara (she's the best) put something on tape that was being sent to some CDs down in Californ-eye-ay, so I figured this might have been what I was in store for. Did my agent have so much faith in me that he wanted my smiling face seen in the land of the free and the home of the brave? I check my e-mail to see what it is I need to work on for my star-spangled friends, and see tha--Winnipeg? I'm submitting to a CD in WINNIPEG?
Yes, but it's actually a good thing. This is for a lead in a new series for The Comedy Network, written and directed by a bunch of people that have so many credits I don't even know where to begin. It's called "House Party" (no relation to the immortal Kid n' Play series of the same name) and it's about, well ... a house party, telling the story of a different guest each half-hour episode (kinda like “Lost”, only nothing like “Lost”). The characters look really interesting, and the sides I have are pretty damn funny, so I should have fun with this. It’s right down my alley, especially the scene where I'm being awkward with a girl I have a crush on; pretty much my trademark.
To “put it on tape” (that means I have to recor—oh, I guess that one’s pretty obvious, even to the “normies”) I have to go a studio and pay them to film me and send the tape away. I wanted to use my iSight camera on my MacBook, but that just doesn’t yield the same result as a professional studio. So it’s up to me to find someone to read with (like I did for Sara), and book the studio time before Thursday.
As long as Jason doesn’t show-up at the same studio to put himself on tape for the same part, I should be OK.
Nothing gives me more motivation to blog than data-entry, which is what I'm currently faced with at work. So let's you and I have a chat, shall we?
Awesome, I thought as I signed-in at North Shore Studios for my second (third?) "I Love You, Beth Cooper" audition. I'm the only guy here for this part, I realized when I scanned-through all the names and saw I was the only guy with the privilege of reading for Loser Clerk. The only other guys in the room were auditioning for the role of one of the friends of the character for which I was first submitted (me and Brendan kinda thought that if they were going to "give" me any role, it'd be the role of one of the friends.) I'm definitely not going to be "given" this role, as all the guys reading for it were black, which I don’t real “read” as (although I did play a Puerto-Rican before, so you could say that ethnicities are my specialty, along with commenting on the state of a woman’s pants upon arrival in a foreign land.)
So I'm feeling pretty good, no one else in the waiting room, I'm calm, I'm cool, I'm collect. Then one guy walks in, whom the casting assistant recognizes immediately, gives him a mug with his name on it, and pulls-out a chair with the same. She snaps her fingers and a frantic-looking teenager with a headset and clipboard rushes out of nowhere to ask this man if there's anything he can get for him, coffee, tea, Carmel macchiato. This man is Jason, and he's out for the same part I am. I even recognized him from a distance (I wasn't wearing my glasses or contacts, my dang pink-eye made Loser Clerk look like Enraged Clerk) from a number of commercials and TV shows, including that car commercial where he's playing with all the knobblies and whirly-bobs in this awesome automobile when his S/O comes along and puts the kibosh on all that. I enter the audition room, which is much sparser than it was last time, and I do my thing and feel pretty good about it.
It was certainly one of my better ones, because I "found" something in the room, which meant the discoveries I made while working on it continued right up until I did it for the Casting Director. That may not make much sense to the “normies” (non-acting folk), but the actors should get it. The “little people” just wouldn’t understand.
I exit the room, and see Jason putting on a red apron, looking like a real winner of a Loser Clerk, talking to the Casting Assistant about how wearing glasses never comes-across in the audition, how it seems too cartoony. Good thing I didn’t wear mine, although it made it more difficult to "connect" (more acting parlance, I apologize, normies) to that big light blur I was acting with.
So the Jason thing threw me, and this is where it hit me that I really need to practice what I preach. There's no controlling who you go in against, you're really only competing with yourself. So why should I be upset when I go up against the pros? If anything, I should be flattered. I've said a million times, you don't audition to get the part; you audition to get another audition. So what does it matter if the other guy gets it? At least they're seeing me, and these are huge Casting Directors who cast for huge projects.
"You know what this means? It means you're on their list, they like your work, and if you don't get the bigger parts, they'll see you for these smaller parts," explains my agent. Role size doesn’t matter to me at this stage. I'm lucky that I got as far as I did with for the roles for which I was called-back.
"And the nice thing about going-out for these big features is that they pay 130% buy-out, so even if you're just an actor ("actor" means you have at least one line, but less than ... eight? I think) you're making over a grand a day." Oh yeah, I forgot that I’d get paid for this.
I get home and plan to sleep between 1pm-7pm, go to the gym, eat, and go to work. Of course I go to sleep and my phone rings every hour or so, either being work, or my agent. Work can screw itself (they wanted me to start early), but the agent I never tire of hearing from. I missed his call, so I get this voice-mail: "You've never done this before, but I want you to put something on tape for this Casting Director, I'll send you an e-mail with the details." Something on tape? This could only mean one thing: Los Angeles.
I helped my great friend, Sara (she's the best) put something on tape that was being sent to some CDs down in Californ-eye-ay, so I figured this might have been what I was in store for. Did my agent have so much faith in me that he wanted my smiling face seen in the land of the free and the home of the brave? I check my e-mail to see what it is I need to work on for my star-spangled friends, and see tha--Winnipeg? I'm submitting to a CD in WINNIPEG?
Yes, but it's actually a good thing. This is for a lead in a new series for The Comedy Network, written and directed by a bunch of people that have so many credits I don't even know where to begin. It's called "House Party" (no relation to the immortal Kid n' Play series of the same name) and it's about, well ... a house party, telling the story of a different guest each half-hour episode (kinda like “Lost”, only nothing like “Lost”). The characters look really interesting, and the sides I have are pretty damn funny, so I should have fun with this. It’s right down my alley, especially the scene where I'm being awkward with a girl I have a crush on; pretty much my trademark.
To “put it on tape” (that means I have to recor—oh, I guess that one’s pretty obvious, even to the “normies”) I have to go a studio and pay them to film me and send the tape away. I wanted to use my iSight camera on my MacBook, but that just doesn’t yield the same result as a professional studio. So it’s up to me to find someone to read with (like I did for Sara), and book the studio time before Thursday.
As long as Jason doesn’t show-up at the same studio to put himself on tape for the same part, I should be OK.
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