Since I now work in the heart of Hollywood on one of the better known Television Lots in LA, I've had the pleasure of walking through the halls and seeing some of the lesser known, but equally brilliant actors in Hollywood. I know that most people who watch television and movies know who the major players are, but what of the co-stars; the B, C, or D-list actors that accompany all the big shots? You know you see them on the big screen, but do you really see them or do you have eyes only for you main attraction(s)?
When I'm out in public, I think I spot the below-the-line actors more than the A-listers because they're at the perfect amount of fame to where they get jobs, but don't have the paparazzi stalking them, therefore they don't have to cover up in gawd awful disguises. They wander around as themselves, glad when someone spots them and asks to take a picture, but not cool enough (a relative term) to be hounded by a gaggle of tweens. Most tourist in Hollywood probably don't get to snap a picture with their favorite celebrities because they don't notice them among all the other weirdos wearing hoodies and dark sunglasses in 90 degree heat. I'm just glad happy I like the people that can still be themselves when out running their errands.
I get giddy when I recognize a background actor on the Lot. I'm like, "That's the Mom from Picket Fences (Yes, a show that no one remembers or has heard of who's younger then 25) or, "that's the cool dorky guy from Road Trip and Memphis Blues". I love recognizing them and I almost go out of my way to say, "hello," but then I remind myself that I'm not a crazed groupie and they probably don't want to be bothered. But I smile as they pass by me in the hall, fiddling with their phones or drinking their coffee, being normal people, uninhibited in their daily routines by their success.
I just want all you wannabe actors out there to know that, even if you don't make it to uber stardom with the huge mansion and 7 cars, there are people in the world that will recognize you every time they see you on and off the screen and they will occasionally IMDB you to see what projects you are working on. You won't have the fan base that the mega stars have, but you can be living your dream and know that somewhere out there, someone is glad you're an actor and you make them smile, maybe just a tad, when they pass you on the street and give their brains a second to commute where they know you from.
The Dream (or any dream) is achievable and viable, you just have to make it happen for yourself and then go out and brighten someone's day.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
A Presidental Traffic Jam
President Obama was here in town yesterday, kindly going about his business meeting with famous people and addressing the concerns of the Nation without thought to his Secret Service men and the Los Angeles Sheriffs Department making it their duty to keep almost all people out of his way by a radius of several miles. This included closing/blocking off various main thoroughfares that most LA-ians use to commute to and from their multiple locations.
LA is not a grid city and therefore, very few streets actually transverse great distances across the city. Mostly streets go a few miles and then end at someone's driveway or a business. If you're a tourist, you stick to the the four or five main roads that manage to lead drivers across great distances of the city, but at the cost of sitting in traffic during random hours of the day. If you're a local (or someone who's lived here long enough to understand the traffic flow) you usually know back streets that bypass major traffic intersections and get you where you need to be with minimal horn honking and aggravation.
Obama's visit changed up the scenery for all commuters in the Hollywood, Westwood, Beverly Hills, and Century City areas by diverting main street traffic to little slivers of roads that pass by mansions and cute little hidey-hole shops that locals like to keep to themselves. This included closing off all streets east of Highland in Hollywood, the very street that I needed to drive down to get home after a long, hard day of sitting in my office watching the clock inch by. There's nothing like a 1 mile per hour traffic jam to put you in a happy, "end of work finally!" mood.
I can understand blocking off streets near where the President is going to be, but destroying home-bound commutes for numerous miles, nowhere near where the President is going to be, is a bit much. I guess the traffic problems wouldn't have been so bad if people in LA knew how to drive, but somehow there will always be morons that think they are special and if they manage to smile just right, they will somehow be allowed to drive around the police barricades while everyone else has to follow the natural flow of a detour.
This, in itself, caused the most bummer to bummer jams. I'd be following a person and all of a sudden they'd put on their blinker to turn Right, slow to a practically non-existent crawl, and attempt to maneuver past the flashing police car parked diagonal across several lines of the road. As if they didn't see the police car and its glorious blue and red blinking lights, they'd try to snail pace mow down the officer standing in the middle of the blocked street. Once the officer managed to get the diverted imbecile's attention, who attempted to flash apologetic puppy dog eyes at the unamused officer, the moron would swerve back in front of me just as I had finally managed to cross a particular intersection after 30 minutes of lagging, which left me blocking said intersection. A fine-able offense in most cities.
Needless-to-say, it was a frustrating hour and a half journey home with a heavy case of road rage bubbling to the surface. I use to be such a calm and respectful driver, now I all want to do is honk if someone sits at a green light longer than 1.2 seconds. It's not like the extra 5 minutes I'll gain from driving a few miles over the speed limit will help me much, it's just the fact that I want to maintain moving, no matter what direction. The gas, brake, gas, brake just doesn't work for my A.D.D. brain. Too much disruption and annoyance. Maybe I should take up yoga or meditation... probably not, idle minds might lead to the same thing as idle hands.
LA is not a grid city and therefore, very few streets actually transverse great distances across the city. Mostly streets go a few miles and then end at someone's driveway or a business. If you're a tourist, you stick to the the four or five main roads that manage to lead drivers across great distances of the city, but at the cost of sitting in traffic during random hours of the day. If you're a local (or someone who's lived here long enough to understand the traffic flow) you usually know back streets that bypass major traffic intersections and get you where you need to be with minimal horn honking and aggravation.
Obama's visit changed up the scenery for all commuters in the Hollywood, Westwood, Beverly Hills, and Century City areas by diverting main street traffic to little slivers of roads that pass by mansions and cute little hidey-hole shops that locals like to keep to themselves. This included closing off all streets east of Highland in Hollywood, the very street that I needed to drive down to get home after a long, hard day of sitting in my office watching the clock inch by. There's nothing like a 1 mile per hour traffic jam to put you in a happy, "end of work finally!" mood.
I can understand blocking off streets near where the President is going to be, but destroying home-bound commutes for numerous miles, nowhere near where the President is going to be, is a bit much. I guess the traffic problems wouldn't have been so bad if people in LA knew how to drive, but somehow there will always be morons that think they are special and if they manage to smile just right, they will somehow be allowed to drive around the police barricades while everyone else has to follow the natural flow of a detour.
This, in itself, caused the most bummer to bummer jams. I'd be following a person and all of a sudden they'd put on their blinker to turn Right, slow to a practically non-existent crawl, and attempt to maneuver past the flashing police car parked diagonal across several lines of the road. As if they didn't see the police car and its glorious blue and red blinking lights, they'd try to snail pace mow down the officer standing in the middle of the blocked street. Once the officer managed to get the diverted imbecile's attention, who attempted to flash apologetic puppy dog eyes at the unamused officer, the moron would swerve back in front of me just as I had finally managed to cross a particular intersection after 30 minutes of lagging, which left me blocking said intersection. A fine-able offense in most cities.
Needless-to-say, it was a frustrating hour and a half journey home with a heavy case of road rage bubbling to the surface. I use to be such a calm and respectful driver, now I all want to do is honk if someone sits at a green light longer than 1.2 seconds. It's not like the extra 5 minutes I'll gain from driving a few miles over the speed limit will help me much, it's just the fact that I want to maintain moving, no matter what direction. The gas, brake, gas, brake just doesn't work for my A.D.D. brain. Too much disruption and annoyance. Maybe I should take up yoga or meditation... probably not, idle minds might lead to the same thing as idle hands.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Diets and Thoughts of Murder
So when my co-workers found out I started a diet, they were like, "Why, you don't need to lose weight." "You're already thin." "Huh?" I responded with, "My friend wanted to go on a diet and she needed someone to split the cost of groceries with, so now I get to eat meals that are titled 'Watercress and Almond Salad with Roasted Onion Dressing' or 'Pan-Roasted Salmon with Wilted Chard and Tomato-Mint Raita' that are all home cooked by my friend, packed in lovely Tupperware containers and stocked in my fridge ready for consumption at a moments noticed." What could be better than yummy, healthy food that I don't have to cook myself?
Now, they're all like, "Yeah, I'd go on that diet." Plus I get to eat tons of snacks like: fruit, yogurt, edamame guacamole, nuts, turkey bacon, etc. It's awesome and I could do with losing the love handles.
My Friend needed Soy Milk for the diet and it was my job to pick it up from the market, but of course I forgot to get it the first night she asked and had to detoured on my way home this evening to the local Ralphs (grocery store) for the milk. Once I found the refrigerated aisle, I searched high and low for the wanted item, but among all the cow based milk products, coffee creams, and whipping creams, I discovered a void of empty shelves to which I leaned in to inspect the price labels attached to the blank metal and discovered the answer to why I couldn't spot the soy milk.
I walked the length of the coolers and still, could not find the one item I was entrusted to obtain. I felt like a failure, here, my friend is slaving away in the kitchen to feed me (and herself) and I can't even find her the one lousy fake-milk product she'd asked me to get? Man, I'm lame. I really didn't want to go to another Raplhs, mainly because I was tired and it was the opposite direction of my house, so I searched up and down the aisles for a Raplhs employee in hopes they could solve the mystery of the missing milk.
I finally spotted a lone employee asking the one other customer in the Raplhs if they needed help finding anything as the customer shook their head and walked on by. I stopped and said I needed help.
"Do you have Soy Milk?"
"Um, they moved them to the back where I can't even find them," the clerk said with a straight face.
I totally thought he was being sarcastic, so I responded with, "Oh, so they hide them [soy milk] from you too?"
"Yep."
A pregnant pause. I debated if the guy was messing with me, but when he sort of just stood there and said nothing more, I realized he was dead serious.
"Do you think you can go in the back and try to find me a container?" I looked impatient.
He stared at me for another few seconds.
"I really do need the milk." This finally propelled him into action and he slandered down the aisle and through the "Employees Only" double doors. 5 minutes later, after debating whether to cut my loss and head to another Raplhs, he shuffled through the doors empty handed and asked, "What brand do you need?"
Seriously!!!! I was about ready to kill the guy, debating if he was mental or really lazy.
"Any kind as long as it's regular soy milk." I about growl.
He turned and walked back through the grey doors. 3 minutes later I was walking to the cash registers with Organic Soy Milk in hand while thinking that I now have to pay for the most expensive fake milk the store sells and should I report the moron to his bosses for having bad costumer service or just pay for the milk and get the hell out of the store? I decided home was a much better option than being an asshole and I finally exited Raplhs 10 minutes after entering with one item in hand.
Sometime, it's the little things that can cause you such annoyance and possibly make you homicidal. Beware idiot Raplhs guy, you're on my list!
Now, they're all like, "Yeah, I'd go on that diet." Plus I get to eat tons of snacks like: fruit, yogurt, edamame guacamole, nuts, turkey bacon, etc. It's awesome and I could do with losing the love handles.
My Friend needed Soy Milk for the diet and it was my job to pick it up from the market, but of course I forgot to get it the first night she asked and had to detoured on my way home this evening to the local Ralphs (grocery store) for the milk. Once I found the refrigerated aisle, I searched high and low for the wanted item, but among all the cow based milk products, coffee creams, and whipping creams, I discovered a void of empty shelves to which I leaned in to inspect the price labels attached to the blank metal and discovered the answer to why I couldn't spot the soy milk.
I walked the length of the coolers and still, could not find the one item I was entrusted to obtain. I felt like a failure, here, my friend is slaving away in the kitchen to feed me (and herself) and I can't even find her the one lousy fake-milk product she'd asked me to get? Man, I'm lame. I really didn't want to go to another Raplhs, mainly because I was tired and it was the opposite direction of my house, so I searched up and down the aisles for a Raplhs employee in hopes they could solve the mystery of the missing milk.
I finally spotted a lone employee asking the one other customer in the Raplhs if they needed help finding anything as the customer shook their head and walked on by. I stopped and said I needed help.
"Do you have Soy Milk?"
"Um, they moved them to the back where I can't even find them," the clerk said with a straight face.
I totally thought he was being sarcastic, so I responded with, "Oh, so they hide them [soy milk] from you too?"
"Yep."
A pregnant pause. I debated if the guy was messing with me, but when he sort of just stood there and said nothing more, I realized he was dead serious.
"Do you think you can go in the back and try to find me a container?" I looked impatient.
He stared at me for another few seconds.
"I really do need the milk." This finally propelled him into action and he slandered down the aisle and through the "Employees Only" double doors. 5 minutes later, after debating whether to cut my loss and head to another Raplhs, he shuffled through the doors empty handed and asked, "What brand do you need?"
Seriously!!!! I was about ready to kill the guy, debating if he was mental or really lazy.
"Any kind as long as it's regular soy milk." I about growl.
He turned and walked back through the grey doors. 3 minutes later I was walking to the cash registers with Organic Soy Milk in hand while thinking that I now have to pay for the most expensive fake milk the store sells and should I report the moron to his bosses for having bad costumer service or just pay for the milk and get the hell out of the store? I decided home was a much better option than being an asshole and I finally exited Raplhs 10 minutes after entering with one item in hand.
Sometime, it's the little things that can cause you such annoyance and possibly make you homicidal. Beware idiot Raplhs guy, you're on my list!
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Santa Monica Crazie
I went to the Farmers Market last Saturday and while waiting for a friend to weed through the identical bushels of lavender at one of the booths, I hovered on the edge of the table trying not to sniff too much - I really don't like the over powerful fragrance. For some reason, Lavender has been deemed a "Girlie scent", therefore making most people assume all women like the smell and want to buy it in whatever form they can find it or receive it as a gift. So not true, but of course, when I'm trying to look as non-disgusted as possible without holding my nose, a random lady starts to try and sell me on buying a lavender scented oil or a steam of the plant off the table.
"Isn't this a lovely smell," the lady waves the oil bottle under my nose as I try to refrain from whacking her hand away.
"I'm not really a fan of Lavender," my voice even.
"Oh," she thinks a beat, "Well there's a peppermint oil and a jasmine one," she points to the little amber bottles sitting on the white linen.
I almost dislike peppermint as much as Lavender, clearly my "woman gene" is on the fritz, "Those are infused with Lavender," I state.
"Are they?" she actually picks up one of the bottles and examines its label, "So it is, but it's a light scent."
"Yea, still, I'm not a fan."
"How about a nice bundle of the steams?" she reaches for the light purple and green leaves.
"Thank you, but no thanks. I'm just waiting on a friend," I desperately try to pretend I'm interested in some small shit-kicker trying to escape from its owners tiny black purse.
The lady puts the dreaded plant back in its bucket and ambles down the booth lined street to another vendor. I watch her retreating back, realizing she didn't even work for the lavender seller. So why the hell was she so adamant on trying to get me to buy a product that wasn't even her own? Good ole Santa Monica crazies!
"Isn't this a lovely smell," the lady waves the oil bottle under my nose as I try to refrain from whacking her hand away.
"I'm not really a fan of Lavender," my voice even.
"Oh," she thinks a beat, "Well there's a peppermint oil and a jasmine one," she points to the little amber bottles sitting on the white linen.
I almost dislike peppermint as much as Lavender, clearly my "woman gene" is on the fritz, "Those are infused with Lavender," I state.
"Are they?" she actually picks up one of the bottles and examines its label, "So it is, but it's a light scent."
"Yea, still, I'm not a fan."
"How about a nice bundle of the steams?" she reaches for the light purple and green leaves.
"Thank you, but no thanks. I'm just waiting on a friend," I desperately try to pretend I'm interested in some small shit-kicker trying to escape from its owners tiny black purse.
The lady puts the dreaded plant back in its bucket and ambles down the booth lined street to another vendor. I watch her retreating back, realizing she didn't even work for the lavender seller. So why the hell was she so adamant on trying to get me to buy a product that wasn't even her own? Good ole Santa Monica crazies!
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