The majority of folks in Hollyweird deal with rejection on a daily basis. Scripts get shelved. Directors get passed over for jobs. And actors get rejected for roles in films, television, and in commercials. It takes a rare breed to stomach these rejections day after day. Year after year, especially when you are stuck waiting table in WeHo for a slew of dipshit poor-tipping hipsters
Showcase has a new commercial agent who has been sending him on a slew of auditions. Although he hasn't booked anything recently, he's been going on several a week. By the sheer numbers, he's bound to book something... soon. Every day it seems that he has a different audition. And with that, he's been constantly walking past me dressed for the part du jour.
Yesterday, as I sat on the couch and wrote an article, he slipped past me wearing a bright orange Chicago Bears t-shirt including a blue Bears hat. That particular commercial was going to be taking place in a stadium, so he had to look like an enthusiastic sports fan. Of course, Showcase knows nothing about professional sports and asked, "Can you tell me the name of anyone on the Bears?"
"Rex Grossman," I added.
"Rex Grossman? Is he Jewish?" inquired Showcase.
"No clue. He's the quarterback on the losing Super Bowl team. And he sucks donkey cock. You wanna impress the casting folks, throw in a 'I'm better than Rex Grossman!' line."
The other day, Showcase wore a suit and tie as he sauntered out of the apartment.
"I'm supposed to look like a member of a wedding party for a muffler commercial," he added.
A week ago, he interviewed for a role as a geeky IT person. He had shaved hours before he got the call from his agent who suggested he go for a scruffy look.
"I need to look scruffy," he mentioned as he rubbed his hands over his smooth face. "I'll never pull it off."
"Just get really baked before you go and mention that you have a sci-fi blog," I suggested.
There was an interesting article called The Town the Law Forgot in L.A. Weekly about Cudahy, a small town outside of LA that's considered the epicenter of cocaine in all of Southern California. It's been taken over by Mexican drug cartels and was only five minutes from where I stayed last week in Commerce.
The town is so corrupt and the drug trade is so profitable that they own the local politicians, who kicked out the LA Sheriff's department a few years ago, decided to have their own local police. And those rent-a-cops have been since known for taking bribes, kick backs, and overall corruption.
The DEA seized 486 pounds of blow in Cudahy over the last five years as that town has become the center of gang-land violence. The article describes the area as... "High unemployment, illegal immigration and a maze of freeways, truck stops and industrial areas - just a half-day's drive from Mexico - have contributed to the busy drug-trafficking zones, blight and violence."
And don't forget about all the crystal meth. While cocaine runs Hollyweird, the rest of the masses are turning onto crank. Instead of risking meth labs in the California, there are hundreds just across the border cooking up the shit, and then smuggled in the States on a daily basis. Most of that crank ends up in Cudahy before it filters out into the city of Los Angeles and over the hill into the Valley supplying the middle class tweakers their fix. The rest of the batches head out to the bright lights of Las Vegas and keeps all those degenerate gamblers awake for four days straight until they lose all their money.
Nicky got excited because she took me shopping on Friday in Century City. I had a Macy's gift certificate leftover from Christmas and needed a tie for Monte Carlo. It took less than ten minutes and all but one of my choices were rejected by Nicky. We settled on a green stripe.
We headed out to dinner with Schecky and Jen Leo in Hollywood at Kung Pao Kitty. It used to be a dive that got remodeled into a trendy eatery along the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Just before our dinner arrived (I ordered the General Tso's) I had to take a piss. The men's room was locked and I assumed someone was in there. I waited in the hallway for five minutes and jiggled the door. Then I knocked. Two minutes later, two guys left. As I ran in to take a piss, I wondered if they were doing blow or fucking each other. Or both.
After dinner we walked down the street to an old school dive called Boardner's. It used to be the place to be back in the 20s and 30s for Hollywood studio execs. We got a booth and played a couple of hours of Chinese Poker. Jen Leo ended up the big winner as I knocked back Stella's and made fun of the L.A. douchebags sitting in the both next to us talking at a much higher volume so everyone in the bar could hear how cool they actually were. At some point I scribbled, "LA douchebags" onto a cocktail napkin. I almost crumpled it up and tossed it over to their booth.
We left shortly before Midnight and as we walked back to our cars, Jen Leo wanted to use her winnings to buy pizza. Except the pizza sucks in Hollyweird. On the way home, Nicky drove past Pink's hot dog stand. We considered stopping for a chili dog but the line was too long.