No visitors that glide or walk last night, thank God. Made an investment in a certain tool that will hopefully make it inconceivable for them ever to again. The quarter is there for scale.
So I went to ABC to test for a pilot. It's a really arduous and nerve wracking process that most people don't know about. I went in at 6 in the morning for a 'work session'. When I think 'work session, I think of a rehearsal. Spread your wings, try something new and risk the possibility of totally screwing up, but that was exactly what I did the first time when I tested for something different and I did not get to the studio or the network. They said I had embarrassed myself. So this time I vaulted the first hurdle… and got to listen to the two other prospects through the wall. The one girl with really good hair and huge boobs was very quiet so I couldn't judge her, but the other girl was totally over the top and I silently wrote her out as my competition. Also she looked weird and was wearing a glorified men's work shirt and no pants. So it was down to me and Lady Lovely Locks. Right before I tested for studio, this goon comes over with contracts for me to sign away the next five years of my life- if the show goes. Not good timing, but that's how it is. Then my manager calls and says “Good news. If you get this, you'll be making approximately a bajillion dollars a week.” So I tell him this is also not good timing and he is gone. The test for the studio went like dynamite. So I had to wait about four hours to test for ABC, laughing at inappropriate times and calling people who make me feel beautiful and special and making sure my lipgloss doesn't get bally. So as Kurt Vonnegut would say, the clock would tick and twelve hours would pass and then the clock would tick again. Or something like that. Oh, and the reason I started using capital letters and punctuation: I used to hold a cigarette in one hand and type like a unipalegic. So I quit smoking which is great except that it sucks so badly. I've gained 41 pounds so far. So finally, they ushered me upstairs to wait outside this big stage where 12 jury members sit to decide my fate. Except that they were scowling executives and there were 20. So I sashay in and do my performance and cry and laugh and I'm in. Out in 2 minutes 12 seconds. Not bad. So I walk out and the next victim goes to her execution. It is over. Lady Lovely Locks and I managed to park our cars in another time zone so we're walking back and she goes, “God, I just hate how they make it so obvious.” And I have no idea what she's talking about, but jealous cow, HAHAHAHAH! they picked me, ME, MEEEEEEE!” So I go back to my car and call my manager. He pauses. And in that second I know. That fucking bitch. They picked her. And she was so smug. And he said, no, it wasn't her…… And then it dawned on me. They'd picked No Pants! Oh my GOD!” So I said glumly “Oh.” and hung up the phone. And I was just thinking of “The Secret” and that I hadn't conjured it and it was not the right thing in the universe and I don't like TV anyway… Until I got home and started dying. “MWWWwwwwwwwwwwwwwwaaaaahhhhhhh! Mooooooooooommmmmmm! She wasn't even pretty!”