Looking for Mr. Sugar Daddy...

So, when you are an actor starting out in a new acting class, you begin to realize it's cool to have daddy issues( mommy issues work too). You can't come to class perfect, that's the equivalent of coming into an acting class and being republican or hating gay people. 

Some people weren't blessed with daddy issues, therefor in order to fit in they create their own internal imperfections. This ranges from drug addiction, to eating disorders, to the constant need to be perfect. Then if those issues don't find their way into your life, then you are inflicted with arrogant self centerness. Which, in my opinion, is worst than all the above.

I've always been cool in the acting/artist world. I mean I'm versatile in the problem area. I can relate to daddy issues. Loving someone that doesn't love you. Being pale when the world wants you to be tan. Having a pimple that makes people not look you in the eye. I've even had two pimples, that make the eyes bounce back and forth, not knowing which one is more important. I mean I've even gone to bed skinny and woke up fat...But, I always perserve. 

The thing about having daddy or pimple issues, is everyone can relate. Therefore, you are cool in the acting world. I am cool, is really the point I'm getting at. 

So, when I conquered the initial pressures of fitting in, I was then bombarded with the starving artist gig. 

I don't like it. Other people romanticism it, making it sound like it "Ohh my art is so greaaat because all I do is eat lettuce and express myself. 

I express myself better after I've had a spray tan, my nails done, the hair did, and then shop therapy ( which includes a sexy, but classic outfit with matching shoes and purse.) Plus, I like a fine dinner, with a glass of wine out accompanied with  a medium rare steak...

And , then let's say I'm in a responsible mood. I have to buy vitamins, and fresh vegetables, postage, nice paper for my resumes, and a new intellectual book that challenges my beliefs or teaches me something new.  

It's exhausting. I  can't afford me. 

Which is why, I really think I would be the best match for a sugar daddy. Preferably , a young good looking one. I would make them happy. I would entertain them. I would devote my life to making them laugh, and they could devote their life to spending their money on me. 

I mean SAKS isn't calling. Mom's not paying. It's just me and real life budgeting. 

So please sir, if you could come into my life and spare a couple thous. I would be much appreciative. 

I mean I have art to create. I'd like to eat more than lettuce for dinner. 

Thanks.

 

Fake it till you make it.

Once upon a time lived a little ol' girl from North Carolina. She wore her hair curly, put on her favorite 3inch heels, and applied just enough make up to look natural. She printed out her resume, and went into the corporate world of New York City, with one game to play... GET THAT JOB. 

Her internal mantra to herself, as she walked in heels that made her feet scream let me be free, was " I'm gonna get you job, gonna get you job, here I come job..." You get the picture.

So her and her inner voice felt confident in this endeavor, and proudly walked into SAKS Fifth Avenue. She pulled the heavy brass door, which was heavier than she planned, forcing her heel to get misguided. This misguidance made her fall onto the marble tiled floor, which caused a few looks. She didn't mind, she was use to looks. She gathered her pride up off the floor and marched over to the Chanel Make up Counter. She said, in her most charming southern accent, " Are you hirin?" Well one woman loved the girls blonde curls, while another woman judged them, as if they were fine fruit that had gone bad in the garbage. I DO NOT HAVE GARBAGE HEAD, the girl reassured herself. Then,  the woman said let me see your resume. The girl  pulled out her resume, with her  business card stapled to the upper right hand corner. She thought this was the piece of meat at the end of her fishing rod. The woman over looked the neon flashing sign of hire me, and went straight to the nasty question of, " Where is your retail experience? " Well, if you let me talk, I would've told you it's not about experience, it's about what I can be. This is what the girl thought to herself, not what she of course verbalized. She said in her sweet southern ignorant tone, " Well, see I went to school for acting, and spent four years honing in on my skill to be able to know what I want and go for it...." I was about to illustrate examples of this, when I noticed the woman was not taking the nice meat I put out on the line. She didn't want the meat I had to offer, I needed to throw on there some veggies and chocolate cake too. The woman, then told me politely, " Listen, Doll, no one in this store is going to hire you. " That's bullshit, the girl thought. Give me a test run. The girl didn't argue, she just said thank you and walked away. 

When, all the sudden this man approached the girl to compliment her on her locks of love. The man's name turned out to be Miguel. Miguel told the girl to go over to the Trish McEvoy counter and ask for " Important Hiring Lady" ( Can't use her name because someone might read this and go ask for her and get the job over me...or who knows people are crazy) So, I tell " Important Hiring Lady" That my good friend Marquel told me to come see her. She says, " Who?" I say, " You know, Marquel." I point, letting her know where he is. Apparently his latino accent had made us have a miscommunication about names. My good friends name was actually Miguel. 

So, then she proceeds to tell me that this is a cut throat business and people that get hired at SAKS usually have a minimum of 10 years of retail experience. 

Ok, but like I told the other lady down there, I took Meisner training for acting. I can read behavior, I can go after what I want, I was designed to sell. I then asked her if I could audition for her. She said, " ok" sell me something. I sold  lip gloss to her like if she didn't buy it was I was going to die by grizzly bears eating me. I took the assignment serious, is what I'm trying to say. 

Ok, So, She tells me I'm " Cute". I've never liked that word. Cute. What is cute? Am I three? Am I a stuff bear? Am I a pair of shoes? AM I A PUPPY? No. Girls don't want to be cute. We want to be fierce, or at least this girl does.  So she told me to send her my resume and I walked away the way a fierce woman does. I thought, after I get this job, then I'll work on this woman's verbiage for describing me. 

So, I send her my resume last night when I get home. I wake up this morning and get ready for my interview. Turns out my interview is with a different Trish McEvoy store, and " Important Hiring Lady" runs that too. So, I walk up and she starts laughing. " Have you been to every store that we own on fifth avenue?" I look at her and tell her that I am very determined to sell Trish McEvoy to the world, and that is my only concern. 

Also, the fact that I'd like to pay rent this month. 

Oh, during all this I have a broken foot. I limp when I walk. It's pretty sad looking. I really want a wheel chair and a sweat shirt, but the biz would look down on that kind of attire. 

So, short story long...They said they loved me and will call me tomorrow. 

Moral of the story, remember people's name. Real Moral of the story, fake it till you make it.