Sunday, 10 December 2017

Another audition - it's almost like being famous! Almost, not quite.

Some bigwigs called and asked me to "be myself." I failed. Heh.

Yip, the casting agency called again. Gaaa! If this keeps up, I'll have to get a real DAYTIMER, not an electronic thingy because they are not real enough. I need pages that can be dripped on and ripped. And a Bic pen (do they still make them?) because, after all, I would be an artiste, not some executive in a skyscraper boardroom like MizBagg.

As a reminder to you, this is my third TV commercial audition since May 2016. Things are going super fast! - 11 months between the first (here) and second (here), and only 8 months until this latest one. Stop the Earth - everything is a blur!

Strolling through Ackery's Alley. Read more about it here.

When I got there, the waiting room was packed with people "being themselves" to the max. My hair was high, my hopes were high, and my anxiety was at an all-time low as these things go. I knew it would end badly. Heh. What I wore is here.

This time it was just me and the casting director in the audition room, with a bank of computers and cameras, and I don't know what else. First I had to stand in front of the camera and state my name and height. Thank goodness I knew those lines. Then I had to sit in a comfy leather chair in the stage area and talk about myself. And I did... And I did... CUT!!!

But then I had to dance. Oh, dear reader, I don't dance; I do Martha Graham interpretive movements, lunges and feints and crawls. I preemptively knew I was done for. For my song - we got to pick our own - I chose Rock Lobster by the B52s. It was that or Wagner's Ride of Valkyries. Hey, they said to "be yourself."


I pogo-ed, I hopped and spun, I churned, stumbled, ran into furniture, got really dizzy, light-headed even with all that quick up-and-down bending, and I wagged my tongue during the weird bits of the song. Fer real. No spit flew, though, which I was thankful for - there are no wiper blades on the camera and the director was not wearing a bib. It would have been rude.

I was channeling comedian Maria Bamford, who is currently starring in the Netflix series, Lady Dynamite. She is very unconventional in public, scripted and unscripted too (she makes no secret of her struggles with mental illness), and nobody blinks an eye. If you are delicate, don't watch it. Suzanne introduce me to her.


Towards the end of my exertions, when I finally remembered I was being filmed, I caught sight of the director, who was waving his arms back and forth over his head, like at some of those religious meetings you see, which made me think, hmm, do I do a 360 and go all tabernacle or keep my Martha G funk on? You guessed it. Go Martha G! Go Maria B!

At the end, just as I was leaving, the casting agent said, Wow, I, uh, felt your energy. I panted back, exhausted, "That was fun, thanks." Done. Really done. I have to say, the casting agent is a super-cool guy. I'm getting to know him now, and vice versa, which means maybe I can hold off on my big daytimer purchase and Bic pen.


Of course, no call back. My "me" was too me, or not the "me" the client was looking for. The shoot will be in a tropical country abroad for $$$. For a drink company. Of course I had to try though. And test out my new Maria Bamford-as-confidence-booster technique. It worked. High five! And if I'm called again, yeah, I'll go. Why not?

I found the commercial from the last audition I went to HERE. I had to say the line, "And the scary things eat you," awesome line. I thought I did it well, well, not tooooo badly, but in the final version it is delivered by a super-cute little girl. Well, I ask you, how can I compete with that? Hahaha. I love the ad, though.

I'll link up to Patti at Visible Monday, Not Dead Yet Style, and;
Catherine at #iwillwearwhatilike, Not Dressed as Lamb.

On a final note, they asked when I signed in for this audition whether I could open a bottle using any body parts. I wonder how they would have responded if I said I can do it with my sphincter on a bad day. Heh. I haven't tried - won't. Have you!? Let me know in the comments (she writes trying to keep a straight face).


Monday, 4 December 2017

Should I sing it or wear it?

"Je suis amoureuse." I could wear that on my chest on a tank dress or I could stagger around, slightly hunched over, croaking that 1970s classic song "Je t'aime" with Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin, scaring tourists and locals alike. Aren't you glad I chose the former? Aren't you!? Heh. 


Normally I don't like graphics on clothing unless I put them there myself. But this one is so, well, annoying/compelling that I couldn't help myself when I saw it on the $5 rack at My Sister's Closet a few months ago.


I'm keeping this blog post short and sweet. What do they say - absence makes the heart grow fonder? For whom? When I'm away for a while, yes, it's nice to come back.

And miracle of the week - you know how you can be weighted down by niggling worries and then somehow, out of nowhere, your brain connects tiny thoughts that have been pinballing around your brain for ages and suddenly, poof, reset, calm is restored. A profound Aha! moment. Like finding a four-leaf clover in a field of dandelions, not that my brain is a dandelion field. Perhaps sweet corn.

Life has indeed been busy here. Mad Hatter time workwise - not in a bad way. This is the fastest blog post I've put together in a long, long time. But better short than not at all.

Great big bear hugs!!


I'll link up to Patti's Visible Monday at Not Dead Yet Style and Catherine's #iwillwearwhatilike at Not Dressed as Lamb. See you there!

P.S. Make sure you catch Suzanne's latest post - HILARIOUS in a tragic way. I can relate. Let's make this viral!!!!



Saturday, 18 November 2017

How to wear fitted onesies over 55 for high adventure

Give me a purple or red fitted onesie and I'm on, hunting down baddies with headquarters in remote island volcanoes or exploring the Earth as a possible off-planet colony for my People. It happens every time. 

So here I am, still in the purple onesie from the West Vancouver United Church Flea Market, which I posted on here - I took it off in between though. The stirrup feet are miracles because they pull the fabric taut for an overall smoothing effect, which: 1) is calming when wearing a body-con outfit that flirts dangerously with my boundaries of public comfort; 2) provides streamlining for fast, comfortable deep space travel.

But first, let me write about that coat. That frickin' amazing coat from frickin' amazing Shelley of Forest City Fashionista. It came in a bulging envelope last week, along with something else equally amazing, which I am holding back from posting for delayed gratification. 

This photo is called golden leaf

Vivid fuchsia, vivid. By Danier, suede with shaggy fuchsia trim. It's almost (maybe, kinda, if-I'm-feelin'-glass-half-full) long enough for buttoxil area coverage (essential), but I brought along a stretch skirt in case I started feeling exposed, like I did behind the Strip shop below. Aliens must try to blend in.

They say, strip; I say, cover up. I'm practising being human by being unpredictable. Of course I wouldn't need the skirt if I were wearing a maxi coat, but this coat overruled all other outerwear considerations. Plus it has a secret weapon. Read on.


I swoon for that '60s groovy sci-fi vibe. Below, calling the Mother Ship with my Mantis. Or occupants of inter-planetary craft. Either will do, as long as their flight attendants serve Cheez Whiz ("processed cheese spread"), Space Food Sticks, ("developed for the U.S. Space Program"), and gherkin pickles (pickles).

I'm so glad I found this red wall! It's my first time here. These photos remind me of the piece Shelley did for VOGOFF magazine, where she's also calling her Mother Ship. 

The Purple People Eater, video clip, 1958 hit by Sheb Wooley)

When I was passing through Nordstrom during my inspiration walk, I ran into two friends who fell hard for this coat. Of course, I was keen to draw their attention to the glory of my spacesuit onesie as well, so I boldly hoisted the skirt to where no man has gone bef...* Oops, same era/genre, wrong script! To my high thighs to demonstrate its all-in-one-ness, which felt risqué, despite still being fully clothed. Well -

I needn't have worried one bit - they wouldn't have batted an eye if I had begun shooting ping-pong balls from my

Running in the vortex in Ackery's Alley

mouth, been wrapped in tentacles and slathered in Cheez Whiz and pickles - the coat had them in its thrall. They couldn't keep their hands off my cuffs and collar - the hypnotic power of the trim was alarmingly potent. (Note to self: Trim as secret weapon for future invasion strategy.) I almost had to Mantis them!

In the end, I gave up the onesie show and pulled my skirt back into place. Some stars, like the coat, shine brighter than others I suppose. 

Below, more evidence of the Fitted-Onesie Phenomenon (FOP) of super-sleuth/alien: my Emma Peel impression near the passport office, in a photo taken by Sandra Bernabei of Standard Deviations.


I'm wearing my vintage red wool knit onesie with original sewn-in belt at the hip, made by Gordi of Montreal. Also here. The seam threads were disintegrating so I had to resew the whole thing. Well worth it.

Below, a sneak peek in my bedroom. Is it possible I was abducted by one of the Occupants?!


And then I feast on a light breakfast. It's the new alternative energy.


To be clear, this post has been all about the SEO (search engine optimization), but you knew that, right? Now my blog will be inundated with hoards of women over 55 clamouring for tips on FOP. But to be fair, these tips can apply to any age. I'm sorry if I made anyone feel excluded.

That's it for now. I'll be linking up to Patti at Visible Monday on her blog Not Dead Yet Style and Catherine at #iwillwearwhatilike on her blog Not Dressed as Lamb.

May the FOP be with you, friends.

*From the original Star Trek TV series, 1966-69, line from the opening voiceover by Captain James T. Kirk. Relive it HERE.
Space, the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Its five-year mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before.
Okay, now you'll be humming that opening theme all day. You're welcome. Heh.


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