Chattanooga, Tennessee!

Whenever I take jobs back in the southeast I am reminded of how much I actually miss it. When I drove to LA a few years ago, I felt all too happy to leave it behind. Now all I can think is, “When can I book something that shoots back home?”

Occasionally, I do get to travel and do work related things in the Southeast. I went to Chattanooga not too long ago – and it was small city heaven.

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Chattanooga is a rare mix of burgeoning hipster culture mixed with a backyard country sensibility. It was largely unaffected by the recession and smart urban planning has turned (and continues to turn) the city proper into a thriving mini-tropolis. It’s sandwiched between the Chattanooga River and Lookout Mountain – home to the gorgeous Ruby Falls cave. The town has a very calm, relaxed pace.

I miss so many things about the south. I miss the actual, legitimately fresh air. I miss trees and woods. I miss the humidity that keeps your skin from feeling like it could crack open at any second. I miss the friendliness and the genuine way people are with one another. And I miss the food – oh my god, the food. I hadn’t eaten grits in over two years, so you can bet your ass I ate a huge bowl of them.

IMG_5358The Grits at Mean Mug. So delicious.

 

IMG_5354The menu board at Mean Mug.

Check out this biscuit that I got at a little place called Milk & Honey: IMG_5349

Check out me trying to pretend that I know how to take photographs:

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This place utilized an entire wall for the menu:

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Not pictured: ALL THE KRYSTALS I ATE.

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I once screamed at Dustin for not involving me in a project when it seemed to gain momentum. I had donated my likeness, my voice, and my notes to all of the pitching and fundraising materials for character he had created and I wanted to be a part of it when everything began to come together. It did begin to come together – around a completely different actress. I was livid. I think I broke a plate.

That project fell apart, as most projects mucking about the studio system do. Over a year later, he is still trying so hard to get that particular script off the ground and I feel so, completely ashamed of the selfishness I harbored before. That film could have been a game changer for him. It could have launched a career. Would I wish the demise of his film because of my non-involvement? God. Pardon my French, but I was such a cunt. I am amazed we stayed friends, much less started to date a year or so later.

That whole situation helped me put things into perspective. Namely, how no one owes anyone anything.

A couple of people have sent me random messages asking me why I’m not involved with Siren, the feature length version of the short that I did in V/H/S. I’m not in it because no one approached me about it – and that is totally fine. Just because I was in the short didn’t mean there was an obligation to include me in the feature. I mean, good lord; I was asleep for most of the original, anyway. I’m just happy that some of people I had a blast with on short get to work on what is sure to be a killer feature. (No pun intended.)

“Yeah, but aren’t you mad?”
Nope.

This is a recurring complaint from actors. They know people, but why aren’t people doing doing doing for them? Why didn’t so and so send out their package? Why didn’t so and so introduce them to that guy?! Why didn’t that working actor friend of yours offer to recommend you to their agent?!

Look, I don’t fucking know. And I’m done trying to figure out why. Just because you have a friend who is a manager, an agent, or who is simply well connected doesn’t mean they owe you a damn thing. No, they don’t owe you a meeting. No, they don’t owe you a part in their movie. They don’t owe you hello. (Though hello is nice. I have been known to show disproportional excitement when someone tells me hello.)

How about this: why don’t we stop projecting our lack of success on the people who COULD HAVE done this or SHOULD HAVE done that for us? Because here’s the thing: they either did or did not – and there is no SHOULD have. Because no one owes us shit. 

Why don’t we focus on building ourselves up to a point where we no longer feel the need to rely on others for our own progress? What if we shifted the focus from what people are doing without us and to what we could be doing for ourselves and living happier, less resentful lives?

If someone wants to lend a hand or work with you, then wonderful. But don’t equate friendships to connections. Maybe I’m the dumb one, but I feel so tacky soliciting people for hook-ups. I can’t even talk to a promoter for a club without feeling like I’m taking advantage of someone. I have encountered a few people who have very graciously offered to facilitate an introduction for me, or set up a meeting. I am so, incredibly grateful.

But the minute you start to feel like the universe owes you some kind of success, be in the form of connections, relationships, parts, meetings, whatever – you are paving the way for a lifetime of disappointment.

Life is for living and loving. And it’s too hard to do that when you’re too busy being a Pissy Patty.

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Tattoos for men

As you may know, I recently started a new temp position which requires me to be around a massive team of animation specialists. When I say massive I mean astronomically large – for me. We’re talking fifty people. Fifty human beings whose faces I can remember and identify, but whose names just fade into a patch of muddled fuzz in a universe of information.

I find myself surrounded by a team of 50 workers, mostly men, who all look similar to enough to one another that it’s almost impossible to rapidly memorize who’s who. Unfortunately, I am the one who must quietly sneak about and take attendance while desperately trying to AVOID distracting people from their work by asking who they are. I’ve been here two days and they are already having me take attendance without any assistance from someone more tenured than myself, so I have started to stop everyone I see and ask their name.

“Mac,” they might say.
“Mac, that’s just lovely,” I reply, “Now, I am going to write this down in my notebook along with a semi-detailed description that will help me remember your name better.”
I then write down something like:

Mac: Long hair like MacGuyver. Tan, brown eyes. Reminds me of the fiancé of this photographer I once worked with, only without the neck growths.

The following are simple descriptions that have proven helpful. Actual names have obviously been changed.

1. Kathleen: Red hair. Stylish! Pale and fancy. Like Isla Fisher on a sailboat.
2. Mac #2:  Short. Bright colors all the time. Will laugh whenever you say anything to him, no matter what it is.
3. Raj: NECK TATTOO. NECK TATTOO. Very polite.
4. Princeton: Like he killed Joe Swanberg and crawled into his skin and is now wearing it as a suit. He could be on rowing team.
5. Stan: Like Princeton, except with Tom Cruise.
6. Shane: Skinnier. Probably owns a record player and listens to Bon Iver. Glasses. Polite.
7. Hoover: Skinny, but not Shane skinny. Possibly French. Seems very French. Dresses well. Gives off cool vibe.
8. Theodore: Yoooooung.
9. Blake: The lead terrorist from MI5. He will kill you until you speak to him and realize that he will not kill you.
10. Gordo: John Candy with madness in his eyes.
11. Job: Like Chevy Chase, but sad. Good posture.

Overkill? Maybe.

But you try forgetting Raj when you see that sick tattoo.

 

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I’m doing VEDA / Day 1

I’m participating in Vlog Every Day August (VEDA) this year! Hooray for commitment! Watch Day 1 here:

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Today, at my new temp job, I spilled the macchiato that someone made for me all over my kindle. I looked down at the small puddle of caramel colored caffeine and thought that my kindle may day.

Then I flipped it over and wiped it on my pants. No, I flipped it over and violently pressed it into my thigh, hoping that my jeans would sop up the mess before it seeped into the brains of my device. Then, because I feared that some espresso had slipped through the buttons, I pressed the kindle to my face and I tried to manually suck all of the liquid out. With my face.

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The elevator door opened at that exact moment and the people getting out of it were treated to a lovely visual of my sucking my kindle as though my life depended on it. We made eye contact and the universe gave me a split second to decide to remove my kindle from my face. But then my brain told to universe to fuck off and I continued sucking.

The guy in the elevator raised an eyebrow and I waved. After a final, swift pull I said,
“Sorry. Spilled some coffee on my Kindle. I had to make sure that… you know.”
“Oh shit, really? Dude, I do that, too! Try sucking on an iPad for five minutes. It’ll wear you out.”

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Boy, those people doing Google searches for the word “sucking” must be disappointed.

 

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Pin-Up Photos and Headshots, oh my!

You may not know this, but I love pinup photos. I had some taken a while ago when I still had platinum blonde hair for a suuuuper indie pilot/spoof of Full House in Atlanta, but I wanted some with my actual hair and, well. You know those people who keep getting tattoos? I like to think that my relationship with pinup photos is similar.

Here are some of the edits!

Also, I got my headshots back from Dana Patrick not too long ago. I got them as a last ditch effort to get sent out by my commercial agent more, but also to try and snag theatrical rep. Holy cow, am I happy with them! Her makeup artist did such an amazing job and Dana is truly a pro. I don’t know if I will ever go to anyone else for headshots.

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HE’S GETTING A HEAD TRANSPLANT.

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LAID OFF. WHAT THE F EVER.

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That D Word, Tho.

This is me doing my best to explain the D word and the A word. You know, the ones that AREN’T Dick and Ass.

If you ever have trouble with crippling, incessant thoughts about how you’re the absolute worst… then you get it.

Things to remember:

1. Just because you have been mean or terrible doesn’t mean you ARE mean or terrible. It just means that you had lapses in judgement in the past and you should learn from them like an adult. Make kindness to others a priority.

2. You are not the worst. You are not the worst. You are not the worst.

3. For real tho, I’m sorry about being such a bitch about those wigs.

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