The Adventures of Jas in Methland - Part I.

I would like to preface this by saying that I do not normally answer Craigslist auditions.


At least, that's what I would have said before I answered one.


After Disoda-Soda cut the umbilical cord to my temp contract, I saw my sudden swell of free time as an opportunity to try and book some legitimate film or commercial work. I looked forward to answering an audition or taping request without having juggle my schedule or switch shifts without worrying if I was causing someone to go into overtime. Disoda-Soda had sniffed out my distaste for violent men and lazy tourists who at perused the attraction on motorized scooters and decided to cast me out onto the streets? I'd show them. I'd go out and be that much more successful!


My progress can be described by saying, "Yeah. Well." 

My initial vigor died over the course of two months. 

On this particular morning, I realized that I had exhausted all of my job leads. My agent had only received two taping requests and one in-person audition that led nowhere. Here I was: a supposedly young, attractive person in the middle of a city that boasted an influx of creative work. Where were the gigs that supposedly accompanied all of this booming business? The commercials, the movies? Where did my sanity go?


I aimlessly walked around my apartment in my underwear for two hours, drinking coffee straight from the pot and marveling at the chronically filthy state of my apartment. I flirted with the idea of satisfying my desperate need to go grocery shopping as I emptied the crumbs from the bottom of a bag of corn chips directly into my mouth. My hair was mussy and my face showed signs of stress and sleepless nights. The optimism and hope that I first felt when I lost my job had long faded in favor of a grim future - and I found myself saying, "I will audition for anything - even holding a sign on the side of the road."

I don't know why I thought it would be worth my time to look through the Film/TV section of Craigslist. Originally, I only logged on for the Missed Connections. I have checked them religiously ever since a few years ago when I found one specifically looking for me. Back then I worked in a pet store and, apparently, had such a profound effect on one customer that they took their enamored state to the internet and typed:


Subject: Pet Store Girl

You: work at the pet store on ___ road.
Me: Glasses. Converse sneakers. long hair.
You: Braids. Strawberry blond hair. Blue co-op t-shirt.
Me: I had a lab mix.
You: Amazing.


I couldn't stop checking them. Unlike the slightly more sophisticated PostSecret, whose process for submitting confessions included creating your own postcard and mailing it off to the world, Missed Connections didn't exactly require creativity or effort. You only needed a keyboard, a working internet connection, and an optional grasp of language. For the most part, missed connections amounted to little more than a pile of nonsensical crap.

Occasionally, though, you would find something sticking out of the wreckage.
The same thing can be said about finding auditions on Craigslist. Sometimes you can find a legitimate opportunity amid the internet garbage.


The ad for the web series wasn't quite garbage. It wasn't quite a shining beacon of legitimacy, either.


It was, however, enough to persuade me to drive straight into The Meth Capital of Georgia.


- End Pt. 1 -