Some of the sweet press for V/H/S

Technically this isn't a video blog, but it IS a clip and a sneek peek at all the awesome press and love we are getting for V/H/S!

Magnolia, our distributor, started sending out "bloody" V/H/S tapes and VCR's to various horror media outlets with the intent of generating some creative buzz. Everyone took the bait and this is one of my favorite posts so far.

Click the image to go to Fear Net and watch a clip from our segment, Amateur Night!

They say that your first year is the worst year. But it's still the best year.

They say that the first year of living in Los Angeles will kick you in the ass. By "they," I mean everybody. If you can survive the culture shock, brushes with bankruptcy, and frustration that results from not being able to leave your car to buy gummy Coke bottles while you pump your gas, then you just might have what it takes to not only endure, but thrive in the land that I have come to realize is "So Cal."

I never fell prey to the idea that Hollywood consisted of magical movie making fairies and bountiful bookings, but it seems as though any person I run into who justifies paying ninety American dollars to enthusiastically sit in half of a van for two hours as someone chauffeurs them past Wesley Snipes's old house and tries to trick them into thinking they have seen someone tabloid worthy seems to be under the impression that Hollywood is the place where Jesus puts the pending miracles. 

Yeah, um. Hollywood isn't really any of those things. It's actually one of the cheaper places to live in the city and, truth be told, I don't think that famous people go there. If you drive a few miles to the right you will run into the Chateau Marmont shortly before you hit Interstate 101 the 101 (because apparently you aren't allowed to say the words "highway," "freeway," or, God forbid, "interstate,"). Apparently you aren't allowed to use exit numbers on the freeway, either. Once you get a "So Cal" drivers license, the spirit of former Governator Arnold Schwarzenegger comes to you in your dreams and blesses you with the inherent knowledge of which numbers go with each exit.

California is a strange land. Also, what the hell is with beach people? The only ones who wear clothes are the residents of Santa Monica. The rest of them just walk around naked and do a ton of ecstasy while they try to figure out how to lindy hop to Skrillex. Spoiler: It doesn't work. I don't know why the hell these rich white kids think that it looks cool.

I know that I have not been posting nearly as frequently since I arrived in Los Angeles. Adapting to a new culture is hard work. I stayed with the gracious Nugs of That Ain't Kosher for a month before venturing out of the safe haven of West Hollywood and into the jungle of Korea Town to be a glorified nanny.

Notice that I said "glorified" and not "actual" nanny.

My type of nannying is different than taking care of children. Oh, children would be easy. Instead, I am nanny to an entire structure. It has fifty or so rooms. Forty of these rooms contain at least one human being that I am responsible for nurturing. And by nurturing, I actually mean taking their money and making sure that their toilet flushes all the way.

My car has been towed twice, resulting in me paying $300 each time to get it out of the impound lot.  On top of this, I owe the city of Los Angeles $400 more dollars in parking tickets because there is nowhere to park while I do important nanny things.

Because of my nannying gig, I can now say, with one hundred percent certainty, that I have seen the face of certain death and that crack does indeed kill.

I work at a restaurant on weekend nights. Even though this is technically work, it is a welcome vacation for me because I can shut off my nannying phone and justify that action by saying, "Well, I have to pay off these parking fees somehow, don't I?"

As of right now, there is no such thing as "a day off." I have no days off.

I am stressed. I am frazzled. I am frustrated.

But you know what?

I'd still never go back to Georgia.

Ace High: Trailer

Now that I have my computer back from the good people at Apple, I can begin to post according the the schedule. However, some things can't wait for a designated posting day - and Joshua Crute's Ace High is one of those things.

Still from the bar scene of Ace High. Pictured: Actor Gary Hilborn and me.

I went to Florida a few months ago to work on a film by FSU Grad Student Joshua Crute called Ace High. I made some video blogs about the trip down there and showed pictures when I could, but for the most part things with the film have been kept under wraps as they completed the post process.

It debuted at the showcase of the graduate cycle films and, along with the other films by the talented and hardworking students of FSU, was incredibly well received.

I am immensely proud of this film and everyone involved with it and am so excited to finally be able to show you the trailer!



If you think that this trailer is as badass as I think it is, I would love for you to go to Facebook and like the Ace High film page. Also, share the trailer with your friends! Ace High will be making the festival circuit all year, so stay tuned at their official Facebook Page or here at SBAP for information on future screenings near you!

Normal posting schedule commences soon.

My computer is currently in the repair shop. I will post Friday's video blog as soon as possible.

Announcing the official posting schedule of Smile Big and Pretty!

 I received an email in the Smile Big and Pretty inbox the other day saying, 

"Please. Don't be one of those actors who wrote engaging little stories and then disappeared off the face of the Earth when they moved to Hollywood."

It went on to say one or two very flattering things about my writing and how they looked forward to new pieces and video blogs. It then went on to chastise me and say how disappointed they were because I haven't been posting as frequently as I used to. It's a much appreciated reminder that I have an audience that genuinely likes what I put out there. 

My favorite line was, 

"Don't talk about 'saving it for the book deal' if you give up on consistently pushing and challenging yourself to generate quality content."

Blunt - but very, very true. So, thank you, Person.

Since life has recently forced to understand the importance of deadlines, organization, and being on top of things in general (both literally and metaphorically - I'm looking at YOU, table), I am going to start posting on a regular schedule.

Tuesdays: New written entries.

Fridays: New video blogs.

You read correctly. I am binding myself to a regular schedule of both written and video content.

SBAP Video: Metal Star Niece. (Sometimes I call her Turkey Butt.)

Gone with the Wind (Turbines!)

I hail from a world where fully grown men and women share an adoration for all things Gone With the Wind. As a Georgian, it almost seems mandatory that you indoctrinate yourself into the mentality that Gone With the Wind serves as the single most important literary and cinematic contribution to our culture. If aliens were to capture a human specimen from Georgia and dissect its brain, they would find not only the four traditional lobes that control the human spirit, but also a fifth lobe dedicated to all things Scarlett O'Hara, Rhett Butler, and thinly veiled racism that's OK because it teaches us lessons. 

That said, I'm a bad southerner. My brain lacks the aforementioned fifth lobe and I personally feel that the film could have benefited with way more scenes of Mammy yelling at all of the white people. 

Given the right set of circumstances, however, one can develop a love for something like GWTW really quickly. Shortly before I left for Los Angeles, I received a voicemail from a friend who worked with a theatrical staffing and improv company.

"Listen girl," the message began, "I want to book you for this event we're doing at the convention center. You'll be dressing up as Scarlett O'Hara for a couple of hours and interacting with people in character. Southern accent, yall's and howdy-do's. Pays a good little bit and I figured you could use the money before your move. You interested?"

Interested? It had been a good three weeks since I had left my party entertainer job and the lack of princess dresses and full bodied Yo Gabba Gabba suits had ripped a giant, gaping hole in my otherwise iron-clad spirit. I accepted without hesitation.

I had to go to a costume shop located in a massive warehouse for my fitting. 

"Aha!" said the lady at the front desk, "Here is one of my Scarletts!" 

She led me to the back. 

"I assume you're familiar with the film, right?"

If by familiar she actually meant, Oh, you saw this film once in sixth grade and happened to watch some clips on YouTube this morning, right? Then...

"Yes! I'm super familiar with it!"

"Excellent. So you're going to be Scarlett in the painting. She didn't actually wear this dress in the movie but you know know that scene in the living room?"

"... Yes."

No. 

"Well, it's a pretty iconic painting so we figured that all of the Gone With the Wind fanatics would be tickled if one of you girls was wearing it. Be prepared for the REAL fans."

Gone With the Wind Fanatics. Could I be so lucky?

Yes, I could.

I felt a little self conscious because the bodice pressed my boobs down and made them look somewhere between saggy and non-existent, but my holler to the dollar proved more powerful than my desire for bouncy boobs.

As luck would have it, though, we had a no-show for another one of the Scarletts and I got to wear the green picnic dress from the beginning of the film. I recalled her screaming at an effeminate Ashley and throwing a ceramic plate at the wall while she wore this dress and considered myself upgraded.

Local Atlanta area actor friend and fellow GTA classmate, Jenny Powell, was also hired to be a southern belle, so we made sure we grabbed some pictures together. Our period styles professor would be so proud of us.

Upon our arrival, we learned that the event was actually an international conference for an alternative energy company. Apparently the coordinators thought,
"Our company specializes in wind turbines. The conference is held in Atlanta. Everyone will totally understand why the Gone With the Wind characters are there!"

They were right - about the 10% of the attendees who actually came from the United States. The other 90% who hailed from Asia and Europe simply pointed at us and said, "Very pretty!" or "Yes!" before snapping a picture with us and going inside.

The southern belles would mill about the convention hall, mingling and interacting with guests, while the Scarletts and the Rhetts would stand at entrances and greet the guests. I teamed up with a Rhett Butler who happily chatted about musical theater and local theater politics, taking breaks to occasionally readjust his mustache. Two hours flew by in two minutes and, by the end, we had relocated to where they had a old-timey band playing covers of Ring of Fire and Tequila! and had begun to dance around the lobby while convention attendees stared and took pictures.

I don't mean to brag, but look at that 'stache.

Then, at the end of the event, we packed up our things and went home. Easiest, funnest paycheck ever.

I wonder how many people will go back to their native lands with pictures of us in their cell phones. I certainly hope they will show these pictures to their friends and co-workers and speak of the peculiar nature of American hospitality. My deepest wish is that the one with Scarlett, Rhett, and the three girls from Japan making the peace signs somehow finds its way back to me one day.