Red-Faced Joke Audition
When I brought my wonderful little blue Hyundai Accent - ‘Azulita’ - I did so by taking out $8000 on my credit card and paying cash. They said for another $2000 I could get air conditioning, but I just couldn’t go for that and hey, I’d never really found the need for it when traveling 20 minutes up the I5 every day. I rarely went to LA so I rarely experience the LA heat and the LA traffic. For the first 7 years I was in San Diego I went to LA probably eight or nine times in total and I didn’t see that changing.
I really, REALLY, should have got air conditioning. Why the fuck didn’t I get air conditioning when I had the chance? I came out of my PhD owing $50,000 for fuck sake, what would an extra $2000 had done? I swear I will research how much it costs to retrofit air conditioning to a Hyundai Acccent and then put an ad in Craigslist for someone to help me.
It is so very, very hot in my car, the traffic is so very, very bad and I’m going to be so very, very late. I want to kiss the people who invented mobile phones so at least I can tell the ones I’m auditioning for that I’m running late because of the traffic. But of course it’s not because of the traffic, it’s because I am the worse fucking timekeeper I know. Or time estimator And the fact that I know this somehow doesn’t ever seem to penetrate my supposedly intelligent skull (hence ‘The Roberts Factor’ in Flu Vaccine Study).
There are two lines from two songs that always ring through my head at these times. “You do it to yourself, you do, and that’s what really hurts”, in some Radiohead some, and “Help, I’ve done it again. I have been here many times before. Hurt myself again today. And the worst part is there’s no one else to blame,” in Breath by Sia. Okay, so both of these songs are about hideous angst or something and the writers would be really pissed off to know I can only remember them as another time-keeping crisis is upon me, but that’s what’s in my head so bog off.
By the time I’ve got through to near where I want to be I am soaked through with sweat, red faced, and have a massive headache due to my caffeine addiction not being topped up. I park and run into a Starbucks with my bag of makeup and my lovely audition dress. But I don’t like people knowing what book I’m reading if I’m sitting on public transport, so being able to walk into Starbucks in one outfit, disappear into the loo, and then walk out with another is somehow akin to absolute embarrassment. I order my coffee, I pee, I pick up my coffee, and I leave still clothed in my sweaty, skanky shorts with no makeup on my sweaty red face. I am now terribly, terribly late and not even close to being camera ready. “You do it to yourself you do.”
Luckily though I have one real party trick and that’s the ability to change from any outfit to almost any other in a public place without ever revealing any naughty bits. Pah! Who needs Starbucks’ toilets and privacy when I can sit in a car exchanging shorts, an old bra, and sandels, for a button up dress, a push-them-up, and some fuck-me heels while parked in front of a row of shops on Santa Monica Blvd. Still, clean and non sweaty clothing wise I may be, my pale foundation does not completely hide my beautifully red-hued face – great when the audition is on camera.
I haven’t even mentioned what it’s for. Actually, I’m not that sure what it was for even now, but the Craigslist ad said it wanted “British, Australian, Indian, and American people to tell jokes for a comedy website”. Inside it’s a small set-up. The ‘on-camera’ is just a webcam and my jokes do down hellsa well (ask and I will tell, especially the Halloween one, it’s great but it’s very visual). A week later I get an email saying I passed the audition and can I come to what turns out to be a very smart bungalow near Venice. I’m late, of course, but I do get the courage to change in a Starbucks nearby. I’m beginning to reassess my view that having a Starbucks on every street is a bad thing. Wherever I went I’d ask Garmin to take me to Coffee Shop and I never knew whether what it came up with was good or bad, so I’ve given up and now I just type in Starbucks, and the nearest eight, nine, ten, or so, come up and I know my next hit is nearby.
For the actually shooting for the website I’m sitting on a white rug telling some jokes that are, in my opinion, a bit lame. I get $75 but forget to ask what website they are going on. Somewhere out there I am telling a joke about a brain going into a bar. I’m sure all will be revealed when I’m rich and famous and someone finds them.