Tuesday, September 21, 2010


I was late.

As usual.

And not in the pregnancy scare kind of way.

I was late for my audition at Warner Brothers Studios.

I love that I can write that sentence.

I had an audition at Warner Bros Studios!

For The Big Bang Theory on CBS!


On a TV show my grandpa has actually heard of. Finally, he wouldn’t have to utter his famous line (after seeing another confusing piece of theater his granddaughter was in.) “Well, I didn’t understand it but I support you.”

So as I gunned my little Toyota Yaris into the parking garage of Warner Bros I was prepared.

I had thought of everything. My lines were memorized, my character was analyzed, even my dress was perfect.

Perfect, and sweat-stain free.

Let me explain.

Earlier that day, as I stood in my pre-planned outfit reciting my lines, I noticed my short-sleeved dress highlighted an unfortunate occurrence of my rising nerves:

Sweaty Arm Pits.

Well, that just wouldn’t do.

I had to think on my feet. My audition was two hours away and I still needed to rehearse at least five hundred more times! I couldn’t let an annoying body function ruin my chances at getting this role!

So I did what any self-respecting, eager, young actor would do.

I improvised.

I dug through my bathroom drawer and found the perfect tool to stop the sweating.


In the armpits of my dress.

Before you judge me, let’s remember that these things are advertised for their moisture-locking protection!

It was the perfect, fail-proof plan!

As I checked in, got a visitor’s badge (which I later had mounted and framed,) and ran onto the lot I was confident.

I was ready.

I had moisture-free armpits!

I smiled at maintenance crew, spoke to a security guard, and joked with a producer. Every person I saw was my new best friend. I was on top of the world!

A few minutes before my audition I stopped in the bathroom to do a final check.

Teeth – check!

Hair – check!

Make-up – check!

Armpits -

I stopped.



There, hanging out of a sleeve of my dress was a bright pink maxi-pad.

I just stood there, staring at myself in the mirror.

Not even at a big audition, on a glamorous movie lot, can I pull it together.

At these kinds of auditions you see a lot of different types of girls. There are the girls that always smell great. The girls that always have the perfect make-up. The girls that always have the perfect hair.

And then there’s me.

The girl who has feminine protection hanging out of her armpits.

I have stains on my dress, runs in my tights, and chips in my nail polish (who am I kidding, I don’t even wear nail polish.) I’m over-sensitive, too hard on myself, and I care too much what other people think.

But I’m here, dammit.

I’m here.

I’m in LA, doing what I promised myself I would do.

And it can suck. Hard.

But it can also be really great.

Like that one time I had maxi-pads hanging out of my dress but still got a callback.

In case you were wondering.