Well, I booked that commercial that I have been on avail for for about a month. Hot damn! It’s a Bud Light spot. Look for it. I’m the girl with glasses who keeps her clothes on! I shoot it tomorrow but I had my fitting today. Over the past week, I have had to drive to Santa Monica 5 times. The 405 and I are developing a rapport. Not enough of a rapport for me to stay, but we seem to have an understanding. The understanding that I hate it and it knows it. Honestly, some days I literally feel that I am taking my life in my hands when I get on the freeway. I’m not exaggerating. It felt truly dangerous today. People were nuts. Changing lanes (not the Ben Affleck movie) suddenly as if they were in dire need of a bathroom. Slowing down suddenly to look at a shoe. Darting quickly and unpredictably like Bob Fosse choreography. Only in a car. And cars don’t have the flexibility of Gwen Verdon.
Anyway, Yahoo Maps tells me that it’s 17.73 miles each way and that it should take 23 minutes. Oh, Yahoo Maps, you are such a rube. Did you just fall off the turnip truck? I will pay you $50 if it takes me only 23 minutes to get to Santa Monica from the Valley. I can make this bet because Yahoo Maps will never come claim the money. In your face, YM!
I need to put a new screendoor on my apartment. My cat, George, has really done a number on it with his claws. He likes to hang on it. And I hate to tell him this but, he’s too fat to be doing that. Hence, large-ish, cat-induced rips in my screendoor. It’s unsightly. He probably won’t be reading my blog so I can say that. Still he might comment under an alias. Regardless, I don’t know how to put a new screendoor on. Or which kind to buy. Should be an adventure. Not unlike the freeway.