One day I worked on Iron Man II: "Iron Boogaloo." This is not the actual subtitle to Iron Man II, but it should be. Anyway, we filmed all night at the Sepulveda Dam. I ran around from 3PM to 6AM the following day, in 45-degree weather, dodging imaginary fireballs that will presumably become CG fireballs in the future. I ran and accidentally shoulder-checked Mickey Rourke. Oops! (He is terrifying in person.)
It was a long, cold grueling night. Security did sweeps of the thorny brambles surrounding the tent which housed all 500 of us extras, shooing out frozen paparazzi crouched like Savannah Lions with telescopic lenses. John Favereau, the director, politely addressed us a "Background Artists" through a massive PA system which made him sound like a blue whale.
Gwynneth Paltrow was there. From far away, she looks like a stick figure with a wig.
After a night and morning of fleeing in terror, we were exhausted- then they dropped the bad news on us: this was supposed to be a 5-day job. Instead, it's only one. Sorry to all those that didn't have work lined up- oops.
I drove the long drive home to our temporary camp in Long Beach. Out of sheer masochism (and desperation for a job) I called the Central Casting Line, thinking that maybe I would meet the requirements for something they were shooting that day.
I was shocked to find that I did!
"Thank you for calling Central Casting- this is an emergency message, repeat: an emergency message. This message was left at 7:20 AM. We need an attractive, blonde caucasian woman in her late 20's to early 30's who can be in the Hollywood area by 8:00. Please call the emergency line immediately if you match this description."
I looked at my watch- it was 7:30. I could be in Hollywood by 8AM if I made a U-turn. Sure I hadn't slept and I was tired and numb, but who cares? The odds that enough attractive blonde caucasians in their late 20's early 30's had called in the last 10 minutes was slim to NONE- I had the golden ticket!
I called the line, and they answered- I gave them the first four digits of my social security number and told them my last name- that's how they pull up your picture.
I asked if the job was still available.
"Yes, yes!" Central Casting said. "Can you be there by 8?"
"Yes!" I answered.
"Great! Let's just pull your photo up here, and... oh..."
..."What? What is it?"
"We can't use you for this job. Sorry. Have a great day!"
Click.
Hm. Well, I know I'm blonde. I'm caucasian for sure, and I'm definitely that age range, so that can only lead to one conclusion.
Feeling really, really unattractive and suddenly even more tired, I went to bed.
Eff you, Central Casting. My mom says I'm pretty.
You are pretty, I saw you on Cartoon Hangover, and was like "Wow, she's pretty......and a porn secretary?" But I figured you might have an entertaining blog. Anyway my point, while you are pretty, you are pretty in that real manner, not the generic Hollywood manufactured pretty. That's probably what they were looking for.
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