So today you will be blessed with another retro entry from a previous incarnation of my blog. This incident occurred when I was living in Los Angeles and I am still waiting for that call. By the way, at the bottom of my entry I posted the MOST HILARIOUS VIDEO I HAVE EVER SEEN ON THE FACE OF THE PLANET. I found it after I wrote this entry, and I like to think this is what I would have been doing had I made the cut.
Today I was riding as usual, nothing out of the ordinary- you know, unbrushed hair, no makeup, completely filthy and in need of some serious deororant replenishing- when in one of the lower arenas I saw a cameraman filming different people loping around the ring. Then I noticed a table set up and different beautiful actors handing their headshots to a casting director. After some snooping I discovered L’Oreal was having an audition. Since I could make neither heads nor tails of the actors and actresses – there was no throughline appearance wise- I was and still am working under the assumption that a major call went out to the actors of Los Angeles saying to them, “If you can ride a horse, then you are welcome to join us on this day.”
And many an actor/actress did, even if they had only gotten on a pony once in their lives at a birthday party. And fell off.
I swear to god there were so many close calls, women with perfectly kempt hair coming a hair’s breadth from falling off. These poor horses were running into one another and though they were kind hearted, were sick of people bouncing around on their backs like a sack of potatoes. After watching one or two people I stationed myself around fifty feet away with Bingley, sat down and like the ancient Romans, watched these poor ambitious people walk straight into a death trap. That was all well and good until a slight episode of madness affected me and I walked up to the casting director, or more accurately, their PA.
“Can I audition? I can ride better then most of these women and I have lots of hair” I said. You might be wondering why I told her I had lots of hair. It is because I thought it was a shampoo commercial. It was not a shampoo commercial, it was for makeup. This poor, and very nice, casting director must have thought I was at best horribly naive and at worst insane, walking up to her with my bold attitude and unnerving non-sequitors.
After a moment she manages to say, “This is a SAG shoot. Do you have a SAG card?”
“No!” I answered with enthusiasm.
“Do you have an agent?”
“No!” I said again, with equal energy. I had decided to wait for her to tell me to leave and this tactic worked in my favor. It would be easier for her to let me audition and throw away my information later than to potentially have a disruption. She sighed and slid me a piece of paper, for me to fill out which I did, partially. I mean, who the hell knows their measurements off the top of their head? I would have asked for a measuring tape but she was looking a bit harassed already.
Now that I had booted down this inital door nervousness took me. The horses were being ridden western, which is completely different in style and tactic than dressage. Everybody else was dressed in boots and flannel whereas I had on tall boots and breeches. Which one of these is not like the other, I ask you.
Next in the process was to put me in front of the camera. I was lucky number 13. They asked me if I would be comfortable riding on the beach. I answered, yes, in fact I would be comfortable with that.
Then it was just me and the horse- a nice palamino who was having a very hard day. At first I was nervous and then everything looked to be alright. We are at a nice, regular lope, still and easy and relaxed. All was well, considering. I should also mention to you that I took off my glasses. Taking off my glasses means that I am almost legally blind. Seriously, I cannot see anything except for basic shapes without them and here I am riding a horse I just met with many, many people looking on. We went around twice and I was preparing to half and dismount when I heard something from the trainer- “Do a hand gallop!” She yelled. What the hell is a hand gallop, I wondered. Perhaps she meant an extended canter. Most of the other people moved slightly faster than me around the ring so maybe I should bring him up to the previous auditioners speed. We did a nice extended canter and I again prepared to stop. “No!” she shouted, “Throw the reins away and GALLOP!” Oh. Gallop, like seriously freaking gallop on a strange horse, while I am blind, wearing the wrong clothes, in front of every body completely BLIND! Blind.
Okay! And off we went, this guy and I tore around the ring with turns so tight that the poor dressage person in me was reeling and had to grab the pommel, a big western no-no. By the time I brought him to a trot I was so wired I bounced around on him like a rubber ball. I dismounted, handed the horse over and headed out of the arena.
And kind readers, it was then that I found out the commercial was for vita-lift. Vita-lift. You know, that powerful, soothing formula that helps strengthen your skin’s natural defenses against daily agressions, that helps slow the signs of aging, revitalizes skin, reduces wrinkles? That vita lift. The not twenty something year old product.
So that means I humiliated myself in front of everyone for nothing?! I think right now is the right time to go to that old standby defense mechanism: denial.
It is just a matter of time until they call me.
If you enjoyed this you might also enjoy The Baying of The Hounds: Feeding of Pills.