I do weird things for money.

Oh god. I just had a vision of myself standing on a seedy street corner in Vegas or someplace, holding a sign with that written on it.

That’s obviously not what I meant.

What I meant to imply in the title of this post is that the unique skill set for which I am rewarded with financial compensation is, well, unique.

Take last week for instance. There I was, standing in line at the halal food truck on the corner of my block, patiently waiting for my helping of greasy, grey, street meat, when, completely out of the blue, I got a call from a New York casting agent asking me if I was available to play a giant clock in an upcoming, as yet untitled feature film. To which I replied, ‘Absolutely I am.’

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I’d say that I have between fifty and a hundred casting notices clogging up my email inbox on a given day. They look like this. Typically, you submit yourself for a project and the casting company calls you if you have the right look for that particular scene. On this occasion I did not submit myself because the casting notice mentioned something about being comfortable with an exposed midriff and I didn’t think anyone needed to see my pasty, untoned stomach in HD.

Luckily, I had forgotten about the midriff thing by the time the casting agent called. Plus, he told me that all I’d have to bring in terms of wardrobe is black tights, black shoes and a black bra (background actors are almost always expected to bring their own clothes) and they said they would provide a shirt…and a giant clock costume.

Naturally, I was picturing something like this…

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Or this…

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[Minus the porn stache of course.]

Therefore, I was very much surprised when I they dressed me in this…

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It took a good fifteen minutes to get me in and out of that thing and I couldn’t move my legs enough to walk, but other than that it was awesome.

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The hair and makeup were pretty sweet too. It’s hard to tell from the photo, but my eye makeup is supposed to represent clock hands (in an abstract sort of way), my hair is done up in a series of small bunches going down the back of my head to create a faux mohawk look, and (in keeping with the theme) they also jammed a couple of clock hands into my head.

After I saw the whole look put together, I figured out why I had been called for this job. At first I thought that word had finally gotten out about my fondness for bizarre costumes, quirky characters and special effects makeup. (‘Hey, who’s that crazy redhead again? You know, the one who’s really into bruise makeup?‘) Then I remembered that I recently uploaded one of my opera photos to my online casting profile…

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[Singing Queen of the Night on the runway at Fashion Week NYC 2010 – yet another strange (and super cool) thing I did for a paycheck.]

It all makes sense now.

I’m not sure what the film is about or even what it’s called. All I know is that I was in a party scene that took place in someone’s grotty apartment (probably in Brooklyn because it was full of hipsters) with a lot of oddly dressed people. There was an owl, a girl with a coconut bra with clock faces painted on each boob (she must have been the midriff girl) and a lot of masks and glow sticks.

Apparently the main character attempted suicide earlier in the day, but was unsuccessful. Then he downs a bottle of sleeping pills (as you do) and wanders into a party where all of the guests become a manifestation of his drugged-riddled imagination.

I’m standing at the end of a smoke-filled hallway drinking from a red Solo cup and holding a bow and arrow (which, incidentally, was shaped like the hand of a clock). The principal actor grabs the bow and arrow out of my hand and puts a rotary phone in its place. Meanwhile, I’m miming a conversation with someone who isn’t there, totally unaware of the fact that I’m now balancing a rotary phone in my hand while some drugged up lunatic is threatening to shoot the person on the other end of the line in the face with the aforementioned bow and arrow. It’s pretty fucking weird.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so featured in a film before though. Of course I’ve never actually seen any of movies I’ve worked on, so it’s hard to say.

It was an interesting experience to say the least. And it would have been a really fun shoot if wasn’t a million degrees inside the un-air-conditioned warehouse where we were filming for twelve hours…and if I had been able to walk or sit down.

Whelp, I’d better get back to work. Today I’m getting paid to dance on a table inside a bank vault that’s supposed to look like a trendy club, while wearing stilettos, choking on smoke from the fog machine and trying not to have a seizure from the effects of the strobe lighting…oh yeah…also while smiling and holding a Miller Lite bottle. (‘Labels out, people! More energy! You’re supposed to be having fun!)

Sigh.

Gotta go.

Later,

S

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