Idiot - Laura Clery Page 0,19
the lines with you. You ready?”
Say yes, Laura. Say yes. Say something. I was petrified. I think I just opened my eyes really wide and nodded. That’s normal.
She read the first line to me: “I’m the wrong guy to play hide and seek with.”
I took a breath and LOOKED STRAIGHT INTO THE CAMERA.
“Who’s hiding, dickhead.”
The casting director glanced awkwardly at the producers as I MAINTAINED EYE CONTACT WITH THE CAMERA LIKE AN IDIOT. She continued on.
I gave my entire reading staring into the lens.
Can you guys imagine watching a movie where every character looks straight into the camera the whole time? It’s not exactly what they were going for.
That is the most rookie mistake someone could ever make. I just imagine the director watching the tapes later, uncomfortably trying to avoid the super-intense big-eye glare of a girl more nervous than anyone has been in the history of the world. Or laughing his ass off. Most likely that.
I didn’t know how to audition! I had no idea that it was even something I needed to learn how to do.
By the way, the part was Kitty Pryde in X-Men: The Last Stand. Ellen Page plays her in all the movies, and she didn’t look into the camera even once. So, good choice everybody.
The coke-problem agent called me shortly after the audition. “So . . . I got some notes back from the casting director.”
“Oh great!” Lay it on me, buster. I can handle it.
“She just said . . . your client needs auditioning classes.”
After this, he didn’t want to represent me. Who knows why?
Let’s just say this was a humbling experience. I realized that there was a craft I needed to learn if I actually wanted to book jobs. And I did take some auditioning classes.
I’m only slightly embarrassed to say that this was the highest point of my career during my first stint in LA. But at the time, I wasn’t embarrassed at all! I felt fucking successful, going on auditions and shit, and successfully getting high every day. I was solid.
Toward the end of the summer, things started to get more and more out of control. Neha, Neesie, and I ran out of money. We had already paid rent, luckily, but money to eat? Not so plentiful.
No worries! I had skills for this. I knew how to get free stuff! I trained my whole life for this.
I pulled into the In-N-Out drive-thru with Neesie, fully aware that neither of us had any money. She was not down. “What the fuck are you doing, Laura?”
“Chill out. I got this, okay? I got this. Just order. They’re going to give it to us.”
Neesie looked at me skeptically. Hey, save the skepticism for conspiracy theories! I pulled up to the window and we ordered. And then came time to pay.
I patted my pockets EXCESSIVELY. And then dug through my purse. “Oh shit. Oh shit, where’s my wallet? Oh my God, did someone steal it?” I looked at the cashier for any hint of sympathy. There was none whatsoever. Damn. LA was definitely not the Midwest.
Neesie was getting worried. “Hold on one second,” I said. I put the car in park, walked over to the dudes in the car behind us.
“Hey, I’m SO sorry. But I can’t find my wallet and I already ordered . . . could I borrow some money?”
The dudes were super annoyed. But they paid. And we lived another day!
I began to realize my trusty stealing methods really didn’t fly in LA. But am I the type of person to give up?? No!
Meantime, I had given myself some scars on my lower stomach from an at-home bikini wax gone wrong (do those ever go right?). Because I was not really feeling up to rock some vagina scars, I needed to get some scar cream. I went to the CVS on La Brea and Santa Monica and found the creams. There was one for five dollars . . . but there was also one for forty dollars. I could have easily bought the five-dollar one. But the forty-dollar one was probably better. I mean, why else would it cost that much?? I wanted it. I needed it. I deserved the best.
Years later in Alcoholics Anonymous, I learned that this is a trait of the alcoholic. It’s either grandiose or comatose. Either I’m the best and deserve the best! or I’m a piece of shit and I’m killing myself tonight! Once you’re sober, you practice learning that you’re no better or