Why I write

I write because I have an abundance of useless words floating around in my head. They torture me and they want to get out. Someday, I hope they have meaning.

Kitties and Condoms

Most of my life is unfortunately quite boring but every now and then, I get tossed a few surprises.

Last week, a talent agency called and they were looking for young vets who could audition for a major dog food commercial. At first, I thought, "Hell no" because that is my usual response to something in front of a camera but I changed my mind and said, "Why the hell not?".

They called three days before the audition so that left me three days to fuss, stress and anguish over my television debut. I have no control over such emotions: I worry, therefore I am. The night before, I even made some crude head shots. I figured that my writing hadn't made me one red cent so I was going to give this acting thing a good try.

The day of the audition, I had the most hellacious work day of the past year. Everything that came in was sick or dying and needed major work-ups. No one was poor. All the owners had money to afford bloodwork and xrays and the necessary treatment. Rich bastards! As the day wore on, I became more and more frazzled. My screen time was set for 6:45 and by 6:00, it became clear that I was going to be late. This caused me even more grief and I began to utter expletives over things that normally I would have taken in stride. Thankfully, the casting center was literally a couple of blocks from my clinic but I still needed time to run home, change clothes, regain my super polished professional self and find parking. Parking is always a factor in L.A. I wish we had hover craft and we could just park above each other. Until that time, there is street parking. This is the devil's invention.

I ran into the office at 6:50 and my mouth was as dry as a bone. I had taken an antihistamine/decongestant for my allergies and while it cleared up my sinuses nicely, it had taken its toll on my mouth. Cotton mouth was not a fair description. I felt like my mouth was the highest-grade chalk and my tongue stuck to my upper palate. I talked like a ret--, ahem, a mentally challenged person. Thankfully, there was a water fountain and I sucked down a gallon of moisture before making my way over to the casting area. I brought along Dusty (we were encouraged to bring our pets) and he seemed completely clueless and uninterested about everything. I was very jealous of him.

I started to eye the competition. They all appeared to be younger AND better looking than I was. And more professional. And more caring. And more "vet-like". And they probably made more money than I did and they were probably HAPPY that they were vets. I started to foreshadow disaster.

By 7:15, a very perky lady ushered me into "the room" and gave me a place to stand with Dusty. Then they loosened me up and asked me to talk about myself. I was okay with that. I knew that they were going to ask me those type of things so I was prepared. Then they hit me with "okay, now tell us something funny that has happened to you at your clinic".

Funny shit happens all the time at a vet clinic. In fact, they should make a reality show about vet clinics and I'm sure it would be a hit. But could I think of something off the top of my head? My mind was reeling. I had to run through 13 years of being a vet and come up with something that was going to BLOW them away. Of course, I'm not a fast thinker and my mind tends to live in the gutter SO ...

I told them the very short story about a woman who brought in a litter of orphaned kittens. She didn't know how to nurse them so she filled a condom with milk replacer and fed them that way. She didn't appear embarrassed or shy, just very matter-of-fact. I suppose she was being resourceful. Give credit when it is due.

At the time of my audition, it was such a "D'oh!" moment. Condoms and cute kitties. It just wasn't a pretty picture and the ladies who were running the audition were more shocked than entertained. They didn't want to hear any more of my "stories". That was a good thing because the only other story I could think of was the one about a client having sex with her dog. I'm sure THAT would have gone over real well.

I wish I could control my mind. Or maybe I just need to control my mouth. Actually, think I need to control both because they are definitely in cahoots with each other.

At the end of the audition, the ladies thanked me and told me they would be calling me the next week to let me know. One of those, "don't call us, we'll call you" comments.

Rejection. It made me feel like a real bona-fide actor!

Please eat me.

I am soooo tired of my own cooking that I have decided to eat out more.

This is all fine and dandy except that I eat alone. Not by choice. I don't choose to be a loser; I just am. But that's for another column.

My dilemma is this; what to do while I'm eating in my lonely little corner of misery?

Here are the options:

• Read the menu over and over. I try to memorize the prices and make a mental note to look up weird foodie terms like "fricassee" and "tartare".


• Stare at people. If they stare back, I pick another table, preferably with a baby. Or, if I'm in a particularly weird mood, I'll narrow my eyes to slits and pretend that something doesn't look right on someone's face. Staring at the waitstaff is no fun; they'll think I want something and then when I do, they'll ignore me.


• Bring a book and read it. This always seems so studious. If I wanted to look that way, I should just sneak a sandwich into a library.


• Pretend I'm thinking about something, anything. My mind is usually quite blank so this gets boring very quickly. I end up staring at a table next to me, even if it's empty.


• Eat. I suppose this is one option. But it's kinda like sitting on the toilet to take a shit.


• Snort cocaine. This never goes over very well. In L.A. everyone wants their share.


• Practice writing your name with your left hand backwards on the paper covering the table. This only goes over if you're in a pseudo-Italian restaurant with annoying opera singers.


• Call someone on my cell phone. This is frowned upon by the waitstaff as well as by other diners. I don't know why. It makes me feel important and social.
• Talk to myself. I suppose this is alright in this day and age. People tend to think you have a cell phone attached somewhere.
• Play solitaire on the cell phone. This is even more pathetic than eating alone. However, if I'm really tired and all of the above just ain't working, this may be the only option.

I'm planning on eating out tomorrow night by myself. I can't wait to try out some new ideas!

His whole life flashed before his eye

Veterinary medicine is so unpredictable.

Dusty nearly died after having blood taken for some routine tests. He has one eye, degenerating kidneys, a bad back, a heart murmur but I didn't expect him to meet his maker after drawing out some blood.

That just ain't right.

He is back to normal now. Normal for him, of course.

Thanks for asking.

The hair club

I wonder if Steven Spielberg is jealous of George Lucas's hair?

In the beginning ...

Dusty is my fourteen year old Pekingese with one eye. I'm not sure how he lost his eye; I adopted him as an adult after the owner passed away and he was already seeing the world with one headlight at that time. He is my faithful companion and I love him, even though he thinks my entire apartment is his personal toilet.

But he's tired of listening to my bitching after my long day at work. He walks away, like he's heard it all before. And he probably has. I tend to be repetitive when I'm venting and I guess fourteen year old Pekes have better things to do such as snorting, sneezing, falling asleep and barfing up food in hidden corners. Such is his sweet life.

So it's time to find a new audience. I've jumped on the bandwagon and started a blog. I can pour out my heart and soul into cyberspace. Vent my frustrations. Impart words of wisdom. Let you know, in some small way, what it's like to be in my world.

Oh who am I kidding? This blog is for me. It's cheap therapy. Or maybe it's just cheap.

I'll let you decide.