Saturday Brain Teaser: Find All Five F’d-Up Things About This Casting Call.

[BABY HASSELHOFF - IDENTICAL TWINS] 'The Hasselhoffs' / Male / Caucasian / 1-3
REMINDER: ALL CHILDREN MUST HAVE CURRENT/VALID ENTERTAINMENT WORK
PERMIT AND COOGAN ACCOUNT!

PROMO SPOT – we are casting IDENTICAL TWIN BOYS, age 18 months to 3 years. These babies will be playing the TODDLER version of David Hasselhoff! Our strong preference is to see boys with Dark-curly hair and tan skin. However, we are open to seeing kids with other hair color. IMPORTANT IS THAT THEY MUST HAVE HAIR!

In the spot, children are going to be 'made-up' by a top m/u/effects artist who will be using completely non-toxic, baby-safe products and adhesives to apply additional hair etc
to the boys.

Child MUST be able to run easily and follow direction. Wardrobe: Short Swim Trunks. No Shirt. Bare Feet.

I’m No Dog Whisperer…

But it’s starting to seem obvious why Petey, who can’t wait to visit my niece and nephew, also can’t wait to get the hell away from them.

This Time, I Get Paid To Put People To Sleep.

My friend Pat came out to LA from New York this past week, and we talked about some of the things we’ve learned as fellow bloggers, maybe the most interesting being the ease we have in sharing anything from our lives online.

So I fell asleep on my girlfriend during sex one night in college. She was steamed. And she made me pay for it by dating me for another three years.

Never underestimate the importance of a good night’s rest. I sure don’t, and I found out yesterday that I booked a role in an infomercial for Alteril, a natural sleep aid. I’ll play a mechanic, who talks up the drug from an automotive garage.

A couple of cool things: first, I got to put my new grad skills to use as the audition was all improv. And second, the infomercial will be hosted by Chuck Woolery. I like that dude.

So look for me when you ironically lay in bed, unable to sleep, and watch infomercials. And if I’m passed out in that bed next to you, sorry honey. Try to keep the volume down.

Trained By The Best.

There are no stupid questions. But there are a LOT of inquisitive idiots.

That’s why my favorite teachers have always been patient and compassionate. And my newest favorite is my improv instructor, Will McLaughlin. You may already be familiar with Will’s work, in the Funny or Die "Undercover Karaoke with Jewel" video. That’s him, above, posing as one of Jewel’s “coworkers,” second from left.

Will was born to be an improv actor. He’s stunningly well-read, and can shift gears with knowledge of anything from history to literature to pop culture. One night, Will, an Irish guy from Atlanta, even knew the term for the curls orthodox Jews wear on the sides of their heads – “peyos” – and when I asked him how the hell he knew that, he pointed at me and said, “I pay attention!”

I'll find out soon enough if I'm smarter than a fifth grader, but smarter than a teacher – hell no.

The California Science Center: A Blackberry® Photo Gallery.

My mom was in town, so we took the niece and nephew to the California Science Center. It’s located right next to USC, where they’ve fittingly made committing NCAA recruiting violations a science.

It’s summer hiatus, and auditions are so scarce I’m thinking about putting this thermal TV image of me on my résumé.

For just two bucks, you can experience what people in Florida give up their entire double-wides to have.

New mission in life: find the kid who’s responsible for them keeping a life preserver next to the big open aquarium, and make him my new BFF. He’s gotta be LeBron crazy.

Really? Really??

They didn’t have an autograph book, so I made due.

Diploma Hoarder.

As difficult as it is to write good comedy sketches, using improv to create them is enough to make you snap like Sly Stallone at the end of Copland.

I don’t complain, however – nobody said it was gonna be easy, and I fully chose to follow up my Upright Citizens Brigade 101 class by immediately diving into 201.

Yesterday was my 201 graduation show, and it was a little different from the 101 grad show. Instead of using monologues to cull ideas for sketches, we used a technique called a “cloverleaf,” in which we took a suggestion from the audience, stood in a semi-circle and did word association. We then did 20 minutes of sketches based on that cloverleaf.

The show was great. I thought my classmates had fun and were really funny. That's them, above.

So what next? Hell yeah I’m taking 301. Though I’m waiting for one teacher in particular to come back from a mini hiatus, and he may be doing that next month. And if I thought 201 was a challenge, the next level is looking to end only way way: I collapse in a puddle of fail.

She Shops Like Real People.

Super model/pro volleyball player/first lady of surfing/shrimp vs. meat & cheese platter contemplator Gabrielle Reese.
Costco, Rosecrans Blvd.

Thank You, Television

Ah, summer. With its horrendous high temps and its even more horrendous reality TV fill-in shows. Speaking of reality shows, I saw a recent photo of Pauly D. from “The Jersey Shore” and I thought, my god, the BP spill's spread all the way up the eastern seaboard.

But it looks like there’s some goodness on the way, with an upcoming show on ABC called “Mr. Sunshine.” I’d seen the pilot script for this a few years back, and worried about the premise (a manager of a sports arena lives in the arena), but now that Matthew Perry has been cast as the lead it looks a winner. Click above and judge for yourself.

Wardrobe Malfeasance.

The casting director called for "men in suits" for this audition, Ace. Unless in whatever part of the Ozarks you hail from, rumpled brown shirt and khakis qualify as formal attire. Forgive me.

But if Filthy White Socks Guy gets the role ahead of me, I’m gonna be miffed.

Nerd Alert.

This much I know: don’t expect to impart or receive knowledge in 140 characters or less.

That said, with an upcoming appearance on “Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader,” I’m taking this opportunity very seriously, and have been spending hours each day at Barnes & Noble studying everything I can get my hands on.

After TiVoing the show, I’ve found the questions to be far above fifth-grade level, so I’m learning more than any man should know about biology, astronomy, geography (specifically African, which comes up a bunch), and history.

I’m not sure when I’ll be taping (I believe they go on hiatus after this weekend, so it may be after that), but if it means the difference between winning six figures and not, I’ll cram until I self-combust, like Duran Duran in the mid-'80s. So come say hi, and bring a snack.

The Ringling Brothers Circus: A Blackberry® Photo Gallery.

My big brother runs the ad agency that handles Ringling Brothers, and when he asked me if I wanted to come along and check out the show, I accepted. And I realized I’d never been to a circus before. Thoughts:

I may never understand why Russians get all the strength and agility skills, but I appreciated this guy balancing his lover for a good, long clip.

Seven motorcycles maneuvering around the steel cage – easily my favorite highlight, and worth inhaling a Lincoln Tunnel’s worth of exhaust fumes.

Elephants – definitely not house-trained. This one is taking what is arguably the biggest dump at Staples Center since the Celtics in game seven.

Proof that fear of clowns is instinctual: I so much as waved the giveaway red nose in my nephew’s face, and he went Naomi Campbell on me and smacked me with a bag of Scooby Snacks.

Outside the greatest show on earth: the most insulting giveaway on earth.

My World Shrinks Daily.

I’m always happy to bust the myth about actors’ competitiveness. You’d think in a business crammed with so many people gunning for so few jobs, it’d be rife with resentment whenever one of us succeeds. Kinda like when pro ballplayers get roped into a Celebrity All-Star Softball Game, and they're ticked off that their agents convinced them to play, but now they have to pretend to be excited because Dave Coulier just went deep.

Actually, I’ve never met a more supportive group of people. I think the prevailing notion is that if we all help each other, we’ll all eventually work. And the longer I spend in show business, the smaller this friendly world gets, to the point in which I’m starting to recognize at least one actor friend of mine during every commercial break. I run with a pretty prolific bunch.

Above is Matt Riedy, who plays the father of the bride in a Twix commercial running like crazy right now. Matt works a lot, as a regular on “Big Time Rush” on Nickelodeon, and recent guest-starring spots on “Desperate Housewives” and “Mad Men.” And he’s just a really good guy.

Carrie Fisher summed it up really well: “Resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die.” Take it elsewhere, haters.

Finally, The Investment Pays Off.

From a casting call this week:

Male / 20 to 50 / All Ethnicities
Hi Guys...we are looking for a SAG man with YOUR OWN COW COSTUME to work on Tuesday. This is for a webisode. The scene takes place backstage at a variety show. The rate is the SAG new media rate of $100 + $25 for costume. If interested - please submit photos now!!!

I Take A Vicarious Vacation With The Guy Who Stole My Credit Card Number.

Five purchases yesterday. We’re having a bitchin’ time.

We’re staying at the lovely Panorama Latina Hotel, in Meta Italy. You sure don’t get views like this in prison.
Damage: $305.28

Brunch in the hotel’s restaurant. Another glass of Barolo? Why not – it’s on me.
Damage: $312.21

Let’s blow this four-star joint and head over to Bar Kollo, where everybody knows your name. And your three-digit security code.
Damage: $201.67

After the local brew gives us an extreme case of the munchies, we hit Billa Superstore, where the “billa” is more than my rent.
Damage: $461.68

Committing international fraud is really making us hungry, so back to Billa. Is there an express lane for 1500 items or less?
Damage: $675.70.

There you have it. Hope you enjoyed it while it lasted, Fredo.

Two Degrees From Crazy.

What’s up with Mel Gibson? Left his wife for the Russian chick, knocked her up, and now has seven kids. I think he’s well on his way to building his own master race.

About a year ago, my good friend John Hunter, who did an award-winning job composing my film, got a call from Mel’s people, asking if he would help produce an album featuring Mel’s “friend” Oksana. Good money, but don’t mention it to Mrs. Gibson.

The album was never quite finished, but it looks like Mel’s career sure is.

And as for women, I don't know who would want to date Mel after this, but I know she won't have the Internet.

Rest In Peace, Fellas.

Funny thing about death: some of the best eulogies I have ever heard have been about the most miserable people I have ever known.

But two gentlemen deserve all the fawning they’ve been getting this week. My favorite team, the Yankees, lost a couple of giants in the space of days: owner George Steinbrenner, and stadium PA announcer Bob Sheppard. That’s a chunk of my childhood gone, quickly.

Above are the commemorative patches the Yankees will be wearing on their jerseys for the rest of the season.

Hate to disparage the dead, but here’s a good entertainment-related lesson I learned from Bob Sheppard when I was a kid. My dad took my brothers and me to a ballgame, and with the Yanks down a run in the seventh, they brought in a reliever, who proceeded to get shelled and let the score get out of hand. As this pitcher was being yanked from the game, over the PA system suddenly was Bob Sheppard, in that God-like voice, with a very sarcastic “SOME relief pitcher.”

The normally total-pro didn’t know his mic was on, and I remember that moment every time I’m wearing a microphone during a shoot. I shut that shit off during any breaks. I don’t need anyone hearing me pee, or worse.

Thanks for the good stuff, guys.

We May Find Out Soon.

I’ve come to find that people who are vociferous about their ability to multitask are usually just good at being a jackass and a moron at the same time.

That’s the thought that ran through my head when I got the call I’ve been waiting for yesterday, from “Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader.” It looks like they may want me on the show in the next two weeks.

The tricky part, though it ain’t that bad: I’m involved in a big writing assignment (I can’t divulge details right now) that requires long days, and I hope it doesn’t keep me from being able to do the show. And even if they need me on a convenient day for me – I believe they also shoot on weekends – will I have time to study for it? I’m a so-so multitasker, if you can count eating while standing over the kitchen sink. Either way, love to make it happen.

Meanwhile…

I just announced on a ham radio that I’ll be staying at home playing Burger Time.

By the way, I’d like to anoint “taking my talents to South Beach” as the new euphemism for masturbation.

30 Is The New 50.

From a casting-call posted this week:

PROJECT: FEATURE FILM
[ OLD WOMAN ]
(40s-50s) - Multiple Ethnicities accepted.

[ MIDDLE-AGED MAN ]
(Mid 30s) – Caucasian.

Break In Your Hammock, Ten Bucks.

Day “laborer.”
Home Depot, Jefferson Blvd.

And All Of The Actors In All The Land Breathed A Collective Sign Of Relief.

If stiff skanks are gonna be taking roles from us hard-working actor types, I am definitely checking the “yes” box on the DNR form.

In a guest-starring appearance this week on the ABC Family drama "The Secret Life of the American Teenager," Sarah Palin's eldest daughter portrayed a role she knows well: an out-of-wedlock teen mom named Bristol Palin.

Check out the above video (Facebook readers click here), and decide if we’re safe for the time being.

Oh Thank Jesus.

Acting-class bathrooms and I have had irreconcilable differences. If I’m not venturing into a meth lab, I’m strolling through downtown Danang.

That’s until now. My improv 201 class comes with the cleanest, stocked bathrooms in all of showbiz. So clean and stocked, I don’t mind that the theater where they’re located pretentiously calls them “water closets.”

You may not think this is cause for celebration, but it is. A very quiet celebration, the kind that ensues shortly after the med cart goes by. These are the sort of bathrooms you imagine provocatively posed in the centerfolds of the journal for facilities.

Water closets, I throw rose petals at your feet.

I Hawk The Interweb.

It was an honor to shoot the commercial for the career-changing website, seeing as I’m the world’s biggest Internet fan. Well, almost the biggest – if it weren’t for spam. By the way, I'm comfortable with the size of my penis, I don't care that young girls want me, I've got more than enough insurance, and I can't help you escape from a jail in Ghana. So, please, go jam somebody else's in-box.

This was one of the most efficiently-run sets I’ve ever been on, and I was surprised how far we finished ahead of schedule. Then I learned that the director was a former college and Pro Beach Hockey player (hello, 1998 ESPN2 programming), and it all made sense. I’ve always said: when given the option, shoot with former athletes. They know how to kill a clock.

I’ll let everyone know when this commercial is up and running, and more about the career website when it launches. It’s a really good site that helps you test your aptitude, and provides financial assistance if you decide to go back to school. Word of advice: if you happen to land yourself a big interview, never quote Brat Pack movies to your potential boss. Trust me.

Just Like Our Forefathers Intended It.

How did my neighbors celebrate the 4th? By holding America’s worst garage sale.

You can't put a price on our freedom, or for that matter, a timeless, VHS copy of “How to Make Money in the Stock Market.” And yet, they did.

America. F Yeah.

Casting search released this past week:

PROJECT: Documentary
ROLE: Family of gun owners
All Ethnicities. Portrait of Family of gun owners. Must bring own guns.


Happy 4th.

I Do The Math.

I understand I’ve chosen to work in a seldom-rewarding business. The sheer number of actors in this town requires you to not just be good for a role, but right on the money. Speaking of which, do you think Yakov Smirnoff wakes up in a cold sweat wondering how in the world he wasn't cast in Rocky IV?

I was talking to the casting director for the new commercial I booked, and he let me in on this staggering stat: the number of actors that submitted for the role I booked: 4000. The number of actors he brought in to audition: 177. Feels pretty good to break through that clutter.

Patience and persistence. You get those two things going and everything else will be cream cheese.

It's One Town Over, And I’ve Got A Fistful Of Twenties.

Growing up in New York, access to fireworks involved a covert recon mission deep into Chinatown. In Los Angeles, all you have to do is cross the tracks into a sketchier neighborhood, and you can buy them legally. I don’t miss much about New York, but July 4th just doesn’t seem the same without committing a Class B misdemeanor.

However, I can definitely rely on something else for a thrill this week: I booked my ninth commercial.

It’s for a huge company called West Communications, which runs a great website that helps users reassess their careers and make a change. I’ll be playing an employee’s boss, which means after I had to decline the commercial that coincided with my pilot, I get to wear a suit after all.

So it looks like I have one objective this holiday weekend: run like hell when igniting M80s, so that I make it to Monday with both hands still intact for the commercial. I’m on it.