I had timed it all perfectly. Haircut last Saturday, because it takes exactly one week to look as good as it’s gonna get. Same with the scruff, so I shaved that night as well. Skin clear, wardrobe selected – all set to get new headshots taken. But then, driving home Friday night, I felt the first hint of a cold. And by the next morning, Headshot Day, the cold kicked my ass. If you wanted to get me out of bed, you pretty much had to Weekend at Bernie’s me.
But the headshot photographer was the best in the city, and had given me a rare weekend appointment, so I rallied as best I could, and made it.
I won’t know how the shots came out until Thursday, but there’s a very good chance my symptoms will be pretty evident in the shots. Which means I’ll spend the next couple years playing mostly meth-heads, or John Boehner – he always looks like he’s about to be sick.
Hooray. Showbiz.
