Good News: I Nailed A Gigantic Audition. Not As Good News: I Didn’t Get The Role.

Nope. I did not get the part. I now regret wishing for a Rage Against the Machine reunion on that cursed monkey’s paw.

It wasn’t for lack of effort, and in the end it was out of my hands.

The role was for a series regular on “The Young and The Restless”. A charming villain. I was excited as hell for a chance at this career-changer, and I wanted it, badly enough to really bust my ass.

I was working in the valley all week, but really wanted to run the scenes with my friend Ariel, so I drove to his house during standstill rush-hour traffic two nights in a row to work on them. It took me two hours to get there each night. It sucked shit.

Ariel was fighting a bad cold, but he’s the most outgoing friend. We ran it again and again. There was so much dialogue, it took me both days to memorize it. The picture above is a screen shot from Ariel’s house. We record everything and prepare for anything.

I walked into the audition room entirely ready. And I hit it out of the park. You always know when you do. I saw it in the eyes of the casting associate as she read the scene opposite me – this guy gets it. And the big casting director told me on the way out of the door, twice: “Matt that was really good. REALLY good.”

But the show decided it wanted this bad guy to have an accent – someone legitimately European. So they went a different way.

All I can do is my job. And I’m so thrilled with my performance in the audition. The casting directors will remember me, and I’ll be back in there again, and I’ll be just as prepared and confident as I was last week.

Here’s what I love most about acting: it’s one of the few professions that offers you a chance to be great. I would have killed to get that role, but even if I didn’t, I was great in that audition room. It’s the highest of highs. I was that villain. And that day, I was that actor.

An Excerpt.

My favorite childhood memory is not having a job.

Sarah Silverman recounts plenty of her childhood in her book, The Bedwetter, including this gem about her grandmother:

When it became clear that Nana was dying, my sisters and I stayed by her bedside. Nana would wake up between long periods of sleep and ask if she was still alive. When we told her she was, she would slap her hand on her head as if a waiter had just screwed up her cocktail order for the ninth time. She was ready to go, but she wasn’t… going. It was torture to watch her waiting so impatiently to get out the hell out of this world. But still she was funny. At the end, as Laura and I sat on either side of her, each holding one of her hands, Nana came to, briefly. She looked up at us, smiled, and whispered, “So beautiful.”  

Laura jumped right in, saying, “She’s talking to me!”  

I said, “No, way, she’s talking to me!”  

To which Nana, with what was literally one of her last dying breaths, replied, “Laura.”

My 3300th Blog Entry.

I’ve written 3300 blog entries, which means I’m like ten posts away from an eating disorder.

Until then, as is customary, every time I post a new 100, I choose my five of my favorites:

Tau Epsilon Phi, University Of Maryland, Reunion 2018. Las Vegas. They haven’t changed a bit – except now they have lots of cash and access to legal pot. Check out this dangerous combo here. 

The World’s Largest Deliverable Pizza. Using my big mouth the way God intended. Sup with me here. 

A Mid-Editing Plug Of My Sitcom. My aversion to orange chicken is still strong. Nonetheless defrost a batch with me here. 

I’m On A Boat. That ain’t nutmeg in the nog – it’s Dramamine. Join me for an overboard hurl. 

Breaking And Entering Into My Old Frat House. Why even have locks when everything’s been puked on? Aid and abet me here.

Pals.

Be nice to your old friends. They have pictures of your hair from 1992.

Ted and Rob have been great friends of mine all my life. They’re my entourage. Like in that HBO show “John Adams”.

Both happened to separately be in LA this past week, so Ted and I had dinner Thursday, and Rob and I took Ricky down the strand yesterday. Rob snapped the pic of Ricky and me.

Rob is a prolific sportswriter, in town researching his next book – a true story which I think has the potential to become a hit movie.

Until Rob’s book/film are this massive hit, we honored our tradition of Mongolian barbecue lunch whenever he’s in LA. When he hits it big, we’ll step it up. I’m thinking Korean.

It’s The Little Things.

Proud of how well I held my friend Chris’ baby Ben, considering I dropped my phone like five times today.

I Voted.

As an actor, I could kiss my costar for like 10 seasons and not fall in love. But if someone lets me cut ahead of them at the grocery checkout, I think about it for about five months.

Yeah, we’re a different breed, and I like it. It’s an honor for me this week, because I get to vote for the SAG Awards. What makes them unique is that their categories feature actors only.

Pictured above is one of my favorite categories. I voted for the cast of “Barry” because they are a perfect cast on a perfect show. Especially Bill Hader, who exhibits the ultimate range, from comedy to drama to action star, all in one role.

See? Voting can actually be incredibly satisfying. Who knew.

Second Leg: DC To NY.

It’s nice that my vacuum has a headlight, just in case I want to wake my dog up thinking he’s getting hit by a train.

Actually, trains deserve better PR, because my trip to New York on AMTRAK was an absolute delight. AMTRAK has come a long way since my freshman year of college, when it didn’t reserve seats, and I stood in a crowd of people for four hours on my way to College Park.

Nowadays, it’s a comfy WiFi-and-power-source filled cruise with no wait time – a better alternative to flying, what with the current longer lines at TSA. (Side-note: I thanked all TSA agents during this trip for working during the shutdown, to which a group of them at LAX half-jokingly exclaimed: “Help us! We’re being held prisoners!” I told them I was on my way to DC and would see what I could do.)

Rafele, a superb new Italian restaurant that moved into a former GAP located in my hometown, and co-owned by one of the owners of the New York Giants. Trust me when I say the yummy ice cream custard only looks like cat food.

Getting off the plane I was about to board to LA: Chris Pine. He seemed like the nicest guy, albeit the briefcase was an interesting choice. If given the chance, I would have told him I loved him in Bottle Shock. (Tip: when you bump into an A-lister, they really dig it if you reference an obscure, good movie they were in. My friend Daniel taught me this after he told Ben Stiller he loved Permanent Midnight, and Ben really lit up. I saw Chris Pine for the first time in Bottle Shock, and it was immediately obvious he had Robert Downey, Jr.-level charisma.)