Get Your Butt To LA, Part 9A: Learn To Speak Actor In Two Easy Blog Posts.

On the campus of my alma mater, the University of Maryland, there’s a building named Taliaferro. It’s actually pronounced “Tolliver,” a regional pronunciation of the city it’s named after, and freshmen are warned early on not to show their greenness by messing that up. It’s one of my fondest memories of college. Well, that and the time my friend Russ fired a marble at a cop with a slingshot. He’s a D.A. now.

Since I don’t want you to get caught with your pants down freshman-style when you get out here, today and tomorrow I’ll list a few acting terms that you’ll need to know:

Sides. This is what audition scenes are called. It’s an old Hollywood term that’s short for “both sides of the story.” Yeah it would be easier to just call them “scenes,” but on the other hand, it’s kinda charming to use the same terminology Marlon Brando and Audrey Hepburn used back when a second-rate blog convinced them in the 40s to get their butts out here.
Used in a sentence: “Sides will be emailed by the end of the day, and also made available at the audition.”

Choices. Often you’ll get just sides and not an entire script for an audition, and you won’t know how your character fits into the entire story. So it’s up to you to choose what your character’s history might have been, what he needs in this scene and his relationship with the person in the scene with him. This is where the most creative and intelligent actors really shine, in much the same way singers and musicians are hired to not just read notes, but bring their own style to a song. You know, like the opposite of that karaoke show on Fox that sucks shit.
Used in a sentence: When asked what they look for in auditions, casting directors will often say, “I want actors who make strong choices.”

Redirect. In an audition, after you perform a scene using your choices, you may be asked by to try it once again in a slightly different way. This is a redirect. You’ll be given more information about your character to see if you can shift gears and really nail the scene. Sometimes casting directors may love your take, but will redirect you in an opposite way just to stretch you. A good trick here, in the middle of an audition as your head is swimming, is to repeat the redirect back to the casting director out loud, to make sure you hear it yourself. And an even better trick: run one of the important lines in the scene quickly by casting directors before you start your redirect. You’ll get a free take and even more direction as to what they’re looking for.
Used in a sentence: “Start the scene whenever you’re ready, and I may give you a redirect after.”

Coming tomorrow: I attempt to make the Cuss-O-Meter go kablooie, and tall people got no reason to live.

Really?

Weeks have passed, and this screwy billboard is still looming over the freeway. Either the owner of this Toyota dealership just doesn’t give a crap, or this is some sort of art way beyond my grasp.

After all, the Sistine Chapel was late and over budget and the Pope didn't really get it at first, so I'm on the fence.

Aw, Crap.

There are people out there, mostly religious types, who say they never use filthy words. And when those people say that, they are lying liars who are lying out of their lying holes.

It's been a few years since I ran my blog through the Cuss-O-Meter. Back then, I registered a family-friendly “medium.” Since then, I’ve gotten looser with the word “shit” in all its incarnations, and would love to know my progress.

Unfortunately, the Cuss-O-Meter has now become a front for an online dating website, and when I ran it through yesterday, I received a zero. Now that is some bullshit.

Part of what makes blogging so much fun is the lack of an editor standing over my shoulder, and cursing is a vital intuition that resides in passionate guys like me, in our guts, like E. coli. Enjoy.

Weekend Recap.

I knocked this tooth out of my niece’s mouth during a tickle fight last night. In much the same way it’s important on the first day of prison to pick out the biggest dude and kick his ass, I think I send a message to all ladies that I’m capable of anything… Two weeks of watching Eduardo Núñez replace the injured Derek Jeter has convinced me that “Eduardo” has gotta be Spanish for “error”… All day Saturday, I was THIS close to putting on pants... I'd completely forgotten a new Transformers movie was coming out. Thanks, bus ad!

Cancel That.

You religious types sure got bamboozled into thinking you have to go to your special buildings in order to channel God.

I simply use a MacBook Pro. You see, yesterday, an hour after I posted that my friend at the gym thought my name was Steve, he walked right up to me during my workout and asked me if he had my name right. The guy doesn’t read my blog – he just felt impelled to ask.

So it looks like I’ve got the portal to the universe on my hands, and it’s an opportunity I will never abuse, no matter how odd it is that the Jets haven’t won a Super Bowl in 42 years. Yeah, that would be blasphemous.

This Week In @mattshevin Tweets.

• And the above, my friends, is the definition of “rock bottom.”
• Yes, I drink a crazy amount of milk. No need to mention it, every checkout person at Trader Joe’s. #Twitter=HandyTimeSaver
• A friend at my gym and I have been having deep conversations every morning for two years. He thinks my name is “Steve.”
• I’m seeing more and more chicks with drawn-on eyebrows lately. #GrandmotherAtABarMitzvahStyle
• I didn’t know my SUV could do 130 mph until the Nas song “Hip Hop is Dead” came on my radio this morning. #catchy
• Psychic Twins on GMA this morning. The fact they scam for a living isn’t nearly as disturbing as two ladies dressing identically at age 47.

I Believe The Children Are My Future.

If someone gives you a back scratcher, your back will begin to itch more.

The same is true for television – one glimpse and you’re hooked. But denying kids TV only puts that jones into overdrive. I saw this sign at an elementary school yesterday, and knew that the next generation would boost my TV career so much that I splurged at lunch, and put cheese on my McDouble.

By the way, is “dare” a bit excessive? Back in my neighborhood, a dare involved second-degree arson. Or drinking paint.

Also – guess the whole “dare to keep kids off drugs” thing has been shelved. Priorities.

Get Your Butt To LA, Part 8: Q, But Mostly A.

In Phoenix with my friends one weekend, my friends and I encountered a “No Guns” sign on an entrance to a Denny’s. Exactly how much gunplay was there to warrant that sign?

Which leads me to a question I received last week from an aspiring actor: “Is LA as dangerous as everyone makes it sound? When I research the place all I hear about is gangs, etc.?”

Allow me to bust some myths:

Myth: Earthquakes make LA a dangerous place to live.
Fact: The last time there were fatalities caused by an earthquake here was 17 years ago, when 33 people died in the Northridge quake. Here’s what’s happened elsewhere since then: Hurricane Katrina: 1836 deaths. 9/11: 2996 deaths. Summer temps in Chicago in 1995: 750 deaths. The Oklahoma City bombing: 168. The Joplin, MO tornado: 154. Hurricane Ivan: 124. Virginia Tech massacre: 33.

Myth: LA has the worst traffic.
Fact: I grew up in NY, went to college in DC, grad school in Atlanta and lived in Pittsburgh and Dallas. LA has the best traffic of anywhere I’ve lived. The experts agree. It’s not traffic here so much as distance. LA isn’t a city, it’s a county – 60 square miles. If you need to be somewhere 30 miles away, and the roads are jammed, allow for time.

Myth: Angelenos are shallow.
Fact: They’re not.

Myth: Everyone is an actor.
Fact: True, unless by “everyone” you include my mailman, newspaper delivery guy, physician, grocer, car wash attendants, accountant, my niece’s first-grade teacher and dudes selling fruit on freeway offramps. Even if there were a million actors here, which there aren’t, LA has a population of 9.8 million.

Myth: The gangs run this town.
Fact: I thought it was the Jews. Seriously, I’ve never seen a gang member here. The only place I’d advise staying away from is Dodger Stadium. When that Giants fan was beaten into a coma recently, it wasn’t so much a question of “why,” but instead “why did it take so long to finally happen?” Stay away from there. And by the way, the number of “No Guns” signs I’ve seen in LA: 0.

Myth: It’s always 72 degrees here.
Fact: Not quite. The only reason people love the “change of seasons” back in New York is because after a winter of temps in the teens, or a summer of unbearable humidity and the engulfing smell of hobo piss, anything else is a relief. It’s warm sometimes and other times perfectly cool here, especially by the water, where I don’t even have A/C. There’s no humidity and no mosquitoes, either.

Bottom line: people make assumptions about Los Angeles without ever having visited here. I don’t know any women with fake breasts (or at least no more than I did in New York), or people who do coke or anyone remotely phony. And I have no reason to lie about any of that. I’m just a very happy actor living in a town I really love. Feel free to join me.

Coco Knows His Shit.

People who claim that they're still trying to find themselves, have. They just don't like what they see.

And that can be a good thing. Conan O’Brien was a history major at Harvard, happened to tag along with a friend to the Harvard Lampoon one day, started writing for the magazine and became its editor.

In three different speeches to graduating classes – Harvard, Peter Stuyvesant High School in New York and most recently Dartmouth – Conan, who really seems to be a good guy, stresses to these smart students that they if they’re not too rigid in planning out their lives, great things can happen. Click above for his Dartmouth speech last week.

Weekend Recap.

There was a legitimate explanation for why my nephew was wearing girls underwear yesterday, but I think I suppressed it… Lots of dads at my gym on Father’s Day, taking out their frustrations for the regrettable choices they’ve made in their personal lives… It was a high-caloric weekend. I made myself a PB&J, and the “B” stood for “BLT”… I spent Saturday morning in a casting workshop, then had another one Sunday morning. I’m my own douchey boss… And finally, this conversation occurred as I arrived at my brother’s house last night:

MY NEPHEW: “Where’s Petey?”
ME: “He’s dead.”
MY NEPHEW: “Again?”

Don’t Make Me Tell You Twice, Oscar.

Seems to me the more positive someone's twitter affirmations, the less successful their actual life is.

I personally try to even things up on this blog by getting cranky, and I get results. Two examples: NBC programming and Louisiana Fried Chicken. I blog, and they go down. (By the way, there’s plenty of money flowing through that old Louisiana Fried location now – it’s become a Chase Bank.)

Example three: two years ago, I bitched about the Academy Awards raising the number of nominations for best picture, and this week, the Academy decided to trim the number down to between five and ten. You’re welcome.

Once again, I promise to assist each of you by wiping out anything you'd like, including my friend Ben's ex-wife. Please take a number.

Allow Me To Explain.

After seeing this outside a casting workshop last night, I kept fingers crossed I’d be given a script from a Viagra commercial. No luck, but I decided to rehearse in the tub anyway. And that, casting director, is the reason why I performed my scene from “The Practice” with an erection.

Get Your Butt To LA, Part 7: I Teach You How To Write A Résumé. (And Spell The Word Correctly.)

Never lie on a polygraph. The needles get all bent, and then they ask you even more questions.

Acting résumés, however, are more of a gray area. We’ll get to that and more, as I cover each section of the all-important document stapled to the back of your headshot:

HEADER: Name big and bold at the top. Union affiliation. Height/weight/hair/eye color. Your agents’ logos and phone numbers. Agents don’t want you to list your phone number, fearing you’ll book something directly and rob them of a commission. List your number anyway – a casting director may have an older headshot of yours with a former agent’s info, or will need to reach you late at night. Also, it was once commonplace to list your home address, but that was until pervs began dumpster-diving outside casting offices, grabbing actresses’ headshots and plotting to live disturbingly ever after with them in their moms’ basements.

TELEVISION/FILM: Separate theses two sections. List name of the project, type of role and director’s name. I don’t advise any bullshitting here. Casting directors’ careers regenerate perpetually like Robert Patrick in Terminator 2, and you run the risk of them having cast a film or TV show you claim to have been in. And if they catch you, pack your shit and enjoy your new career folding rompers at Forever 21.

COMMERCIALS: It’s customary to simply say “List upon request.” Silly, but one more way you can distinguish yourself as a pro.

THEATER: Here’s where some of the most creative writing in all of Hollywood is taking place. And much like PEDs in Major League Baseball in the mid-90’s, if you ain’t doing it, you ain’t competing. Try to keep it mostly factual, but beef it up until you get more TV and movie credits.

TRAINING: Pretty self-explanatory. Try to show your range of training, with all types of acting classes, especially improv. You may have to take some douchey famous teacher’s class for a couple weeks just to be able to list it here. Or lie that you did. You didn’t hear that from me.

SPECIAL ABILITIES: This is a great place to show how you stand out. What instrument do you play? Proficient at languages? You can embellish a tiny bit, because often TV shows and movies just want the essence of your skills. Horseback riding, however seems to be a problem with actors having no experience, showing up on set and getting in big trouble, so make sure if you list that as a skill you know your shit. Your horse shit.

SOME MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS: Headshots are 8 x 10, paper is 8 ½ x 11. It’s best to trim your résumés (I use a straight-edge and X-acto)… Staple it in only two places: top and bottom center, so that casting directors flipping through a pile of headshots don’t cut their thumbs… A super high for an actor: as you’re nailing an audition, out of the corner of your eye you’ll see the casting director flipping over your headshot to learn more about you… Proof your spelling. Typos only belong on Toyota billboards.

Real Los Angeles Heroes.

Here’s to you, dyslexic billboard hanger-guy.

Armed with only a bucket of adhesive and a seam roller, you've turned the 405 Freeway into the world’s largest jumble.

You are to Toyota advertising what Toyota braking systems are to their drivers: a crapshoot.

Spell check? You don’t need no stinkin’ spellcheck.

So keep it up, titan of the typo. You’re good. Or should we say: you’re doog. Very doog.

This Week In @mattshevin Tweets.

• I’ve sent anti-Semitic texts to a random chicks every day for the past five years. #TheRealBachelor #AnthonyWeinerStyle
• Churches could fast-track that gay-to-straight conversion thing with the sights, sounds and smells of the men’s locker room at Bally Fitness.
• And speaking of immersion therapy, I’m going to a baby shower tomorrow.
• In the song “Danger Zone,” Kenny Loggins grasp of aeronautics is really kinda sketchy.
• Amtrak billboard on the 405 Freeway says “Kids Ride Unrestrained.” #threatreceived
• Sylvester Stallone got inducted into the Boxing Hall of Fame for Rocky? I’m now awaiting your call, Boner Pill Infomercial board.

Blogger Up.

As much as I try to focus on balls and strikes every Sunday night, I find myself processing my games as both a player and a writer. And afterward, I write recaps for my teammates in the form of a blog. I haven’t shared anything I’ve written for them on here because the content is far too obscure, but I did post something last night that may be a little more universal. Here’s an excerpt:

It’s not quite clear what qualified Michael Bolton to put out a hitting instruction video ten years ago. But if his pitch selection is as spot-on as his format selection (VHS), he might be just what the doctor ordered to fix our offense.

Michael would put his hair in a scrunchie and get down to business, doing everything in his power to snap the current losing streak. He’d quote his own lyrics, work the fact that he used to bang Ashley Judd into every pep talk and he wouldn’t rest until we became the kind of team with balls big enough to put our last names on the fronts of our jerseys.

We’d be a rock and roll team in an adult contemporary league, and have the bejeweled championship t-shirts to prove it. And we’d love you, Hermosa Beach. God bless.

Get Your Butt To LA, Part 6C: And Mom Gets Stuck With A Framed One For Christmas.

If I’m auditioning for the role of a husband, I wear a polo shirt, and casting directors think, “Nice – some woman tolerates this guy.” And I think, “I’d get married in real life, but I like sex too much.”

Let’s put a bow on this bitch:

Get in your grill. These days, most headshots are submitted to casting directors electronically. The good news: you’ll save money not needing so many hard copies. The bad news: you’re now reduced to a mere thumbnail on a page full of your competitors, which means it’s important to feature a close-up of your face, as opposed to a ¾ body shot, which was all the rage back in the hard copy days. Oh, and the horribly shitty news: the number of competitors on that page can be up to 17,000 for each role. But that’s a different blog entry for a different day, and remember – the theme of this whole shebang is to get your butt out to LA, where the competition certainly hasn’t discouraged me. 16,900 of those headshots will be lifeless ones that won’t jump off the screen like yours, of actors who won’t have marketed themselves as effectively as you. I got your back.

Just like Tron. Only different. The best advice I ever received from a casting director regarding headshots is that they really should “glow.” She couldn’t quite put it into words, but she showed me a screen full of thumbnail-sized headshots, and as she scrolled down, some of them just jumped off the page, while others faded back. It was maybe the color, lighting, closeness of the shot or a combination of all three. Do that. You’re not coming all the way out here to be anyone’s background.

Shoot them, replenish bank account, repeat. The expiration date on headshots is about two years. By then that Tommy Bahama shirt you wore will be out of style (let’s face it – it was never in style), you’ll have an even better idea which roles you play well and a fresh set of headshots is a great reason to send them/market yourself to casting directors. Also, you may have a new agent at this point who wants you to get ones facilitated by them. By the way, your agent will insist on choosing your wardrobe for the shoot, and that’s exactly what you’re going to let them do. Trust me when I say that if you comply with your agent’s every wish, you will enjoy a honeymoon phase that’ll have you auditioning your ass off.

That’s all I’ve got for now. Lengthy? Yes, but if you aren’t detail-oriented with your headshots, just go ahead and print them on two-ply. Do it right, and when you receive your first set, grab a Sharpee and autograph one for me. I promise I’ll try and think about maybe not hocking it on eBay when your career blows up.

Get Your Butt To LA, Part 6B: Someday You'll Charge 10 Bucks To Sign Them At A Convention.

Every time I eat in a restaurant in New York with my friend Jeff, and our waitress is wearing a name tag, Jeff feels obligated to use her name at least twice:

JEFF: “Hi Linda. I’d like a burger, and I’ll start with the house salad, Linda.”
ME: “I’d like the chicken sandwich, right after I slap the shit out of Jeff.”

Feel free to call me Jason. Once. Headshot-apalooza, round two:

Who the hell are you? Meet with photographers before you shoot, and see if you feel comfortable with them. The camera picks it up if you aren’t feeling it. A little trick – cover someone’s eyes on their headshot – if their smile appears fake or doesn’t match their eyes, the actor felt uncomfortable, and the headshot makes him look a real pussy. Also, discuss the types of roles you’re going to go out for, and shoot them accordingly. You’ll need to include one or two headshots for commercial auditions, which tend to feature more smiling, and often double as your sitcom headshot. Five different looks will increase your audition at-bats, because they’ll show casting directors sides of you they wouldn’t necessarily have imagined. For example, while no Jew has ever gotten so much as a fingernail dirty, my agent wanted me to get the above mechanic headshot. As a result, I booked a few mechanic roles recently, and my agent scored herself a swanky spa gift certificate for Christmas, courtesy of me.

Who the hell are you strikes back: this is jumping ahead a bit, but make sure you look like your headshot. It’s the biggest pet peeve of casting directors. If your shots are old, they’ll know the second you walk in their door that you’re not 22 anymore, and they’ll throw your wrinkly ass right out that door for wasting their time. And don’t retouch yourself so much that you practically become an avatar. Once you piss off a casting director, there’s no charming your way back. And make sure you choose from all of the photos taken of you carefully. Angie Hill was supposed to take about 400 shots of me, but she’s so cool she took 896. Most of them were great, which was a good problem to have, but I only chose the ones that captured my personality. Have your agent, friends and acting teachers help you choose yours. There’ll be a consensus among them, and brace yourself – you’re likely to hate their choices because they won’t be the prettiest shots of you. It’s your unique personality that gets you auditions, not the gorgeous shots, which get you jack shit. All those actors who wonder why their agents can’t get them in front of casting directors – this is why. Stubborn had a party and nobody came.

Let’s hit the pause button. In tomorrow’s conclusion, I help you achieve that all-important “glow.” Even if I have to knock you up to get it.

Get Your Butt To LA, Part 6A: Save One For Your Dry Cleaner’s Wall.

Thank God the coat and tie look, and it’s Garanimal-like low margin of error, is still as common today as it was a century ago. Let’s face it guys: just because something’s in style doesn’t mean it looks good on you.

Okay – so at this point in the “Get Your Butt to LA” tutorial, you’ve gotten the apartment, the day-job and a bunch of classes under your belt, and you’re ready to take those great, new acting skills out for a test drive. It’s time to get headshots.

First off, two disclaimers: 1) This is such a crucial element of your success that I’ve got a shitload to say about it, and since short increments are always better (that’s your blogging lesson for the day), it’s going to take me three entries to get to it all. 2) It’s difficult to write about this topic without using the word “headshot” incessantly (I put the over/under at 78), so bear with me.

Let’s begin:

Any jerkoff can call himself a “photographer.” There are hundreds to choose from. When you get an agent, they’ll suggest one of their favorites, and you will absolutely go with that one, because agents love you when you listen to them. But for now, while you have no representation, ask other actors which photographers they like, and Google as many you can. You’ll suddenly stumble upon one or two whose styles really stand out. I think Armen Asadorian is one of them, and Angie Hill, who was recommended to me by my agent, is another. Angie is also a drop-dead hottie who will call you “Handsome” the entire time you shoot, and you’ll start to believe she truly is in love with you until she hands you her bill and you go into therapy for six months.

The damage. The photography alone will run you anywhere from $150 to $1000, depending on who you choose to shoot it. Normally, 350 bucks is about right. The real bitch is the added costs of touchups, layouts and printing, which will tack on several hundred more. But this is the best investment you can make in yourself – grit your teeth if you must.

Let’s take a break. Coming up tomorrow: assorted cursing, satisfying each of your multiple personalities and good old-fashioned anti-Semitism.

Hang In There, Man.

Religion is a lot like a good pair of shoes. It gives us support, a little lift in our step and it separates us from the other animals. But personally, I prefer to go barefoot.

Late last night, as I was about to write a blog entry on an entirely different subject from this, my friend Denny called to tell me he’d just been notified by a hospital here that his mom had died. I figured he was in no shape to drive himself there to say goodbye, so I took him, and we spent hours into the night sitting with his mom.

Looming over the doorway of her room at Little Company of Mary Hospital was a cross featuring Jesus himself, and as we waited for the police to come and file a report, and then a priest to bless her before she was taken away, Denny and I sat next to his mom in her bed. He cried and prayed. His dad was some dude that knocked up his mom and decided to split before Denny was born, and his mom then raised Denny herself to become the kind of guy who’s the complete opposite of his shitbag dad.

So if he felt like praying, I wasn’t about to interrupt. And I was glad I was there to handle things with the hospital staff and the police and the funeral guy, because no one should have to make such tough decisions on the worst day of his life.

And now, Denny’s an orphan, and I feel really bad for him. As I drove him home, I assured him he’ll see over the next few days how amazing people really are, when they flood his email and voicemail with their concern, and pack the church this weekend. And that’s not only a reflection on his mom, but on the son she raised. Amen to that.

Tune In To Papa Bear.

Never be in awe of anyone. You see, while the name of my blog is a tribute to “Inside the Actor’s Studio,” and James Lipton has a real talent for booking the best guests, I don’t believe for a second when he talks about his straight marriage. Your acting skills ain’t that proficient, Jim.

I could also do without the Bernard Pivot-inspired questionnaire segment, which couldn’t be more pretentious. Ooh, actors curse – they talk like real people talk!

On the scale of oxymorons, “flawed perfection” is right up there with “hilarious colonoscopy,” but I think that’s exactly what we’ve got here. Like tonight’s new episode, featuring the cast of “Modern Family.” That’s must see.

Someday, Bravo will cancel the show, and that’ll be the day the Rapture comes after all. People will start babbling in tongues and giving away their pets, so let’s DVR, watch and discuss while there’s still time.

Weekend Recap.

So, roaches can survive a nuclear holocaust, but not the bathroom at Irvine Business Center?... From the LA mythbuster dept.: it’s June, and I’m still cranking the heat in my apartment at night… On the way to dinner Friday, I was so late I kinda wished I would just get into a horrible car wreck as an excuse and as punishment… It's nice to hear Richard Marx still in heavy rotation at my supermarket… Isn't it time for us to make Betty White do something funny again? Suggestion: parkour.

With The Assist: A Casting Call.

New rule: don’t ever throw someone under the bus. Not literally, not figuratively.

And always let people know you appreciate them, just like the folks at Best Buy did with me. After I bought a new flat screen from them last week, they justified my plea to all aspiring actors by posting this casting call yesterday:

PROJECT: Best Buy

ROLES:

EYE
Male / 25 to 65
Looking for an actor with very big bug looking eyes - think Rodney Dangerfield.

LITTLE PERSON
Male / 25 to 45
Good actors - all body shapes.

UNUSUAL AND INTERESTING FACES
Male / 25 to 55
Looking for very unusual faces - really interesting features - huge eyes, massive noses, massive mouths. very unsymetrical faces.

VERY LARGE MEN 6'4"++
Male / 25 to 55
Over 6'4 and large - over 200 lbs. and the bigger the better

This Week In @mattshevin Tweets.

Featuring a theme:

• Sometimes I weigh myself before and after I pee. #TheRealBachelor
• Occasionally I wear dress socks around the house, foreign exchange student-style. #TheRealBachelor
• Most of my neighbors have seen me naked. #TheRealBachelor
• Underneath my fancy couch cover is the DNA of a Pennsylvania frat house. #TheRealBachelor
• The broken clock on my oven has been right twice a day – since the Johnson administration. #TheRealBachelor
• Should I die, my friend Jenn has been instructed to burn all the embarrassing shit in my armoire. #TheRealBachelor
• In a pinch, swim trunks are a nifty replacement for underwear. #TheRealBachelor
• I’ve peed in my kitchen sink. #TheRealBachelor

Get Your Butt To LA, Part 5: Room For Everyone.

Just once I would like the guys in Stone Temple Pilots to call me up and say “Hey, Matt – will you be in Stone Temple Pilots?”

Crazy, right? And yet my drum kit’s in my bedroom – not in storage.

And I hope nothing is holding you back from moving here to pursue acting, especially the belief that only prom kings or prom queens can make it. Because whatever shape, color or absurdity you come in, you can work like crazy in Hollywood.

If you think there’s no room for minorities, just check out any car commercial. Thanks to serious political correctness, you’ll find riding in every vehicle: a caucasian, a latino, an asian and a non-threatening black guy. In fact, an Asian actor recently gushed to me, “They let us drive now!”

My friend Ben is a big fat dude living in Texas, and I’ve been wanting him to come out here for a while. He’d work constantly – as the funny co-worker in just about any commercial, or the blue-collar buddy on a “King of Queens” type show. Hey – didn’t “Lost” star a great, big man? Yep. Was Zach Galifianakis his high school’s prom king? Nope.

And the guy who best proves my theory is Peter Dinklage, pictured above. The first time I saw him in The Station Agent, I thought he was a phenomenal actor, but wondered how limited he was as a dwarf. Of course, he soon landed a role in Elf, but then he amazingly carved himself out a career, appearing in 50 TV shows and movies, along with several Broadway plays. Right now he’s starring on everyone’s new favorite HBO show: “Game of Thrones.” Peter has writers creating roles for him. How many people must have told him he’d never make it as an actor? Everyone except himself.

As for me, I can’t wait ‘til I’m 90 years old. I’ll corner the market on crotchety: grandfathers, judges, Republicans. The farmer in a nightshirt with a lantern and a shotgun who tells teenagers to “get away from my chickens!”

Acting is the Volvo station wagon of careers – there’s always room for one more. Get your fat, brown butt out here.

Random Shots I’m Deleting: An iPhone™ Purge.

A theory: watching a football game with your father is equivalent to three hugs and five I love yous.

But if your dad is not the football-watching type – and is more of a “confirmed bachelor” – you gotta go another route. This jukebox is in the living room of a home used to shoot a commercial I was in. It's owned by singer Neil Sedaka’s son Marc, and while I’m not sure what kind of relationship they have, I suppose all I had to do was look inside the jukebox. If one of dad’s songs was in there: good relationship. If not: tension.

One more, semi-related theory: for a guy, piercing your right ear means “gay,” while piercing your left ear also means “gay.”