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Flip over my bike’s handlebars while zooming down Vermont Ave. during massive group bike-ride Midnight Ridazz. Sprain wrist, upper arm, and tear open the above-pictured love handle gash. Also, that picture was taken on day three of recovery, so it’s already died down a bit.
In retrospect, absentmindedly tapping your front brake while going downhill probably isn’t the smartest idea.
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Book a print ad for a Toyota teen driving course in a bizarre audition in which I am instructed to skip towards the photographer while interlocking my arms with two teenage girls I’ve never met.
Spend seven hours in the enormous, empty, steaming parking lot of the Santa Anita Race Track waiting for the shoot to go down (the photographer likes golden hour). |
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Go on an audition for an anti-drug PSA in which I have to mime as if I’m deliriously tugging on the tail of a miniature Shetland pony, and then peer-pressuring my friends into doing the same.
On the first audition this nonsense is apparently comedic, but on the callback it is explained that this should be played with utter sincerity. |
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The morning after wiping out on my bike, wake up at 7:30 to drive to Whittier and be duct-taped to a chair for three hours as part of a short film in which I play a hapless teenage convenience store clerk being robbed by two guys donning fake mullets.
Leave the set early to drive all the way back to the Miracle Mile, pick up my Hollywood executive boss, and give her a ride to the eye doctor, where I help her pick sunglasses. |
lovely as always!!!!!!!!!!!
See, that’s what happens when you pal around with those bicyclists-en-masse who roam the streets annoying motorists.
and i thought my paintball bruises were special…
is it just me, or does that living faith sign change like every couple months? i think i’ve seen 4 different signs up there.
I love that you described it as love handle, like it’s just another part.
I am in awe of the awesomeness of your life by the way.