MY BIG RUBBER BUTT: Adventures of A Transgendered Comic: Part 6

When I had originally read the one-page script then had been forwarded to me, a million scenarios ran through my mind -most of which had me and Tina Fey rolling in laughter. Since the other person in the script was identified as Liz Lemon, to which I am talking to, I just assumed.....

I dreamnt of hanging-out with Tina Fey for a week, even though the actual shoot would probably take an hour, or two, tops. I was surprised at all the emotional triggers that audition fired.

When the person from casting, came into the room and called my name, I was pretty much just glad I had a wonderful fall day in the city. I grabbed my bags, headed for the door, and announced, "Okay, Boys. I'm going In".

Captive audiences should never be under-estimated.

I went into the third, or fourth door on my left. As I entiered the room, I noticed two people sitting behind a desk. A man and a woman. I was directed to stand against the wall, to my left. The wall was covered with a blue curtain.

Everyone was introduced, and I immediately forgot their names. The man sitting behind the desk was also running a camera. The woman next to him said that she had seen me recently at the Broadway Comedy Club - a performance that I immediately remembered as not my best -furthere plummeting my soul into darker depths of despair.

"Oh, you were great that night. I loved it".

"Oh. in that case", I responded without missing a beat, "I was fucking brilliant.

It was all very pleasant. They were pleasant. I was pleasant. I read the line I had been three different ways. After each reading they seemed pleased. Then it was thank you for coming-in goodbye.

I was back outside, standing between the ice-skating rink in the process of becoming an ice skating rink, and the guy sprucing up the facade. People walked back and forth, and I just stood there..........hands in my pockets....cmera pulling back and arching up....leaves blowing past.....the last flickers of sunlight between the buildings......Jazz music and Woody Allen narrating.

Now What?!

MY BIG RUBBER BUTT: Adventures of a Transgendered Comic. Part 5.

I sat outside of 30 Rockefeller Plaza for about a half hour. It was a beautiful fall day, and there weren't as many tourists, as usual. I watched people go by, I watched a painter sprucing-up the facades over the entrances, while the moments ticked-away. The skating rink was in the process of being turned-into a skating rink.

At quarter-of, I grabbed my bag and headed inside. It was much darker inside. Marble walls seemed to turn night into day. I found the visitors center after a little direction. The girl behind the counter wasn't overly impressed. She took my ID (which had my legal name on it), gave me a once-over and issued me a badge. She was very business-like. And, I got the feeling that she'd seen just about everything.

The elevators took me to a floor I assumed would be bustling with activity. Instead, I got an old reggae janitor, who directed me. There was no one in the halls. There was no one in the offices. All there was was a sign, directing those who were there to audition for 30 Rock to have a seat in the green room. So, I did.

I looked out the windows at the roof below, and the street below that. I heard a phone ring in the distance. There was a sound of conversation in another room. I rifled the magazines and sat down.

After a few minutes, a woman wearing a tight red cocktail dress, and sporting bleach-blonde locks like Marily Monroe came in. She was stunningly beautiful, perfectly sized and shaped, with not a single wrinkle in her skin. I hated her.

She grabbed her bag, and coat, and split, without a word.

Before long, a 20-something-looking young man came in. We introduced ourselves and chatted. This was his "first audition, in years", he said. He did a lot of things when he was a kid, bur had taken a few years off.....and, he also said, he knew the casting director well. When he told me that he was also up for the part that I was up for, my heart sank.

Then another 20-something came in. Then another. Before long a trickle turned into a tide and I was surrounded by 10 young men, who could all have posed for the cover of GQ.

......And, there was me.

What's wrong with this picture?~