Stay Hungry

I am the new Fruity Fruit Juice Box girl, coming to a television and billboard near you!

It wasn't hard to win the part, my competition looked as if they just stepped off the bus from the Midwest. Fat and smelling of corn and ham, barely able to keep the drool from oozing from their gaping maws, their backwoods accents sticking to the dialogue like flung excrement.

"Ah luv the new Grapetahhstic juice box."

Horrible. You either know your lines or you don't, it's as simple as that. No competition.

Where are all of these sows coming from? It's like Hollywood is a buffet and the fatties are waddling here from all points ready to gorge themselves. We eat salads here hickettes, not gristle and lard fried donuts. Just because you have a dream doesn't mean you can make it! There's a thing called reality, and they obviously aren't acquainted with it.

Reality is two fingers down your throat getting ready for a purge. That's Hollywood. You might be cute in Crookedtooth USA, but here you're nothing but another wannabe actress with dreams of fame. No surprise that the commercial director couldn't contain his excitement when I walked into the audition.

The director was Yan Gholtic, the Eastern European phenom that has carved a niche in the toy/snack commercial world with his explosive, innovative style. He won a Clio award for his groundbreaking neo Teddy Ruxpin commercials that nearly caused a riot at the 2005 New York Toy Fair. I nearly lost my cool when I seen him, the opportunity to work with a director as talented and hip as Mr. Gholtic was simply amazing. He's the Orson Wells of children’s commercials.

"Girl from Smart and Final commercials! Real actress at last!” he exclaimed in a slight Dracula like accent.

"Let's see vat you have.”

Yan threw me a juice box, I easily caught it with my left hand (I'm right handed).

"I vant to see juice box come alive. ALIVE!” Yan said as he crossed his arms. I smiled and gracefully and read my lines, giving it my all, acting my ass off.

"Wow! I love the new Grapetastic Juice Box from Fruity Fruit!” I exclaimed, flinging my head back, my cute blonde locks bouncing around my forehead like a ribbons of spun gold. I took a big swig from the juice box, slurping on the thin straw as gracefully as I could. The juice tasted like grapes and melted plastic bag but I swallowed it down like it was honey.

"Delicious!", I flashed them my best smile, the same smile my mother and I worked on for months, the one that lights up a room like a million Roman candles.

After I was finished Yan stood up and began to slowly applaud.

"Finally", Yan exhaled with a wheeze indicative of wasted hours filled with flabby actresses and redneck inflection, "finally real actress.” he wiped a lone tear from his eye.

"You have the part.”, he whispered. "We have found our new Juice Box girl.” he began to sob with joy. "You're good as they say. You're...phenomenal."

Yan and his secretary walked me into the waiting room where the Midwestern gals were waiting. Yan lifted his hand over my head in a grand gesture.

"Behold fatties! New Juice Box girl!”, a collective moan issued from the herd of girls.

"Shut your filthy holes! You vant to be in commercial you must make sacrifice. You must all stop being ugly and untalented!"

I felt a little sorry for the girls who didn't get the part, some of them looked devastated. Then I heard Mother's voice in my head, as clear and true as a church bell.

"Feelings are for losers and losers don't get the good parts.” her voice told me. She was right, and who would want a wannabe for a friend anyway? Amateurs.