Audition 101

My first real audition was when I was about 12 I guess. We went to Saskatoon to audition for The Nutcracker. The Alberta Ballet was doing it, and used local kids for lots of the parts. We were separated into groups by age and height. I was the only boy there. Now if you're familiar with Nutcracker there is a little girl named Clara and in most productions she has an obnoxious brother named Fritz. I figured I'd have a good shot since I was a boy. We went through a couple of little dance combinations and they would eliminate people (cut them) and narrow the field down. Our ballet mistress for the day was Juliette Perie-Perez. She was a very thin woman, dark hair tucked under a newsboy cap of some kind wearing a very tight black vest, black riding pants and boots, carrying a small cane and wearing far too much makeup. I seriously wish I was making this up, but you can't write this. Her studio was every shade of pastel you could think of. By the end of the day 2 kids had been narrowed down for Fritz, myself and a very tall thin girl. I thought I had it for sure. Nope, I was made the understudy to the GIRL. For a boys part. First day of rehearsal said girl had been removed from the part as she was too tall and in her place was an Asian GIRL. So we spent the day learning the dance, and this GIRL kept on getting notes that she wasn't falling like a boy and could I show her how it was done. Well, duh she couldn't fall like a boy! Later on that day we were measured for costumes and I was unceremoniously cut from the part as I was too fat for the costume!!! I was made a bonbon, who's costumes consequently were large pajama jumper type things, and another GIRL was made the understudy to the Asian GIRL. I should have learned at that moment that the business of show was cruel and relentless, but I continued on my path of abuse. Now of course I've had some great auditions. I've gotten the part and beat out other kids. I have also been strung along for quite some time, only to be trodden upon like 3 day old road kill on some prairie back road. (That's right Billy Elliot, I'm talking to you) Along the way there have been some very memorable auditions and some hateful ones. I will never forget auditioning for a production of Chicago where the choreographer handed us each a paper towel and asked us to work some kind of magic trick into the very simple dance combination she was so proud of. I think my magic trick was not laughing hysterically at the sight of 25 grown men hiding paper towel bits in their shoes and pants. I've never left the room crying but once when auditioning for Tarzan I wished the floor would open up and swallow me whole.

On Sunday I went to yet another audition. This time it was for a Reality TV show that Fox is doing called Master Chef. The premise is that Chef Gordon Ramsay, of Hell's Kitchen, will mentor some budding home chefs. No one with professional training was to attend. You had to bring a dish you made for the judges to taste plus, and I quote, "your personality." So I presented myself at the location, Sur la Table, a kitchen store, with my White Mac and Cheese in hand. Well actually in a keep-things-hot bag, along with a pizza stone I had in the oven for almost an hour. The line was around the block. So I stood for a total of 3 hours waiting to get in front of said judges. I was not naive, knowing full well that the judges were probably some pee-on from the casting department, an intern maybe and some foodie wannabee. PS, have you ever tried to keep mac and cheese warm when standing outside for 2 hours when its 32 degrees out? Then another hour inside, where it was maybe 20 degrees colder cause they didn't want to turn on the lights. The people in line were from all walks of life. Miss thing in front of me smoking every 5 minutes. Seriously, who still smokes? That is so 80's. Some lady behind me with no concept of personal space, chewing gum like a horse. And behind her the most talkative man on the planet. If I heard one more thing about him slicing fish at the bagel store.......I don't think I'll eat bagels again. He ruined them for me. No wonder your wife left you, Mr. Bagel Ruiner!!! I'm hearing people talk about all their fancy dishes they prepared. About this time I'm thinking, why didn't I bake a cake? Heck I could have made ice cream, it would have kept. Finally, after making it thru a line that would rival DisneyWorld, it was time to meet the judges. We were ushed into a kitchen with 2 long thin tables. Each person was given a space of about 1.5 feet squared and 5 minutes to plate their dish before being judged. People are pulling out knives and herbs and little bottles of oils and sauces to decorate their plates. It felt like the last few minutes of Iron Chef Alaska. I finished plating my mac and cheese (took the little ramekin out of the heating bag, now stone cold, plated my small salad out of tupperware and drizzled it with oil and lemon juice from another tupperware with a spoon) I raise my hand for the judges. Some old guy that said 5 words and a girl who's nose was buried in her clipboard. Hi! They take a tiny bite of my dish, ask what it is. Its chocolate cake! I tell them about my white mac and cheese, what kinds of cheese I used. They then ask what else I like to make. I say I love baking and joke that had I known how long the line was I would have baked something instead. A tumble weed passed by. Or was that someones Parmesan crisp bowl shaped thing?! I wait for them to ask me some questions... an opportunity to use my killer personality. The guys says "its good" they take my 12 page application with 3 pictures attached and go to the next guy. THAT'S IT I thought? PS, no TV cameras anywhere. No "please go this way when you are done." No "thank you for waiting in the cold and bringing us your dish." No "please get the hell out you talentless goon." NOTHING. So I pack up my sad tupperware and 1 bite taken mac and cheese, grab my coat, wish the blonde lady with taco's good luck and start to walk out. I stop some woman with a name tag to ask how to get out of the place. She points me to the stairs that lead thru the store and hands me a 15% off coupon for Sur la Table. I browsed for a minute but couldn't seem to find my dignity anywhere. Not even on the sale rack!

Dear Diary, I wonder what that Asian girl is up to?