10/29/2013 11:55 am ET

A Jock In Hollywood: The Westside

It's a Tuesday at 3:30 p.m. and I'm sipping a cookies and cream protein shake while sitting in a sea of red brake lights on Crescent Heights. I'm blasting the new Pitbull jam (I'm not allowed to at home because my girlfriend thinks his voice 'sounds like that of a rapist'), so that I can lose myself for just a moment. Ten minutes ago, I got a call from 'my age' (short for agent) telling me that I had a last minute dishy for a huge film. The role is for 'Angry Citizen #1' and my line is 'No way! That's BS.' Whoa... gamechanger.

I grab my laminated sheet of 'Actor's Affirmations,' my audition clothes, my dry shampoo, and my Garnier Fructis Surf Hair styling gel, and head out for the long afternoon haul to 'the Westside' (hollered like Ice Cube, pre- Are We There Yet?) I have to travel a total of 12 miles from my house in Laurel Canyon (that's right, I live in the trees and drive a Prius) to a casting office in Santa Monica. In a normal city full of normal people with a reasonable population size, 12 miles means 20 minutes on the road. However, being that I'm in Los Angeles, it is 3:30 p.m., and there are millions of other people sitting in their cars, driving 3 miles per hour toward their dreams, this drive-audition-drive will last me the rest of my day. (Not that the time really matters, it could be 1:30 a.m. on a Sunday and you could still be sitting in a parking lot.)

Of course I'm outta gas, so my first stop is the overpriced Chevron at Sunset and Crescent Heights to get some $5 gas, a 'Monster Zero Blue Ultra' energy drink, and a Nutrageous. (Refer below for the Monster drinks' description provided by the website #rad) The homeless guy with the distended belly waves his sign reading 'Jennifer Aniston made me homeless!' and asks me for some change. I give him a buck with a big smile in hopes that the karma will win me this part even IF I'm a dollar poorer.

Monster Blue-Ultra Energy:
Aspen, Chamonix, Park City, Whistler, Mammoth...the list goes on. The competition & training circuit has taken the team on some epic snow trips. In honor of these mountain towns comes Ultra Blue. Best served ice cold from the frosty can, Ultra Blue is a little less sweet and lighter-tasting with zero calories and a full-load of our Monster energy blend. From first chair to last call... Unleash the Ultra Beast!

No, I'm not sponsored (but I am available and have no energy drink conflicts, if Monster Energy reps are reading this!)

3:47 p.m. Nutsack! I cut down La Cienega, thinking I know a short cut nobody else does. And....I'm wrong, as proven by the fuggin' butt ton of traffic in front of me. So I'm stuck again as Ashlee Simpson stares seductively down at me from a billboard wearing her sister's clothes. Two meatheads walk hand in hand sipping green protein shakes from Body Factory (these are pretty good actually, a bit chalky). A young couple walk their Chiweenie into SPOT!: Your Neighborhood Pet Boutique and Dog Rescue.

I make it down to Olympic where the Red Seas of traffic have parted. I make my way across the Kosher district, wondering what the subs taste like at the Koshe Subway. My iPhone is telling me I'm five minutes away from my destination, when Boom! My front right tire explodes, like a real dong-gobbler. Of course it did and I have no spare. It's possible my great grandfather was cursed, like the guy in the Stephen King movie Thinner, but his curse involved hundreds of years of terrible automobile experiences.

An hour passes. I'm already 45 minutes late to my audition when the grungy AAA guy shows up and immediately tries to sell me tires from his buddy in Sun Valley. No thanks, poor man's Tom Hanks. I end up at the nearest tire spot where I buy the most expensive tire on the planet. I'm gonna be sipping generic-brand protein powder for months with this hit to my hot cash flow.

I finally reach my audition to find out the role has already been cast -- the casting director's assistant's ex-boyfriend's sister's boyfriend won it. I proceed to thank the casting director, hand her a postcard for my upcoming improv show in the NoHo Arts District, and return to my Prius, where I have an $80 ticket for not curbing my wheels. I only thought that was a rule in West Hollywood from 7 a.m.-9 a.m. and 4 p.m.-7 p.m. Dang it! I pummel my steering wheel as if it were my 6th grade bully, Max Esposito. The only thing that makes me feel a little better is that Max Esposito is managing a JoAnn's Fabrics store, and I'm living my dream. Then I look down at my phone to see that I just got off the waitlist and landed a slot in a casting director's workshop next weekend in Granada Hills. That assistant's ex-boyfriend's sister's boyfriend ain't gonna beat me next time!

It takes me a little under 3 hours to get home.

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