The Bloody Doors Off

Does anyone know?

I mean, this guy used to be in everything.

Remember The West Wing?

He was there.

And.

Uh.

He was in a lot of shit.

When you needed a non-offensive, milquetoast sort.

I never mentioned my brief foray into acting.

Or, to be precise, my failed attempt at an acting career.

My agent, whose name I forget — I remember the acting/modelling agency was on Dufferin Avenue north of College Street. That’s pretty fucked. I can’t recall my only agent’s name but I remember where the converted house was.

(Like the time I transcribed for Sharon, Lois & Bram back in my early 20s. I introduced them to Billy Vera and the Beaters’ jazz cover of Peanut Butter, and they absolutely fuckin’ loved it. Which I have searched for in vain these past years. Like it’s been erased and only I remember it.)

I had to go back and reread the post to remember where I was going.

I sure as hell derailed this train.

Right. My agent.

She did alright. Landed me two gigs. One was an improvised pilot for one of a plethora of Hot Judge shows.

Sample dialogue:

Her: You don’t do anything around the house.

Me: I garden.

Her: Pulling up weeds from the tile isn’t gardening.

That never aired.

And then there’s the commercial that went national in the U.S. for Ultra Dove dish detergent. I was SOC, and landed the part when i “finger-gunned” the camera, winked and clicked my teeth.

They used it in the final take.

I never got to see it, because it only aired in the U.S.

But, you say, wouldn’t your agent have gotten a copy of these for your reel?

You would be correct.

And she would have.

If she hadn’t quit the agency while I was vacationing (briefly, another story) in Dublin.

And I found out from my buddy John, who’d taken residence there a few years earlier.

And the modelling/acting agency became a modelling agency once more.

At least I got paid for the commercial.

But I took it as a sign.

It didn’t matter how many acting classes I took, I was no Sir Ian McKellan. Or Don McKellar.

Or Paul Reubens.

Okay I’m tired.

My cat just told me to fuck off.

I’m going to bed.