43 (Not George)
Current mood: cheerful
Category: Life
Today is my birthday and mostly what comes to mind is that my knees hurt when I go up and down stairs. I'd like to buy a house someday and I think one story is tall enough. No McMansion. Just a bedroom and a driveway and a yard for the dog. A big comfy chair and a flat screen TV with HBO and IFC and lots of news channels to feed my anchorbabe fantasies. Don't need a kitchen. When I'm not eating out, I make frozen dinners and cereal, and a great pbj. I'll get a Tablemate II to dine on and when I'm finished with my Fatburger I will adjust it to hold my laptop while I watch internet videos of street fights and car crashes. I'm not rich enough to marry a stripper or dumb enough to be the baby's daddy so I'll have to train the dog to dial 911 when I keel over. Mom Has Alzheimer's so I'm not expecting her to call like she used to every year. I'll call her while she still remembers who I am.
Really: I'm having dinner with a friend, maybe lunch with a friend and breakfast with a friend's dog. I have a voice over audition at noon. My agent wants to know which dialect I do best; Chicago, southern or urban hip hop. I do them all pretty well though none of them great. Fact is, I'm virtually never asked to do any of them. One of the realities of being a black actor is that you are rarely called upon to play Cockney or or even New York Italian. Still they are in my repertoire, though covered with dust. My urban/hip hop is mostly my inner gangsta fighting to get out. I know lots of black people and speak the language when I have to, so it should be okay. Anyone who's met me can imagine the shootouts I been in and all the niggas I left bleeding in the street. Voiceover is that segment of acting where you can play against type as long as nobody sees you. Maybe I should dust off my Irish, which even the Irish actors never get hired to do. Or maybe I should brush up on web site design.
Happy birthday to me!
