Letter to Sarah

First, that beach... way cool. Had a great time even with no accompaniment except a chair, towel, hat and a Michael Beschloss book about World War II. If you go, go early because saying parking is scarce is an understatement akin to saying Carlos Valderrama has hair. (He's pictured at right. Sarah is a huge soccer fan so she'd get the reference.)

I got to pretend to be an actor again last night. We shot it in an office building where the passing trolley interrupted us every 20 minutes.

The producers were the same people who made the film in which I appeared last year. They have the delusion that this project is going to wind up as a show on the f/x network. It is not going to become an actual television show. In the exceeding unlikely event that it does become an actual television show, the network will replace me with a real actor. I may have no shortage of my own delusions but being a Hollywood star is not one of them.

I did have a scene in which I had to stand in close proximity to an attractive young lady wearing (Yes, had to. Forced, chained-to-the-chair, gun-to-the-head, child-held-for-ransom had to. It was tough going, lemme tell ya, but I made the sacrifice for the sake of my art.) an outfit that showed off her bust as I encouraged her to use her, um, assets to close a deal. My character was a creep, which means I got a free pass to sexually harass someone. Only in a pretend world could I ever imagine looking at a girl and telling her, "You have tits. You know what to do." Her character was a creep, too, so she didn't feel harassed.

If she's a creep in real life, she's a better actress than I thought because I found her perfectly charming. Her real name is Jessica and she's a trained ballet dancer who wants to make it on Broadway. She's got an audition in Chicago next week, she said, for a musical based on Billy Joel's work.

She sure looked like a dancer, legs and all, which I promise I only noticed because it said so in the script. She explained that dancers have to be 5'5" or shorter and meet a certain weight for their height. She has to keep 108 pounds or less on her 5'3" frame. "Gee, that's not a recipe for anorexia," I said. She said it was tough, which I could understand since she had actual breasts -- again noticed only in the course of dutifully playing the role to which I had been assigned -- instead of the chest-less look you'd expect to see on a dancer.

The creators of the project earnestly believed they were making a comedy masterpiece. They also played characters and they'd ruin takes laughing at my dialogue. Maybe it's a generational thing (these guys were in their early-to-mid 20s) and the jokes went over my head. More likely, though, that the jokes just weren't that funny.

But I had fun doing it and they seemed happy with my effort again so maybe I'll get to do some more.

Finally, I have to drive my parents to the airport tomorrow morning. They're going to Utah and points west on vacation. Since I'm more than halfway there, I think I'll make another beach trip after I drop them off. Got any suggestions?

You're welcome to come but I'm sure you've got other things going. Feel free to share what you have in store this weekend.