Every kid hopes that one day they will be walking around a mall and have a stranger in a business suit walk up to them and say, "Hey . . . You should be in the movies! I'm a big Hollywood agent. Give me a call after you finish that disgusting cheese-filled pepperoni pretzel dog." But stuff like that only happens on TV, right? Wrong. This is the story of how I was discovered in a shopping mall while stuffing my pimple-covered, eighteen-year-old face full of "frozen yogurt." I put "frozen yogurt" in quotations because let's keep it real. It's ice cream. It's sugary, topping-covered diabetes-in-acardboard-bucket ice cream. Watching obese people go directly from their Weight Watchers meeting to a frozen yogurt shop is like watching all those poor people fall off the sides of the Titanic when it was sinking. If they only knew how that cold water would kill them.
So I was walking around my local mall in Long Beach one summer afternoon in 2007. I had graduated from high school a year before that, and I was trying to figure out my next move. I had lost a shit-ton of weight and gotten my signature emo haircut, so I had my sights set on being a Disney Channel star. I even had my own catchphrase: "Hey! That's YO mama!" Trust me, in the right sitcom with the right story line it could have worked. Anyways, I was trying to find some new clothes to match my new look: young, fresh teenager. So I went into an Urban Outfitters and started searching through all the ironic T-shirts. Ten Chuck Norris references later, I decided that it might not be my store. As I was leaving, a sad-looking woman in a turtleneck and high-rise pants walked up to me and grabbed my arm.
Sad Woman: Wow. You look familiar!
Me: A lot of older women tell me I have the eyes of their ex-husbands. Well . . . that's mainly just my mom.
Sad Woman: Hey! And you're funny too!
Me: I wasn't joking, but thanks!
Sad Woman: You kind of look like that guy on TV!
Me: The "Dude, you're getting a Dell" guy? Ya, I get that a lot. Not as much anymore since he killed himself.
Sad Woman: No! I'm talking about YOU!
Me: I'm a little confused. Is this a hidden-camera show? Did you guys see me pick my ass and sniff it when I was over there looking at ironic bumper stickers? 'Cause I wasn't smelling for poop, it's just a weird habit. Probably a childhood thing. Something about loneliness and forcing unpleasantness upon my undeserving self.
Sad Woman: No, I'm trying to tell you that you should BE on TV! Are you an actor? Me: Ya! I was in my high school musical!
Sad Woman: Great! What part?
Me: Fat guy with no song.
Sad Woman: Wow! That's . . . specific.
Me: Ya, I really made it my own.
Sad Woman: Well I'm from a big-time acting academy where we have young actors come audition for us and if we like them we get them big Hollywood agents!
Me: Wow, you're like a junk email come to life!
Sad Woman: Seriously! It's legit! I have a card and everything!
She pulled out a business card for a company called Juan Casablancas. It was laminated and everything. It even had some nice clip art next to her name. This wasn't some homemade shit. This was AT LEAST made at Kinko's. I instantly trusted her.
Sad Woman: Come to the audition tomorrow. I'll tell everyone you're coming. And bring that star quality!
As she walked away I had an inkling of "Oh shit, she's going to rape and murder me," but I also had an inkling that "Hey! That's YO mama!" could finally become a reality. So I took my chances and walked into the nearest teenybopper store and found the most Disney Channel outfit I could find!
