How I spent my 31st Birthday

This past weekend was the most busiest 48 hour I have ever had. The story begins early last week when I'm contacted by the people casting "American Gangster", the new Denzel Washington flick. They wanted me to come in Wednesday evening for a fitting. I let them know of my availability and find out that I'm playing a Drug Dealer. I've always aspired to be portray African-Americans in a positive light and here was my opportunity. I was told that the days of filming were going to be Friday and Sunday. I was psyched. Thursday afternoon while at the place I'm moving out of I happened upon a listing on Craigslist for extras for the Elisabeth Shue and Durmot Mulroney flick, "Gracie". So, I emailed my headshot and resume. Within minutes I was contacted by someone from their casting agency. He told me they were filming at Shue's former high school in Plainfield, New Jersey and they were doing it that Friday night, the same day I was to film "American Gangster". I thought wouldn't be great if I could work on American Gangster and then later on "Gracie". My only problem was I hadn't been given a call time for Gangster. As if by magic I get a call from a guy named E. Wilson who told me the shoot was off for Friday. Immediately I call the guy back and tell him I'm available. I'm given a number and the call time of 4:30 pm, and a place to catch the bus to the holding area. I had my day planned out. Get out of the mandatory job program, drop off some resumes in the theater district, and get home by 2pm. Frantic, I ran back to Darryl's place (where I am in the midst of moving) to shit, shower and change. I didn't bother shaving for fear of losing authenticity. You see, back when I worked on Across the Universe the make-up people said my goatee was looked too designed. As a result they glued hair onto my face which froze in the December weather. I washed it off because it looked like someone spooged on my face. This time I was going to do best to leave whatever I had alone. Spent half an hour blowing out my hair which I would have done much earlier if not for bigoted job counselor and recruiters. After a while of no work you really start to wonder if people even know you exist and then WHAM! After a rather anxious ride on the Q train I ran across three avenues with garment bags in tow to the my final destination. After getting there I was drenched and out of breath, not to mention met by a crowd of 400 some extras. After checking in I put my clothing underneath the bus that was loading and went into a Pizzeria for some garlic knots. My thought was that the Non-union bus was going to be there for a while. Well, that bus took off with my things onboard. I was worried but assured that my things would arrive in the same location. During the hourlong ride I talked on my cell phone to Darryl and stressed my disbelief at how stupid I could have been. He reassured me everything would be okay and that he had a special feeling that during the shooting for "American Gangster" I would probably get some lines. I pooh-poohed him but I believed him.

"The Young and The Tactless"

It's been a while I know but I've been taking the time to get my affairs in order. Just recently I have been evicted from my loft apartment in the Clinton Hill area by one Leslie Dure. Four weeks ago he brought home two white guys named Scott and Mark to look at the apartment whilst I was there. He later justified this by saying he had no idea when I was going to find consistant employment to pay the rent for September. "This is real," he kept saying as if I were a 7-year-old that didn't know any better. Then, like a nagging housefrau, he asked me how can I sleep knowing I have no job to support myself. Leslie kept telling me to go find work like it were digging for earthworms. I told him I would go to the Human Resources Association to get some help with the rent. Since this was an emergency I thought it prudent. A week later I received a call from Leslie saying he had opened up my mail by "mistake" and found an ATM card with brochures and literature. He asked if he could read it to me over the phone. I declined and asked him to leave it on my bed in my room until I get there the following day. Just last week after going through the hand-wringing process of applying for aid I presented Leslie with my idea. Get the state to pay for my rent for the then coming month of September and any arrears while I find some suitable employment or get an idea of when I was going to move. Leslie went off. She (and this is the pronoun I will be using to reference this asshole) Accused me of not being serious about searching for work. She also said that she had been surveilling all my coming and goings as if she were my parental unit, "This door shouldn't be opening and closing at all times of the night". She said that this is the reason why she doesn't "sign leases to brothas because they always turn to this state shit". As an immigrant she didn't want her name in the system even though I was the recipient of said aid. She claimed that her Mother raised them on $325 ($3.25) a week and didn't need the government to help them. Makes me wonder if they would have thought twice if she needed a kidney. Lord knows Canadians got it good when it comes to healthcare up there. She was going on and on ad nauseum that I just needed to get away from her toxicity. She said if she signed it she wanted me out. Yesterday, we finalized that by September 30th I would vacate the premises. Why if he had gone through with my original proposal it would have pretty simple. Leslie Dure is a dumb blonde but with dreadlocks. It's hard to belive that the same douchebag whose dog I walked when she was at work, the same vagina-faced motherfucker whom I lent socks and deodorant to when she didn't have them is the same motherfucker who encouraged me to get food stamps two months ago! They're both part of the same cow, now she's got a problem because it's not kosher? Give me a break! She then proceeded to judge me and classify me with all the other brothas who turn to welfare for assistance. It's bad enough she was tactless enough to bring in two prospective tenants, she even went so far as to open up my mail, which is a federal offense. Ladies and gentleman, Leslie Dure is a tax cheat! All those thousands she took from me as rent was never reported. She just didn't want the government to catch on to her scheme. Leslie Dure has also comitted a felony since she likes to open up the mail of the tenants living in her apartment. "Business arrangement" my ass! Not to create a blanket statement here but West Indians really are black jews. Leslie has the personality of a vagina with sand in it. The dog was the only creature I could really stand. Who knew I would have been judged by a homosexual Jamaican nurse from Montreal? Now I have seen it all. I don't feel as though I am losing a home as I never really thought of it as a home really. It was just something to tide me over until I could find my very own place. But I can tell one thing for sure, I always knew in the back of my mind that it would end like this. Someone ought to tell her karma's a bitch. Oh well, no skin off my ass. Sidebar, Since getting back my ruling from the Department of Labor I've put in a letter requesting an appeal. Although I made some "valid points" in my defense including a grievance letter I still put the store and it's employees in danger by leaving the premises. I guess the fact that I was not given proper breaks and exploited by Pratt Institute because I worked on the weekends was not valid enough and completely legal in their myoptic eyes. I was not informed that big employers like Pratt Institute could get away with violating employees rights and labor laws. I guess the current political machine doesn't stop at corporations, it also allows institutions of learning to get away with murder as well. This appeal will lead to a hearing before a judge, if Pratt wants to take it this far then so be it. This is shaping up to be the shittiest weekend ever. At least I have my production of "Happy Hour" to look forward to every Saturday night!