If you're a boy you might want to skip this one....

Because it is about going to the Lady Doctor. I don't know any ladies who don't dread this annual visit...here are my theories as to why:

First, 89% of the waiting room is really, really pregnant and I'm always terrified one of them will go into labor at any second.

Second, all the magazines have to do with parenting and babies, two subjects that still terrify me at this point in my life.

Third, no matter how many anti-anxiety meds I take beforehand, there is some sort of force that negates their effectiveness from the second I walk in the door.

Fourth, they weigh you.

After this trauma, you are asked to pee in a cup. WITH YOUR NAME ON IT. Then you have to walk out of the bathroom holding your clear pee-cup with your name on it, a walk of shame much more embarrassing than the college version.

You are then sometimes asked to tell the nurse what other prescription drugs you are taking, VERBALLY, and I would really prefer that the other three patients and five nurses within earshot not know this information.

After this, you are led to the room of ultimate humiliation and scariness. You are handed a smock that only comes down to your waist and instructed to undress completely and put it on "open side in front." To cover your other lady parts, there is simply a huge sheet resembling the largest paper towel ever to use as a blanket.

Did I mention it's always FREEZING in the room of ultimate humiliation and scariness?

Then....you wait. There are not even baby or parenting magazines to distract you, so all you have to do is try not to stare at the scary posters on the wall of female anatomy, STD pamphlets, and the frightening, unfamiliar, and extremely sharp metal objects that will soon be inserted up your vagina. I recommend mentally "going to your happy place" during this time, although I have never been able to achieve this myself.

Then your doctor comes in and makes small talk about the weather, your job, etc. and you try to answer without thinking about the fact that he/she is feeling up your breasts and sticking things inside of your stuff, aka, how you are basically being medically molested.

FINALLY it's over. You are allowed to dress and slink out, trying not to make eye contact with the next poor girl coming in as you are going out, or at least not look too traumatized. I always say a silent prayer for her, as I know exactly how she's feeling and what is in store for her. Poor soul.

Movin' on up

Most of you probably already know this, but just in case, one of the more fascinating tidbits of my life (not really to me, but to other people it’s a definite “conversation starter”) is that I work as a body parts model. NO, not THOSE parts, dirty mind! Specifically, I started as a foot model, literally kicked my way into the world of leg modeling via a tampon commercial, and most recently my cute little hands are featured in an AT&T commercial, also featuring the band Blink 182 (of mid to late 90’s fame).

Life is funny. I spend a substantial amount of my time working on my acting career, yet this little body parts modeling thing has become quite lucrative, literally paying my bills the last year or so. So since I’ve gone from feet, to legs, to hands, and skipped all the unmentionables, perhaps someone would actually be interested in my FACE sometime in the near future? Eh, eh??? Any takers???? Not that I’m desperate or anything.

The people you meet at Starbucks (or on airplanes)

Yesterday I went to Starbucks for a nice relaxing break with my triple mocha and a good book. Unfortunately for me, the only available seat was across from a Comic con-obsessed former hippie. I REALLY wanted to finish my book, but there's no way it could compete with this guy.

He told me his business mantra was "Artistic Conception to hard working action." Awesome. He also proceeded to unroll a 6 ft banner by a "world-famous muralist" and tell me all about the funding he had from many large companies to fund Comic Con murals all over the world, the real deal Comic con from the 70s, not that bullshit they do now.

He also told me that he is doing a documentary the behind-the-scenes documentary of comic con. A documentary within a documentary, if you will. And how he pulled himself up by his bootstraps to achieve this level of success. He asked what I did, and then offered me some of valuable nuggets of wisdom: I too, can achieve the same level of success if I write and produce instead of just acting, but only as long as I don't date producers or directors.

If this guy wrote a book, I would totally take it to Starbucks and read it.

I will haunt you if anyone does this to me

Did you guys know that if you get cremated they will ship you through the mail?

I saw this woman in line at the post office mailing the ashes of her dearly beloved recently deceased. How did I know that's what she was mailing? Because they were in a ZIPLOCK BAG. Is that weird to anyone else?

Apparently that is the only way you're allowed to ship your dead relatives. Which seems a little creepy to me but I guess there's no getting around it sometimes, like, if you are shipping them to Europe (she was).

But in a ZIPLOCK BAG???? I find this disrespectful, disturbing, weird, etc. but I would have to invent a new adjective to fully describe just how much this freaks me out.

So just to put it out there, I prefer not to be creamated at all. But if someone allows this and then just pours me into a ziplock bag instead of the Tiffany crystal vase I deserve, I will make them pay dearly from the afterlife.

I WILL wear a costume to your party

This weekend I got to dress up not ONCE, but TWICE!!! Friday was a masquerade party. I tried my darndest to pull off dressing up like a peacock while staying within the confines of "cocktail attire." Feel free to comment on how well you think I did...

Saturday was a double-party day, and one of them sort of had to do with St. Patrick's Day so I dressed up as....what else??? Holly Madison on a mission to seduce a leprechaun, of course. I asked my friends if it was too much. I'm not sure if they lied to me or not, but I wore those knee socks all day. There is no photographic evidence of this, but don't worry...I'm sure I''ll find an excuse to wear it again.

All of this to say...be forewarned: If you invite me to a party with any sort of theme, I will interpret it as a costume party and show up that way. Also, my apologies to all the celebs whose clothes I critique on this blog. Although, in my defense, paparrazzi don't follow me around and take pics of me when I'm dressed crazy.

Tootin' my horn

You guys, March is going to be a pretty amazing month for me.

First, come to my graduation show from level 201 at Upright Citizens Brigade on March 13 at 1:3opm. Yes, I realize it's only level 201. Also, you should realize I have also attended your shows as well that may or may not have sucked. This show could be bad or amazing. My classmates are pretty dang funny. So, suck it up and come, and if you do I'll let you come to the party I'm throwing on the roof of Hollywood Tower for the class.

You should also come to my very first red carpet premier, "Head Over Spurs in Love" playing March 24 at 7 pm at the Majestic Theatre in Westwood. Let me know and I'll put you on the guest list. This is your only chance to see my honest reaction to a vibrator (but no, it's not that kind of movie!)

Also, my leg is in a tampon commercial. See my Facebook page.

xoxo,

April

Good Intentions...

Me: Andi, my car won't start. Do you know anyone that has jumper cables?

Andi: No, sorry boo.

Me: God obviously doesn't want me at church this morning.

Andi: No, the DEVIL doesn't want you to go to church.