Is This Any Place to Stage a Life? An L.A. Diary

Sept. 17, 1997, Minneapolis

Ten years of acting in Chicago and Minneapolis. It’s time to experience Los Angeles.

Scott, my college friend and future roommate, helped me pack all my possessions, including Mia, my cat, into a Ryder truck, and we began the 2,000-mile trek.

Sept. 19, 1997, Nebraska

Mia was lost for two hours this morning in the box springs at a Budget Inn.

Sept. 21, 1997, Los Angeles, 2 a.m.

Not 10 minutes after arriving, we got an $85 ticket for parking a commercial vehicle in a residential area.

Oct. 5, 1997, West Hollywood

We found an apartment for $1,400 a month, near a bondage store and Kinko’s. Kinko’s is crawling with actors. The salesperson told me it’s best to come around 10 a.m., before they wake up.

Nov. 10, 1997

I started calling agents, but today it rained, so the phone went dead. The phone company said it’s because the line got wet. They think a drizzle is “weather”?

Nov. 20, 1997

In this land of appearances, it is said you are what you drive, therefore I’m an ’89 Ford Escort with missing hubcaps.

Dec. 13, 1997

Clawing for a survival job (i.e. waitressing, temping, catering).

Dec. 15, 1997

My friend Debby insisted I go to an Industry party to make contacts. Asked to list our New Year’s resolutions on a poster board. Debby wrote: find a Catholic Church, find a good man, donate time to a soup kitchen. I wrote: Get an agent, get a nose job, get a series. After three glasses of punch, I stumbled down the hallway into the bedroom and fell asleep on top of the coat pile. Twice, people pulled coats out from under me.

Dec. 25, 1997, Home to Chicago

Merry Christmas. My luggage was stolen. The airline will only reimburse after you scream, sob, rend the only clothes you have left and provide receipts.

Jan. 13, 1998, Los Angeles

Today I filed fraud charges. A crook got his paws on one of my deposit slips and siphoned money out of my checking account. But I got an agent!

Jan. 25, 1998

Today I had my first audition--for a beer commercial. I held a tray of beer steins while men in kilts danced around me. Standing there, I thought, “Things could be worse. I could be handing out beer coupons in grocery stores again, dressed as an alien; I could be back on the cruise ship, in a pumpkin suit, singing ‘The Monster Mash’ with a toilet plunger on my head.”

Feb. 5, 1998

Today I came home and the cops were trying to break up a fistfight in the driveway between my gay neighbor and his ex-boyfriend. The guy across the street leaves his door open at night so that cruising homosexuals can watch him spank himself on his fainting couch.

March 17, 1998

I booked a job! It’s a promo for a cable network. Trixie (a poodle) and I had matching wardrobes. In one spot, the trainer tried to get Trixie to steal a hamburger off the table, but Trixie wouldn’t obey and walked off the set.

April 10, 1998

Today I was hired for an acting job in a nonunion industrial film as a grocery store manager. The takes were shot between shopping carts rattling by and people wandering into the picture. During Take 21, a shriveled twig of a woman jerked into the shot, struggling with her cart, trying to roll it over the thick black electrical cords tangled on the floor. She ignored us and stopped to adjust her glasses and study the laxatives.

The crew threw up its hands. “Can I help you?” the director asked politely. “I need the cherry-flavored Ex-Lax!” she croaked. The director searched. “They have lemon but no cherry,” he said. She scowled at him and shuffled on.

April 20, 1998

Last night, I catered at a temple. A woman said, “You speak very well for a caterer!” I almost whacked her with the challah.

May 16, 1998

I auditioned for a Ralphs commercial with this guy who invited me to a class that teaches you how to overcome obstacles. At The Church of Scientology. Ever since, they’re calling me at home. I told them, “You may be able to ease the suffering of people like John Travolta and Juliette Lewis, but I was raised Lutheran, and suffering is our life.”

May 19, 1998

I thought we were having an earthquake, and I ran screaming into the street in my shower cap and bunny slippers. It was the washer on spin cycle.

June 5, 1998

I had an infomercial audition for Epil Stop hair remover. “Can you lift your skirt a little higher?” the cameraman asked, zooming in on my thighs. Later, I catered a party at a Bel-Air mansion for a woman with Alzheimer’s who took pictures of the napkins, the grill and her slippers. I tripped and spilled a pitcher of margaritas into the pool.

Aug. 22, 1998

I have no privacy. My gay neighbors call each other “Mary.” Last night the “Marys” again critiqued my wardrobe and my date.

Sept. 14, 1998

I worked the 50th Annual Emmy Awards at the Shrine Auditorium. All night, an obnoxious guy barked at us, telling us which door leads to food pickup and which one to scullery. Do they have to call it that? I feel like I should knock a couple teeth out and growl like a pirate.

Oct. 15, 1998

I interviewed at Demi Moore’s production company for a personal-assistant position. They corrected me on the pronunciation of Demi. The only way I can remember it is, Dummy but with an e. They didn’t give me the job.

Nov. 24, 1998

The girl that moved in downstairs is bulimic. Her vomiting is so loud, people can hear her when I’m on the phone.

Dec. 13, 1998

The street-cleaning twice a week is making me crazy. The parking Gestapo waits in front of my apartment for the stroke of 10 a.m. Tickets are growing in my glove compartment like a fungus.

Jan. 1, 1999: My Birthday, 6 a.m.

Last night I catered for a couple in Beverly Hills whose child’s playroom is bigger than my apartment. Dad’s a studio big shot. Five of us worked constantly--until 2 a.m. They never fed us and didn’t tip us. I should’ve smeared foie gras on their walls. I know God has something in store for me. I wish He’d get around to it.

March 1, 1999

I found a way to make an extra $100 a week. I’m going to participate in a study on depression with the California Clinical Trials. Plus I’ll find out if my depression is occupational.

March 23, 1999

Last night I attended the Minnesota Film Board’s annual party at the Roosevelt Hotel. Being a Chicago native, I can say the following: The accent isn’t funny anymore and doesn’t mean you’re going to get cast in a quirky movie.

April 1, 1999

Today I temped at a Beverly Hills law firm. The highlight was typing Betty White’s will.

May 1, 1999

I’ve been dating a Jewish producer. Today my mother said, “You’d make a great Jew. God knows you were never a good Lutheran.”

May 15, 1999

I had a commercial audition in which I fought off imaginary desserts with plastic forks. At another audition, four signs read: “NO ACTOR PARKING ALLOWED. YOU WILL BE TOWED.” Before I moved to L.A. I was proud to be an actor.

May 26, 1999

Today I auditioned for the role of a park ranger in a film called, “What’s a Natural Resource?” The director said I was talking too fast for the audience--second-graders. “They’re second-graders,” I said, “not imbeciles.” I got the part.

June 5, 1999

My worst fear has come true. My car got the boot. I took my last $500, had a friend chauffeur me to the DMV and gave it to the sweaty man behind the plastic window.

June 6, 1999

Like anyone with a modicum of self-respect. I’m getting the hell out. It’ll be nice to see people with cellulite again.

Oct. 10, 1999, Minneapolis

I’m doing a sexy bad-girl review called “Vixens.” To promote the show, we performed at the Mall of America for a senior citizen job fair.

Jan. 1, 2000: My 30-ish Birthday

Every time I think about going back to L.A., I get a stomach ache. I’ve always thought acting was cheaper than therapy. Maybe in Chicago. Not in Hollywood. I became a performer so that I could express myself. Creativity is my quest, not fame. I was meant to play a happier version of me, and if that means I won’t become a household name, so be it. L.A. knocked the stars out of my eyes. I’ll always be indebted to L.A. for that.

*

Holly Schroeder is a globe-trotting actress/singer/writer. She now lives in a conservative neighborhood, has no parking violations and will never again work as a caterer as long as she lives.