We Feel Pretty

Had an audition today for Nike's new campaign, which is essentially a pep rally for Maria Sharapova (she's a professional tennis ball swatter). Me and thirty other guys of various ages, shades and sizes were auditioning for the role of Doorman. And there was a cursed stereo playing the commercial's theme song, "I Feel Pretty" from West Side Story, on repeat. Over and over and over again until it seemed like most of the men were totally pleased to let their out their inner musical theater star. One serious brute of a fella was smiling as he rehearsed the lyric. I wish I could have turned that grin upside down, then shove a corroded septic pipe into it. Sure enough though, my quiet, brooding act came to a close once I got into the room and had to sing on camera. That's when I let out my true self - a newly castrated choir boy asked to sing for his sister's sweet sixteen. I left the room, grabbed my stupid messenger bag, and puked on the elevator.

I hope I book it.