Brenda Blethyn is the poor man's Brenda Fricker

Have a good weekend. Remember to have your pets spayed and neutered,

Back to editing.

Camel Toe is the poor man's Moose Knuckle

I have a list of these poor man's comparisons. Sometimes I refer to the list, sometimes I just make them up on the spot. This was one of the latter. It's stupid, but it's early in the morning, and I really should be editing.

The Poor Woman and I are getting new cell phones today. She's making the leap into the 21st century and dumping the brick that's served her well over these many years.

So she wants a phone hat has a camera built in. I couldn't be happier. We've been wanting to take a new approach here at the PMV, and not always compare celebrities. Cameraphones will enable us to carry out such a plan.

Until then, I'm taking suggestions for the rich man's T.K. Carter.

Highway to Heaven is the poor man's Highway to Hell

There's a great story in the movie The Lonely Guy where Charles Grodin is talking about how unfair it is that Michael Landon would pay the same price to get a haircut as he would, when Landon has at least 10 times more hair than him.

As far as I know there is no such story of Angus Young.


So it's been a busy past couple of days of filming and rehearsing. Life is good. But today's post is kind of a complaint.

I was at an audition the other day which asked for the actors to be "Monty Python-esque." This is what my agent told me (and other agents told their actors, I found out). Now I'm not the sort of person who has the entire M.P. canon memorized, but like most people in the free world I know who they are, and what their style is. So right now I want you to write down three adjectives when you think of Monty Python. What immediately comes to mind for you?

Probably not what the casting director told us to do. She wanted very serious. She went on and on about how the seriousness of our delivery would be what made the commercial copy so funny (that's assuming it was well written...which a lot of commercials aren't). We'd each get three chances to do the scene. First it'd be a rehearsal, 2nd and 3rd takes would be on camera.

Because I listened to this casting director, instead of trusting my own instincts, I did the takes very seriously, almost earnestly. I took the notes given to me and adjusted between takes accordingly. What I did not do was what I thought would be serious/funny...or "Monty Python-esque." I tried to do the casting director's version, and failed miserably.

So I was upset. Not at having botched the audition, but for having killed comedy that day. I was very depressed.

And I like to think I'm pretty good with comedy. Not in a macho, I-have-to-be-funnier-than-you kind of way, but as someone who really appreciates the funny. Last year I auditioned for another commercial that was "funny," and at that one the casting director gave me a how-to-be-funnier suggestion. That time I listened to my instincts. I said I didn't think what he was suggesting was the right way to get the laugh. So I did it my way. I got a callback. I couldn't make the callback because I had booked another job for that date. No matter, I booked that job too. I like to think it's because I trusted my instincts.

That was back when I wasn't in the union. Now that I am, I'm at commercial auditions with people you see on TV all the time. It's pretty cool, but honestly, it can be a little intimidating. I've gotten tons of callbacks, but haven't booked anything in a while. I think that has something to do with being in a new class of audition. I've paid my dues and worked just as hard to be where these guys are, but just haven't gotten the break of a huge, recognizable job like they have, so I'm not showing up with that cock-sure attitude. I mean these guys are funny in the competitive way. They have to be the funniest person in the room. And people who need attention like that make me squirm. The commercial actress equivalent to this is that the actress has to have the most dramatic day possible getting to the audition (and then tell the room all about it..in loud detail).

I dunno. I'm rambling now. I was just bummed that I botched something because I listened to a casting director. I'm sure they're nice people and all, but for the most part, they're funny in the way that this post is kind of a hack post. It's amusing for a millisecond, but then easliy forgettable.

Valerie Mahaffey is the poor man's Annette O'Toole

As always, we here at the PMV love our underappreciated character actors. So we salute the folks who are nothing like the Will Smiths, the Lindsay Lohans, the Kevin Costners or Sharon Stones of the industry.

Valerie Mahaffey should play Frances Sternhagen's daughter. It'd be some Hallmark movie about a family of uptight WASPs in Connecticut or some other place where they forbid you to move your jaw when you speak.

Patrick Labyorteaux is the poor man's Daniel Roebuck

There is something sweet about being a steadily working character actor. Both of these guys work constantly. I'm seriously considering putting on about 30 pounds to increase my "characterability."

Actually things have been real good lately. I just finished a short film, a play I'm in opens next week and my baby, my 5-minute TV pilot is mere moments away from shooting. I'm pretty psyched about this last one, to say the least. It's my third foray into writing/directing rather than just acting. Most of my scripts are written thinking I have $20,000 to spend...so that's why it's been 4 years since I shot anything I wrote. Screw that "write what you know" maxim. Nobody wants to see what I know. It's boring.

So, just you wait. This is gonna kick ass.

I am the poor man's version of this guy.

I'm just a pretender to the poor man throne.

This past week was the poor man's version of Hell.

Seriously.

I'm not kidding.

I'm tired.

On the bright side, I've begun work on my 5-minute TV pilot. The following is an infomercial for The Carl Sandoval Plan that plays during another scene. I shot this with my crappy camera to get that oh-so-authentic, cable-access TV look and feel. It stars my good friend, and fellow psychopath, Bill. Lemme know what you think.

Mariette Hartley is the poor man's _____?

I got nothing today. Yesterday wiped me out. I was shooting a short film, and quite seriously felt like the world's worst actor. I had no idea what I was doing or why. It's kind of like bungee jumping. After the bouncing up and down, you're just hanging there, with nothing all around you. Waiting to be pulled back up. You feel like the center of nothingness.

Than I remembered people like Carrot Top, Ben Affleck, Madonna, and everyone on the TV show, "Las Vegas" are still working, so I couldn't be all that bad.

But I probably was.


R.I.P. Richard Jeni.

Angie Dickinson is the poor man's Ellen Barkin

This is strictly a generational thing.

Jack Colvin is the poor man's Matt Clark

This one chased The Incredible Hulk.



This one chased Buckaroo Banzai.


I thought they were the same person until last year.


Had to buy a bunch of birthday cards yesterday. I'm not breaking any new ground here, but birthday cards blow. Fifteen minutes in the greeting card section explains to me EXACTLY why good TV & movie comedies are rare. There are way too many people (or entertainment executives) out there who think an old woman grouching out tired aging clichés is comedy gold.

It is not. It is lowering the standards of the human race.

Or maybe it's all part of the Asian Master Plan!

NSFW - Sideboob is the poor man's Underboob

I'd like to welcome all the folks who've found this site in the past by googling
"Robert Loggia orange juice commercial"
"Hannah Storm thighs"
and the number of Josh Groban/Michael Buble fans out there.

I now graciously welcome all the disappointed young lads looking for sideboobs and/or underboobs. Sorry to have steered you so far off-course.

So, in keeping with the 'older, hip" label we received earlier this week, the Poor Woman and I went to a concert last night. We weren't the oldest people there, but we did skew the demographic up just a tad.

Good show, but every so often I'd get the whiff of some kid's b.o.

Don't the kids wash nowadays? This was kind of a ripe scent too. It smelled vaguely of musty dorm-room.

C'mon, Generation Y! For Chrissakes, at least have the decency to smell like pot at a concert!


Okay, so below is the picture for today. Only one picture as I couldn't find a classy photo of an underboob. Yes, I said "classy." And yes, I spent a long time looking. A very long time. I happen to be a big fan of the underboob. I think they're a national treasure and our greatest weapon against terrorism.

But sideboobs prevail in the classy-photos-on-the-internet department. So here it is.

Geico's Cavemen are the poor man's Toby

I've sworn up and down that Toby was one of the cavemen for the longest time. It's the eyes. He's not, so my career in casting goes nowhere.

On another note entirely: I'm not an elitist or anything, but I have an acting pet peeve. Say you're watching the ol' TV, and on whatever show you're watching one of the actors starts "playing" the violin. They're making long, uneven, all-over-every-string, not-holding-the-bow-properly strokes, supporting the instrument like a dead fish...and the song, in no way matches their movements.

I know, actors "play" the piano all over the place. That doesn't bug me. For some reason this does. It's retarded, I know. But one man's retarded observations in a blog are another man's retarded observations in a green-lighted script.

Faye Dunaway is the poor man's Cathy Moriarty

One of these women aged naturally. The other chose a different route.



I love this business sometimes. It scares the hell out of me, but then again I get honest moments of joy. Case in point: I had a commercial audition today. Now, I'm no slouch in the commercial department, but most people wouldn't recognize my face (cue Ms. Dunaway gag).

Anyway, I get to see lots of people that I see on the TV anyway at these things, and while I'm rarely star-struck, sometimes I lose my shit and squeal like a schoolgirl on the inside. This was one of those times. This guy was just around the corner from my audition yesterday.

Peter Scolari, looking tan, rested and just happy as can be.

I tried to learn how to ride a unicycle because I wanted to be like him (I learned how to fall real good). I took up juggling, which I'm still bad at, because he made it look cool to me. I did not dress in drag, however. I grew up in Texas and wanted to live long enough to get out. Anyway, he was there auditioning for something else, no doubt. Sure, Hanks got all the awards and glory, but Scolari is equally (dare I say, more?) talented. That's just how this business works. Very little rhyme or reason. One guy gets the breaks, the other guy gets 3 Emmy nominations, great comic timing, continues to steadily work in a job he loves, and gets to keep a low profile. I did not accost him. I did not gush. It's New York. I acted like I didn't care.


Plus he still looks better in drag than Faye.

Europe is the poor man's Asia

I've been working non-stop for the last 3 weeks, and that came to an end yesterday. Instead of waking up at 6am, I enjoyed a leisurely snooze until about 7 (when the excavators, drilling machines and jackhammering began behind our home). But I remained in bed for another hour, thumbing my snotty nose at the impending 7-story condo.

Today is the first day in a long time that I don't have to ride the subway at rush hour, crammed in with all of society's best and brightest.

Nobody, and I mean NOBODY, wants to go to work. Nobody likes their job, so they take it out on their fellow nobodies. And what is surprising is how early in the morning that nastiness can erupt. After a couple of weeks back at this grind, I'm seriously considering putting ecstacy into the water supply.

Well ok, maybe just my water supply.

The Mrs. & I got a great compliment, sort of, this weekend. We were referred to as a "hip, older couple." As a 35-year-old I find that awesome.

Do the kids still say "awesome"?

After the compliment (which was at an after-show thing) we went out for dinner, went home, watched Battlestar Galactica, and were in bed by 10.

Sounds EXACTLY hip and older to me.

P.S. The compliment-giver was born in 1982...which led me to the lyrics to "Heat of the Moment," which led to this post.