Barking Up the Wrong Tree?

 

With far too many months of Tinsel Town shunning my brilliant abilities as both and Actor and a Stand-In in the world of television Sit-Coms, I was becoming rather disheartened.

“You always have the option of relocating to our winter condo in Florida!” my Mom cheerfully motivated me; the likes of which would substantially decrease my financial output vis-à-vis living in Los Angeles.  “You could even go back to school if you want to!” she rallied enthusiastically.

Hmm...

Contemplating her best of well-meaning, heartfelt good intentions, my pea-brain paused to envision my potentially glorious future.  Might I earn a Master’s Degree?  Could I possibly delve into the realm of Academia and hurl all of my mental processes away from Hollywood and into the promised land of eventually achieving a most coveted PhD?

“Paging Dr. Penny”...     

Oh, I quite liked the sound of that!

Unfortunately, my pea-brain also contemplated the following drearier scenario:

 

(Well, I DO know how to type, and I DID learn how to capitalize letters in a phone text just a few months ago...)

But whilst I couldn’t be sure precisely which road my pea-brain was rooting for (aside from my current routine rut of unemployment), I certainly had a host of other skills in my quiver of opportunity arrows that didn’t involve three years of grad school, nor a time-travel machine back to the 1950’s.

After all, I could follow the path of religious enlightenment and become a nun (well... I actually played a nun on TV and the wimple was kind of itchy on my head, plus they frowned on my use of mascara); or I could pursue a career working with Kindergarten children (well... I’ve played a teacher on TV too, and quite frankly I can’t deal with all of their pre-adolescent germs); but certainly I could learn a trade and get hired as a receptionist (well... I also did that on TV, and real life as well, wherein I was dubbed “world’s worst receptionist” since I kept hanging up on clients calling ‘collect’ from prison to the real live law firm – (hey, I saved the attorneys a lot of money that day!).  But surely I could get a job as a waitress (well... I played that role on TV too, and it turns out that Producers aren’t terribly comfortable with my inexperienced lack of ability at attempting to handle food on camera in front of highly-paid Actors’ faces). 

But certainly I could find an alternate niche in the world if need be.

And delving through the care-package of goodies from my Federal Special Agent friend “Rose” who works for the Department of Justice (no lie!), I gasped in awe at my potential future career...

Yes my friends, I am now the proud owner of two grey shirts, which designate me as a (very unofficial) ATF (Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms) Agent in basic training!!!

 

Ooh, I had so much to learn if I were to successfully make it through the Academy!  Granted, I’ve not held any sort of weaponry in my hands since taking a fun class on trap and skeet shooting in college wherein we also had to qualify with rifles in a target range (standing, kneeling and prone); but pouring a cocktail (Alcohol) and lighting up a cigarette (Tobacco), I was two-thirds on my way to graduation!

“Code 4” I announced to HQ (that’s “Head Quarters”, for you civilians), signifying ‘no further assistance needed’ as I had successfully channel-surfed my television and located a marathon of the reality show “Cops” on Spike TV.  “Code 4, code 4; roger that, affirmative, copy” I nodded ever-so officiously to my make-believe walkie-talkie, adding a “Kksshh” noise for authenticity into my t-shirt sleeve.

Within the first half hour of the “Cops” marathon, my future had become crystal clear.  I was absolutely destined to become a K-9 Special Agent!  Yes, my imaginary fearless four-legged German Shepherd companion “Thor” and I would tackle the Academy together, devote our lives to sniffing out bombs, tackling bad guys and enjoy celebratory biscuits after having saved the day!  Good boy! 

Yet the more I watched the marathon, the more real “me” crept into the picture...

Granted, the high speed chases got my adrenaline running (I think Cecilia – my 1997 Toyota – and I once hit 35mph on the mean streets of LA to which afterward we both could have used a mild sedative); and yes, there was no end to my joy at watching highly trained Officers armed with Tasers zapping the crap out of 400 pounds of aggressive criminals (Replay!  Replay!  Replay!).

But as my official boot-camp into the work-force has forever been the seductive Hollywood allure of the random 30 minute escape from “reality” into Comedy, I simply couldn’t ignore my inherent Tinsel Town training.

Number One:  Could the Audio technicians possibly consider decreasing the volume after a foot pursuit, so as not make every chivalrous take-down sound like our Heroes in Law Enforcement are gasping for their final breath?  They’ve got the burden of carrying a gazillion pounds of equipment around their waists whilst simultaneously attempting to cuff scrawny, seriously sweaty meth-addicts who squirm! 

Number Two:  How, on God’s green Earth, is there not ONE single channel devoted ENTIRELY to the reality footage of K-9 police dogs on patrol?  “Show your hands, or we will deploy the dog, and the dog WILL bite you...”  (Replay!  Replay!  Replay!)  Good Boy!  And as a further thought, after chomping down on a drug addict’s thigh for a solid twenty minutes, must the K-9 attend rehab to detox?  (Sure the aggressive pooch can lick himself, but I doubt that even THAT would get rid of the stench in his highly trained nostrils.)

Number Three:  This one is more of a mathematical poser.  As the marathon continued and I absorbed as much Law Enforcement as possible, I became acutely aware (well, I AM an unofficial ATF Agent in training!) of an uncertain amount of anomalies.  How is it, that despite living in a house on wheels (not judging, just observing) so many “persons of interest” who apparently cannot afford dental care (again, not judging), are equipped to possess an excess of money with which to purchase not only military grade AK-14 machine guns that fit snugly into one’s underwear, but the additional financial perspicacity to afford a $200.00 tattoo of a marijuana leaf on the shoulder, and a $400.00 tattoo portrait of Jesus on the neck?

Lastly (and maybe I’m just splitting hairs at this point), how in the world, despite my comedic training in the land of Sit-Coms, could I possibly keep a straight face when the junkie who’s just been arrested, swears that he didn’t know anything about a capped needle full of whatever drug he’d hidden between his butt cheeks?  (Yes, I’m judging now!)

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To say the least, after a riveting twelve or so hours of Tasers, take-downs and transports to jail, my inner Barney Fife was officially quashed. 

As much as I admire and respect my friend “Rose” and her multitudes of fellow Law Enforcement compadres for the difficulties they face each and every day, I have absolutely no patience for such drama...

...And so, back to the drawing board for me...

Until...

*Ring*

“Hi Pen!  If you would be willing to join our crew, I’d love to invite you to Season Three of our show!” one of my favorite ADs cheerfully welcomed me into the fold as I whole-heartedly, gratefully accepted her offer back into the comfortable safety zone of my Sit-Com world.  (Seriously, I almost cried!)

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Whilst our show won’t begin production on-stage until January, I must say that I’m beyond thrilled to be booked for 13 episodes!  I’ve worked with this extraordinary Second Team before, as well as the fabulous ADs; and for reasons known to a handful of people, I suspect that The Universe is smiling.

“Kksshh: All units; Code 4.  Kksshh.”  (!!!)

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Blessed to be recruited back to where I truly belong,

~Hollywood K-9 P