I can't make my lips appear pouty enough, but I'm trying. Eventually, the lower half of my face starts to hurt from the effort. Also, I can't quite capture the vapid, don't really want to be doing this look I will need to have on my face when I audition for the lead in a Viagra commercial. I'm exactly what they're looking for: a bored, privileged, skinny woman of a certain age. Am I young? Am I old? Who knows? There’s so much Botox in my face, I haven’t been capable of a real expression in years. And, okay, maybe I'm not what you'd call skinny, but I can pull it off. I know I can.
I just wish my hair was longer and a lot lusher because that would look great when I casually mention how the time is right then flick my long locks over my skinny shoulder with a perfectly sculpted and polished fingernail before I saunter over to the big bed which came from Pottery Barn and looks fantastic in my summer home. Of course, I might be in my big Pottery Barn bed in my treehouse because why not? Better yet, I could just slink around outside by my infinity pool, but I hope I don’t have to wear a swimsuit.
I suppose I'll need to buy a wig, and while I'm shopping I'll need to find the perfect outfit. Something that says, "Let's do this in this big ol' bed, but don't mess up my hair or makeup cause I'm meeting the girls at the club for drinks later." I wonder if I can find something like that at Chico’s? That's my go-to store for any occasion. I can usually always find at least one outfit with that president of the junior league/cocktail waitress vibe going on, and maybe it'll even be on the 50% off rack.
I need to learn my lines, but more importantly I'm going to have to rehearse day and night to make my voice sound sultry enough. Sultry and slow, like I have a speech impediment, or like I’ve just had a root canal and the Novocaine hasn’t worn off yet. I’ll have to make erectile dysfunction sound very come hither using lines like, “Don’t worry about your heart exploding, just swallow this and git R dun,” or, “Yeah, you might end up in the emergency room when your blood pressure takes a nose dive, but I’ll make it worth your trouble, stud.”
How will I achieve that faraway look of repressed desire in my eyes? It's the same look I have when I'm constipated, speaking of repressed. I'll just think about that time I was with Robert Redford on safari in Africa and he was washing my hair by the water buffalo. Or maybe that other time when Ralph Fiennes was carrying me across the desert in his strong arms, and he left me there all by myself and I slowly starved to death. Oh, and I almost forgot about that time that Clark Gable told me he didn't give a damn. Bad boys are so dreamy, even if they do need to take a little, blue pill.
If I don’t get the Viagra commercial, I can always try for the Cialis commercial. I know I can sit in a bathtub, and that doesn’t even require a special outfit. As a matter of fact, I’m going to take my clothes off, and go practice in the bathtub right now. I’ll dim the harsh, fluorescent lighting and light a few candles, pour myself a big glass of chardonnay, and maybe listen to some mood music. I have a Barry White CD around here somewhere.
I’m feeling really good about this audition. This could be the start of a whole new career. With a Viagra commercial under my belt, the sky is the limit. Maybe I’ll score a Dulcolax commercial next, or a Vagisil commercial; although, I don't intend to practice for either one of those auditions.