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Yesterday, I taped another Best Week Ever, which will air this Friday. I had a wonderful time. I made myself laugh, and I made everyone else at the taping laugh. I really hope that I get to be a more regular part of that show, because it’s so much fun.
But check out This totally cool thing that happened in the parking garage when I was waiting for the elevator:
I gave my ID to the security guard and told him I was going to tape Best Week Ever. While he signed me in, the elevator doors opened, and a really cute girl walked out. (I only mention that she was really cute because . . . let’s face it, I’m a guy, and guys notice these things.)
She looked right at me and said, “I love your website.” She said it simply, and matter-of-factly,
I felt like I’d just won a million dollars, man. I didn’t even know what to say, so I just said, “Thank you so much!”
She walked past me and the security guard, and disappeared into the garage.
I felt like I was in this bubble of joy, where the rest of the world didn’t exist. She didn’t say that she liked this movie I did twenty years ago, or this TV show that I did fifteen years ago. She didn’t even say “You know, I don’t think Python sucked that bad . . .” She said that she loved my website, this thing that I’m doing now. Like I mentioned last week, I haven’t done much in the acting world over the last few years that I’m proud of . . . but I’m very proud of my website.
Is it okay to say that? I don’t want to come off as a dick, and I’m keenly aware of the Pride coming before the Fall . . . but I really do like what I’ve been able to do here.
My whole life I wanted to write, but I never did because I thought I was supposed to be an actor. But every morning, I get up, drink way too much coffee, and spend the next three or four hours doing what I love: I work on Just A Geek, or I write something for my website, or something for ACME . . . most of the stuff I write I don’t even publish. I just do it so I write every day . . . and it rules. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s utter crap, most of the time it’s just sort of there . . . but it’s mine, and when that girl said that she loved my website, I felt like I could own the joy her comments brought me, because what you read here is really me. I’m not playing a character, or trying to make a shitty script into something worth watching . . . I’m creating images and recreating scenes from my life, without a director or a producer or a studio getting between what I want to create and what the audience gets to see.
If I stare at this much longer, I’m going to lose my nerve and not publish it, so I’ll just say: If I wasn’t writing, I’d be a nervous wreck right now, waiting for feedback from that audition, and freaking out about why they aren’t calling back . . . but I’ve got other stuff going on now.
A few days ago, I bought the 2004 Writer’s Market, because I’m going to face my fears of rejection and see if some magazines or anthologies are interested in publishing some of my stories. I never would have even dreamed about doing that last year, but you guys who read this site have given me so much support and encouragement, and O’Reilly is so excited about Dancing Barefoot, it seems like the risk is justified. I don’t want to get too excited about stuff that hasn’t happened yet, but I’m happy right now.
I guess that’s what this post is about: I’m really happy right now. It feels like some of the risks I’ve taken in the last few years are starting to pay off, and I wanted to share that with anyone who reads WWdN, because without you guys, none of this would be happening.

I just got hellabusy, so I know that if I wait until I have the time and focus to write all about my audition I’ll never do it, so I’ll just hit some of the highlights, because I think there are 10 readers scattered across the ‘net who really want to know:

• I haven’t gotten any feedback, so I don’t know what they thought. Usually, if they like what I did, I get a call the same day, or (at the latest,) the next working day. It’s been two days, and I haven’t heard anything, so I am pretty sure they didn’t like what I did, or found someone else who they like more.
• The character description was “uptight conservative,” but the script seemed to contradict that. My take on this guy is that he was just a tool. He was trying really hard to be cool, and overcompensated like crazy. He calls everyone “dude,” “bro” and “hombre,” and gets really excited to put on his Creed CD . . . which I thought was extremely funny. I played him very big. Maybe a little TOO big. Normally, if they are interested in me, I’ll get a little direction if I go too big or not big enough, but I didn’t get any of that. Which means I was right-on, or I was so far off it wasn’t worth their time.
• I had a really good time. Everyone in the room was actually quite nice, except for the guy who was really put out that I didn’t bring in a resume (I thought they already had one,) and they all laughed very hard at all my ad-libs. There’s a difference between “laugh track” laughter, and genuine “oh wow! I wasn’t expecting that and it amused me” laughter, and I felt like there was much more of the latter than the former.
• I got to see my friend Maureen there. Seeing people I like when I’m on auditions is always a good time.
• Unless I am totally off, I made a good impression on the casting people, which means they’ll consider me again for other roles.

Sorry that it’s not the cool narrative style I wanted to use for the report, but I gotta work on Just A Geek so I can turn it in by the end of the month.
It rules the MOST that so many people shared encouragement and stuff, and I wish I had something more definitive to report . . . but this not-knowing is a BIG part of being an actor, so you get to share that with me instead. I’ll post more details when I have them. 🙂

Darin and I stood in Old Town, on the corner of DeLacy and Green. It was a magnificent night: eighty degrees, clear skies, the slightest breeze stirring the young leaves on the trees behind us.
The whole area was packed with people who were taking advantage of the unseasonably warm March evening: families and young couples crowded the sidewalks, as a nearly-full moon slowly climbed the Eastern sky.
“Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?” I said.
“Getting the tires changed on my Jeep.”
“Want to get together and have a cigar? I haven’t had a smoke in months, and I’d like to celebrate the release of my book.”
“Sure. How’s the afternoon sound?”
“Perfect! I’ll write in the morning, and then we can goof off later in the day.”
We jumped out of the way as several little kids flew around us, their bemused parents half a block behind them.
“Do you have any cigars?” He said.
“No, the last few in my humidor are all crispy and old.”
“Well, why don’t we go into that shop across the street, get a couple, and smoke them by my pool?” He said.
“I think that’s the best idea I’ve ever heard.”
We crossed the street, and walked into the shop. Four guys sat on overstuffed leather chairs and watched the basketball game on a flat screen TV. A cloud of delicious blue smoke hung heavily in the room.
I breathed deeply as we passed through it and entered the walk-in humidor: 70 degrees and 70 percent humidity never felt so wonderful.
“You like the Avos?” Darin said.
I shook my head. “No, I think they’re grossly overpriced.”
“Griffins?”
“Never had one.”
The door opened, and the young clerk, straight from the pages of Details magazine, walked in.
“Can I help you gentlemen?” He said. He wasn’t quite condescending, but he was heading that way.
I looked at the Davidoffs and Arturo Fuentes. I lingered over a bunch of Romeo y Julietas. Number One, Number Three, Number Four . . . but no Number Two.
“Do you have any Number Twos?” I asked.
He looked down at the boxes and said, “No, I don’t think we do.”
He clicked his tongue several times and challenged me. “Why do you want the number two? Why not the number three?”
Oh, there’s the condescending.
“When I bought my first box of cigars, it was R&J number two,” I said, “so that’s what I like to smoke.”
He looked at me.
“What about the Avos?”
Darin laughed.
“I’m not a big fan of them,” I said. I started to feel like I was dealing with a car salesman.
“Well, what about this one here?” He picked up a Churchill-sized cigar in a natural wrapper. Of course it was the most expensive cigar in the store.
“This one is very popular with the ladies,” he began.
“Wait.” I said.
Well, I think I said it. Maybe it was the Guinness I had with dinner.
“Are you trying to sell me a girlie cigar?”
He looked puzzled, and said, “Oh no, I mean that this is a nice, light cigar, and –”
“And it’s perfect for little bitches like me, right?”
“Well, sir, what I mean is –”
“Is that I’m a sissy little bitch who likes wussy cigars with his lemondrop martinis and Sex In The City DVDs?”
Darin laughed again, and I joined him. “I’m just fuckin’ with you, man,” I said, “I’ll just have an 8-5-8.”
The clerk looked like he’d just found out the gun wasn’t loaded after all.
“I think it’s a cosmopolitan that goes with Sex In The City,” he said.
“Oh? Well, I hear there’s a cigar in here that’s perfect for you.”
He laughed. “I’ll ring you guys up when you’re ready.”

I’ll post full details of my audition on Monday (short version: I had fun, and made them laugh a whole bunch, but I don’t know if I’m what they are looking for), but I just saw something in the Mysterious Future at Slashdot, and this is too insanely cool to wait:
Peter Jackson Will Direct "The Hobbit"!!!111one one one bang one
According to this news item, there’s some question about who will distribute the film, but Peter Jackson has the rights to direct it, and wants to make it feel just like the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

NEW YORK (AP) – Peter Jackson won’t be returning to the Shire any time soon. The Oscar-winning director is planning to film “The Hobbit,” the prequel to “The Lord of the Rings,” trilogy by J.R.R. Tolkien, but two studios must first fight over legal rights to the film.
Jackson said New Line Cinema has the rights to make the movie, but MGM has the rights to distribute it.
“I guess MGM’s lawyers and New Line’s lawyers are going to have a huge amount of fun over the next few years trying to work it all out,” he told reporters recently in Los Angeles, according to AP Radio. “I’m obviously busy for a couple of years on ‘King Kong’ so those lawyers can just go at it for a long time.”

Here is my first Open Letter to Peter Jackson, written with tongue planted firmly in cheek:

Dear Mr. Jackson,
Please let me be part of “The Hobbit.”
Please. Please. Please. Please. I will totally be your best friend.
Sincerely,
Wil Wheaton
PS- Please please please please. Thank you.

Holy crap.
I have an actual Audition tomorrow, for a pilot!
This show sounds hilarious, and right up my alley: It’s about a married couple in their early 30s, and how they reconcile their punk rock past with their pottery barn present.
Funniest thing: I’m not reading for the husband with the punk rock past . . . I’m reading for the part of his new neighbor . . . who is an uptight conservative, whose idea of a good time is discussing the latest mid-sized SUV.
Talk about playing against type!