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thepnutgalleryTreasure Island messaged me back! I mean, they sent an immediate confirmation on Wednesday, saying they'd contact me if they had any questions. But then I got an email from Kenny, the head of West Coast Casting, wanting a Skype interview. YAY! Norman canceled our session, which left my whole night free. It took some finagling on the timing, but he agreed to do it at 5pm, and then I'd shoot my solo for CC after.
Zipped home, applied the glue to my broken cleaner...except no one warned me that it's very very watery, unlike regular glue, so some got on my fingers. I tried to wash it off *immediately*, and at least succeeded in getting it not too attached. Showered, trimmed my hair, tore the place apart looking for my webcam, and double clicked Skype at exactly 5pm.....which immediately popped up that I needed an update to continue. Emailed him as much, got online by 5:06. The interview was okay. For all that I'm charming, I'm terrible at interviews. I get nervous, I talk at increasing speeds, I get too in depth about the cerebral aspects of group sex, etc. At the end, he had me strip down, show my ass, and get hard so he could take some screen shots. It's little, he says, but that's okay. I mean, I think I'm average, but whatever. It turns out he knows Scott, the adorable and sweet kid from SF who visited me over TG. Quite well, actually. And he did a scene with Andrew, my poetic hippy friend with the huge dick who I wasn't very nice to at Shane's birthday.
I put together my bed and cleaned up around it a little. My stomach started gurgling, which isn't a very good sign. Dave arrived, we grabbed the lights from storage. Everything ready, but then my stomach really wasn't happy. Had to delay the shoot by an hour. We're cursed. Of course my first time having a hard time getting ready for a shoot would be our company. When I finally felt relatively safe, Dave, optimist as ever, asked if we needed to cancel the shoot. No, definitely not.
The next step was to get my anxiety under control. With a partner, people like to say "just, whatever happens!" even though they usually have an idea of what they'd like, and rather than just say that, they hope you have the same idea. Okay, I'm gonna do this for a bit, then this, then this, then cum. I was clean, stayed hard, apparently looked fine. It was perfect, and I felt much better about myself as a performer.
Bid him goodbye, settled on the couch to watch some more Lovesick with Lady Miss Friday. Beth requested silly selfies, and even gave us the pose. I hate selfies, mostly because I'm terrible at them, but I do like Beth, so I did it. Julian messaged me, going in circles and ranting about how I'm focused on being in porn over everything else, how I just go to work and fuck people. I mean, I can see a case for the latter, but the first is patently false. Ignored him after that, despite my phone buzzing with repeat messages. Had trouble sleeping, so I re-enacted my scene. I started going to some dangerous places in my head, but I managed to finish before I got too bad.
Zipped home, applied the glue to my broken cleaner...except no one warned me that it's very very watery, unlike regular glue, so some got on my fingers. I tried to wash it off *immediately*, and at least succeeded in getting it not too attached. Showered, trimmed my hair, tore the place apart looking for my webcam, and double clicked Skype at exactly 5pm.....which immediately popped up that I needed an update to continue. Emailed him as much, got online by 5:06. The interview was okay. For all that I'm charming, I'm terrible at interviews. I get nervous, I talk at increasing speeds, I get too in depth about the cerebral aspects of group sex, etc. At the end, he had me strip down, show my ass, and get hard so he could take some screen shots. It's little, he says, but that's okay. I mean, I think I'm average, but whatever. It turns out he knows Scott, the adorable and sweet kid from SF who visited me over TG. Quite well, actually. And he did a scene with Andrew, my poetic hippy friend with the huge dick who I wasn't very nice to at Shane's birthday.
I put together my bed and cleaned up around it a little. My stomach started gurgling, which isn't a very good sign. Dave arrived, we grabbed the lights from storage. Everything ready, but then my stomach really wasn't happy. Had to delay the shoot by an hour. We're cursed. Of course my first time having a hard time getting ready for a shoot would be our company. When I finally felt relatively safe, Dave, optimist as ever, asked if we needed to cancel the shoot. No, definitely not.
The next step was to get my anxiety under control. With a partner, people like to say "just, whatever happens!" even though they usually have an idea of what they'd like, and rather than just say that, they hope you have the same idea. Okay, I'm gonna do this for a bit, then this, then this, then cum. I was clean, stayed hard, apparently looked fine. It was perfect, and I felt much better about myself as a performer.
Bid him goodbye, settled on the couch to watch some more Lovesick with Lady Miss Friday. Beth requested silly selfies, and even gave us the pose. I hate selfies, mostly because I'm terrible at them, but I do like Beth, so I did it. Julian messaged me, going in circles and ranting about how I'm focused on being in porn over everything else, how I just go to work and fuck people. I mean, I can see a case for the latter, but the first is patently false. Ignored him after that, despite my phone buzzing with repeat messages. Had trouble sleeping, so I re-enacted my scene. I started going to some dangerous places in my head, but I managed to finish before I got too bad.
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