By: Hailey Miller, Staff Writer
Nothing sparks my attention like seeing the latest “fill-in-the-blank celebrity accused of sexual harassment” headline every morning when I wake up and immediately reach for my phone before I have the chance to open my eyes and put my damn glasses on. What a SHOCKER. Can you believe some creepy old man in Hollywood would do such a thing?! Pff, please. As Clark Griswold says, “If I woke up tomorrow with my head sewn to the carpet, I wouldn’t be more surprised than I am now.” Cue my acting debut!
Acting class scene — Act One
Enter, latest news of celebrity sexual harassment.
My jaw drops and I pick it up from the floor after hearing about another one of my ex-favourite celebrities being accused.
“Looking at you, Johnny Depp!” I spout. “You’re nearly all on my shit list now.”
I gawk in disbelief (kidding!). This acting teacher chick clearly isn’t impressed by me. The girly is literally being so dramatic and pissed off that even I can’t tell if she’s kidding or not.
“You need to change your tone,” she says. “This is a No surprise reactions from celebrity bullshit acting class. Act a little less surprised.”
“OK, I get it, I need to be a little more dramatic, and a little less obvious.” Piece of cake, I think.
“Yes!” Miss acting coach exclaims with pomp and circumstance. “Channel one of those 2000s TV chicks, or something. You know, you could give a dramatic reaction like that Sharpay girl. OR, better yet, connect with your inner Regina George. Start by serving ‘walking into class on a Wednesday wearing pink’ dramatic and gag your audience by getting hit by a bus in the grand finale! ”
Really? I think.
I rearrange my facial expression into a puzzle of dismay and disgust. I cross my arms over my chest like I’ve never been more pissed off, I furrow my brow, and I slap my heels on the ground like the woman of power that I am, about to strut in to sort this shit out.
“Much better, darling!” Miss acting coach applauds, with her hands giving one feverish clap in the air.
Ick.
“Now give it more energy!” she exclaims, enthusiastically, with some random accent that she just pulled out of the hat.
I scrunch up my nose, snarl my mouth, roll my eyes, and exhale with the most dramatic sigh I can cough up.
“Better?” I ask, agitated, as if her opinion matters anyway.
I know I want to be even more dramatic, but this chick really isn’t doing it for me. Honestly, I think I’ll have her beat by the time this class is over.
“Think about the latest celebrity being accused of sexual harassment,” suggests the acting coach chick.
Easy, I think.
I channel a newfound angst of “pissed off with a side of anguish that sparks my fire” to tarnish my mood.
“Ugh, not AGAIN!” I spout, literally spitting out of my mouth like a grape gone sour.
Mr. Celebrity’s time was up long ago. Good riddance!
