The Audition
by Clarissa Coleman 

Wish me luck, keep your fingers crossed, and break both your legs. Clarissa Coleman is all lined up for a big audition.

I don’t usually tell you about auditions, I know. I like to keep some secrecy, some little things private to myself. That and I forget about them until the last minute most of the time. But this is different. This is no piddlin’ “Hey, Remember the Songs of the ‘80s?” infomercial audition. This is a series television audition, no kidding. Real network TV! Well, UPN, and that counts as network TV in a few circles outside of Hollywood. But I’m excited all the same.

I was sitting around on New Year’s Day, trying to figure out whose underwear I was wearing and how I got a hold of them, when my agent Dusty called. Usually it’s not good news, he just wants to talk about the World’s Fair of 1967 and what a grand time it was, that or how I still owe dues from 1989 to the SAG, but today was different. He had a part for me to read, a real live part!

I was skeptical, at first, who wouldn’t be? But I checked, and the phone was indeed plugged in, and none of my commune office mates was hiding in the room. Not a camera in sight even. It really was Dusty, and once I verified he wasn’t having another “living flashback” to the ‘80s, I would be on cloud nine.

Sure enough, the audition was real. It turns out a sitcom producer named Matt Viggoschultz was a big fan of my Court-TV appearances where I denied knowing anything about those injuries related to the Waffle Messiah, and wanted to know if I was working. Well, sure, if you count picketing E!’s Star Dates show with a sign that says, “First Date Action Guaranteed,” but nothing that couldn’t be dropped quickly for a rebound shot at television! He mailed (industry term for sending through the postal service) a copy of the pilot script for his show and I loved it! The binding was shiny and the font they used was original and clever. After I read it, it got even better.

It’s a Friends-style show, with a little bit of Survivor mixed in, with a touch of Dragnet to make it work. In the pilot episode, a group of chums get shipwrecked on a desert island paradise, where they have to overcome their differences and learn to trust each other to survive the harsh environment. One of them is voted in as the tribal lawman, and when one of the buddies is murdered, the lawman has to solve the murder.

I knew it would be an effort to play this kind of role each week and make it believable, having never been stranded on a desert island where I played the role of law enforcer before, but I was determined to be a part of this project, no matter what I had to do. Producer Viggoschultz then informed me he wanted me for the lawman’s sidekick, his girl Friday Shelly, which is a smaller role, yeah, but one I’m definitely more fit for. It’s a shame, though, that beard was starting to come in pretty nice before he told me.

I was meant to play this role of Shelly, and nothing will stop me from playing her, short of not getting the part. Which is why I’ve been rehearsing my monologue all week. In the past I’ve always used the same piece for auditions, but it’s never worked out for me—I think I’m just getting too old to do the “I want a give the world a gweat big hug!” bit from Who’s Your Daddy? that I used for years. This year I’m using Susan Sarandon’s “boycott G.E.” Oscar speech, and if they look like an apolitical crowd I’ll just use Halle Berry’s three minutes of crying Oscar speech. Either way, I’m getting this role. 2003 is going to be the year of the comeback for Clarissa Coleman.

Home for the Horrordays
It’s hard to complain about my brother and sister, they’re not really to blame for anything—between having my parents for their parents and having my shadow to live in all their lives, it’s amazing they aren’t screwed up.

I Want to Be a Cartoon
I went to my agent, Dusty—I call him that because he’s so old his skin has flaked into a fine layer of powder over his entire body—and told him to get me some voice work. He sent me to a telemarketing firm, so I obviously went back and had to straighten things out with him.

The Net Lacks Fake Nude Clarissa Coleman Pics
Nothing says you’re off Hollywood radar when there’s nobody trying to fake your nudity on the web. That’s how you know Martha Raye and Phyllis Diller are hopelessly past their prime. I think I even saw a site with faked Dionne Warwick nude pics.

Giving Celebrity Shoplifters a Bad Name
Marcie McMillan, my co-star from the failed pilot for that underrated crime-fighting girls show Training Bras, was the master. She once shoplifted an entire aquarium, including fake rocks and a sump pump, out of a pet store while she was only wearing a bikini.