I pull back my curtains at 6:45 am, and surprise, surprise, another sunny day in LA. I am out the door by 6:55.  I know what you're thinking, "Early call time!"

Wrong, just desperately needed Starbucks.   I normally brew my own coffee to save a couple of bucks, but I got home late last night from a long night at the bar.  Don't be so quick to judge, I was working!  I parked in a 7-9 am tow away zone last night because it was the closest to my apartment door, and I was too exhausted to walk the extra 10 feet.  Seemed like a good idea at the time.

I figured, "Hey, if you're gonna be in the car this early you might as well reward yourself with a treat."  For some reason, I can always find a way to reward myself with a cup of steaming hot java from Starbucks.

Yes, I'm a Starbucks Gal.  I know all you LA people are against it, with the trendy places like Inteligensia. I just don't own enough American Apparel to walk in there every morning.  Starbucks accepts me in my pajamas, big furry boots, and tangled hair every morning.  It's a coffee shop where I can just be me every morning, and nobody cares.  One of the few in LA.

Plus, it's in the grocery store so I can pick up cat litter for my kitten, Emma Jean MacKenzie Ross. (She's too cute for one name)  She was Emerson until a couple weeks ago when the vet informed he was actually a she.  The confusion i felt when Emerson left, and Emma showed up is a story for another time and place.

 I run across Vine from my new safe parking spot at 7:15 am. Dodging the rush hour traffic, while carrying a Grande cup of coffee and a grande jug of cat litter. Making it to my apartment door safely is a true challenge.  If this is all I accomplish today, I'm still ahead of most people in the world.

I settle down to read the script I just received in my email.  Oh, did I mention, I booked a show.  Surf Chefs!  I film in a couple of days, and my character is a 16 year-old  crazy runner girl.   Basically, I play myself minus 8 years life experience.  This is going to be so fun!  I take a big sip of my coffee, and feel one step closer to my plan for taking over the world/ entertainment industry.  Come on, we all know the entertainment industry runs the world.

"Ahhhhh... " I sigh, as I strech my arms over my head at 6:15 am.  I go to open my curtains for a beautiful morning view of the sun coming up over the Hollywood sign.  As I pull back my gold satin curtains, I notice my yellow fingers and a giant black blotch on my arm.  I head towards the coffee pot, and catch a quick glimpse of myself in the mirror.

I have ketchup in my hair, my eyeliner is smeared, and my Revlon long lasting red lipstick is still on my bottom lip.  "The life of an actress," I giggle as I admire how much of a mess I am.

Okay, okay, I know what you're thinking.  This girl must've gotten wasted last night trying to schmooz it up with Mr. Joe Hollywood.  AKA, Mr. Take off your clothes, and I'll make your dreams come true lil' mama.

Think again.  I may look innocent, naive, and sixteen, but I'm not falling for that line of Bull Shit.  "Should I call your wife or kids first Joe?  I'm sure they're wondering where you are?"  I'd then ninja kick him in the balls, smile, shrug my shoulders, and say whoopsie.  (A smile and a shoulder shrug is my secret weapon, gets me out of anything.)

Sorry, lost in a fantasy.  Where was I?  Oh yes, how could I forget.  The giant clump of ketchup in my hair, and the black and yellow face paint that covers my hands.  Yesterday was a day filled of keeping the dream alive.

I started by driving all the way to Carson to be Sleeping Beauty at a 2 year-old birthday party.  First of all, 2 year olds don't know or care who the heck Sleeping Beauty is.  Second of all, the 12 year-old cousins, who I had the pleasure of entertaining, pretend not to know and act like they could care less who the heck Sleeping Beauty is.  They are too cool, and on to Justin Bieber.

My face painting portfolio consists of a heart, star, and spider.  At sweet Baby Alex's 2 year-old birthday, I paint I love JB two dozen times.  I then proceeded to paint: I love BOOB for a couple of teenagers who are into the Breast Cancer fad.  I top off my artist skills with a beautiful princess crown that I paint on baby's forehead while her mom squeezes her down.  I now know how nurses feel when they give a shot.  I feel for you ladies!

Once my fingers are sufficiently frozen from painting in an oversized gown that allows for 40 degree wind gusts to blow right through my bones, it is time for me to wheel my princess bag off to survival job numero dos.

I change as safely as one possibly can while driving down the 405 at 80 miles per hour.  Half praying for traffic so I can get my shirt over my massive crown with out killing myself, and half praying for people to speed up so I don't get a write up for being late.

I arrive in one piece, sprint into the bar, and am just in time to pour the first round of beers for a party of thirty grumpy old men.  My co-worker/ friend walks up to me and asks, "Did you come from shooting something?  You look stunning."

I grin, wishing desperately that was the case.  No, just the life of a princess.  We laugh, and then cheer on the arm wrestling contest that is going on in the middle of the bar.  "Man, I'm glad I went to college for this."

As I pour myself a giant cup of coffee, I am grateful for yesterday.  I can now pay for my acting class, and will have some pretty phenomenal stories to tell Ellen Degeneres when she invites me on her show.

Off to a day filled with Angels, Vampire Killers, and Pole Dancing.  Just livin the dream, and frickin lovin it!!