"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!!