Meet Patran Fretti

A simple fact exists: There ain't room enough in this town for more than one awkward goggly-eyed black-framed glasses wearing dork of an actor. My proof is in this pudding: Every audition I show up to P. French is already there, and neither of us end up getting the part. Once we were dressed exactly the same. Granted it was St. Patrick's Day, but it's not my fault my green shirt is one of my top three shirts. Today it was the new Ricky Gervais movie. Not three minutes after I sit to wait in a relatviely empty hallway (save a strange man named Joel armed with a barrage of questions) Mr. French waltzes out and has seemingly wrapped the thing up. Today we weren't dressed alike per se, but what with my previous note regarding the glasses and the eyes and the proximity of our audition times, we may as well have been. I walked out of there confident in my performance of the one line, but I couldn't rid myself of the nagging sensation that it's signifgance was tainted simply by the fact that "I" had just auditioned for the same role. This cannot be.

My solution is this: I declare an all out war on Patrick French. Pick your sides now. Because when this boulder gets rolling, it'll take down anyone not already attached. It's been a long time coming too. Ever since Two Rooms when we'd compete for the most pathetic joke ever, we'd give eachother dagger-eyes and verbal slaps. And even now during Roshomon rehearsals with the knee touching and the head shaking and the middle fingers. Ever since we were BORN and felt the shudder of the other. I'll concentrate on taking acting classes, getting updated headshots and honing my craft later. Right now, I need to obliterate my lone competition!