How It Feels To Look Like Shit

It’s a Sunday afternoon and I’m walking down Hollywood Blvd holding a large pizza box. I’m on my way home. I plan to get home, eat this pizza and then lay in bed. I’m coming back from the Arclight where I went to see the new indie rom-com “Obvious Child” with my producers and cinematographer (we wanted to check out our competition). They have all gone out for dinner after the film, but I’m exhausted and I just need to be alone with my pizza. It’s been a tough week.

As I walk past a tacky souvenir shop, two Armenian guys (who I assume are the shopkeepers – because I’m racist) look me up and down. One says, “Hey baby. Why you so sad?”

I stop to reply. “I’m not sad. I’m actually really happy. I just look like shit.”

Neither of them correct me. I continue walking.

When I decided to take on this film project, I knew it would be stressful and I was prepared for that. Honestly, I thrive on stress. As I mentioned before, I’m a workaholic. What I didn’t take into account was the fact that my physical appearance might begin to show signs of this stress.

For example, I have apparently been scratching at my own face in my sleep, which has created several scratch marks. I also have a nervous twitch sometimes of rubbing my nose, so the skin around my nose has started peeling away. The combined result of both these habits is that I now look kind of like Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer after a crash landing into a field of thorn bushes.

I also have a tendency to get acne breakouts during periods of stress and got a very large one in between my eyes, which I then decided to puncture with a needle in front of my bathroom mirror. The result of this? Well, my face is currently sporting a sizable stab wound.

I’ve also bitten all the skin around my finger nails, have gained a few pounds from eating junk food on the go and have bags under my eyes. But who gives a shit. I’m making a fucking movie.