My life was like some psychotic mutant cross breed of Notting Hill and Bridget Jones's Diary. I worked in a second-hand bookstore and I was a blonde British girl trying to find the love of my life. The only difference was, I had no handsome(ish) Brits after my pudgy British arse, I didn't smoke like a chimney, but on occasion I did drink like a fish. and yes, my mother did like to send me her off cast clothing that looked like they were right out of the nineteen-forties.
Oh, and I lived in L.A. Movie capital of the world.
It took a twisted turn, however, the day my gay roommate managed to convince me that going in to a movie studio for Extras Casting was a good idea.
If I had known what my life would be like after that fateful day, I would have told him to sod off and cut his bollocks off for dragging my arse out the door.
