Stardate 11 Feb 2006: 3:04pm

Friends, strangers, lovers and whatever the else you people could be to me, oh yea-- I forgot "enemies"... Which I am proud to say I have many. In my business, if you don't, you’re some shmuck agent representing fifteen people who combined are going to make you $28,000 a year...if you're lucky. Anyway, sorry I haven't been around much but sometimes life catches up with you and kicks you in the fucking ass!

It's pilot season. That means a million wanna-be's come to LA hoping to be the next big start in the next big TV series. Out of the million, 999,000 will go home, dreams busted, never to return. 750 will go home and give it a shot next pilot season. 250 will stay because they want it that bad and they realize you can't succeed unless you fail. Those are the people I want to represent. Them, and blondes with big tits and great asses who know how to suck a good cock. What am I talking about? I could give a fuck if they are blond. Brunettes and redheads are also welcome. Yippee Kiyea Motherfucker!

Speaking of which, I gotta get Bruce Willis as a client. Whoever is guiding his career right now must be blind, deaf, and dumb. The guys a star, always will be. Can act too. But the choices he's making? Or should I say, he and his peeps are making... What I mean by he'll always be a star is there are those chosen few who you always want to watch in the right vehicle. They have something about them that you're willing to go on the ride with. They turn right when you think they're gonna turn left. Jack is a perfect example of that. (Nicholson for all you non pro's who don't know that in Hollywood, you only call stars by one name.) With Jack, you never know what you're gonna get and that's fun. And he could give a rats ass how his hair is looking or if they shot him on his "good side." Jack loads it up and takes it to the hoop. I'd kill to rep Jack, but he's one of those rare few who has stayed with his manager from the beginning. Maybe I should kill his manager. Ha, just kidding, Sid here has no desire to spend the rest of his life bending over for Bubba. No client is worth that shit.

So that crazy bitch that banged up my car keeps calling me. I don't answer. In my office, they know to cockblock her. I know she's going to end up just coming over to my house. Yes, I have a security system in my house but still-- a crazy woman with her mind set could get into Fort Knox. I wish she'd just GO THE FUCK AWAY! Actually, I wish she wouldn't so damn crazy because she was a great fuck. But then again, if she wasn't so loopy she wouldn't be as great a fuck. Funny how that is.

Danny's being a whinny bitch again. "Waaaa, why do I have to work with someone who's politics I don't believe in." "Waaaa, I want to make the movies I want to make." "Waaaaa, I want to change the world for better." Yeah, well, tell that to Oliver Fucking Stone who has to be looking at the present war SCREAMING inside his head; "FUCK! DIDN'T THEY SEE PLATOON. DIDN'T THEY SEE BORN ON THE FORTH OF JULY!? I THOUGHT I CHANGED THE WORLD. FUCK!!!!!!!"

You know what I said to Danny? "Lighten up, Francis." I love using movie quotes. If you don't know what movie that's from, first of all, shame on on. Second of all, ask and I will tell you.

What else can I tell you? Oh, I know. One of my clients, I won't mention his name, but it starts with an "A", he gets a call from this girl he's friends with one night. She's very upset her boyfriend and her just broke up. And she's a hottie. He's supposed to be at a gig but blows it off for the girl. All night she's vulnerable and sad and she wants to be happy and made to feel good about herself and this knucklehead, what does he do? Nothing. That's right, nothing! He's in the perfect position to fuck her brains out. In fact, that's what she wants but he doesn't get it. He thinks he's just supposed to be there and say things like "It will be alright." "You'll get over it." Bla bla bla. If she wanted that shit she would have called up her freakin' girlfriend. She wanted to get fucked. She wanted him to pound her hurt away.

So, needless to say, he is no longer a client. I dropped him.

Hey, you smell that? Yeap, smells like pussy. So I'm over and out.

SS

Stardate 31 Dec. 2005

I'm sorry that I haven't gotten to all you Lovers, Minos, Stranger, and other things in a week but I was busy. Fucking Holiday season and all-- Merry Fucking Christmas and Happy Chanukah. You know I mean it. You know I love ya. I'm not going to say "Happy Holidays" because it's stupid. We say "Happy New Year" yet there are eight hundred fucking New Years. Ours. The Chinese New Year. The Jewish New Year. You name it. If there's a "people" they have a new year and a holiday and good God damn good for them. My dog, when he was alive, had a new years too. "Happy Get to Lick My Balls New Year." He celebrated it three to four times a day. Hey, I would too. Who am I kidding? No I wouldn't. I'd celebrate it ten to twenty times a day!

Where was I? Oh, right, I was fucking crazed these past few weeks. Why? I was busy going over the list and checking it twice to make sure my hot ass assistant went out and bought gifts for all my clients who were naughty and nice. If you know me, you know the naughty ones got MUCH better gifts. Actually, the moneymakers get the better gifts. And usually they are naughty horny toads. There are three levels of gifts this time of year. All managers and agencies have it: A few thousand dollars spent on clients who make you the most money and yet are the ones who don't need the free swag because they can afford to buy anything they freakin' want. (Ah, that's life my little Minos.) Then there are the clients who made some money and/or you know have big potential. They get the gift baskets of goodies. Then there's the clients who don't make a lot of money and you don't think have any chance; they get a card that reads something like "A Generous Donation Has Been Made To Such-And-Such Charity In Your Name." Some clients actually buy that shit. Those are the ones you dump at the end of January. Then there are the smart ones who know you were going to donate a fixed sum no matter if you had 10 clients or 100 and they better get there act together or next year there card is going to read NO CARD because I dumped there fucking ass.

Ho. Ho. Ho.

No, I'm not fucking playing Santa Claus. I Just saw a couple of hookers walking down the beach and couldn't resist. I'm sure you're wondering what I got Danny for Christmas. A card. That's right, he got one of those fucking charity in your name cards. I hope he knows what that means, because he has 365 days-- wait, it's a leap year so make that 364 days to get his act together and realize he ain't Howard fucking Roark and he isn't in Kansas anymore. He needs to take assignments and write shitty ass movies like every other sell-out writer/director/actor in this town.

Hacks. They're fucking HACKS! That's why I admire Danny and DON'T YOU EVER TELL HIM OR I'LL KICK YOUR ASSES. He ain't a hack. He never will be. And that's why I'll probably have to dump him in 364.

Gotta make money. And idealists don't make you any money. They just get you thinking how much of a sell out you've become.

Speaking of selling out, let's talk about this fine movie business we are in-- one of America's most important and profitable exports which is down over 11% this box office year. And since it's the end of the year it's time for your buddy Sid to give you the low down on what's out there and what you should see and shouldn't see. First of all, it was a banner year in Hollywood. Somehow, they managed to make more SUCK ASS FUCKING CRAP PIECES OF DINOSAUR SHIT MOVIES then ever in the history of this phoney tinsel town. (For those who don't know it, Dinosaur shit is about as big a dump as you can fucking take.)

The thing is, I went into the business because I use to love to go to movies to escape. Now I can't wait to escape from the movies I go to.

And to be honest, I don't go to many movies anymore. No one in the business goes to movies. If they watch them, they get them delivered to their house's where they watched them in their plush movie room with two overstuffed couches and another six overstuffed chairs. There, in the comfortable multi million dollar world that very few live in, they see what they like and what they don't. Sometimes they watch on their own, sometimes with their family's, sometimes they watch with there friends, sometimes they watch with some hot chick they told could see "The Dukes Of Hazard" before it comes out so they can get a blow job while Jessica Simpson is on the screen doing her thing. Okay, yeah, that last example was me. So the fuck what? You would if you could. The studio sent over the movie to my house the week before it opened because they want a client of mine for the sequel they've already decided to make and there was NO FUCKING WAY and I was going to watch it without jerking off to Jessica or getting head from some actress. And since I could sit back and relax while the blond with the silicone lips and tits could do her thing while I watch the movie and eat popcorn -- why not. You'd do the same thing -- if you could. You can't. I can. Get over it.

But I can also still see movies at theatres, just like the rest of you-- and I do. (I do, however, envy you because you watch a movie as a fan, and no matter what, I still have some business going on when I watch it. Man, innocense lost sucksass!) Watching movies at a movie theatre with the regular folks is something very few people in my position ever do. Let me say that again. People who run the movie business DON'T GO SEE MOVIES IN MOVIE THEATERS! That would be like Bill Parcels never going to a football game...just coming up with strategies that they put on paper-- never truly seeing how the play works LIVE because that's the only way you can see why it did or didn't work. Not on TV. Live. That way you can make the team better. Same in my business. If you don't have the movie experience with the audience that actually sees it you don't know what the audiences truly like and why something worked or didn't. You are out of touch-- and that is what most of this town is...out of touch.

All facets of the movie industry.

The people who Greenlight the movies and those who market them. Some of those marketing people FUCK UP REALLY GREAT MOVIES. You look at the trailer or commercials and think, "Who the fuck wants to see that piece of shit" (and it's not but you don't know it 'cause the trailer is so fucking bad) or you learn the entire movie from the fucking trailer so there is no freakin; reason to go see it. Clint once told me, (yes, that's Eastwood my little minos), that they give away too much in the trailers. Make it simple. Give them a hint. Say it like a whisper...so they want to see the rest.

I can't remember what I liked this year other than "Wedding Crashers" and "40 Year Old Virgin." Oh, and "Crash." That's it. THAT'S IT! Now, I admit, I still haven't seen a lot of the movies that were just released and I am praying some of them will actually be good. But thanks the fuck lot for going 11 months of crap only to maybe, MAYBE release a few golden tickets at the end of the year. Oh, yeah, I did like "Charlie And The Chocolate Factory" (always put Johnny Depp in a movie with "Chocolate" in the title...For that matter, aways put Johnny Depp in a movie if it has a title.) and "Batman Begins" (although I still would like to know how he became such a great fighter...before he was trained to become an even greater fighter.) If I was a consumer out there who goes to see movies, I'd write the company that released the movie after about 75% of all movies I see DEMANDING my money back. "Hey, you lied to me fucknuts! You told me it was 'funny or 'exciting or 'something I've never seen' movie. Fuck You! It sucked ass!!!"

Maybe I'll start a class action suit. Let me know if you're in or out.

I hate this business because it's destroying the very thing I love. Movies.

On that note, let me tell you what to see. The "Lords of Dogtown." It Will clens your soul-- make you believe in magic again. (BUT first watch the documentary..."Dogtown & Z Boys." AMAZING movie. Then watch "Lords..." Then watch "Riding Giants." Why? 'CAUSE I SAID SO! Trust me on this one. If I was telling you to trust me on a deal or with your sister, DON'T. But when it comes to telling you what movies to see, I will always, ALWAYS be 110% honest with you.) Sure, I live in Venice so I am bias and think those movies are the bomb. (They are, in a way, about Venince. Or what Venice did to change our culture.) None of those movies did shit at the box office because the studio fuckwards were too buys sinkin g $30 million into marketing shit movies-- like anything Michael Bay makes. (What the fuck?!) Go see those movies. They honest and it's real and what movies should be. So, there you have it.

Smell that? Smells like pussy.

Happy New Year, Little Minons. Have a great 2006. Remeber, you will if you go after your dreams.

What?! Who the fuck am I kidding. Dreams? Right. You'll have a good years if you bang your brains out until your numb!

Stardate 9 December, 2005

Okay, suckers, can't talk to long today, as it's a busy one. Meeting with some athletes. Can't say who, but you see them all the time. They want me to rep them. I'm not sure I want to because athletes are even bigger babies than actors and more athletes end up in jail than actors. So who needs the headache, right?

But then of course, when I make a 150 million dollar six year deal for them to play on some team that they will eventually leave before the deal is closed, that's 15 million in my pocket. Unless they violate a morals clause or other rules in the contract, then it goes way down and the new house I bought in Park City off that deal goes by-by. Again, who needs the headache, right?

One thing’s for sure. I'll get the best seats to all the games and -- what am I talking about. I ALREADY get the best seats to all the games. (SC vs USC, yeah, you got it, I was on the field, motherfucker.) I'm Sid Sherdel. Sid Sherdel gets the best seats to EVERYTHING.

Smell that? That's right, it smells like pussy to me.

Talk to you next time, suckers.

Stardate 28 November 2005.

I should have done this on Friday and I’m sure all three of you who read this are waiting with baited breath for my blog so sorry for the delay. In between downloading porn and jerking off you now again have something good to read.

I had some personal problems I had to deal with. No, not gonna tell you thus the reason I use the word “Personal.” Get a clue, will ya.

It’s that time of the year again that the studios send me DVD’s of their movies and presents and fruit baskets to get me to vote for their movie come Oscar time. Well, I’m not a member of the Oscar’s, but they want me to spread the word how fucking great their movies are. They need to bribe me better. Especially this year. I don’t think seven hookers and an eight ball would get me to spread good cheer about their shit ass movies.

Last year was shit too until the last six weeks and then they came out with a bunch of good and some great movies.

Why the fuck do they always do it? You spend all year watching crap -- and then the last six weeks they bring out the good shit.

Except this year. So much shit.

And the sad thing is, two movies I thought were really good and should get nominated never will, because they are out and out comedies. Fucking Oscar voters. Comedy is the hardest thing to write, act, direct... But noooooooo. If we laugh too much, it’s not deep enough to be an Oscar winner.

Fuck you!

And the whole thing about actors who have afflictions getting Oscars? Not for nothing, but that’s the easy shit. Sure, Leo was great in Gilbert Grape-- but Johnny D had the much harder part and pulled it off like a master. There’s someone I’d love to sign to my stable. Man’s built a great career-- so I guess he doesn’t need me since he’s done just fine without me.

Fuck that! You really believe I meant that shit? Fuck no! They ALL need me. If I didn’t think that, I should tuck my tail between my legs and head home. No matter how good someone’s career is going-- I can make it better. And their lives. That’s because I just don’t manage a career, I manage a person. Well, when I like you that’s how it is. Sure, I’ve got some asshole clients I keep on the call sheet because they work or they will get work-- but those guys I don’t put my heart into because I know no matter how successful they are, they’ll always be hacks. They could be making twenty million a year -- still hacks. Carbon copies of someone else who the main fucking stream likes because they’re vanilla. Mediocrity celebrating mediocrity.

Stanley Kubrick once said to me when I was a young turk in the business, “It takes genius to discover genius.” Didn’t know what he meant until I started getting in the face of studio chiefs trying to convince them to make a movie instead of the same old crap they were making.

I then realized that people are afraid to go outside their comfort zone. And 90% of the world has settled for mediocrity so they champion that (Birds of a feather). Anything else frightens them. Bernie Brillstien, a legend when it comes to managers in this town, once said “Anytime anything good gets on TV, someone fucked up somewhere.” Meaning, it’s rare when that happens.

He was 110% right. But you can add movies, music, art, even bus driving. Yeah, a bus drive can be an artist if he does it with flair. More of an artist than most of the hacks that call themselves artist.

But when I have someone I think can leap beyond the genre, like Michael Jordan did in basketball, or Frank D does with his writing-- then I manage their life. And no one is going to do a better job at it than me. Because I want to see them raise the bar. Because in this town, the bar is sooooooooooo fucking low.

I just got a script from the hot writer in town. They want one of my clients to play the lead guy. It’s a romantic comedy. Check that. It’s a romantic, supposed to be comedy. I laughed once, chuckled once, that’s it. And the story?! Fuck me!!!! Stupid as fuck, seen it before done a lot better-- did I mention stupid as fuck. And the writing? Fuck me! I could fart a better script.

One of the many reasons I live in Venice is to get away from shit like that. To see that people can go beyond what most think is “The status quo.” Venice Beach, the whole thing, was conceived by an artist. A guy named Abbot Kinney. He built this whole place. He thought it should have a cool, open, artistic feel to it. He built the canals, and all of it. At one time, this place had tons of amusement parks and rides and games. Abbot raised the fucking bar. It was a colony. Then it went to shit. But then another group of artist saw gold in the shit. And they raised the bar by creating a new wave of skateboarding that the world had never seen. It was so real, so pure and raw, that the beauty was extraordinary. Yeah, that’s one of the reason I live in Venice. So I remember that there is gold in shit. And that those who can see beyond they ordinary, create a better world.

Do you smell that? That’s right-- smells like pussy.

So I'm so SOOH. (Sid Out Of Here.)

See you next time, suckers.

Side Blog: Stardate 10 November 2005

Sid here. Bet you wish I was there. If you had half a fuckin’ brain you’d wish I was there, at your side, in your corner, got your back because I’m a career maker and I’d make your career.

Okay, I know you already know that so why should I tell you again?

BECAUSE PEOPLE DON’T LISTEN!!!

That’s what I dealt with today. I told the studio I could get Danny out of another project and onto their movie to do a production re-write for a mid six figures. (The other project Danny is working on is that fuckin’ radio station job he has for 9 bucks an hour. He’d make more money jerking off at a sperm bank-- have more fun too). Anyway, I totally got the studio going. Those shmucks go from “We don’t know if Danny is right for this assignment” to “What do you mean we can’t have him, we have to have him, he’s the only guy right for this assignment!” God, these people are so easy to manipulate. Just turn their fear against them. Works every time.

So yeah, I just made Danny a man with money. He can buy a new car, move to a better place, get his shit together. I’d like to say he could buy a house, but in LA, if you want to buy a $90,000 dollar house, you need to spend a million eight. The deals rich, but not that rich. After deal three, he can buy the house. Anyway, he’ll finally have money in his pocket, in the bank, and in places that will keep his hottie with him for a while longer.

But what does ol’ Dano do?

HE DOESN’T FUCKING LISTEN!!!

I don’t call him with the good news, I go down to his shit ass radio station where he works in a dark room that smells like beer, puke, pussy and cum so I can tell him face-to-face, because I feel good news, (as well as bad), should be handled like that. Not over a phone, not in a text, not in an Email. Needs to be personal. Unless I’m breaking up with some hoe, then a text or e-mail is the only way to go. Who needs all that crying and screaming and name calling? “Fuck you, Sid, you’re an asshole and you have a little dick. BEAT. Please don’t leave me, Sid! Pleaseeeeee!”

Why do they always say that to guys. All the guys I know, that’s what the woman says when a guy pisses them off and breaks up with them. Except my black friends. No, I take it back, Jimmy was told by his girlfriend he had a little dick when he broke up with her. So either that’s what women say to men all the time, or I hang with a bunch of guys who aren’t hung.

Where the fuck was I? Oh, in the shit-hole that Dan calls work. So I tell him that I got him this gig. Big smile on his face. Then he asks what the story is about. Big smile on his face. Then he says, “Who’s the producer?” That’s when his smile disappears. Fucker says he won’t work with him because he gives money to fight stem cell research and he’s against same sex marriage. I’m like, “Are you fucking kidding me?! So what?! You think his lousy investment in those things make’s a difference?!” Dan comes back with, “A pebble in the ocean can cause a ripple that becomes a tidal wave.”

First of all, don’t get all Eastern Philosophy on me, motherfucker. I’m the one who taught him that shit. I’m the one who gave him the books. I’m the one who introduced him to the Dali Fuckin’ Lama....so obviously, I’m the one who’s to blame for him not taking the gig!

No, I am not to blame. This has nothing to do with Zen, this has to do with Green. And he needs the Green and he needs people in the business to see his work. What he doesn’t need to do is spit in the face of someone who just busted his fucking nuts to get him a gig.

I was so pissed, I actually grabbed that fucker by the neck and Bobby Knighted him against the wall. Scared the piss out of him because he saw the East Coast temper in my eyes and he knows some things about my past. I’ll leave that at that.

I let the fucker go, and just shook my head and left.

I was about to get into my car, the one that you might remember was BASHED IN BY THAT CRAZY FUCKING PYHSCO HOE CUNT BITCH, when Danny comes running out. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Don’t be mad at me, Sid” So I say, “Ok, fine, does this mean you’re gonna take the gig?” He says; “No.” I just starred at him, blankly. He says, “I’m just sorry that you worked so hard on it and I’m not taking the gig. I feel bad for you.”

I had no choice but to burst out laughing. What the fuck could I say. He actually felt bad for me -- not for himself for being a shmuck who’s broker than hell and just lost out on a shit load of money. Sure, I would have liked the commission. No matter how much money you have, whether it’s millions or billions, you want more. Human nature, I guess. But I was more upset about the great job I had done maneuvering those shmucks to get him into the number one spot, only to have Mr. Number One Spot shoot it down.

I’m like, “Fine, Dano, fine. I’ll speak to you later. Tell that hottie of yours I said hello. If she’s still sticking around and sucking your lame ass cock, that is.” Then I get into my car, THE ONE THAT GOT BASHED IN BY THAT CRAZY FUCKING PYSCO HO CUNT BITCH, and what does Dano say; “Sid-- think you can spot me a hundred dollars? I’m short on this months rent.”

What the fuck?! I mean, what the fuck?!!!

I got out of my car, SLAMMED the door shut and moved toward him. I think he thought I was going to punch him in the face. But I took out a hundred dollar bill and gave it to him. Stubborn prick won’t take a job because of someone’s political beliefs and he can’t even afford rent. I thought about not giving it to him, teaching him a lesson-- tough love and all that. But then I didn’t want to see my client out on the street, sucking cock for a place to stay, so like I said gave him a hundred.

But what I didn’t tell you is, before I did, right in front of him so he could see, I took the hundred dollar bill, shoved it down the front of my pants and rubbed it on my balls. Then I gave it to him.

I had to have some fun considering he killed my buzz.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Stardate 27 October 2005

Halloween is almost upon us. Why is it that so many girls dress up as sluts?

God, I love Halloween!!!

Yeah, my mind is on pussy. Like yours isn't. Fuck you. A man thinks about pussy every 3 seconds -- so they say. It's not conscious all the time, obviously, or we'd do nothing but whack off 24/7-- which isn't a bad idea. I realized you know your relationship is over when you go to bed with your girlfriend -- and can't wait for her to fall asleep so you can whack off.

Not gonna go into what's going on with my girlfriend because I don't have one. I date. I tell women right from the start that I am not looking for anything serious, that I just want to have fun. And yet, they DON'T LISTEN.

Like, say, Margo for example. That crazy-ass bitch who bashed in my car after we fuck and AFTER I tell her I'm not interested in anything other than some fun. I still have no idea why Crazy Bitch, which will be my new name for her from now on, bashed in my car. I'd say it was "that time of the month" but I was down there and the floodgates were not open. If they had been, I wouldn't have been down there. Not into going down on a women and coming up looking like I just came back from a war zone. But I will fuck her. I don't understand guys who don't. The same guys who will slay a dragon in order to get a woman is afraid of a little blood on his little cock. That's just stupid. Best time to fuck is when she's on her period. Why? 'Cause you can cum inside of her and no worries about getting her pregnant. And the last thing I ever want to do at this point in my life is get some crazy hoe -- or any woman for that matter, pregnant. Shit, that would fucking throw one hell of a curve ball into my life. I'm barely responsibility to take care of myself, let alone a kid. Fuck, that's a scary thought -- me with kids.

Don't get me wrong, I love kids. Not in a wacko-Jacko way of course. I think kids are the best humans on the planet, because they are 110% honest and they believe anything is possible...up until the age of nine. Then, sadly, we learn "can't," "don't," "impossible" and a host of other bullshit that fucks up our lives and causes us to live in fear.

Damn, my head hurts from talking about all this deep shit. Let me get back to pussy.

Crazy Bitch's pussy to be exact. 'Cause the thing is, I keep thinking about it. I don't want to, be it seems that the crazier a woman is the better she is in bed-- and Crazy Bitch is one crazy motherfucker and that means in bed-- she's a Goddess! She’s every man's dream cum true!!! I would never tell Crazy Bitch that, because she's the type who would use it to fuck with my head. I don't want to-- wait, what's that? Ahhh... you smell that? You smell that? Yep, it's pussy! And it's knocking on my front door. So I'll have to cut this short because, well, if you can't figure out why, you're a freakin' moron.

Stardate 14th October 2005

Today, I had to kill a client.

Well, not in the traditional sense of killing, although I wouldn't mind doing that at times. What, like you never thought of killing someone?! Right...Anyway, this knucklehead who's name I won't mention because it would be unfair to him, Steve White, is an actor I found doing a one man show in the basement of a bar in Venice for 3 drunk people and a waitress. I stumble into the place by mistake thinking there was an AA meeting going on. No, I'm not AA, I just learned from a movie called "The Player" it's a great way to make contacts because every other person in Hollywood is. By the way, that goes for going to the coke meeting and the Bulimics. Bring a Twinkie, you'll get the best blowjob of your fucking life!

Anyway, I go down here and see this guy pouring his heart out. Well, actually, I see the tits on the waitress. Great tits. And yes, assholes, I did get to play with them later. Tits-- they're not just for kids!

After I get done staring at Tit's MaGee's assets and I put my boner in check, I notice Steve doing his thing. And fuck me but he's actually good. Better than good. A little spit and polish and this guy has the makings of a star.

So I sign him.

I even loan him some money to get some decent clothes. I set him up on what I call the Test Audition. This is when an agent sends a client to audition for someone he’s friends with so he can get honest feedback. And honestly, the feedback is very good. So my hunch is right.

Now it's time to get down to the real work. I know that Marti (that's Martin Scorsesse) is doing a new movie Steve would be perfect for-- the second lead...will make him a star. So I bust my ass to convince Marti he needs to see this guy and then stop looking. Marti likes me because I introduced him to Leo at a party and they ended up making two movies together...thus far. Leo is his new DeNiro. Shit, I hope Bobby ain't pissed at me.

Anyway, he agrees to see Steve and not anyone else until he does. Great. We're in. Oh wait, I didn't realize Steve is a FUCKING MORON!!! He doesn't show up to the meeting. I track his slacker ass down and find out he's all bent up about some girl who dumped him. For fuck sake, get a pair of balls and move on. Okay, maybe that's a little insensitive, but hey, he becomes a star she'll come running back...her future divorce attorneys not far behind her.

So I snap Steve out of it and set up another audition. Marti's pissed but he's been around long enough to know that actors are flakes.

What does Steve do? Yep, you guessed it, he blew off the audition again. After I listen to Marti scream at me for ten minutes on the phone telling me I'm the asshole, I find Steve. He was bullshitting me about the girl. It was all an act. (Like I said, he's a great actor.) He tells me the real reason he didn't go is because he's out of shape and he thinks he'll look like shit on film. Uh, dude, there's such a thing called A GYM! Or like, EATING HEALTHIER!!! But no, he says that he just quit smoking and the only way for him to lose weight is for him to start smoking again because he's not discipline enough to do it any other way and no roll is worth his life.

Yeah, Assface? Well no client is worth my life either, so go find some other agent to hold your hand and walk you threw the ways of the world because Sid is Sidbye, Sidgone, Siddon'tcallmeeveragainassfacemotherfucker!!!

Sid, over and out.