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Going on auditions was as unpleasant for me as having a pussy flap tattooed. Some people are incredible at it; born to audition. I've always been awful at it. I hated every second of it. My gut always told me not to go whenever i'd get sent out, but a voice inside my head would convince me to do it: “What if you took 20 minutes out of your day, got chosen and landed a 20 thousand dollar national commercial?”
The truth of the matter is I never landed shit because most of the time I looked unpresentable. I'd go in there and get cotton mouth and cringe the entire time. Brands look for people with perfect shells, like supermarket cakes: perfectly decorated, but once you eat them they taste like nothing at all. Like eating a fucking sponge. They want people to look the way aliens would look when disguising themselves as humans. That one looks the way a “mother” would, or that other one looks the way a “doctor in his 50's” would look, and that one looks like a “rockstar” is supposed to look. That's modern advertising, and that's ok, I guess. I have dozens of friends who don't mind doing it. It just wasn't for me. I'd go in there, state my name, and whenever i'd catch a glimpse of myself in the camera lens I swear my reflection looked like the cartoon guy from Mad TV with the big ears.
Then, one day I got a phone call for something that seemed a little more interesting than an audition for a “girl in line at a Bank Of America” commercial. It was an audition for an “uncensored” spanish TV talk-show. They were looking for 5 hosts in their twenties from all walks of life. Kind of like “The View,” but for younger people. I figured if it was “uncensored” it was ok to be myself.
So I get in there and, I must say, the majority of the people waiting to audition didn't look like aliens. There were a few aliens, but for the most part everyone looked like a real person. The first thing that happened was a lady came out and told us she'd be pairing us up in groups of five, and bringing us in, group by group, to have us discuss a certain topic in front of the camera. She asked us to be ourselves. Easy.
My 5 person group was great. Our topic was “taboo or unusual sexual acts.” Some of the people talked about bondage others about foot fetishes. I talked about pissing on others. I told them a story of how, once, a guy took me on a picnic date and, after we finished eating sandwiches on the grass, he asked if he could piss on my dress. I let him pee on me and then he asked me to pee on him while he jerked off.
A week later I heard back: I HAD GOTTEN THE JOB. I couldn't fucking believe it. This meant my life was going to change. I was in show business! They told me contracts were being drawn up as we spoke and the producers would be in touch shortly. I can't explain how happy I was. I cried, my mom cried, my sister cried, we literally must have toasted 50 times during that week.
And then I got the phone call from casting, telling me that one of the producers thought i'd be a liability because I was too outspoken and I had been removed from the cast. So that was that. I had a knot in my throat. The only thing I answered was “OK.” I just kept saying “OK, OK.” The casting director could tell I was crying even though I kept my replies to OK's. “Well, I do have something else you might be interested in auditioning for...” she said. “OK,” I answered. “It's a huge commercial for a major U.S brand.” “OK,” I said. “I'll email you the address and time for your casting call.”
I fucking showed up because at that point I no longer had any dignity left. I didn't give a shit anymore. I didn't even know what I was going in for. I walked in there and told the receptionist “Hi i'm Tamara Yajia and i'm here for the 3:15 audition.” She looked at the list she had in front of her “Yes, Kentucky Fried Chicken Commercial. First waiting room on the right.” Kentucky Fried Chicken. Fucking KFC. Coronel Motherfucking Sanders, fuck me in the ass. I walked into the room once again filled with aliens. I had no personality left inside me at this point. I was an alien too. I was called in right away. “State your name for the camera,” I smiled “Tamara Yajia.” This time, my reflection in the lens didn't resemble the Mad TV guy, this time I just saw a chicken nugget with hair. “OK Tamara, this is Joe. All we need you to do is dance with Joe. Dance with energy. Smile. Don't dance too close to him, just pretend you're two friends dancing.” “Ok,” I answered. She pressed play on her phone and Led Zeppelin's “Black Dog” came on. Joe was part of the casting crew. He was just a human dildo, filling in the part of “dancing guy,” so the girls that came in to audition would have a partner to vibe off of. I honestly wanted to be dead. I literally felt like a fried piece of chicken just flailing its arms everywhere. I had no face. I was just flopping around next to Joe the human dildo. My dignity was non existent. Then, suddenly, I honestly can't remember how it happened, but I did some kind of maneuver with my arms and struck Joe right on the dick with my hand. I remember hearing the smack. So loud. So painful. It was just a cold, hard smack on the dick. Poor Joe fell to the ground. The mouth of the camera guy turned into an O. I stood there, watching Joe fall on his knees, still holding his aching penis just screaming “Fuckkkk,” and the next thing I know was I ran out of the room. I ran to my car and drove straight home and haven't gone to a single audition since.