I am wrapping up the filming of a movie, and I can't wait to finish and be on the way home. I apparently still live in
Madison, since that's the home I'm looking forward to. It's about 3:30, and I'm thinking I'll be on the road by 4pm.

Unfortunately, my assistant informs me that reshoots are scheduled to begin around
4:30. I'm trying not to be the stereotypical pretentious, hard-to-work-with actress, but I really wanted the fuck out of the sound stage. I go, somewhat angrily, to my hotel to apply layers and layers of pancake stage makeup. Of course, I've got people to do this for me, but I'm still peeved.

After I have all the makeup on, I'm unrecognizable as the famous actress I am. People on the street don't stop to get photographs with me; instead, they're making fun of me because I've got so much makeup on. They obviously don't understand that this much makeup is necessary on camera. The teasing just gets me more worked up.

By the time I storm onstage to do reshoots, I'm fuming. The director is familiar to me; she looks at me and sighs. The stereotypical actress that I'm trying not to be -- that's somehow what I've become over the years.