The Season 2 Premiere!

It has arrived!

The 2nd season of Inside The Box is in full swing with the season premiere, "Introductions!" In this funny, heartfelt, edited collection of interviews, I introduce you to the 11 women who will be featured throughout the season. This extended episode gives you a peep inside these inspirational women's lives and to mine! The women of this season are, Amy Adams, Tara Donovan, Lisa Starry, Charlotte Crow, Carla Delaney, Kimberly Condict, Katie Walder, Sierra Delgado, Fara D'aguiar, Madelynn Elyse, and Stephani Casey. These women are fascinating as they discuss both their careers and personal lives and the attempt to find the perfect balance. Enjoy and tune in every Monday for new episodes. Next week: "Hometowns: and what makes them fantastic... or not so fantastic."

Inside the Box: Episode 7- Katie Watson

This week's episode is hosted by Andrea Chesley, co-hosted by Randi Straight with returning panelist, Meagan English. Our guest is Katie Watson, business affairs coordinator at David&Goliath, and one of Andrea's friends from high school. Listen in as she reveals her path to success, from top athlete and student body president to landing a job at one of Los Angeles' top Ad Agencies. The two martini lunch is back for Katie! Also, she reveals her secret love for a good, girly cocktail. Things also get a little steamy as we discuss one of The Huffington Posts most "scandalous" lists. Thank you to Katie for letting me use her high school photo from our yearbook for the player photo! See what our student body president has been up to. (Go Knights!) 

Inside the Box Episode 6- Jenny Cadena

From right: Ana, Andrea, Jenny, Randi

Episode 6 of Inside the Box is, as always, hosted by Andrea and co-hosted by Randi. This week, new panelist, Ana joins us with special guest, Colombian-born actress and activist, Jenny Cadena! We discuss the purpose of Inside the Box, Randi's new segment, "Randi's super irrelevant movie review," late-life religious conversions, activism, female roles in film, the tough business of acting, and how to survive in Hollywood with "unpopular" political views. Listen here or download us on Itunes! 

Justice, Confrontation, and Latent Anger Issues

Confrontation and animation at it finest. 

Some people do all they can to avoid confrontation. They fear it. It makes them uncomfortable. They prefer a tranquil, harmonious environment, where no one is angry or has a personality. To them I say, “Good luck with your boring life, Wuss.”  I love confrontation. I revel in it. I don’t love it for the sake of it. I don’t just walk around yelling at people. I love it because, under the right circumstances, it is the breeding ground for justice. Sometimes, those tranquil, harmonious environments seem nice on the surface, but just below that surface lay smarmy line cutters, parking space stealers, eye-rollers, or  rude-to-starbucks-guy guys. And they’re getting away with it. Well, whenever these creeps show their colors, I’m there; ready to win a small victory for human kind with confrontation. Like the justice police or like the confrontation super hero, ConFron Girl. (No… not that name. I’ll need some time.) I am reminded of my favorite scene from ’30 Rock’ starring Tina Fey. The opening scene for that series is brilliant. Tina’s character, ‘Liz’ stands in a long line for a hot dog when a suit, line-cutter starts a new line, threatening her and 10 others’ hot dog experience. Liz confronts him about the new line and he says, “I’m just buying a hot dog.” To which she exclaims, “We’re ALL buying hotdogs!” Then half of the original line joins the suit’s new line, like sheep. She then immediately buys all the hot dogs, all $150 worth, and

"Blerg." "I want to go to there."

passes them to the people in the original line and justice was served on that New York street. That guy would probably go on to cut another line, but that day he did not get away with it, he did not get a hot dog, and he’ll think twice before he inevitably does it again. Win.

What happens next in that scene brings us the 2^nd reason I love confrontation.  Liz then dances down the street, with her large box of hot dogs, smiling and bringing hot dog joy to people on the street, all to a theme song dedicated to her. This represents the high, the adrenaline rush after you’ve really given someone the business. I can live for weeks on the high a good confrontation gives me. It’s a rush. And it doesn’t always have to involve yelling or arguing. One time, I made a woman cry in Target without yelling. She was rude to my friend, the customer behind us, and the cashier. I read the situation, no one was going to say anything and the cashier certainly couldn’t, so I stepped in. All I had to do was say to the cashier, so that everyone could hear, “Have a good day, sir and good luck with that crazy bitch behind us!” All with a smile and a good thumb

I'm even more bad ass than this badass bitch AND her big feet. 

point. Everyone laughed. Was it very clever? No, but it worked. As she walked out, I noticed her red eyes and a tear that dripped down her face as she angry walked (I imitated this for weeks) to the door. Was she having a really bad day? Probably. Will she ever take that out on the innocent people shopping at a Target again? Nope. Win. That happened two years ago and thinking about it still gets me high.

I could take this bitch. "Do you even lift, sis?!"

Unfortunately, sometimes, you pick the wrong stranger to confront and you wind up hoping this isn’t the moment you’ll be shot in a Forever 21. But therein lies the problem. Some of my closest calls have delivered the biggest highs. Like this one: Picture it: October 19^th, 2013. A Trader Joes parking lot in Los Angeles, CA. Noonish. I’d just finished packing my grocery-filled, reusable (duh) bags into my car and was ready to reverse out of my parking spot. I was parked next to an SUV. I was driving my little Toyota so it was difficult to see around the large vehicle. I did my best to look all directions for other cars and pedestrians and began to reverse. Just then, a middle aged white couple and their teenage son came walking out from behind the SUV. Since the SUV wasn’t see-through, I didn’t see them until they were directly behind my car. I came to a sudden halt and put my hand up in a “Sorry, I didn’t see you there” sort of way and smiled, even though I definitely didn’t have to. Then, middle-age-crisis-dad threw his hands up and lipped, “What the fuck?” to me in through my rear window. Middle-age-crisis-dad obviously had no idea who he was messing with today. I did not deserve that. Any normal person would understand I did all I could do to stop as soon as I saw them. I thought, ‘Here we go, Andrea. Here’s your chance to really give it to someone.’ So, I assessed the situation. Dad: khaki shorts, polo shirt, calf-high socks, neon tennis shoes, receding hair-line. No threat. Mom: A buck-10, the eyes-too-close-together look of a woman who’s greatest achievement was the pimply, teenaged asshole on his phone. No threat. I could take her. Son: On his phone, paying no attention whatsoever. (It should be noted, that asshole stayed on his phone through the entirety of the following story.) I decided it was safe to retaliate. So, I threw MY hands up and mocked his, “What the fuck?” This pissed him off and he turned on his heels and started marching toward the passenger side of my car. I was like, ‘Here we go, Andrea. This is what we’ve been practicing for.’ I left the engine running, threw my e-brake on, and stepped out of the driver’s side to look the adversary in the eye over my Toyota.

“What’s your problem?!” He yelled.

“YOU, idiot! You all just appeared out from behind that SUV while I was reversing and I stopped as soon as I saw you. And you had to throw your hands up like a JERK?! What’s YOUR problem?!” I replied.

“It sure didn’t look like you were gonna stop!” He yelled louder.

“Pedestrians have the right of way.” His genius wife piped in.

“No Shit! That’s why I stopped, genius!” I said to the genius.

Dad stepped in close to my car and pointed in my face and in a deep, Alec Baldwin voice, with some of the craziest eyes I’ve ever seen said, “If you were a man, I’d punch the shit out of your face.”

This was surprising. And for a second, just a second, I was nervous. Dad obviously had some issues and maybe a gun? And I thought, ‘No, Andrea. Go for it. If he hits you, it’s definitely more damaging to him.’ So I replied in my best evil whisper, with even crazier eyes, (I do have crazy eyes) “I WISH you fucking would!” (For the record, for ridiculous purposes, I wish I would've replied, "You're out of luck, sir. There's no shit in my face.") 

This surprised him. He violently slammed his hand on the roof of my car and began to step around to my side of the car. He had the look in his eye of a man who had LOST HIS SHIT. So, I, with the look in my eye like a lady who had lost her shit, slammed my door to meet him in the middle. I was no chicken. I had asked for this beating and I was going to take it like a man… err, a woman! (Wait… that seems offensive….) But ok, I was going to take it like a WOMAN. Just then, his wife pulled him away, exclaiming, “It’s not worth it, Derek!” (Ha. Derek. Of course, right? Don’t name your kid Derek. He has a 100% chance of being a dick. Derek= Dick. Say Derek really fast five times. What do you get?) So, instead of beating a woman’s face in, Derek hocked a big loogie and let it rip on my windshield. I was appalled. This was the ultimate disrespect. That is the only explanation I can give for what spewed out of my mouth next….

“I SHOULD’VE RUNOVER YOUR WHOLE, FUCKING DISGUSTING FAMILY!!!” I meant it, too. His throat snot was on my windshield! Bleh!

“Oh no.” Genius wife said in a worried voice.

“YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE!” Dad said as he was pulled away.

“AND YOU’RE GREAT AT NAME CALLING!” I yelled sarcastically. (Not great, I know. But I was lit up.)  It was over at this point and I got back in my car. For a second, I had some remorse over threatening to kill a family in a Trader Joes parking lot and with shame, I cleansed the loogie off my windshield with my washer fluid. And then I replayed the scenario again in my head and realized that man was way in the wrong. He deserved everything I said. But I was in the wrong too because he was crazy and were it not for eyes-too-close-together wife, I might’ve gotten my first solid beating, assuming he didn’t have a gun, all because of my big mouth and “love” for confrontation. ‘I’m getting too old for this.’ I thought. Then it happened. The high. I was flooded with a rush that can only be compared to a glass of wine, post coital, followed by a long line of cocaine. (Never, ever done this….. I swear.) A HIGH I’ve never felt.  I smiled. Breathing heavily now and heart beating fast, I noticed a lingering piece of loogie in that portion of my windshield the wipers don’t get to. I frantically looked in my car for something to clean it with then quickly stopped. “No. Leave it.” I said to myself. Like a badge of honor. “You’ve won today, Andrea.”  I drove around with it crusted on my windshield for a week until it rained and every time I looked at it, I smiled.

The closest depiction the internet had of Derek. 

I know what some of you are now saying, “Geeze, Andrea Chesley: Blogger’s obsession with confrontation obviously represents some latent anger issues and emotional instability.” You’re probably right. And I am well aware. I was picked on a lot as a kid, like most, and never stood up for myself. So, here I am, an angry adult, but I am working on it. Confrontation and justice are important. Standing up for yourself is IMPORTANT. Just choose your battles wisely because, like most drugs, the high from confrontation can bring the lowest of lows or get you shot. That loogie on my windshield reminded me of this. While it represented my passion for justice, it also represented a tendency toward anger that is unhealthy.  Derek the dad is still a dick, but his DNA has taught me to remain the classy (ish) lady that I am in all situations, including confrontations.  

"I'm the first person to ever turn 30." -everyone who ever turned 30.

(If you're an agent, manager, or casting director visiting my website for the first time. I'm 26. I look 23 and I can play a highschooler if its 'Glee' but not if its the new '90210.')

I'm 26 and I would murder these donuts. 

In the year leading up to my 30^th birthday, everyone in their 30’s said the same thing, “Oh! You’re gonna love your 30’s. You’re more comfortable in your own skin and you know more. They’ve been the best years of my life!” Frankly, I always thought, ‘Well, that sounds like something an old person would say.’ My favorites have been the 25-year-olds who would say, “I can’t wait to turn 30! 30 is the new 21!” That sounds like something someone with 5 amazing years left would say. Eh.

Barbie's just getting pregnant and she's like, 70. Also, this is weird. 

So, for a year, I thought I would take advantage of the time I had left and I did a lot. I started a blog, I became a stand-up comedian, (debatable title but its on my facebook page and website now, so I’m going with it) I did a lot of karaoke, and I ate a lot of kale. I even attempted a Christmas album (Look out X-mas 2013.) As the months dwindled down and we welcomed 2013, it was as if I had been slapped in the face with my failures. I forgot I was ever successful at anything and was convinced that if I hadn’t been impregnated accidentally by now, I probably could not have children. I paid far too much attention to the “Turning 30” facebook posts made by my internet friends. Things like, “I’m so happy to be turning 30! I have an amazing career! I have amazing children! I have an amazing marriage! I’ve been to several countries! I’m on a juice cleanse! I booked a role on Criminal Minds! I was on the Price is Right! I’m so blessed to be 30!” This was very depressing. I could not make any of those statements. Never the less, I was determined to make 2013 and the year I turned 30 the best ever.  It was time to make plans! Further my career! Think about how to fit a child around my inevitable sitcom regular role (because I’m very cute and, despite what you’ve heard, that’s all it takes to be successful in Hollywood) and maybe a 2^nd cat!  And a wedding! When you’re almost 30 and with a guy who’ll do, you MUST get married! I needed to write more, book comedy shows, take casting workshops, do agent showcases, lose 10 pounds! Network! JUICE CLEANSE!!!!!

 I had 2 months before I was to turn 30, so this was a lot of pressure. So, I did what I always do when faced with a lot of pressure… I took naps. I took A LOT of naps. I beat myself up every time I napped. I beat myself up every time I didn’t make it to yoga class. I beat myself up every time I ate a non-fibrous carb. I would beat myself up every night I didn’t write. My last blog post says its part of a Trilogy! I’ve got news for you, the other two parts don’t exist! I NEVER WROTE THEM! I beat myself up every time I had a drink because “I didn’t deserve it.” (I actually quit drinking for 30 days on January 1^st….  Hardest 8 days of my life. “Oh, good idea, Andrea. Put, yet another qualifier on your behavior to beat yourself up over.”) I never wanted to go out because “I should be at home, writing or organizing something or in a class or booking a show.” All in preparation for my 30’s! But, I would just nap. Needless to say, I sleep in the face of self-induced pressure and I was not very much fun to be around. I would express these feelings to people and they would say, “But you’re following your dreams! And that’s amazing!” It’s hard to feel good about life when you’re day job is to ensure David Caruso gets his ketchup and you know Tim Roth's wife likes her decaf black. I know people getting Doctorates for goodness sake! As the days until my birthday grew fewer, even the pressure to celebrate it began to overwhelm me. “Are you going to have a party?!?” Friends would ask. I would respond with whimpers and “maybe a brunch or something?” (For the record, I never had that brunch. It was just too, too much.) I decided on a birthday trip to Vegas with my boyfriend because truthfully, it meant that I would be out of town and I wouldn’t have to put some sort of event together. (And I LOVE planning events and even more, I love celebrating me.) It was clear. I was having a really hard time turning 30.

A shot of me turning 30 in Vegas. 

Hey. Guess where is a terrible place to go when you’re unhappy with life and you’re turning an age you don’t want to turn? Vegas. That’s where. My best advice regarding Vegas is: Try to keep your eyes closed during the day time. That shit’s sad. The final two days before my birthday were spent losing money gambling and drinking drinks that were gross at the Hard Rock. (The Hard Rock might win my award for douchiest place on the planet. I did not have a bartender without a Mohawk.) This was not going to work. I was not going down without a fight. I awoke on the morning of my birthday and made the decision to be happy about it. That day, I was going to do exactly what I wanted to do and I was going to enjoy it. I saw sharks, I saw original Warhol paintings, I had a Filet, I had a super snooty Hipster cocktail called ‘Remember the Maine,’ I got not one, but two souvenir Tiki glasses, had DONUTS, and I spent that evening with some of the most important people in my life. One of which, included my future (at some point) brother-in-law who said something, drunkenly to me that I will probably never forget. He said, “Your life. Your life out there in LA. Its pretty good. Like, really good. It’s a good little life. We think about our visit there with you and it was so fun to live that good life with you for 3 days. You gotta sweet life.”  (A rough recollection but its close and it was so sincere and wonderful…. Because he was hammered.)

It has been 8 days since I turned 30 and I’ve thought about what he said every day. The life he was referring to is pretty good. LA has been really good to me. It is a bustling, diverse, beautiful city with beautiful weather and the beach! I have TWO local produce stores. (One is Jewish and one is Mexican, so it really just depends on what I’m in the mood for.) I have made so many wonderful friends. All I do is think about the many different ways I can perform and do what I love. I dream and every day those dreams get bigger as I surpass my own expectations. I am surrounded by the most talented people in the world. Ok, so my day is spent slinging steaks to weirdoes, but it’s consistent and supports me fully and is balanced out by the chances I get to go slinging jokes to weirdoes at night. I’ve got a love and a cat and brother who keeps having really cute babies that I can spoil. SO, I CAN’T spend my money on traveling the world right now, or shop a ton, or buy a home, and I probably won’t have children for a really long time, but no one has ever regretted fully leaping off the cliff for their dreams, right? I certainly haven’t yet. And hell, some people don’t even have time to nap! I can take as many as I want! I’ve had the “respectable” career and the home in the suburbs and the Costco membership…. And even though it sounds really good right now because I could use a huge tub of pretzels and a retirement plan, I didn’t want it. I didn’t want it so bad, that I packed up everything and left. So, I’m quitting my bitching.

30 is good. For the last 8 days, I have truly never felt so “comfortable in my skin.” Also, I’ve got 10 awesome years before I turn 40. That will really suck.