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They say D.C. is the Hollywood for ugly people. In all fairness, though, they’re not just ugly people, they’re miserable ugly people. There’s a difference. Trust me.
After spending my formative years getting drunk at frat parties until 3am and then stumbling into the halls of some government building forty-five minutes late for whatever internship I was vastly under-qualified for that semester, I came to have a weird obsession with our nation’s capital at a younger age than most. While many of my coworkers have never even been to D.C., I get to pull rank and be all like “Whatever losers. I used to study on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.” And by “study,” I mean “get drunk and flirt with an arrest for drunk and disorderly.” God. Those were the days.
Anyway, after being dragged off the graduation stage kicking and screaming, I traded in my cap and gown for a government job and a disgusting black skirt suit. And it sucked. Unlike college, I couldn’t get away with coming into work an hour and a half late, reeking of booze, and carrying an overpriced Starbucks drink paid for with my father’s American Express. Oh, no, this time I was on my own and it was far worse than I ever could’ve imagined.
College in D.C. was fucking awesome. But postgrad life? Postgrad life was hell. Without access to my parents’ bank account, I realized just how insanely expensive the city really is. $1600 rent for a house in the ghetto an up and coming neighborhood with four other people? Totally normal. $40 Happy Hour tab even though you were drinking straight from the “Specials” portion of the menu? Seems right. $200 metro card each month, even though the metro is perpetually broken, without air conditioning, and wrought with homeless people? Yep. Yep. Yep. All the while, your salary is a mere $24,000 a year and your parents are near murdering you because you can’t afford to buy into government Obamacare and are therefore twenty-six-years-old and still on their insurance plan. So it’s no wonder people in D.C. are fucking miserable. Seriously, it’s just a bunch of sad, ugly people who are the flip of a coin away from either suicide or another Xanax. It’s that bad.
Which, honestly, is why I personally believe “House of Cards” was met with such enthusiasm among people living within the confines of the District. Finally, a show that resonated with them. Finally, a show that wasn’t set in Manhattan or Silicon Valley or wherever-the-fuck-else is cooler than D.C. Finally, a show that tells the story of young, ambitious twenty and thirty somethings who are living in shit hole apartments infested with cockroaches and molded over General Tso’s chicken. Finally, a show that chronicles the cranky ass bastard politicians we all sleep with work for and fucking loathe. Finally, a show about national and global issues, a show that made their jobs seem exciting to people in Nebraska, a show that made them want to kill themselves just a little bit less. Finally. A show that speaks to them.
And now, dear Washingtonians, that show not only speaks to you — it can showcase you. Get excited: “House of Cards” is holding a casting call this Saturday, June 7th, at the Bel Air Armory in Bel Air, Maryland from 10am – 2pm. All you have to have is show up and look “professional.” Apparently getting on TV is super easy these days. They claim that they’re accepting people of all looks, but, let’s be honest, they’re casting Washingtonians — they know what they’re in for. Have fun, ya uggos. Tell Frank I said hi.
[via In The Capital]