More establishing shots of Los Angeles as we hear Ja Rule play. Traffic. The Beverly Hills Hotel. A quick jaunt down the Walk of Fame (ignoring the homeless people and real, live people feces that decorate the road). Ashley driving through the Valley looking for Howard Fine (I think it might be on Melrose or Fairfax), a rip-off acting coach who's preyed on the weakest actors in La-La Land since Poopsy Carmichael took her historic plunge off the Hollywood Sign. And that ain't just whistling "Dixie," kid. I said to her, I said, "Poopsie! What keeps ya so young?" She said to me, she said, "I'm twelve!" That's the Hollywood voice we use when we're getting "so L.A." Like a Hollywood Gangsta. I shouldn't recap after midnight. Makes me loopy.
The Howard Fine Acting Studio is a basement blackbox place that is full of shit. This entire scene is full of shit. I hope Howard Fine has trouble sleeping at night. He's wearing a purple sweatshirt and his hair is spiked. Ashley and Howard take chairs on the "stage" and get down to business. Ashley basically reads from the sides to tell Howard the character description. It's a "pied piper" of parties. "That he's charming, impish. Attention is like oxygen to him." Yeah, Ashley's reading this. Howard tells Ashley that the first thing "we" do is to stop talking in the third person.