Troubles? You wanna hear about troubles? Just listen to actress Natasha Dawn Finn, nâ€še Finklestein, who drags herself to hopeless ""cattle call"" auditions to humiliate herself by doing a ""kooky, funny"" Clytemnestra; whose answering service misplaces her messages, thus zapping her out of two callbacks and possible roles; who endures Passover dinner with her family in Brooklyn, at which her aunts forcibly hold her down and shave her armpits; whose father is not all-there in the head; and whose boyfriend Angelo has a mock coronary the first time they try a little hanky-panky. But things take a turn. Natasha gets a part in a Hollywood movie and ships off to L.A., taking Angelo and best-friend Irma and her father along with her. But Angelo & Natasha & Irma don't do too well â€¦ trois, leaving Natasha alone with her father, who in due course gets himself taken over by a cult of ""visceralists"" who drink raw eggs and commute between universes. So--back to New York, where the film is a thermonuclear bomb. But Natasha was luckily cut out of it anyway, and new she has a nice new apartment and the chance to play a slice of bologna in a TV commercial. . . . Herman slings this all unceasingly, loudly, mile-a-minute; open any page and you feel like you've inserted your tongue into an electrical socket. Apart from the infectious energy, however, it's exactly like any one of a dozen other frizzed-out, single-girl kvetch extravaganzas.