Monday, August 29, 2011


Everything I've been doing is like SO LA. Thursday night I went to a premier party in Hollywood attended by all these A-list actors and I actually ended up talking to an agent about my blog and now he wants to rep me and turn this into a web series.

Actually, false. I waited in line for an hour at The Lexington only to be told that even though I had a wrist band, I couldn't come in...even after I went home and put jeans and shoes on. As a parting gift they gave me a swag bag that included vibrators, condoms and was a highly sexually charged movie apparently.

Anyway, off to the after after party. No free booze the way one would think but at least we got in. The entire cast of Saturday night live was there and they really aren't that funny in real life. They just hang around each other talking presumably about how short they are. I stand out like a sore thumb out here. It's as if these guys got into acting because they got cut from the Football team in 8th grade and took some of daddy's money to enroll in the Groundlings (second city la edition.)

But whatever, fuck it, I'm living the life right? Slowly alienating my friends one by one by overstaying my welcome on their couch, running around Westwood being told by every property management company, "I've got a beautiful one bedroom I would like to show you, only $2000 a month with a $4000 security deposit. For anyone that has ever had $6000 in your bank account, I'm extremely jealous of you. It must be nice to know if you are having a really bad day you can just fly to New Zealand or some shit. I could probably Amtrak it to San Fran or something if I needed to clear my head, that's how liquid I am, in case you were wondering.

So it's off to Craigslist where the perennial question is, "by reading this post can I safely assume that these roommates will not kill me in my sleep or worse, attempt to ass rape me. Everything in West Hollywood immediately raises a red flag because the guys have names like Roman and Bruce and everyone owns a cat. (I realize I am a huge supporter of cats, and I really would like to live with a cat, but gay name + boystown + cat + my love of musicals = not going to fucking happen)

Hmm, this looks promising: private bedroom in large building...I'll click this link. MEN'S SOBER LIVING. NO ALCOHOL NO thanks, why do you think I moved out here? More sunny Saturdays to day drink, that's why.

So where to now, Burbank...fuck. That is the equivalent of moving to Wicker Park, in fact I think telling girls you live in the valley might be a bigger game-changer than telling them that you are in fact HIV +. I want to trick people into thinking that I have a sick place but I want to pay next to nothing to keep my weekend budget at an optimum level. (You would vomit if you knew how little I paid at Burling)

It's not all shitty though. Although I have never felt more alone in my waspiness, everyone seems to be cautiously accepting of an obnoxious aryan from the midwest, that and my friends have invested in extremely comfortable couches. That said if I can successfully navigate these little African American children that they bus in from Compton to sell me candy bars, I think I may actually like it out here. "No, I'm actually allergic to chocolate...oh, I can donate anyway and not take a candy bar. Well why the fuck would I do that when I can walk into that CVS and buy some sweet tarts?"

Seriously between the Comptonites, homeless people and fundamental religious fanatics I have never faked more phone calls in my life. The good news though, I have found a bar with $3 beers all day every day, I'm on a softball team, and I get to wear shorts 12 months a year.

I'm not the Prince of Malibu yet, but I'll get there...and if you live out here and I have not yet invaded your living room, don't worry that call is coming.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

How the west was won

You see those fucking palm trees? I scaled one last night and fetched myself a coconut, then I cracked it open on a medical marijuana billboard and drank the milk and now I'm pretty sure I'll live forever. So I'm here, living on a couch with a suitcase full of pastel polos and shorts and a trunk full of Kilroy's tshirts. I have 2 cell phones, this cute little mac book air and a mismatching pair of flip flops, that's about it. I'm going to fit in about as well here as Paris Hilton did on the Oxygen network (boom, industry joke, her show got cancelled yesterday)
I'm already preparing for "Where are you from? What's Indiana? You worked in Chicago, I've heard it's fun to visit once in your life. What's your dad do? You mean there are professions outside of film? What are those weird shoes you are wearing?"

I'm from Indiana, it's a state in the midwest, we have a race and Peyton Manning. Chicago is awesome if you have a serious college hangover and need to get it out of your system, it snows. My dad is in private wealth, it's like a stock broker, umm...Wall Street the movie, no he's not a criminal. He's from Iowa, it's like Indiana kinda but more farmy, no I'm not an assistant, I work for a start up. These are Sperry's. GOD DAMMIT YOU STUPID FUCKING CUNT! Not everyone has a film producer dad and is from Beverly Hills. Your Tom's shoes look stupid and those skinny jeans make your ass look fat. No not good hip hop video fat, like you smoked too much pot and got late night pizza too many times fat.

I will have to become a hipster assassin.

Moving out here I figured it would be the epicenter of mainstream media. I mean all the studios, record labels, tv production companies are out here. If I want to see a good concert tonight I should have 20 options of bands that have had a number one in the past 6 months. They all live and record here right? But no, instead my options include going to a music festival headlined by a band called "!!!" How the fuck is that even pronounced? "AHHH RAGE RAGE AHHH!!!" That would be my first guess.

Slowly I will start building my army out here, midwestern transplants who wanted their hungover NFL to start at 10am instead of 1, pool parties in January and the constant possibility of bumping into Blake Lively. It is going to be an uphill battle, I know few people out here and the only bar that I fit in at has a crane game with live lobsters. Honestly there is nothing better than striking out on a chick and taking your anger out on marine life. But fuck it we all start somewhere, and I am starting right here at the bottom. And I'm either going to swim or find myself a shopping cart and an old rag and sleep on the beach with all the other wise homeless people in the country.

You may not understand the references like you did in Chicago. (OMG he mentioned McFadden's I've like totally been there) But please join me as I brainwash the left coast into thinking that Third Eye Blind is still relevant music...and if I fail miserably well, everyone watches autoracing for the crashes...

Sunday, August 21, 2011

The end of an era

I haven't posted in a month. Hopefully the summer excitement was enough to keep you going during those Friday morning hangovers instead of my half assed satire. Anyway, the reason I stopped is because my life was in a bit of flux. I kinda sorta left Chicago, and lived in Indy for a bit while I was training for my new job, which more or less involves me hanging around college bars all day (this should go over well.) But, I'm settled in now, 2000 miles away from where I started. Single Dude in LA is coming soon. I promise more hipster hate, more fomo inducing rants and perhaps some anecdotes of encounters with coked out former starlets. (Parent Trap has been on a lot lately and I badly want to bump into a 2006 version of Lindsay Lohan)

Since I'm in Hollywood now, I'll probably be writing a lot more in the hopes of being the next overweight Jewish nerd with his MFA from Columbia to write a treatment for a superhero movie and make bank. Wait scratch that, I'm going to keep writing my egotistical fratboy trash and hope that some naive producer options my blog and gives me a 30 minute sit com on FX. Give me a week or so to pick up some deep v's down on Melrose and I should be up and running in no time. Chicago was real, but it's time to take the west coast by the balls and make it rain. Peace.