Glamorama

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 lube...it 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 DRUGS...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.