I met a woman today who told me a story about her mother.
Her mother is 62. She has a match.com profile, and is looking for a husband. She met a man online who owns a house in Beverly Hills (rich!) and is 55 years old. The man sounds great on paper, and the mother is VERY excited for this date!! She thinks this man might just be "the one"! Mother and man have arranged a date at a nice L.A. restaurant; There's just one problem... Mother's picture on her match.com profile is from when she was 40! She doesn't quite match the photo anymore!! For many men, this would most likely be a deal breaker, so Mother starts to get nervous.
And then it gets SOOO L.A.!!!
You would think that Mother would come to her senses and cancel the date, OR AT LEAST let the guy know in advance that she looks a good twenty years older than the photo on her profile, but NO!! Mother insists that this match is meant to be, and with three days to go until the big date she makes a visit to her plastic surgeon for a quick browlift and some restylane injections. Unfortunately the surgeon tells her that a browlift simply can't erase twenty years, and she would need a full facelift for that which would involve a much longer recovery time, so mother has to settle for some good old-fashion botox and nice plumped up lips instead. That's right folks. She wanted plastic surgery for a BLIND DATE.
How does the story end? Well, I am sorry to say that prince charming did not end up falling for Mother, but he did treat her to a lovely meal that cost not tooo much less than her cosmetic procedures, so I suppose in the end, she sort of came out a winner. I forgot to ask if she ever changed the photo on her match.com page, but I sort of doubt it. She probably just opted for the full facelift instead.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Friday, October 19, 2007
The L.A. Love Letter
This letter was taped to the outside of my building, and I thought it was just the classic sooo L.A. love letter. Take a look:
I had to cut the letter off at the bottom because Romeo signed his beautiful handy-work with - NO - not a name and phone number ... an email address. I guess I wouldn't want to post my phone number on the side of a random apartment building in L.A. either, but then again, if I were THAT INTERESTED in someone, I wouldn't take a phone call in the middle of our conversation!!!
I had to cut the letter off at the bottom because Romeo signed his beautiful handy-work with - NO - not a name and phone number ... an email address. I guess I wouldn't want to post my phone number on the side of a random apartment building in L.A. either, but then again, if I were THAT INTERESTED in someone, I wouldn't take a phone call in the middle of our conversation!!!
Now - here's the big question I have. Does this girl actually live in my building, or has Romeo been posting these letters all over the neighborhood on the off chance that she sees one? I mean, if he knows she lives here, then that means that he must have walked her home without ever asking her out or even getting her digits along the way? Pretty lame.
BUT - If she doesn't live here and he's posting these notes all over the neighborhood, I guess that MIGHT border on being slightly romantic. Or it could just be weird and obsessive. What do you think? Romantic or Psychotic?
"DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT"
My friend David sent me this story:
"I kind of had a thats sooo LA moment last night at Club Les Duex. I saw this really pretty girl and went up to her. I introduced myself and asked her what her name was. She looked at me for a couple seconds and said, "don't worry about it."
OK... L.A. girls - Listen to me. I know a lot their are a lot of creepy guys out here who don't deserve even 10 seconds of your attention, and if you want to give them the rudely blow them off that's fine. But TRY to use some judgement. Believe it or not, there are some nice, normal guys out there who are just doing a little bit of harmless flirting, so for the love of God at least give them the courtesy of a polite rejection. Try "I'm Jane, but I have a boyfriend. Or I'm not really looking to meet anyone tonight. Thanks though."
"DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT" is just harsh!!! And sooo L.A.!!
Friday, October 12, 2007
Up and Coming STAR
While searching the internet for my next "gig", I came across this far too typical soooo L.A. post. I will send you a donut if you can tell me where else in the country you would come across a help wanted ad that reads like this:
Looking for a Personal Assistant
I am an Actor/Model/Entreprenuer/Business Man looking for a personal assistant to help me out.. I am an up and coming STAR and really need help in getting to stardom. I am looking for someone that is willing to work for free for right now until things really get in motion. I need help with a lot of different things that i have going on right now as far as my career and my many business ventures that i am working on. This is very serious and i am looking for anyone that is willing to be encouraging, detailed-oriented, very organized, etc. Please respond with resume or just tell me a little about yourself and what you can bring to the table..
Looking for a Personal Assistant
I am an Actor/Model/Entreprenuer/Business Man looking for a personal assistant to help me out.. I am an up and coming STAR and really need help in getting to stardom. I am looking for someone that is willing to work for free for right now until things really get in motion. I need help with a lot of different things that i have going on right now as far as my career and my many business ventures that i am working on. This is very serious and i am looking for anyone that is willing to be encouraging, detailed-oriented, very organized, etc. Please respond with resume or just tell me a little about yourself and what you can bring to the table..
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
DID YOU KNOW THEY PAY THE AUDIENCE???
Like most people who live in the wonderful city of Los Angeles, I don't have a steady job. I have lots of "gigs". And don't ask me how, but at the end of the month, all of the paychecks from all of those "gigs" tend to string together nicely into just enough money to pay my bills!!
Anyways, today my "gig" was to be a paid audience member for a new E! Channel TV show called CHELSEA LATELY. Often times here in the land of make-believe, Television studios will actually pay people to come sit in the audience and laugh at all the "funny" moments of a show. They even have you arrive at the set about an hour early so that they can tape shots of just the audience fake laughing and clapping to be edited into the show later in case it sucks. I've actually been paid audience now on several shows - some MUCH MORE FUN THAN OTHERS!!!!!
For instance, FAMILY FEUD. Not so bad. I think for that one I was paid around $60 to sit through four episodes. The only hard part to being at that show is not yelling out the answers, which, believe me, is MUCH harder than you'd think!!!!
I've worked at CRAIG FERGUSON which is great. He's really funny, and it's a quick painless $40.
I worked on the first episode of a game show called IDENTITY. Is that still on??? I don't know, but that show made me realize that I can NEVER do audience work on a game show again. I am way too bitter and pissed off when some happy normal person with a regular job wins a million dollars in front of a room full of actors who are hoping to swipe a couple free bottles of water from crafty, so that they have something to drink the next day when they're fighting through four hours of traffic to make it to some non-union $50 commercial audition!!!
Anyways, the CHELSEA LATELY show was a surprising amount of fun! She was cool, and she had Ru Paul on the show, which was AWESOME!!! She was FIERCE!!
Of course the highlight of the paid audience gig today wasn't seeing the show, but rather, getting to meet Captain Jack Sparrow himself! OK - here comes the "That's Sooo L.A." moment:
A rather strange looking man sits down next to me. This isn't really that unusual - there are always lots of weirdos working these jobs. OH - and by the way, I almost forgot to tell you that not all audience members are equal! There are basically three different types of audience members, and we are paid according to type. Type number one is the upscale audience. That's my category. We come well groomed wearing "upscale lounge" attire, and we get paid the most. (Today was $60 for two hours). Then you have the "regular" paid audience, otherwise known as the "I just got let outta jail / the hospital / the loony bin" crowd. They make around $7hr. Lastly, you've got the poor suckers who actually show up to see the show for free because they're fans of the host, guest, etc. They get nothing.
So, the strange man sitting next to me turns out to be the L.A. guy who needs to tell you all about how phenomenally well his acting career is going. (It must be going great since he just drove from Orange County to West L.A. - a 2 hour drive - for $14!) He tells me that he's a Captain Jack Sparrow impersonator. I ask him "Where at? Disneyland? Hollywood Blvd?", and he says, "Nope! I used to work on Hollywood Blvd., but then I moved up and incorporated my own business. Now I only work private parties! And ya see, people really love me because I look soo much like Johnny Depp, - [delusional] - and I've mastered all of his gestures and mannerisms perfectly!" At this point, Captain Jack Sparrow stands up and begins to perform for the few people who are paying attention. Thankfully, about 10 seconds into this terrifying while slightly humorous performance, one of the other "upscale" (i.e. NORMAL) audience members bailed me out by asking me where I'm from, and I was able to quickly move away from having to finish my "friendly conversation" with Captain Jack.
Which brings me at last to my "L.A. Rule for Meeting People". Feel free to steal this rule if you are so inclined.
Anytime I meet someone new, I give them three sentences to prove to me that they're sane and capable of carrying on an intriguing, intelligent conversation. If by the third sentence that hasn't happened, I just politely excuse myself and move on to someone new. There are plenty of people living here. There's really no need to make friends with the insane.
Anyways, today my "gig" was to be a paid audience member for a new E! Channel TV show called CHELSEA LATELY. Often times here in the land of make-believe, Television studios will actually pay people to come sit in the audience and laugh at all the "funny" moments of a show. They even have you arrive at the set about an hour early so that they can tape shots of just the audience fake laughing and clapping to be edited into the show later in case it sucks. I've actually been paid audience now on several shows - some MUCH MORE FUN THAN OTHERS!!!!!
For instance, FAMILY FEUD. Not so bad. I think for that one I was paid around $60 to sit through four episodes. The only hard part to being at that show is not yelling out the answers, which, believe me, is MUCH harder than you'd think!!!!
I've worked at CRAIG FERGUSON which is great. He's really funny, and it's a quick painless $40.
I worked on the first episode of a game show called IDENTITY. Is that still on??? I don't know, but that show made me realize that I can NEVER do audience work on a game show again. I am way too bitter and pissed off when some happy normal person with a regular job wins a million dollars in front of a room full of actors who are hoping to swipe a couple free bottles of water from crafty, so that they have something to drink the next day when they're fighting through four hours of traffic to make it to some non-union $50 commercial audition!!!
Anyways, the CHELSEA LATELY show was a surprising amount of fun! She was cool, and she had Ru Paul on the show, which was AWESOME!!! She was FIERCE!!
Of course the highlight of the paid audience gig today wasn't seeing the show, but rather, getting to meet Captain Jack Sparrow himself! OK - here comes the "That's Sooo L.A." moment:
A rather strange looking man sits down next to me. This isn't really that unusual - there are always lots of weirdos working these jobs. OH - and by the way, I almost forgot to tell you that not all audience members are equal! There are basically three different types of audience members, and we are paid according to type. Type number one is the upscale audience. That's my category. We come well groomed wearing "upscale lounge" attire, and we get paid the most. (Today was $60 for two hours). Then you have the "regular" paid audience, otherwise known as the "I just got let outta jail / the hospital / the loony bin" crowd. They make around $7hr. Lastly, you've got the poor suckers who actually show up to see the show for free because they're fans of the host, guest, etc. They get nothing.
So, the strange man sitting next to me turns out to be the L.A. guy who needs to tell you all about how phenomenally well his acting career is going. (It must be going great since he just drove from Orange County to West L.A. - a 2 hour drive - for $14!) He tells me that he's a Captain Jack Sparrow impersonator. I ask him "Where at? Disneyland? Hollywood Blvd?", and he says, "Nope! I used to work on Hollywood Blvd., but then I moved up and incorporated my own business. Now I only work private parties! And ya see, people really love me because I look soo much like Johnny Depp, - [delusional] - and I've mastered all of his gestures and mannerisms perfectly!" At this point, Captain Jack Sparrow stands up and begins to perform for the few people who are paying attention. Thankfully, about 10 seconds into this terrifying while slightly humorous performance, one of the other "upscale" (i.e. NORMAL) audience members bailed me out by asking me where I'm from, and I was able to quickly move away from having to finish my "friendly conversation" with Captain Jack.
Which brings me at last to my "L.A. Rule for Meeting People". Feel free to steal this rule if you are so inclined.
Anytime I meet someone new, I give them three sentences to prove to me that they're sane and capable of carrying on an intriguing, intelligent conversation. If by the third sentence that hasn't happened, I just politely excuse myself and move on to someone new. There are plenty of people living here. There's really no need to make friends with the insane.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
ONLY In L.A.
This is short, but compelling.
This week I was paid $125 cash to race twelve other girls down a track wearing 3 inch stilletos and a dress. It was called the High Heeled Race, and at some point in the not so distant future it will air on MTV's NEXT. I will do my very best to post a clip when that happens!!!
This is what I love about L.A. Getting paid for running a track in High Heels!! Oh - and I got free shoes!!! That's what I call living the dream baby!!!!!!
This week I was paid $125 cash to race twelve other girls down a track wearing 3 inch stilletos and a dress. It was called the High Heeled Race, and at some point in the not so distant future it will air on MTV's NEXT. I will do my very best to post a clip when that happens!!!
This is what I love about L.A. Getting paid for running a track in High Heels!! Oh - and I got free shoes!!! That's what I call living the dream baby!!!!!!
A SOOO L.A. BIRTHDAY!!!
God this is sooo L.A. I could just die right now!
Today I opened my mail to find an invitation to a birthday party. Seems sweet and innocent at first, but then we delve deeper.
#1. I DO NOT know this girl!!! Apparently I MUST have met her at some point in time because we are myspace friends, and I have my profile set to private, so you have to know my last name or email to friend request me. (Ya know, trying to avoid weirdos contacting me for random B.S. such as ... well ... this for instance.) The strange thing is , not only is she on my myspace, but she has my cell phone number and occasionally sends me random "how are you?" text messages!! Look, this is Los Angeles. People trade contact info with anyone they think might be able to do ANYTHING for their career, so it's ENTIRELY possible that I met this girl on some set one day and we traded information. But that's typically where it ends. Giving out your number is just part of the business here, and everyone knows that. It's an unspoken rule that you don't actually use the number unless you really hit it off with that person or you have a terrific job oppurtunity for them. Either way, this girl clearly broke the rule.
Now, I feel that maybe I'm coming off as mean here. You're probably thinking, "What's the big deal?? So some chic invited you to her birthday party! Who cares!??" Well I care, and I'll tell you why! She "mailed" me the invite!!! This means that she went so far as to somehow find my address and invested her money in a stamp to invite me - someone who doesn't even remember meeting her!!! Might sound sweet to you, but to me it's just screams weird creepy stalker!!!
#2. (And this is where it gets to be SOOO L.A.) The invite says "Please bring Food, Drinks, and PRESENTS!!!"
Just stop right there. IF I did know this girl I would have to write her off at this point. Who the hell throws themself their own birthday party at their own home, AND THEN not only asks her guests to supply the food and drink, but ALSO demands that everyone bring a gift???
OH - and if this still doesn't sound lame enough for you - If you're still thinking, "Oh - it's not so bad. So she can't afford to buy food for her party, and she sort of invited people she doesn't know that well because she doesn't have that many friends" - THINK AGAIN.
She referenced the "Blog For Gift Ideas" that she posted on her myspace page so that all of her "friends" would know exactly what to buy for her special day! Isn't that sweet??!!! She made a list for all of her pretend friends to pick her gifts off of!!!
Let's look at the list, shall we?
DKNY Be Delicious
Coco Chanel Mademoiselle
MANY Gift Cards
A personal trainer
Money - (My personal favorite. Why don't you just say what you're really after sweetheart?)
A Roll on a DayPlayer Spot
Or, anything on my AMAZON wish-list!!!
I wish I could say this were all made up, but I SWEAR TO YOU that it's not!!! I would link you to the girl's myspace page, but I'm protecting her privacy for some stupid reason. Although I have no idea why, since she'd probably love it if you came to her party!!!!
Friday, October 5, 2007
NEVER DO THIS WHEN WORKING AS AN EXTRA
I have learned through my experience as a "background artist", that there are a few things you may want to steer clear of when working on a set.
1. Do Not Steal Wardrobe Pieces - Such as a very tiny green and gold sequinned bikini that probably cost the production $3.00 when they found it in the Fredrick's of Hollywood "Worn and Returned Items" bin. One-size-fits-all bikinis rarely look good on anyone.
2. Try not to make it OBVIOUS that you've filled an entire suitcase with to-go containers of extra food. The catering guys start to look at you like you're really wierd and pathetic after three trips through the buffet line.
3. Do NOT shuuussshhh TOM HANKS. I've done it. It's embarassing.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
THE TOTALLY GLAM YEAR IN HOLLYWOOD
I lived in Hollywood for exactly 1 year. It was INSANE!!!!!
I had a small studio apartment in a really great location! It was right on the border of Hollywood and West Hollywood, which was perfect! I could walk to all the hip and trendy WeHo hotspots, - (that’s L.A. code for West Hollywood, just to keep you up to speed) – and a few minutes of walking up hill led me straight to Hollywood Blvd., The Walk of Fame, and The Kodak Theatre…home of the OSCARS! I was pumped!! I knew that this would be exactly the kind of glamorous lifestyle I had planned on when I came to L.A.!! My building even had a pool!!
WELL - I think it was maybe, the second day of living in my building that the disillusionment began. That’s the day I met Crazy. Actually, saying that I “met” him would be a bit of an overstatement since we never technically spoke. Crazy was a homeless man who lived on the sidewalk across the street from my building. I don’t know how I missed him when I went to see the place. What can I say? I was desperate to movie out of Danny’s! (If you’d like to learn all about Danny, see the last blog.) The thing about Crazy was that he wasn’t just a crazy homeless guy. He was a SCARY crazy homeless guy! He would hide behind the tree across the street, or behind a light post and peek out at you. He was TERRIBLY CREEPY in a “I’m going to rape you and kill you” sort of way. He never really left his spot, and he didn’t make a sound. He was mean looking and dirty. Plus he had more furniture than me, which was really frustrating!!! I mean, my apartment was devoid of all furniture, other than my bike and an air mattress if either of those count, and yet here was Crazy with a loveseat and dining set ON THE SIDEWALK! I promise!!! If only I’d had the good sense back in those days to document this with photos I could show you! And THAT is sooo L.A.!!! Where else in the world would the city just let homeless people set up FURNITURE on the sidewalk as if it’s their living room???!!
Anyways, Crazy ended up to not be so bad. It turned out that the reason he was always hiding behind things was because he was afraid of everyone, and he didn’t want to be seen. If you came anywhere near him on the sidewalk he’d turn and walk away hoping that you wouldn’t notice him. Believe it or not, I actually started parking my car on the street right next to where he lived hoping that the sight of him would keep people from trying to break into my car!
Crazy was only one of the many colorful characters that frequented the block – which incidentally is the 1100 block of North Sycamore Ave., just incase anyone wants to know where NOT to live in Hollywood! There were also the tranny hookers. Yup, that’s right. It turned out that my lovely location just happened to be otherwise known as “Tranny Highway”. It was the part of town where all the hot and sexy tranny hookers came to work at night. My corner was apparently for the top of the crop because these ladies were fierce!!! Living on Tranny Highway didn’t really bother me per say. I mean, I love the Gays, Drag Queens, Trannies, whatever! It was more the fact that they would bring their johns into my building and get them off on the roof that was the problem. Not only that but the building turned out to be the easiest to break into in the neighborhood, so all the local crackheads would make it their job to pee and poop in our hallways. Not sure why, but again, what can I say? It’s L.A.
Before you start thinking that this building is nasty and disgusting, and I should’ve moved out immediately, let me just remind you that I had a pool!!! And the inside of my apartment was really cute and clean! I felt like the good outweighed the bad – or at least tied with it!
Sometimes all of this weirdness was funny or exciting! For instance one day I came outside for work and there was a naked man sunbathing in our front yard!! Sounds bad maybe, but it was actually funny! And yes, he was face up!!
I really don’t want to scare anyone off of Hollywood, because it has its charm mixed in with all of the strangeness. I’m not even going to talk about the old man who always came down to the pool and swam in his tighty-whiteys, or the always naked twenty-something drug addict who decided to spend his nights sleeping in my hallway. That’s all beside the point!
The great thing about spending a year in Hollywood is just that. SPENDING A YEAR IN HOLLYWOOD!!! It's a life altering experience. There is nowhere else that you can go for a leisurly stroll and pass a man dressed as Satan in black thigh-high platform boots talking on his cell phone and counting the wad of cash he just made posing for photos with tourists on Hollywood Blvd!
I had a small studio apartment in a really great location! It was right on the border of Hollywood and West Hollywood, which was perfect! I could walk to all the hip and trendy WeHo hotspots, - (that’s L.A. code for West Hollywood, just to keep you up to speed) – and a few minutes of walking up hill led me straight to Hollywood Blvd., The Walk of Fame, and The Kodak Theatre…home of the OSCARS! I was pumped!! I knew that this would be exactly the kind of glamorous lifestyle I had planned on when I came to L.A.!! My building even had a pool!!
WELL - I think it was maybe, the second day of living in my building that the disillusionment began. That’s the day I met Crazy. Actually, saying that I “met” him would be a bit of an overstatement since we never technically spoke. Crazy was a homeless man who lived on the sidewalk across the street from my building. I don’t know how I missed him when I went to see the place. What can I say? I was desperate to movie out of Danny’s! (If you’d like to learn all about Danny, see the last blog.) The thing about Crazy was that he wasn’t just a crazy homeless guy. He was a SCARY crazy homeless guy! He would hide behind the tree across the street, or behind a light post and peek out at you. He was TERRIBLY CREEPY in a “I’m going to rape you and kill you” sort of way. He never really left his spot, and he didn’t make a sound. He was mean looking and dirty. Plus he had more furniture than me, which was really frustrating!!! I mean, my apartment was devoid of all furniture, other than my bike and an air mattress if either of those count, and yet here was Crazy with a loveseat and dining set ON THE SIDEWALK! I promise!!! If only I’d had the good sense back in those days to document this with photos I could show you! And THAT is sooo L.A.!!! Where else in the world would the city just let homeless people set up FURNITURE on the sidewalk as if it’s their living room???!!
Anyways, Crazy ended up to not be so bad. It turned out that the reason he was always hiding behind things was because he was afraid of everyone, and he didn’t want to be seen. If you came anywhere near him on the sidewalk he’d turn and walk away hoping that you wouldn’t notice him. Believe it or not, I actually started parking my car on the street right next to where he lived hoping that the sight of him would keep people from trying to break into my car!
Crazy was only one of the many colorful characters that frequented the block – which incidentally is the 1100 block of North Sycamore Ave., just incase anyone wants to know where NOT to live in Hollywood! There were also the tranny hookers. Yup, that’s right. It turned out that my lovely location just happened to be otherwise known as “Tranny Highway”. It was the part of town where all the hot and sexy tranny hookers came to work at night. My corner was apparently for the top of the crop because these ladies were fierce!!! Living on Tranny Highway didn’t really bother me per say. I mean, I love the Gays, Drag Queens, Trannies, whatever! It was more the fact that they would bring their johns into my building and get them off on the roof that was the problem. Not only that but the building turned out to be the easiest to break into in the neighborhood, so all the local crackheads would make it their job to pee and poop in our hallways. Not sure why, but again, what can I say? It’s L.A.
Before you start thinking that this building is nasty and disgusting, and I should’ve moved out immediately, let me just remind you that I had a pool!!! And the inside of my apartment was really cute and clean! I felt like the good outweighed the bad – or at least tied with it!
Sometimes all of this weirdness was funny or exciting! For instance one day I came outside for work and there was a naked man sunbathing in our front yard!! Sounds bad maybe, but it was actually funny! And yes, he was face up!!
I really don’t want to scare anyone off of Hollywood, because it has its charm mixed in with all of the strangeness. I’m not even going to talk about the old man who always came down to the pool and swam in his tighty-whiteys, or the always naked twenty-something drug addict who decided to spend his nights sleeping in my hallway. That’s all beside the point!
The great thing about spending a year in Hollywood is just that. SPENDING A YEAR IN HOLLYWOOD!!! It's a life altering experience. There is nowhere else that you can go for a leisurly stroll and pass a man dressed as Satan in black thigh-high platform boots talking on his cell phone and counting the wad of cash he just made posing for photos with tourists on Hollywood Blvd!
IN THE BEGINNING...
There is a reason why I had to start this blog. It’s not because I’m trying to become a writer or because I’m hoping that thousands of people will visit my page and read my work. It’s quite simply because L.A. is by far the strangest place I have ever been, lived, or could even imagine up. I spend so much time telling my family and friends from other parts of the country about all of the random bizarre things I see out here on a day to day basis, that I finally decided it would just be easier to start posting it all online!! Plus, at the end of the day, there NEEDS to be a place where I can put these stories so that I can look back twenty years from now and laugh at how crazy my life once was…here, in the place where dreams come true and millions of hearts are broken every day.
L.A.
Let me just start right off by saying that I absolutely love it here! L.A. is a great place to live…as long as you don’t do what I did, and start off your life here by moving in with a complete stranger that you found on Craigslist. Actually, now that I think about it, he found me; I guess that should’ve been my first red flag! Danny was typically L.A. - A “writer” who was working on a script for his “good friend” Harvey Weinstein. He lived in a nice two bedroom house just on the south border of Beverly Hills, and I rented the empty second bedroom from him for the first month that I lived in L.A. The arrangement could have lasted much longer if Danny hadn’t ended up being more than a bit odd. For starters, I have NO IDEA how he managed to pay for this amazing house in this even more amazing location! The man NEVER went to work! Yes, he was “working on a script for Harvey”, but after a bit of light questioning I discovered that he was doing it for free as a “favor to Harv”. YEAH! Because I’m SURE that Harvey Weinstein couldn’t possibly afford to PAY a writer to work on a script for him! I think I did read something about him living in a box on Venice Beach?? THIS IS SOOO L.A.! Everyone is working on something “huge” for someone “huge”, and yet no one is being paid for it!!!
In the month that I lived with Danny he left the house TWICE. That’s it! Besides a walk to the grocery store, or taking his dogs outside, he literally stayed in twenty-four SEVEN! I SWEAR TO YOU!!! Now this behavior was not sooo L.A. at all. People do go out here and are extremely socialable. This guy was just off. Hence the reason why after a month of living with creepy, I decided to rent my own shoebox studio in Hollywood. I traded in a beautiful house in Beverly Hills for a skuzzy apartment on Tranny Highway just to get away from this guy. That should tell you something. Although, I have to admit, there was one occurrence of Danny showing that he wasn’t all weird and scary.
Around week three of living with him, I felt that I just had to get away. You see, besides being a COMPLETE homebody, Danny was also strangely overprotective for a guy who didn’t know me at all, and I’d even say he suffered from extreme paranoia. Every time I’d meet someone cool and make plans with them Danny would lecture me on the dangers of making friends with strangers in L.A. He told me many a tale about young naïve actresses being strangled to death and left for dead in the L.A. River, or locked in some psycho’s basement for months. One day I made the mistake of inviting a friend to the house to rehearse a scene for acting class and Danny went berserk!! “You didn’t give him the address did you? How well do you know this guy? Are you crazy??!!”
Finally, I decided that I couldn’t take living there for another second and I had to get out…BUT…I was still the sweet Midwestern girl who didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings – not even a crazy freak like Danny – So I decided instead of telling him the truth about what a nightmare he was to live with, I would just sneak out while he was walking the dog and leave a note with a well constructed lie about why I suddenly had to leave town. I began loading up my car, and was about halfway through when Danny came home and wondered what the heck I was doing? I suddenly panicked having been caught in the dirty deed of leaving him, and so I had to come up with a quick lie! Tears welled up in my eyes and I began shaking as I told him that my father had just suffered a massive heart-attack, and that I was going to drive back to Chicago to be with him!!! Of course Danny asked me all the logical questions that someone would ask you in that situation, such as “why don’t you just fly there?”, “is he going to be ok?”, “isn’t it going to take you like three days to drive from L.A. to Chicago?”, but I was INTENT on getting the hell out of there so I just came up with answers. I can’t afford to fly, and I have to get there incase he’s not going to make it – even if it means driving for 30 hours straight! (P.S. - I WISH this performance had been videotaped, because it really was Oscar-worthy.) Then, just when I thought I had given an amazing performance and I was fifteen minutes from freedom, Danny did the UNTHINKABLE. He offered to GIVE ME HIS FREQUENT FLIER MILES so that I could fly back home for FREE!!!! I was completely baffled!!! Danny, the crazy annoying paranoid freak was being completely selfless and damn near angelic! I had no idea what to do! Before I could even begin to speak, Danny was on the phone with the airlines seeing what he could do to transfer the miles to me!
LUCKILY – and THANK GOD for the rude airline attendant who picked for Southwest, Danny was unable to give me his miles, and I was in the clear. It was bad enough that I had lied about all of this, but I couldn’t possibly have accepted a free trip to Chicago on top of it! So, in the end I mustered up the courage to stay another week at Danny’s house and pray that my father would be o.k. (Of course, as you know, he was really completely fine the entire time and had been out fishing at the moment of the fake massive heart attack.) For the next week I had to endure Danny asking me daily about my father’s medical progress and ended up spending quite a bit of time researching heart-attacks on webMD so that I could give him accurate answers without blowing my cover. At the end of week four, I told Danny that I’d found a great deal on a studio in Hollywood, and I had taken it. That was the last time I saw him. I wonder if he ever finished Harvey’s movie?
L.A.
Let me just start right off by saying that I absolutely love it here! L.A. is a great place to live…as long as you don’t do what I did, and start off your life here by moving in with a complete stranger that you found on Craigslist. Actually, now that I think about it, he found me; I guess that should’ve been my first red flag! Danny was typically L.A. - A “writer” who was working on a script for his “good friend” Harvey Weinstein. He lived in a nice two bedroom house just on the south border of Beverly Hills, and I rented the empty second bedroom from him for the first month that I lived in L.A. The arrangement could have lasted much longer if Danny hadn’t ended up being more than a bit odd. For starters, I have NO IDEA how he managed to pay for this amazing house in this even more amazing location! The man NEVER went to work! Yes, he was “working on a script for Harvey”, but after a bit of light questioning I discovered that he was doing it for free as a “favor to Harv”. YEAH! Because I’m SURE that Harvey Weinstein couldn’t possibly afford to PAY a writer to work on a script for him! I think I did read something about him living in a box on Venice Beach?? THIS IS SOOO L.A.! Everyone is working on something “huge” for someone “huge”, and yet no one is being paid for it!!!
In the month that I lived with Danny he left the house TWICE. That’s it! Besides a walk to the grocery store, or taking his dogs outside, he literally stayed in twenty-four SEVEN! I SWEAR TO YOU!!! Now this behavior was not sooo L.A. at all. People do go out here and are extremely socialable. This guy was just off. Hence the reason why after a month of living with creepy, I decided to rent my own shoebox studio in Hollywood. I traded in a beautiful house in Beverly Hills for a skuzzy apartment on Tranny Highway just to get away from this guy. That should tell you something. Although, I have to admit, there was one occurrence of Danny showing that he wasn’t all weird and scary.
Around week three of living with him, I felt that I just had to get away. You see, besides being a COMPLETE homebody, Danny was also strangely overprotective for a guy who didn’t know me at all, and I’d even say he suffered from extreme paranoia. Every time I’d meet someone cool and make plans with them Danny would lecture me on the dangers of making friends with strangers in L.A. He told me many a tale about young naïve actresses being strangled to death and left for dead in the L.A. River, or locked in some psycho’s basement for months. One day I made the mistake of inviting a friend to the house to rehearse a scene for acting class and Danny went berserk!! “You didn’t give him the address did you? How well do you know this guy? Are you crazy??!!”
Finally, I decided that I couldn’t take living there for another second and I had to get out…BUT…I was still the sweet Midwestern girl who didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings – not even a crazy freak like Danny – So I decided instead of telling him the truth about what a nightmare he was to live with, I would just sneak out while he was walking the dog and leave a note with a well constructed lie about why I suddenly had to leave town. I began loading up my car, and was about halfway through when Danny came home and wondered what the heck I was doing? I suddenly panicked having been caught in the dirty deed of leaving him, and so I had to come up with a quick lie! Tears welled up in my eyes and I began shaking as I told him that my father had just suffered a massive heart-attack, and that I was going to drive back to Chicago to be with him!!! Of course Danny asked me all the logical questions that someone would ask you in that situation, such as “why don’t you just fly there?”, “is he going to be ok?”, “isn’t it going to take you like three days to drive from L.A. to Chicago?”, but I was INTENT on getting the hell out of there so I just came up with answers. I can’t afford to fly, and I have to get there incase he’s not going to make it – even if it means driving for 30 hours straight! (P.S. - I WISH this performance had been videotaped, because it really was Oscar-worthy.) Then, just when I thought I had given an amazing performance and I was fifteen minutes from freedom, Danny did the UNTHINKABLE. He offered to GIVE ME HIS FREQUENT FLIER MILES so that I could fly back home for FREE!!!! I was completely baffled!!! Danny, the crazy annoying paranoid freak was being completely selfless and damn near angelic! I had no idea what to do! Before I could even begin to speak, Danny was on the phone with the airlines seeing what he could do to transfer the miles to me!
LUCKILY – and THANK GOD for the rude airline attendant who picked for Southwest, Danny was unable to give me his miles, and I was in the clear. It was bad enough that I had lied about all of this, but I couldn’t possibly have accepted a free trip to Chicago on top of it! So, in the end I mustered up the courage to stay another week at Danny’s house and pray that my father would be o.k. (Of course, as you know, he was really completely fine the entire time and had been out fishing at the moment of the fake massive heart attack.) For the next week I had to endure Danny asking me daily about my father’s medical progress and ended up spending quite a bit of time researching heart-attacks on webMD so that I could give him accurate answers without blowing my cover. At the end of week four, I told Danny that I’d found a great deal on a studio in Hollywood, and I had taken it. That was the last time I saw him. I wonder if he ever finished Harvey’s movie?
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