I moved to LA for a lot of reasons. Let’s get right to it, okay? I was on-and-off dating a guy who moved out here, and when I made the announcement that I was also moving out here, pretty much everyone I knew was convinced that I was a desperate pitiful lunatic following his ass – an ass that didn’t even really want me – across the country. Yes folks, my “friends” were SO confident in me that they were taking bets on how long I’d last out here after he cheated on me/kicked me to the curb. Almost six years later and I’m still here so to them I say: EAT MY ASS, YOU JOYLESS PRICKS.
But were they right? Kind of. I had wanted to move out of my hometown, Albany, since before I graduated college, but I had no one to do it with me and I was too much of a vagina to do anything about it on my own. I met this dude and fell for him, watched him make the move, visited him a few times, watched my cousin also make the move, and somewhere along the way I decided to do it myself. Basically, meeting this guy gave me the lady-balls I needed to change my own life.
When I came out here, I thought I had LA mostly figured out. Sunshine, oceans, celebrities, nice cars, movies… yeah, I get it. What else do I need to know? Of course, I had no idea what I was getting into. Moving into Los Angeles from clear across the country, I realized that I had a clusterfuck of misconceptions about what life would be like here. So here’s a compilation of things that I’ve learned! Woo!
The entertainment world is not as exciting as you think it is. I moved here thinking it would be, just, like, THE COOLEST, to be around actors and actresses, maybe bumping into them in da club. I wanted to work in the entertainment industry because I thought living in that world would be fun. Neat-o, guys! So I started working at FOX and quickly realized that it wasn’t unlike any other office job anywhere else. You tell people that aren’t from CA that you work at FOX and they generally think it sounds pretty cool. Well sit down for this one: unless you’re actually on set, it’s not that cool. Seriously, you can interchange it with damn near anything. You’re still sitting at a desk, pushing papers and watching the minutes tick away. Don’t get me wrong, there are definitely some fancy perks and it does have its awesome moments, but for the vast majority of the time, you might as well be working for a toilet seat cover factory.
Yes, Rest ASSured toilet seat covers are a thing.
Seeing a celeb is exciting for all of 5 seconds. I was excited as anyone else at the probability of intermingling with celebrities at an event, running into one at the grocery store or whatever. And I have run into several. I’ve seen Jay Leno, Paris Hilton, Elizabeth Banks, Kate Bosworth, Fabio (his hair is still luxurious), Hugh Jackman, Hugh Laurie, Simon Cowell, Carmen Electra, Will goddamn Smith, and even had a delightful chat with the lovely Ms. Eva Mendes at the vet in my time in LA. The only thing I feel is a split second of intrigue at this point. Unless these people are inviting you to hang out with them or giving you money, the thrill goes away pretty quickly. If anything it makes me feel sad about how uninteresting my life is.
Although this was pretty cool.
Nice weather only gets you so far. Don’t get me wrong, having stable warm weather for most of the year is fucking SUPER. It is far less depressing to wake up to constant sunshine than it is to rain and snow and biting cold winds. But that alone isn’t enough to make up for being broke and lonely-assed.
While we’re talking about weather, when it actually DOES rain here, the city goes completely apeshit. People forget how to drive, everyone crashes into each other, the streets flood because there are no sewer grates anywhere, and people start ritual sacrificing virgins to get the nightmare to end. It is truly embarrassing. For them, that is. I have dug my car out of 3 feet high snow drifts and walked on sheets of ice in 5 inch heels, and am superior to that bullshit for these reasons alone.
Hollywood is fine when you’re 23 and don’t know any better. After that it is poop. The club scene is fucking retarded and awful. I mean it. I’d rather let Lindsay Lohan borrow my car than go to a club. Bouncers are self-righteous dicks. Know that scene in Knocked Up where Katherine Heigl and Leslie Mann can’t get into the club cuz one is “old” and one is pregnant? That shit is real. If a bouncer doesn’t like your look, you ain’t getting in anytime soon. Is your friend on the rotund side? Get to the back of the line, bitches. Are you a couple girls with a guy? Hope you don’t mind waiting an extra hour to get in. Is that guy ugly? Fuck you! Do you not know someone at the door or are you not on the list or did you get there after 10pm? Fuck you AND your mother! And then when you do get let in, it looks like everywhere else, it’s filled with Hollywood’s finest collection of flaming douchebags, and one drink costs approximately $5000. HURRAH. #yolo
People are not here to settle down – they’re here to “make it.” Dating is an abysmal nightmare here. Sure, it is in most cities, but LA is in its own class. Most people you encounter are obsessed with themselves – their appearance/image (car, clothes, shoes, fucking fuck), their work, their social status (namely who they can meet that can get them to the next level), exercising to the point of exhaustion, etc. It’s a lot of name dropping, backstabbing, kissing ass around here, and it’s mind-numbing. Sure there are some people who are normal and wanting to have a regular relationship, but they’re in the minority. People are so insecure of not being at a certain level yet that there’s little room for them to have anything to give to another person in a relationship. Another point: There’s an unnatural amount of pretty people here, and why would anyone tie themselves down to banging one person all the time when they can potentially be banging so many other pretty people? I mean, come on, right?
LA is spread the fuck out, and if someone doesn’t live in your immediate vicinity, you probably won’t see them much. I saw a tweet recently by writer/funny person Alison Agosti, who said : “’I have to DRIVE? My CAR?! TO A PLACE???!!?!’ – Los Angeles” and I shed a tear at the sad, sad hilarity. No one wants to venture too far away from their own backyard. When I first moved here I lived in Burbank, which is considered “the valley.” And if you live in Hollywood, West Hollywood or the “West side”, I might as well have been living in another country. If you live more than a 20 minute drive away (which could be only 2 miles in LA – traffic and unsynchronized traffic lights can make life move that slowly), fuck you, friend. You can eat a fucking dick if you think I’m spending 40 minutes of my life driving to your place to see your ass. That time is MUCH better spent waiting in line outside a nightclub waiting to eventually drunkenly fall on my face. Sit on it.
It looks like everyone here is rich, but the truth is most people are just living beyond their means. Yep, there are nice cars everywhere. People in designer clothes everywhere. People with 600 dollar hair dye jobs from Maurice DeDouchebag’s Beverly Hills salon. It’s easy to walk into the city thinking every motherfucker here is rich…but you. In reality, most of these people are spending way more than they have. It’s very common to see a struggling actor driving a Benz, but then living in a cardboard box of an apartment surviving on top ramen. It’s tough work to maintain that image I mentioned earlier, and people will drive themselves into debt trying to look elite enough to be here.
Most people don’t work regular jobs. It used to be baffling to me that when I had a “sick day” or a random day off, EVERYONE WAS STILL EVERYWHERE. I’d find myself asking myself, “Self, why the fuck is no one at work?” Welp, that’s because LA is crawling with “actors” (working nighttime in a restaurant), actors (the real ones) studio people (working on sets for certain stretches of time) and entrepreneurs and rich housewives and rich kids and just plain people working some quirky job/gig/assignment that leaves them with odd hours/random weekdays off. Out here, it’s almost weird to meet other people who work a standard office job like me.
Every single person who ever waits on you or pours your drink at a bar is a struggling actor. Yes, every single one.
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