Hollywood

8 Mar

I might lose my job. As a weenie Hollywood “development executive.” Which, fine, I fucking hate my job. Work work work all goddamn day and then come home and read scripts, garbage scripts that will never amount to anything, but I need to read them to preserve relationships. Relationships that will never amount to anything. My job completely eats my life, leaves me a wrecked, miserable shell of a man each day, destroys any chance of my spending time with women and friends, and it doesn’t even fucking pay anything, so fuck my job.

The problem is, after 7 years of doing this– answering phones, learning names, mastering the bizarre mandarin etiquette and arcane structure of Hollywood– I am now only equipped to do this one thing that I hate. I have no choice but to pursue another, similar job. Which, there are two reasons you would want this: to make movies, and to impress girls. Making movies is impossible, and if you have one of these gigs you’re not even around girls enough to impress them. That’s why guys like (REDACTED) have to stock their reception pool with hot young USC pieces of ass– it’s the only exposure they will have to a woman. Most of their life is spent hobnobbing in rooms full of jowelly old William Morris agents. Continue reading →

Tags: , , ,

Dick Extender

7 Mar

I totally get why women get ridiculously huge breast implants. Because if such a thing existed for your dick I would get one immediately and it would be huge.  A cartoon.  It would be the dick some girls talk about when they are transparently trying to console you about the fact that your dick is not huge, the “you know, I don’t really even like huge dicks.  Sometimes it’s just not even comfortable.” I would get that dick.  Because she would talk about it.  She would say to her girlfriends “you know, Jesus, it’s just too big; I don’t even want to fuck him sometimes because it hurts.”  And the girl she was telling- it’s not like I picture her immediately wanting to fuck me, but maybe she would just want to see it. She would just be curious.

But the best you can do is something like this.  Apparently if you hang those weights off your dick, or whatever this device does- basically this study found that certain kinds of mechanical penis enlargement actually work.  They will extend your flaccid penis by a tiny but non-negligible amount after using the device for six hours per day for like six months. Continue reading →

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Diary 4/2/11: David Foster Wallace

6 Mar

I got the new David Foster Wallace. It doesn’t come out for a few weeks, so, I got it early. Because I am the type of person who can call swanky book agents and request early copies of high profile books because I can pretend I am interested in making it into a movie. So now I am taking this book everywhere. Hoping someone will notice. Hoping someone who is a) attractive, b) a woman, and c) between the ages of 18 and 33, will know a) who David Foster Wallace is, b) despite the fact that he is dead, he has a new book coming out, and c) that this book does not come out for two more weeks and therefore this man who is carrying it must be interesting and important.

This has never worked in the past. Particularly not with my galley of THE YEAR OF MAGICAL THINKING that I conspicuously left on my end table for months before it was published, taking care to write the name of the book in sharpie on the unmarked ICM covers. Even though everyone says they love Joan Didion.

I think, for this to work, it would have to be something by David Sedaris. All girls say they love David Sedaris. In fact, every single girl in the entire internet dating universe lists their favorite book as “anything by David Sedaris.” So now I will have to find out when David Sedaris has a new book coming out, procure a copy from his agent for film and television rights consideration, and walk around town with whatever side says (book you’ve never heard of by David Sedaris,even though you love David Sedaris and know about everything he’s ever written) facing out, and then make quick eye contact with whatever attractive woman happens by and squints briefly in puzzlement at the cover. Which sucks, because Sedaris just had a new one, that one about animals, and he only comes out with a book like every three years.

Tags: , , , ,

Protected: Reader Mailbag: How to Suck a Dick

5 Mar

This content is password-protected. To view it, please enter the password below.

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Douches

4 Mar

I told a couple people to come to a pool party I’m going to at some Hollywood club. They said no, it would be “douchey.”

This is accurate, but what people need to understand is that douches fuck. Douches dress like douches because there are girls that like to fuck douches, and girls who hang out with douches like to fuck. They don’t like to read David Foster Wallace and discuss vegan restaurants; they like to fuck.
Continue reading →

Tags: ,

Protected: But I Can’t Get Laid

3 Mar

This content is password-protected. To view it, please enter the password below.

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Diary: I Need to Get Laid

2 Mar

I could have fucked her.  If I had played my cards right.  If I had gone for the makeout earlier.  I got her back to my house.  I got her shirt off, anyway, although she kept buttoning her pants back up.  But when I was kind of kissing around her hipbones, she was getting really hot.  So, I should have played it better.  I should have gotten those pants off.  I could have done it.  I could have gotten her hot enough to get her pants off, and then I would have fucked her.  And I would be just as hung over, just as sleep-deprived, just as tired, but I would have gotten laid.

Because now I need to get laid.  Getting laid by a new woman is like methadone and my maintenance dose is running out.  Last new girl I fucked was the end of January.  So that’s how long it lasts.  About a month.  About a month between fucking a new chick and feeling again like I’m completely undesirable. Continue reading →

Tags: , , , , , , ,

Protected: Game Part 1

1 Mar

This content is password-protected. To view it, please enter the password below.

Tags: , , , , ,

The Power of Prayer Part 2

29 Feb

Seriously: do not read this if it’s about you.

A little background.  Remember the future wife?  I prayed to God that I meet my future wife at the Short Stop; that night a hot chick talked to me.  I  went out with her, and a) I wasn’t that into her and b) I kind of blew it.

More background:  last week I went out with a girl off OkCupid.  She was kind of (REDACTED), but a) really, really, really beautiful and b) turned out to be literally my next door neighbor.  Like, she told me a bunch of stories about my cat.  I (REDACTED), but God damn she was fucking gorgeous.  One of those girls— like, beauty is just the absence of ugly.  It’s impossible to describe a beautiful woman’s face.  For a guy, you can say “strong jaw,” “high cheekbones,” etc. etc., or “chiseled” features, but for a girl, it’s basically— all beautiful women have the face of a six year old white child. And she does.  And I took her home; it got physical. We didn’t fuck but (REDACTED). But it was a win. I texted her the next day and said come over Friday and have some chicken.

Nothing back.  Nothing for days.  You start thinking– oh shit, did I blow it? Did I have no game, and should have waited, etc.  Well, fuck that.  Fuck “game.”  If you even have to think about game you have already lost.  I text girls when I want to see them.  Or when I think of a funny text.  I call them when I feel like talking to them.  Which is rarely.  The second you start communicating with a script and an agenda you are completely fucked; you are trapped in this counterintuitive, mercenary process, undermining yourself at every turn.
Continue reading →

Tags: , , , , , ,

Stage Fright

28 Feb

When I was a kid in the 80’s, we used to go to ballgames at Fenway Park. And when you had to piss, it was– there were no urinals.  There was one toilet and it always looked like a Dinty Moore™ beef stew grenade had exploded in it.  No– you had to piss in a long communal  cast-iron trough shaped like a bath tub with rusty, tetanus-y looking pipes feeding a trickle of water into it.  I was like 8, and you had to stand around this thing with no less than a dozen middle aged men, all drunk, with their schlongs all out right near 8 year old eye level.  And something about Boston– these were old world schlongs. The ungroomed old country schlongs of rough and brutal men.  Somehow no man born of pure immigrant stock ever has anything less than a giant winking sea worm, ascending back into a tangle of salt and pepper pubes that have never once been trimmed.  Men of this time and place never fucked with their pubes once, in their entire lifetime.  Irish guys with flame orange thickets.  Swarthy, suspicious men, with Bin Laden dickbeards and brown snakey uncut sausage three shades darker than the rest of them.

I don’t know if you’ve seen a lot of underage wang, but the penis of an 8 year old white child is like a doll’s pinky finger, and beholding these veiny, hideous anacondas was terrifying.  I couldn’t pee.
Continue reading →

Tags: , , ,

← Older Entries
Newer Entries →