seven (note: don’t worry this isn’t about that scary movie where brad pitt finds gwyneth paltrow’s head in a box cuz that wouldn’t be any fun)

16 Sep

i’m kinda freakin out, y’all.  as of 8 pm tonight, i can officially say i’ve been an angeleno-in-training for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, SEVEN MUTHER-FUDGEIN’ YEARS, Y’ALL!!!!  yup.  seven years ago, yazzy and i stepped off that fateful flight from DC and began stalking george clooney a new life in the land of swimming pools and movie stars.

and people…seven is auspicious as it’s also the same exact number of kardashians.  whoah!


thinking back, life was simpler in 2006.  it was the myspace years, and i didn’t need to express myself: the embedded song on my page did that, duh. will & grace was still on the air and i was still learning to be fluent in gay.  u2 was still making music and was still kinda/sorta relevant in the world of music.  i was still shopping at forever 21 and could squeeze into a size four in my hopes of being kinda/sorta relevant in the world of dating models/actors/djs/writers/doormen/basically anyone hot and underemployed in LA.

and while it was a scary time, it was also exciting and shiny and awesome.  admittedly, i kinda felt like this when i walked into someplace new in the city of angels.


and while i was more like this in reality, i owned my naive confidence like a gay man owns his overhauled 1 bedroom condo with impeccable lighting and amazeballs amenities in west hollywood.

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seven years on and i’m oh-so-thankful that i haven’t gotten the seven year itch. mostly because in LA that means you got you a case of the herpes.   but let’s be real….it hasn’t been a gluten-free, vegan cake walk all the time.  that lil hussy LA’s gotten on my last nerve a few times.  she’s mos def slept on the couch more than once.  but like any healthy, long-term, dysfunctional relationship, she knows i aint quittin her taut, hot yoga a$$ any time soon.

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gurl….there’s a shot for that. go get you some penicillin stat!

and while i’m kinda hard on myself that i haven’t reached ‘level beyonce’ yet (aka grow my weave hair out, marry my jay-z and have his baby, film a documentary for HBO, sing at the super bowl, and basically take over the world), i’ve done some moderately interesting things other than drink and buy shoes and pray to my george clooney shrine. i’ve embraced my need to be an a$$hole and acted my face off in more than a dozen plays and a handful of short films.  i’ve stayed out of rehab.  i stopped dating doormen.  i started dating drummers (hi, baby! love your face!  pls ignore that nonsense about that supposed doorman phase, k!). i’ve yet to be served a restraining order by george clooney’s people.  i talked to someone who used to schtup a spice girl which basically means i’m PRACTICALLY A SPICE GIRL BY ASSOCIATION FOR THE LOVE OF SPICE! and every day i live here, my boundaries, my imagination, my understanding of myself and the world around me are pushed more than the seams on those size four dresses that remain in the recesses of my closet.

so as i take year 7 by the herpes-free short and curlies, i’m gonna re-commit to embracing my inner beyonce.  sh*t’s gonna get real, y’all! are you ready?

who run the world?  coco!!!


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