I got a day job working as a tour guide at Universal Studios, which happened to be Chelsea Lately’s new filming location. It was weird showing tourists my old work at my new job, in front of my new and former coworkers.
Most of The Studio Tour artificially replicated nature. It was filled with fake jungles, earthquake simulations, dangerous cgi animals, faux flash floods, and animatronic creatures.
It was my job to dramatically react to each scenario. I screamed and cried while Bruce the mechanical shark devoured my fake husbands.
Movies often villainize animals by making them seem more threatening than they are in real life. Hollywood encourages people to hate and fear sharks. Animals can be aggressive, but humans are much more destructive. Never underestimate the power of hungry or threatened creatures.
People are fucking crazy. All sorts of weird shit happened during my tours. I never knew when or if someone might scream, pee, smoke, throw up, fight, drink, masterbate, bleed, give birth, start a fire, or shit themselves.
I made myself learn how to talk in-front of people and cameras by working as a performer. Even if I was sick with anxiety, I forced myself to develop communication skills. It’s smart to use jobs as educational experiences. That line of work taught me how to improvise and fake confidence. Adaptability is my superpower!
A lot of the tour guides were aspiring comedians, who were in constant search of their next source of material. We did all sorts of fun stupid shit, just for the sake of a good story.
Our employers had such a hard time getting us to wear our dorky ugly ass uniforms at work, but we had no problem wearing them out to the local bars and strip clubs.
There were so many rumors about tour guides dumping tour guides for other tour guides. Everyone got drunk and fucked everybody! It was so much fun.
My roommate went out for drinks with one of our coworkers. When she drove him home he started crying while looking out the passenger window. She asked what was wrong and he said “I just really want to be an actor.”
Most of the people I met in LA were desperately thirsty for fame and so was I! Creative journalism always appealed to me. I’ve always been a sucker for a good story.
We gave lots of private studio tours to wealthy celebrities. I’ve met so many stars over the years and most of them were conceited assholes. Not all, but most. The people who worked behind the scenes were generally much more tolerable than the ones we watched on screens.
It was hard to tell if the talent on the backlot wanted to be seen. Most of them were friendly, they would come up to say hi, or take pictures with the tour groups. Some of them screamed at us for interrupting their scenes. A few of them jumped behind cars or bushes to hide.
If you want to be in the spotlight, you have to be okay with it shining on you all the time. The lights and cameras don’t turn off at the end of the show or movie. The audience’s attention will follow you wherever you go, especially nowadays thanks to social media and paparazzi. That level of attention from fame doesn’t just turn off, unless you disappear. Some people run away from it all for their own mental health and sanity. Others end up getting canceled or dare I say fucked.
I’ll never forget the time Lorelai Gilmore rolled her eyes at me and yelled “LOOKS LIKE WE'RE ON SAFARI AGAIN!” I interrupted her Parenthood scenes way too many times.
Steven Speilburg often came up to the guests to say hi, talk about movies, and take pictures. Sometimes I’d see him grab coffee at Starbucks before going to work. One time he ran up to a tour group to chat, but it was during one of the mandatory clips we had to play…so my coworker Justine who was hosting the tour just ignored him. She ignored Steven Speilberg, because we had to play some stupid fucking clip from War of the Worlds.
Jimmy Fallon was the virtual co-host for the studio tour. When I was lazy I made him carry all the weight by playing clips of him the entire time. Other days I would make the tour my own personal stand up comedy show and cut him out of the routine.
I developed a little coworker beef with Jimmy over the years. I loved him on SNL, but his big hit single “TRAMTASTIC DAY” haunted me. I heard that song all day every day. Some of us tour guides boycotted playing it for a while, which got us in trouble. Our managers barked at us for playing too much Eminem and not enough Jimmy Fallon.
Around that time I made the mistake of telling a man that I’m an SNL fan. We had only been dating for a few months when he gifted me a DICK IN A BOX for Christmas. Yes, he cut a hole in a wrapped up box for his limp little dick. I don’t remember how I reacted. I might have blacked out.
Sometimes movie stars would take their families on the VIP Studio Tours. It was awkward teaching actors about films, because they actually worked on them, unlike us. Imagine trying to teach Brad Pitt about filmmaking.
Russell Crowe brought his kids and their friends on the tour for his son's birthday. He warned all the tour guides that he was on a strict diet for a big movie role at the beginning of the day. Throughout the morning he asked us about our goals and dreams. He gave us some advice and seemed genuinely interested in our Hollywood career paths. Then he dropped tons of money on candy for all the kids. Soon after that he went into hangry beast mode. He demanded healthy food, something like spinach, so I ran all over the place searching for fresh vegetables. The theme park served beer and churros, so I failed at fulfilling his requests.
During one of my tours I tore my achilles tendon while tripping over a fake cobblestone on a movie set. Of course the people on that tour were snobby assholes. They laughed when I hit the ground crying. One of them felt bad, so he gave me a fat tip. I tried to file for workers compensation, but I filled out the forms wrong, and fucked myself over. People later told me that the wealthy guests on that tour referred to me as their “Poor American Peasant.”
Dancing was my favorite way to create and release. When I stopped moving due to getting hurt I developed an unhealthy relationship with my mind and body. Even after I healed I continued to stand in my own way, because my skills weren’t as strong as they used to be.
Haunted houses freaked me out, I never went inside of them before working at that theme park. I’ve struggled with anxiety, depression, and sobriety for most of my life. It was next level while working as a performer, especially for anything horror related. I didn’t want people to judge me for being scared of fake things, so I numbed my fears with weed and alcohol. One of my tour guide coworkers called me out in front of everyone “Are you fucking high!?! You haven’t said anything all night and you’re supposed to be giving a tour!”
In my defense I had to take something to help with the pain from my injury. At least I wasn’t coked out of my fucking mind like some of the other tour guides and scare-actors.
Most nights I got paired up with rappers, who secretly smoked me out, before I led them through the haunted mazes. They were used to being mobbed and frightened by people. Their desperate super fans scared me way more than the monsters.
One of the theme park employees told us to make our guests put out their joint. In response I told them to “just act cool and let it slide, because it’s Chris Brown.” The theme park maze op went into full fangirl narc mode. He loudly squawked over the walkie talkies “THE TOUR GUIDE SAID TO LET HIM SMOKE CAUSE HE’S CHRIS BROWN.” Tourists overheard and came chasing after us. Then we got trapped in a swarm of teenage girls. They all kept squealing “REVENGE FOR RIHANNA!!!” while trampling us. I’m team Riri too. I was just doing my fucking job, plus I wanted Chis Brown to smoke me out, which never happened.
A few of my coworkers had to ask their guests to stop smoking cigarettes on the backlot. In response that group cackled then blew smoke into all the tour guides faces. At the time none of us knew who they were, but we later found out that they were the lead cast members from the show Vampire Diaries.
Famous people can be such entitled dicks sometimes, because they’re used to special treatment. Laws and rules are easily bent by wealthy celebrities.
Watching the scare-actors audition for roles without their costumes was hilarious. It was just a bunch of creepy people snarling and limping around like zombies. Some of them were relatively normal people, just doing their jobs, but a few of them were a little too into the gore. We could always tell which ones waited all year to act out like their morbid criminal alter egos.
At one point I had a crush on a guy who played a murderer. His victim was a mannequin that looked way too much like me. We went out a few times, but I never went home with him, because I feared he might stab me then throw me in the trunk of his car. I just couldn’t get over the fact that he looked and acted like a psychotic killer.
All the murderers were way hotter than the other Universal Studios characters. FUCK, MARRY, KILL: Spongebob, Norman Bates, Shrek
Horror related things became more tolerable the more I was around them. My roommate Alex was a special effects makeup artist who turned me into all sorts of goblin, witch, and alien-like creatures. Our fridge was usually filled with artificial blood, ears, or eyeballs. She helped me realize that the gore was all fake and just another form of art for the sake of entertainment.
Since Alex worked on movies she was gone for weeks or months at a time. She let me live at her place while I figured things out, which took me a full year. The crotchety old Jewish woman who lived below us fucking hated me. She banged a broomstick on her ceiling every time I had sex, in hopes of making me shut the fuck up.
Alex was a makeup artist on E! News for years. Back in the good old days when my favorite shows were The Girls Next Door and Kourtney and Khloe Take Miami. Alex later got into special effect monster makeup and starred in a reality tv makeup competition show called Face Off.
Around that time I fantasized about being an E! News Red Carpet Reporter. I got a taste of that life while working there for Ho. All the E! News hosts were so shockingly skinny in real life. I was the only person there who ate lunch. Sometimes people at E! would ask me if I wanted to split a side salad. No. I’d rather have my own normal full sized salad. Diets, heels, and spray tans felt mandatory. I never fit into that world, even though I wanted to be a part of it so badly. I felt the same way at The Hills finale at The Roosevelt Hotel. Everybody on the show was so tiny and skinny compared to how they looked on screens. I couldn’t help but feel like a self conscious ogre towering over every famous celebrity. FEE! FI! FO! FUM!
Ho interviewed most of The Hills cast members when I worked for him. I thought Kristin was such a bitch on the show, but so friendly in real life. She ran up to Ho and flung her arms and legs around him. It looked so romantic and unprofessional. I wondered if they had a secret little fling. Spencer Pratt was my favorite cast member by far. He had such amazing vibes and energy. Maybe those crystals are working!
Sometimes my friend Alex did Bill Maher’s makeup. I would tag along to watch the show, meet celebrities, and eat some free food. One time I saw Jane Lynch crawling under the snack table to sneak some extra sodas. She whisper-asked me if I wanted to take any home. Another time I was sitting on Bill Maher’s makeup desk. When he came back from commercial break he yelled “SCRAM!!!” in my face and I bolted the fuck out of his office as fast as possible. He scared the fucking shit out of me.
A lot of our friends worked on shows with celebrity coworkers or castmates. We kinda got used to being around famous people. I’ll never forget the time I met Ashton Kutcher on the set of Two and a Half Men. Even though he had lead roles that got him tons of money and fame he seemed super depressed. I’m pretty sure he had just gone through a big breakup with Demi Moore, so he was going through some heavy emotional shit at that time. He didn’t give a fuck about that acting job, he was ready to bounce and go party at Buring Man. Ashton was super generous and welcoming though. He let me and my friends hang out in “Club Ashton,” which was his fancy gigantic motorhome party bus that was bigger than my entire apartment.
One time Alex did an elaborate makeup on me at a makeup convention for a magazine photoshoot. I had prosthetic fake eyes with crystals shooting out of the sockets. My real eyes were taped shut underneath. I met some of my favorite celebrities while blind and in character. It was strange hearing their commentary about me, without being able to see them or fully respond.
That’s actually how I met Jay aka “Laganja Estranja” the stoner marijuana drag queen from RuPaul’s Drag Race. Even though I was blinded in the crystal eye makeup we totally hit it off and exchanged social media handles. Alex ended up creating a similar makeup look on Jay for a photoshoot collaboration that we all did later on.
It’s crazy how many hosting, modeling, dancing, and acting gigs I juggled simultaneously. The hustle and struggle were real. All of my favorite jobs involved my friend Jason. Something about him made me want to drunkenly dance on tables or get impulsive tattoos. Jason was always fun to be around. That’s probably why he became so successful! I’ve met so many interesting people through shitty jobs over the years.
We hosted shows for Afterbuzz TV, a podcast outlet that never paid us. The owners, Kevin and Maria, solely profited from our faces and likeness. Most of the unpaid hosts shared a similar ambivalence towards that experience. In a way it was the practice we needed to get bigger opportunities later on, but the whole thing was still pretty sketchy and fucked up.
When Afterbuzz first started, the studios were built inside of an old shitty house in the valley. The neighbors noticed hosts and celebrities coming and going all the time. Several people reported them to the police for running a secretive business with hundreds of unpaid employees. They had no choice but to change their location and start fresh. Afterbuzz later rebranded as a hosting podcast school for educational purposes, but it went under shortly after that.
Kevin and Maria always looked picture perfect, but they had reputations for scamming people and burning bridges. They seemed to ruthlessly crave attention and notoriety. Anything for an extra second of fame!
People knew that Afterbuzz was cheap and sketchy, but they were shocked to hear about my similar experiences at Chelsea Lately. Of course I could have left those places sooner, but for some shallow reason I enjoyed being associated with famous people.
It was my fault for agreeing to work without getting paid. Guess I thought those jobs made me look cool or impressive? I was letting my ego and other people’s perceptions control my life. It felt like they scammed me and took advantage of me, but I signed myself up for that shit.
My friends thought that going from Chelsea Lately to Universal Studios was a major step backwards, but at least I was making some money. Both of those jobs were for the same parent company NBC, so I’m glad they finally started paying me! To be fair they didn’t know that I was working for them for free.
I wonder if Kevin and Maria thought they were helping the Afterbuzz hosts. Most people have reasons to justify all their actions, even if they seem shitty or fucked up to others. I really loved Chelsea, Maggie, Kevin, and Maria, but I definitely grew bitter about my experiences working for them over the years. In hindsight, those job situations were super fucked up.
When I first started hosting for Afterbuzz, I asked so many sexy celebrities to come on our podcasts for interviews. The whole thing was really just my weird way of hitting on hot rich people.
Deleasa talked about his new music on Afterbuzz with me and my co-host Kelly. His sister married a Jonas Brother. They had such a fabulous family! During our interview I caught such a fat crush on him.
We ended up going out on the town with Deleasa and his friends one night after he played a local gig. When I went to the bathroom Kelly swooped in and brought Deleasa home with her.
The two of them didn’t even seem to click. I felt completely blindsided! Kelly seemed like another wannabe Maria. She was unrealistically perfect, skinny, and well dressed. Kelly came across as aggressively competitive. I couldn’t help but wonder if she even liked him or if she just wanted to win.
I covered the premiere of Stranger Things for Afterbuzz. Most red carpet events give the reporters barely any space. All the hosts, photographers, and writers get piled on top of eachother. It’s a total fucking nightmare for anyone who needs personal space, but it makes the stars look more popular.
I stood next to a professional gossiper from People Magazine on the carpet. When Winona walked by he loudly whispered in my ear “Ask her what she wants from Saks this season.” She overheard and stormed past us enraged.
The entertainment industry weirdly suited me. Most gigs only lasted a few hours, so by the time I got sick of the job it was over. People judged me for acting like an egotistical fame whore, but whatever. That path looked way more fun than other career options, which seemed boring and tedious in comparison.
Hosting reminded me of ballet. People make it look so effortlessly easy, but it takes an extreme amount of talent, knowledge, strength, and discipline to actually be good.
Andy Cohen’s hosting skills have always impressed me. He hosts live shows and does those reunions, where he interviews like ten wasted narcissists at the same time. Andy’s next level style of interviewing stirs the pot, but he’s managed to remain likable, despite being a gossipy little bitch. What an icon!
One night Jason and I drank a bunch of tequila. We decided to visit a psychic around two in the morning with a group of our friends. The psychic seemed to know that we were coming, it looked like she was waiting for us. She told Jason that he was spiritually fucked up, probably because he made me take pictures of his reading, through the neon signs in the window.
My experience was much more positive. The psychic told me that I was going to become a household name. Not from performing, but from sharing my thoughts, words, stories, and ideas. I’d make money from selling things online with pictures, words, and sayings on them. She envisioned my creations decorating people’s homes or bodies (so go shopping on my sites: danicasdiaries.com & planetdanica.com)! Of course she also told me that my destiny would change if I told anyone about that reading. I had purple hair, red lipstick, and a bright pink kimono. She could tell that I wanted to be seen and heard just by looking at me.
Bob was the funniest writer and director to come on Afterbuzz. We bonded during our interview and became immediate besties. Hanging out with Bob in real life felt like being in one of his episodes of Curb Your Enthusiasm. The two of us went out on the town a few times in his sexy convertible. Canter’s Jewish Deli became our goto spot for knish and martinis. He kept buying me cocktails while making me laugh. We talked about his iconic colleagues Larry David and Kurt Vonnegut while bonding over our love for cats and cocktails.
Back in the day Bob and his friends worried they might have to take care of Larry David someday. They assumed he was an unemployable curmudgeon, but he ended up being more successful than all the rest of them!
Bob idolized Kurt Vonnegut's books and filmed a documentary about his life. He followed him around with a camera for years and they became friends. After Kurt died it took a long time for Bob to put all the pieces together. So it goes. He had collected all sorts of art, notes, drawings, and interviews from Kurt over the course of time. Bob later released “Kurt Vonnegut: Unstuck in Time.” It was unlike any other documentary, because he was a part of it. Bob wasn’t just some random guy interviewing him, they became genuine friends from doing such a long project together.
It’s rare for interviewees to become friends with interviewers, but magical when it happens. Bob and I had a similar dynamic to Kurt and Bob, but less intense. I’ve only remained friends with just a few people that I interviewed over the years and I’m grateful Bob is one of them. Vonnegut’s books made me wonder if I should be more creative with my storytelling, instead of being so fucking blunt. Maybe someday I’ll get to play around with time travel too.
One night Bob gave me a fancy bottle of champagne for me to keep for the next time we hung out. I accidentally drank it immediately with my friends, so that never happened.
Later on Bob wrote a script with me in mind. I was supposed to play the hot leading lady in “The Hollywood Hawaiian.” The story was about a Hawaiian Themed Hotel in Hollywood that held Jewish writers workshops back in the 1950’s. I was meant to play the front desk girl, but it never got picked up.
Each episode of Curb ended with Larry doing something cringe, then it would flash to the credits: “Written & Directed by: BOB!” People thought it was so funny, they turned it into a meme. They would post embarrassing videos and edit them to end with the show’s soundtrack with Bob’s credits. There were meme accounts posing as him that had millions of followers. Some people even got tramp stamp tattoos of his name and credits. Watching friends go viral or turn into memes is such a fucking trip!
The Inebriated Truth was my genius show idea. I got my friends drunk as fuck and recorded them answering a series of questions. I asked them if they could get away with any crime, what would it be? Most of them said rape or robbery. Nobody wanted to hurt anybody. They just wanted to get rich or have sex with people who were out of their leagues. My editor never finished their end of the project, so the show was never released. Most of my friends were relieved it never aired, it probably would have gotten them canceled. Most shows became aggressively politically correct shortly after we finished filming that project. It seemed like a bad time to release something like that.
Jason got a job as a director for a big outlet in New York City. He casted me to play the hungover girl in a skit for Cosmo. My job was to guzzle mimosas while binge eating vegan mexican food. It was the role I was born to play! I guess I’m a method actor. Jason directed me by chanting “CHUG!!! CHUG!!! CHUG!!!” in front of the celebrity cast. Our lives were so Vanderpump Rules back then.
I was really excited to meet Will Ferrell at a movie premiere. I spent all day glamming up to impress him. Maybe I went a little too overboard with the hair, makeup, heels, and outfit. I looked like I wanted to be an actress, not a reporter. When I asked Will for an interview he looked me up and down with a stank ass face and walked away from me. I couldn’t believe that he was so likable on screen, but such a fucking dick in person. Kevin Hart was next to him and they were both way too cool to talk to me. I immediately marched over to my Kia Rio and ripped the “MORE COWBELL” sticker off the bumper. Then I drove straight home to throw away my Spartan Cheerleader uniform.
Will Ferrell’s rejection hurt so much. We both grew up in Orange County, so I wanted to ask him about his childhood! What was his favorite beach? Was he ever a mall rat? Does his mom still teach at the community college? How did he stay creatively inspired in boring beige Irvine?
Back in highschool my mom wanted me to join or start a club to be more involved, so I became the president and creator of the Saturday Night Live Club. There were only two of us members, just me and my friend Elena. We usually ate cake while watching SNL together. I loved Will Ferrell as a cast member, but enjoyed seeing Jimmy Fallon die laughing at him even more.
Years later I was hungover at the beach laying around on a rock like a lizard. I was smoking a blunt with a burrito while taking pictures of the water when Will Ferrell walked right in front of me.
I immediately put my camera down. I didn’t want him to think I was trying to shoot him. Will Ferrell came right up to me and started ranting. “ISN’T THE OCEAN BEAUTIFUL!? HAVE YOU EVER SEEN ANYTHING LIKE IT!? IT’S MAGICAL!” It was refreshing to hear a Hollywood asshole give a fuck about nature. He was pretty mean to me back when I looked pretty, but super nice to me when I looked like shit. Maybe he wanted some of my blunt or burrito.
I guess he managed to redeem himself. I’m a way better person in Laguna Beach compared to Hollywood too. When I talk about Hollywood I’m usually referring to show business, the entertainment industry, not the shit hole city.
I was a production assistant for the SAG Awards for a few years. One time I was in charge of the green room for the Modern Family cast. I was excited to meet Sofia Vergara, because she was beautiful and hilarious on screen. She was absolutely drop dead gorgeous in real life, but not very friendly. I totally hit it off with Jesse Tyler Ferguson though! We both went to Retro Fit gym in WEHO. He was so kind and friendly every time I saw him around town. By the way, that gym got me into the best shape of my life! This isn’t an ad, I just wish it was one.
For a few months I worked as a production assistant on the show So You Think You Can Dance. I lead the dancers to their interviews after getting kicked off the show or moved to the next round. It was my job to amp up their emotions for the camera. Having to make people feel worse after they failed was brutal. Especially since I knew some of the performers auditioning for that show.
One of the dancers I grew up with made it pretty far in the competition. It gave him such a huge ego. When I told him I was working on the show he said “Oh yeah, you’re like one of those little people doing stuff behind the scenes right?” He thought he was so cool for being talent not production. I hope he enjoyed his little fifteen minutes. Break a leg bitch!
When people get out of prison they are given a list of jobs they can apply for that don’t require background checks. Extra acting was at the top of that list. Let’s just say I met some interesting people through those types of gigs.
I used to be an extra cheerleader actor on the show Glee. One day I noticed that another background girl got a bigger plot line than the rest of us on the squad. Her character wore a neck brace after we filmed a scene featuring us dropping her. She even got some pointless lines. When I asked her how she got the featured role, she told me that she sucked the director's dick.
A lot of the lead actors from Glee died way too young under such strange circumstances. It shocked me to hear about Naya Rivera’s death. She drowned shortly after we worked together on things for Cosmo and Fox.
I couldn’t believe how many cast members from Glee died in such abrupt tragic ways. No wonder Ryan Murphy’s work changed tones. Sometimes the horrors of life can be creatively inspiring.
Another extra acting gig was looking for people to play overweight dumpy midwesterns. The plot took place in Indiana, but the show was filmed in LA. I was offended when I got the part, but took it anyway, because I was broke.
The show ended up being Parks and Recreation. It was strange watching all the famous actors talk, text, and eat in their natural habitat. When we filmed Leslie Knope’s wedding reception scenes a creepy old man kept grinding his dick up on me. He refused to give me space or fuck off.
Sadly I’ve had way too many me too types of moments on sets, but that one was bad enough to get other people involved. I told my supervisor and they fired him for harassing me. The other extras ganged up on me, because he was a regular actor on that show, which was his only source of income. The directors saw me get groped then bullied, so they gave me way more screen time, near all the main characters.
One of the production assistants yelled at me for smoking weed in my car during our lunch break. She told me that Brad Pitt got fired from extra gigs for doing the same thing, as if that would stop me. I’m sure Brad recovered from that just fine. Getting fired from shitty jobs is a blessing in disguise.
The best extra acting gigs were for the show How I Met Your Mother. They filmed their scenes super fast. I’d go to the studio, sit down at a fake bar or bagel shop, then go home five minutes later. Even if I worked for just a few minutes they would pay me for the full eight hours. Best job ever!
Sometimes I’d see big famous actors do stupid little gigs around town. One time I was shopping at The Grove, barely anyone else was there, except for Neil Patrick Harris, who was unveiling a “BIG SURPRISE!” Since I was one of the only people around I stopped and watched his little performance. Guess it was a private show, just for me! He revealed a giant M&M statue that was hiding under a huge sheet. We both died lauging over how fucking stupid the whole thing was. His enthusiastic reaction was dripping in sarcasm. That gig was so shockingly dumb, it brought tears of joy to my eyes. At least I wasn’t the only one doing ridiculous jobs all over LA.
The backlot held auditions for an actors showcase, which was an opportunity to get discovered by an agent or manager. Every tour guide that wanted to try out had to team up with a coworker to perform a breakup scene from a romcom.
During the audition the casting directors asked me and my coworker to do our scene again, but make it a sex scene. My partner ended up getting into the showcase unlike me. Maybe I sucked at having fake sex.
It’s kinda crazy that I dry humped my sexy coworker in those ugly ass tour guide uniforms on the floor of a conference room with our bosses watching from behind a table. It wasn’t my hottest performance, but the whole thing was awkward as fuck.
When I told the guy I was dating about the audition, he got jealous that I kissed and fake fucked someone else. I didn’t think it was a big deal at all. Long story short, we got into a huge fight, and broke up. He was worried I might leave him for the hot buff actor dude, which is fair, because I totally hooked up with him after we split. I kinda felt like I had to redeem myself sexually, after that flop of an audition.
People would ask me out and then get mad at me for doing my job. Those fuckers knew what I did before dating me. It’s like they all expected me to dump my career for them. My longest relationship was mostly long distance. It’s crazy how many years I spent dating someone who wasn’t even around. He worried that I might cheat on him with a model, actor, or dancer. After we split I found out that we was fucking other girls the entire time.
Part of me was kinda relieved that I didn’t get into the backlot showcase. It was super sexual, but not in a hot way. There was no need to fake orgasm on stage with my coworkers just in hopes of impressing some strangers in a crappy old theater. Despite being rejected by the casting directors, I helped out at the event for some extra money. After the show an agent approached me while I was cleaning up the venue. He said that watching me fold tables was hotter than the sex show. I was the only person who got representation and I wasn’t even in the fucking show.
The agent told me that I needed some fresh new looks, measurements, and pictures. He kept urging me to lose tons of weight, so I ate laxatives and ran around like a maniac. He would ask questions like “Do you want to be the hot leading lady of the fat funny best friend?” IDFK. Whatever pays more?
A lot of agent and model stories seem to have a similar plot. Hot young girl fucks old creepy dude who claims he’s going to help her make it big. At one point my agent convinced me to drive down to his house in San Diego and pay him hundreds of dollars to take pictures of me. His photography was great, but that’s not the right way to start out with a new agent. I ended up spending more money on him than what I ended up making with him!
He was extremely flirtatious and loved sharing stories about his hot model hookups. I never put out, but I let him take me out a few times. Guess I was in it for the food, even though he judged me for eating it. He always asked me to act calmer, sexier, and more seductive. My hyper bubbly personality was quite the boner killer for him. He preferred when I acted soft, quiet, and sensual. He told me to wear tight clothing to show off my curves. He taught me how to breathe in through my nose and out of my mouth slowly, to get that perfect sexy model pout.
Even though that agent totally sucked, he helped me embrace a whole new level of confidence and sensuality. I didn’t book shit through him, but his little tips and tricks helped me get tons of roles and attention. Submitting myself to projects was usually more promising than trusting other people with my career. At least he motivated me to get into better shape.
One night I went to the Playboy Mansion to cover a red carpet event before a big party. That’s where I met Shaq, a true real life gentle giant. I was tired of being fat shamed by my agent, so it was nice to be around someone who made me feel dainty.
I wanted to go into the Playboy Mansion even though I wasn’t formally invited to the party. My cameraman and I hid our press passes, linked arms, and walked right in. I saw a Playboy Bunny in full costume and yelled at her “OH MY GOD!!! YOU LOOK FUCKING AMAZING!!! LET’S TAKE PICS!!!” As if I knew her! We just acted like we were supposed to be there and it worked. Later that night I added my name to the official Playboy Mansion Party Invite List, so I got invited to all of their future events.
Hugh Hefner totally gave off Gatsby vibes. He watched over the parties from his balcony, while chillin in his robe and slippers with a cigar. I loved learning about how he started Playboy. Hef was such a legendary inspiring character. His iconic brand celebrated sex, art, politics, and culture. He was truly avant garde and revolutionary! He put Marilyn Monroe on the first cover of Playboy and now they are buried next to each other. I’ve always been a huge fan of those sexy talented superstars.
I saw Snoop Dog smoking a blunt with some famous people at a Playboy Party. I had no idea who they were, but he was so starstruck! They were probably famous athletes or something. I walked up and said “MMM THAT SMELLS GOOD!” and he handed me the blunt. I was kinda excluded from the conversation, but I was in on that fat blunt rotation, which was good enough for me! Smoking weed with Snoop Dog at the Playboy Mansion was the most iconic moment of my life, but it was probably pretty forgettable to him.
The mansion was only renovated and updated in the areas that were on camera. The rest of it was kinda old and dingy with seventies shag carpet. There was a side house with a bunch of pinball machines and a spinny circle bed with mirrored walls and ceilings. My friend and I started hooking up on the Austin Powers circle bed, but we were quickly interrupted and kicked out. It was supposed to be a WHEN IN ROME kinda moment. Having sex at the Playboy Mansion would have been legendary! We ended up going back to my place, which didn’t really have the same appeal.
Playboy parties always had the best food, but no one ate it except for me. Most of the girls starved themselves and refused to eat just to look skinny. Whatever, their loss, more for me! I was there for the food, so I made sure to get super baked before each party.
I actually got another job at Universal Studios, working as a Marilyn Monroe impersonator. There were thirteen of us playing that same role. They ranked us based on looks, size, and acting abilities. Naturally the character dressing rooms were filled with drama and gossip. It was so funny watching a bunch of Marilyn Monore clones talk shit about each other. The hardest part of that job was having to speak in a slow sexy baby voice while getting groaped by drunk tourists. So many wasted old men tried honking my padded titties.
Sometimes we had to stand over fans that blew up our skirts. It felt pretty great during the summer heat waves in the valley. During a show one of the Marilyns started her period while doing the fan bit, which made the tourists scream. Luckily Universal Studios is known for their horror nights. Everyone thought it was funny, except the girl it happened to, who quit shortly after.
Acting like Marilyn became a huge part of my life for years. She helped me embrace my sexuality and book modeling gigs. I had a hard time separating who I was playing from my real personality. My makeup, wardrobe, and home decor morphed into a pinup style. We wore wigs at work, but that didn’t stop me from chopping off my hair and pouring bleach all over my head. I acted like Marilyn all the time even when I was off the clock.
My Marilyn Monroe inspired alter ego led me to romanticize toxic things like cigarettes, affairs, drugs, depression, and suicide. That’s Hollywood Baby!
Marilyn Monroe died at age thirty six. I wondered if Universal Studios would fire me when or if I reached that age. I guess all the old ass Marilyns could switch over to Disney to play Cruella?
One of the other Marilyn Monroe impersonators hated my guts. I heard her talk mad shit about me in the dressing rooms multiple times. Most of those girls were try hard pick me prudes, which was weird considering who they were playing. I was the wild stoner Marilyn that chain smoked cigs and ate french fries in costume. The other girls were much more goody two shoes. I doubt they’ve ever touched drugs, or even worse, carbs!
Everyone responded better to me acting like Marilyn. I knew that if I turned on that charming sexy seductive energy I would have better reactions from others. Whenever people say that I look like Marilyn I tell them that my last name is Kennedy and I don’t know my dad.
One of my trans friends confronted me for hiding my true self in hopes of accommodating other people's expectations. She called me out for acting like different people based on who we were around. I felt embarrassed, but grateful she pointed out some of my toxic patterns. Ultimately her feedback was uplifting, even though it felt pretty brutal in the moment.
She was able to recognize people living out of alignment more than others, because that’s how she operated for most of her life. Being authentic is such a huge flex in a world filled with people who fear judgment.
What she said was true, but nothing new. Sometimes I’m too adaptable and get lost without even noticing. I grew up learning from strict piano teachers, severe ballet instructors, militant yogis, and stern catholic nuns. There was an undeniable pressure to be perfect and obedient. Over the years I acted like different versions of myself to make certain people comfortable. I loved playing different characters, even though the real me was somewhere deep down dying to get out. My chameleon style people pleasing tendencies took years to outgrow. I eventually learned that being creative is the best way to express myself.
All those childhood cotillions, bible studies, and manners classes ultimately backfired. Marilyn was way more sexy, adventurous, and fun than the past versions of myself. My newfound wardrobe and confidence made life more enjoyable. That kind of change was empowering.
It felt like I was getting closer to being the real me, compared to the way I used to present myself in the past. At least I was losing myself in the right direction.
Fame, drugs, youth, and mortality were constantly on my mind. I came to work high every day and claimed to be a method actor. At times I thought I was losing my mind from repeating the same jokes, stories, and phrases so many times.
I dyed my hair baby pink in a desperate attempt to separate myself from who I was playing. That work experience gave me mad respect for actors. Pretending to be someone else was fun, but it wasn’t great for my mental health.
The summer was long and hot. Most of us performers desperately needed a break. It was time to get out of town, let loose, and go wild. Vegas Baby!
A big group of us went out to the desert to party on the strip. We ate a fuck ton of mushrooms, which was not our best idea, considering how much coke, weed, and booze we consumed. It’s like we had a death wish.
The casino lights and carpet patterns looked like they choreographed epic dance routines for us. At one point I went to the bathroom and stared at the wall for way too long, because it looked like it was dripping black paint. I went in there to pee, but the toilet freaked me out, so I just stood there for hours. Later I found out it was less than a minute. I had no concept of time or reality. People looked like ancient swollen playdough balloon animals. We tried to act natural in front of strangers, but they freaked us out. Everyone looked wrinkly and bloated at the same time, which was not their best look. Walking through that circus themed casino was terrifying. Children running through the hallways looked like evil gremlin monsters chasing after us.
One of our friends decided he was going to take whatever drug was offered to him. Some random guys approached us to sell us some “V.” None of us knew what that was, but my friend paid for it, and took it anyway. It ended up being Viagra. His raging boner deeply hurt and upset him. We got stuck in a crowd of girls wearing skimpy festival outfits, swimwear, and lingerie. One of them was wearing a sunflower on each boob and a tiny black thong. She turned around and yelled at him to stop poking her in the back! His rock hard dick was such an embarrassment to our whole group. He couldn’t find a way to hide or get rid of it. I thought it was fucking hilarious, but he felt so creepy and disgusted with himself. He disappeared in an attempt to take care of it, but the bathrooms were too gross for him to successfully masterbate.
For some reason we thought it would be fun to sample some hot sauce on our journey. It was so spicy we had to sign a waiver before tasting it. One of my friends reacted by cussing everyone out. I busted into a candy shop and stuffed my face with ice cream. Another guy ran into a restaurant, collapsed on the floor, and started convulsing. Everyone else ran straight into traffic.
The surrounding tourists were horrified by our behavior. That hot sauce was more intense than drugs. I’m surprised we didn’t shit ourselves. We’re lucky to be alive.
On our way back to the hotel we sat down at a bar to order more drinks. As if we weren’t fucked up enough already. A lady turned to us and said “HOLY SHIT. TMZ just reported that Robin Williams killed himself.”
It was hard to hear about his suicide while tripping ballz.
Robin’s story resonated with me. We both loved comedy, but struggled with depression. Our lives were filled with fabulous people and adventures, but we both felt sad, despite the smiles on our faces. Depressed people don't always seem unhappy, some of them look like Robin Williams or Marilyn Monroe.
Most animals bear their teeth as a form of protection. It’s a survival instinct. I usually had a huge fucking smile on my face to mask my issues. In a way I was programmed to act like things were fine, even though they never were.
I know this sounds bat shit crazy, but I think Robin Williams visited me from the other side that night. It felt like he was urging me to go after my goals while I still had the time.
The whole thing was trippy as fuck. I know that I was hallucinating, but I heard Robin Williams psychedelic cartoon ghost voices ringing through my head. He sounded like a wise old genie version of Euphegenia Doubtfire.
Robin reminded me that we need to be ourselves and do what we love while we can. If you want something, go after it, despite what others might think.
My friend said he was able to see his goofy spirit guides while tripping. His three silly angels were more shocked that he could see them than he was. It blew all of their minds. He said they were running around him while waving and yelling at each other like “OH MY GOD! HE CAN FUCKING SEE US RIGHT NOW!” Then they all started nagging him “WE KEEP SENDING YOU SO MANY MESSAGES, BUT YOU ALWAYS IGNORE THEM!!!”
Mushrooms have the power to connect humans to the spiritual world. Plants have magical powers that can change our limited minds, bodies, and senses.
Did I really hear Robin Williams? Did my friend really see his spirit guides? Did we tap into another dimension? Did we communicate with the dead?
Maybe it was just a bunch of crazy hallucinations.
Maybe we let our imaginations get the best of us.
The next day we were hungover as fuck. It seemed like we were gone for months, but it was just one crazy weekend. We kept talking about death, life, art, religion, spirituality, and so-called reality.
I impulsively quit my job in an email on our drive back to LA. I didn’t care or worry about the fact that I was broke and had nothing else lined up. Robin’s suicide inspired me to reevalute my life and take action towards my dreams.
For some reason I wanted to be an entertainment news reporter on tv and knew it was time to make it happen. I had so many interests. Interviewing a variety of creatives could give me inspiration or a little taste of their worlds.
Even though that trip was fucking insane, the mushrooms gave us clarity, which helped us view our lives from new perspectives. I recognized which relationships, jobs, and hobbies held the most value. Psychedelics showed me what I needed to change and get rid of before the next chapter.