CHAPTER I: WHAT’S YOUR TWENTY?

Smoking weed, drinking cocktails, and laughing with celebrities seemed like an ideal career path to me. Chelsea was living my dream. She was blonde, rich, sexy, confident, and hilarious. Most of her success came from writing about her boobs, dogs, and vodka sponsored adventures. I admired people like her and hoped to be one someday. 

After studying her show’s credits, I friended the cast and crew members on social media. Somehow I managed to weasel my way into a few interviews. Then E! offered me an internship at Chelsea Lately!

Chelsea and I were going to be best friends, I could feel it. Blunts on the beach, standup shows, photoshoots, ski trips, the works. 

I sent a follow up email to the producers to thank them for the opportunity and ask them a few basic questions. They responded saying there was a mix up, because the show couldn’t bring on any more interns at that time. I was crushed. Especially since I had already bragged about it to all my friends on social media.

A few months went by and I reached out again, this time to Maggie, one of Chelsea’s assistants. After some DMs back and forth, Maggie hired me as her personal production intern. I was beyond stoked to be Chelsea’s assistant’s assistant’s assistant! It didn’t even bother me that it was an unpaid gig. It was my foot in the door to Hollywood! 

I couldn’t believe how Chelsea the Chelsea Lately offices were. Chelsea’s name and face were plastered all over everything! It was Chelsea Chelsea this and Chelsea Chelsea that. Bras were hanging from the ceilings and there were pictures of her tits and ass decorating the walls. 

If you want to be a star you essentially have to be a narcissistic egomaniac. You have to believe you’re the shit in order to convince others that you’re worthy of the spotlight. Not like I should judge, I’m a total attention whore. 

Chelsea met Maggie way before she got famous. The two of them became friends while working at a comedy club, back when Chelsea was touring on the road. Chelsea later met a rich man with major connections. He helped move Maggie out to Santa Monica to work as Chelsea’s personal assistant towards the beginning of her career. 

It took me a really long time to figure out that I was Maggie’s secret illegal intern. She told me to stay downstairs away from the rest of the cast and crew. My office was a closet that was decorated to look like a dungeon. Maggie even put a sign on the door that read “intern dungeon.” It was way too far away from the vodka water cooler and breakfast buffet.

Cameras add weight, so the female comedians taught me all sorts of diet tricks, like how to scoop all the bread out of a bagel before toasting it. My dungeon was next to the stage and guest dressing rooms, so I saw movie stars and pop stars more than my actual coworkers. 

Reese Witherspoon was one of the first celebrities I met in real life. She was so kind, funny, and itty bitty. Her face was glowing and her positive energy changed the vibes of the whole fucking building. I really wanted to tell Reese about my Legally Blonde themed thirteenth birthday party, but Chelsea made me nervous, so I hid in the corner instead. 

Maggie told me that some of the male comedians got upset when they heard that I got the original internship offer. They didn’t want some random dumb blonde Orange County girl working there. I looked like I “might break a nail.”  My heels, push up bra, and platinum blonde extensions weren’t helping. 

The crew wanted a strong man who could get shit done, which was why they revoked their previous offer. I couldn’t believe how much sexist bullshit was going on behind the scenes of a show hosted by powerful women. 

In hindsight, I might have dressed inappropriately for the interview. I looked like I wanted to be on the show, not work on the show. I was all dolled up, ready to take the stage!

The male intern they chose instead of me came from major family money. He bounced around the office on a yoga ball while drinking margaritas with the comedians. He lived in a mansion in the hills while I couch surfed around town. I loved him, but hated the fact that I was doing all the work, while he 

got all the credit and screen time!

My coworkers bragged about their wild drunken drug fueled adventures while I suffered from major fomo. I was excluded from all the big company parties and vacations, because I was an underaged secret employee.

Chelsea and I were never formally introduced, even though I worked for her for years. At times I would be in her home or office doing my job and feared she might catch me working. 

Maggie had two rules: #1 Don’t bother or talk to Chelsea. #2 Never ask a celebrity for a photo or an autograph. “Remember, you want to be a friend, not a fan!”

Chelsea was a blur. Sometimes I would see her quickly passing through the hallways between shows, flights, photoshoots, or pilates lessons. She had a reputation for being a total fucking bitch, but seemed like a really kind and generous person. Chelsea worked her ass off and funded multiple people's lives. She played pranks on friends and family members, but rewarded them later with things like bikes, cars, and vacations… which sounded like a pretty fair trade to me.

Every once in a while Chelsea would stop and look at me. She was probably wondering “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?” I would quietly stare back at her like a deer in the headlights before bolting. Her confidence scared the shit out of me.

Chelsea’s life was abundantly filled with money and success, but I couldn't help but wonder, was it all worth it? Did she ever get a break? Would she ever get a chance to relax and enjoy everything she earned?

There was something appealing about that kind of lifestyle, even though it looked fucking exhausting. She was constantly creating and helping others. I admired her extreme level of ambition and ability to put herself out there.

Chelsea spoke to psychics for years. She didn’t talk about her magical beliefs publicly, but I desperately wanted to know more about them. Maggie told me that a famous LA psychic helped lead Chelsea towards her abundant destiny.

The power of fame and having a platform is undeniable. 

Chelsea adopted her dog from a kill shelter, which inspired people to save older dogs, instead of buying puppies. Many people sent pictures of their beloved pets to the show to thank Chelsea for influencing them to adopt animals in need. 

Taking Chunk outside for his morning shit was my duty. He seemed to time out his dumps perfectly. I was often picking up dog poop on the side of the road while celebrity guests arrived. We even made it into a few paparazzi shots!

Chunk had a snobby elitist attitude. He knew he was more rich and famous than me. He sure won the dog lottery by getting adopted by Chelsea. Shit, I wanted her to adopt me too!

One time the crew members filled my car with bottles of vodka for me to deliver to Chelsea’s friends for the holidays. No one seemed to care that I was an underaged teenager. 

It was wild seeing so many famous faces and families in real life. Most of them had butlers or servants answer their doors. Some of the celebrities invited me into their mansions to hang out, eat, or chat. Everyone assumed that I knew Chelsea personally, which made me cool by association. 

Jay Leno was eating a giant turkey leg when I walked into his office. When I handed him a bottle of vodka from Chelsea he said “LET’S TAKE A SHOT!” I was so scared of getting caught underaged drinking and driving with all that liquor in my car, so I yelled “HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!” while waving and running away from him.

One night I delivered a bottle of vodka to one of Chelsea’s friends in Malibu. She invited me to stay for Christmas cookies and snacks. She gave me a tour of her beachfront mansion while sharing stories about her fun times with Chelsea back in the day. 

People always wanted me to say something to Chelsea for them. I agreed, but never relayed their messages. They asked me so many questions about her and I would make up answers that seemed fit. Is she nice? Sure. How is she doing? Great. Is she a bitch? Totally.

Chelsea had no problem with co-workers dating one another. Where else would people meet if they were working all the time? There were lots of overlapping office romance dramas. Everyone gossiped about who was fucking who. It was hard to know what rumors were true, because the comedians lied and pranked each other all the time. 

One of the crew members went through a break up with Chelsea’s best friend and then dated Chelsea’s assistant. Then a comedian that Chelsea had a crush on dated her other assistant. He ended up dumping her and dated Chelsea later on. That relationship gave them tons of fame and attention. They gave off endgame vibes, but it didn’t last long. His comedy career took off thanks to Chelsea, but I’m sure he wanted to be single for his little fifteen minute movie star moment. Koy isn’t known for playing it coy. 

People sent Chelsea free stuff all the time. There’s so much power in being an influential trendsetter. Since Chelsea didn’t want most of those things the rest of us got to keep them. I basically got paid in extra small Juicy Couture sweatsuits and gigantic bottles of Belvedere Vodka. 

Maggie and I loved getting wasted off all the free vodka from Chelsea’s endorsement deals. We would go out to clubs looking bomb as fuck, but wear fake hillbilly teeth. Guys would hit on us, we would flash them a smile, and watch them react. Most got flustered, spilt their drinks, and ran away. It didn’t matter if other people found us funny, because we thought that we were fucking hilarious.  

One night, we got some fast food, after some bunts and cocktails. We saw a poor, sad man sitting on a bench. Maggie always wanted to help people, so we bought him some Taco Bell. When we gave him a burrito he threw it on the ground, leaped into a fancy sports car, and zoomed off while flipping us off. We thought that he was homeless, but he was just a hipster. Whoopsies. 

Chelsea drank regularly, but never drove drunk. She always had a designated driver give her a ride home. I helped her assistants get her vehicles back to her house after many drunken nights out. 

I ended up living with Kara, who was Chelsea’s main assistant. One night Chelsea got drunk and Ubered home so we had to get her car back to her house. Kara accidentally scratched Chelsea’s Bentley that night while driving and was scared to tell her what happened. Chelsea didn’t even care. It was no big deal to her. She was beyond understanding and had plenty of money to fix it. 

Kara got married young back in Oklahoma. She moved to LA to pursue her Hollywood dreams. Her husband and dog came too, but they weren’t built for that scene, so things didn’t work out. After their divorce Kara started dating one of our coworkers. The three of us lived off of tacos, Marlboro Lights, and Modeleos in West Hollywood for a few years. Now they’re real grown ups, married with a baby!

One year Kara got to spend Thanksgiving with Chelsea Handler and Jennifer Anniston. Our apartment was covered in Friends memorabilia and pictures of Jennifer Anniston. I wondered if either of them knew that Kara was a Friends superfan. Kara is pretty quiet, shy, and introverted compared to them. She was probably fanning the fuck out on the inside while trying to play it cool. 

Maggie lived in a lavish modern loft near the beach, dated hot celebrities, and only wore designer clothes. I drove her to most of her plastic surgery appointments. Her surgeon, Dr. Dubrow, was famous for appearing on reality shows. His work was incredible! I loved watching his surgical process in real life. I took care of Maggie at a fancy resort in Newport post rhinoplasty. She recovered inside while I drank poolside. Maggie ordered us everything off of the room service menu, which was Chelsea’s routine during standup tours. 

Chelsea had a little nugget sidekick named Chuy on the show. Most of the jokes about him involved his height, weight, or race. He loved it, but there’s no way that shit would fly today. Chuy gave so many hot young girls tours of the stage and office. We wondered if they were bunnies or strippers. I didn’t get many lines on the show, but they had him check me out in a few scenes.

The stylists didn’t think I was skinny enough to play sexy roles. They layered me up in corsets and shapewear to help make me look more attractive. In one episode Chuy stared at my tits during a yoga scene. For some reason I was really proud to play the office slut for free. 

One day the wardrobe department forgot to put a dress in Chelsea’s car before a big event. I raced over to her mansion, parked outside the gate, ran up the hill, and delivered the gown to her house manager. Somehow I ended up getting locked inside of her property. Nobody answered the door and her assistants never responded to my calls or texts. I wanted to climb over the gate to get out, but I worried I might break it, or it might impale me, so I just nervously waited around her yard. I was scared Chelsea might call the cops and report me as a trespasser. What if I got arrested for doing my job? What if the security footage ended up on the show? Chelsea was too busy to know what was going on. Chunk judged me through the window. He wanted to be outside while I wanted to be inside. Somebody must have eventually seen me, because the gates randomly opened, and I managed to escape.

When I first started working there I was so young, innocent, and naive. I remember the comedians talking about how they wanted to get an eight ball for the holiday party. I thought they wanted one of those plastic magic eight ball toys to answer random questions. Luckily my queer friends in WEHO cleared up that confusion real fast, before I made a complete fool out of myself in front of the comedians. They all lowkey scared the shit out of me.

The world was a different place back then. Comedy was funny. People made jokes and didn’t care about offending other people. In a way, that was kind of the point. Being able to laugh at ourselves and others helped make life more bearable. There were no real rules back then, which was why we had so much fun. People got way more sensitive over the years, including me.

It was wild to see Jim Carrey shamelessly rawdog his ADHD vibes at Chelsea Lately. I’ve always appreciated artists who embrace authenticity despite all the societal pressures to be basic. 

I’ve always loved Jim Carrey. He’s a real renaissance artist. Actor, painter, dancer, writer, chameleon extraordinaire! His work can be so funny, yet dark. All the dramatic highs and lows speak to me. I usually enjoy hearing his perspectives on art, religion, politics, and spirituality. 

Everything Jim Carrey did should’ve been cringe, but it was so fucking hot. Confidence plus humor equals sexy. Guess you could say he has a certain je ne sais quoi! Just ignore my daddy issues and go with it. 

Justin Bieber came on Chelsea Lately towards the beginning of his career. He kept trying to flirt with Chelsea during their interview. Since Justin was just a teenager it upset Chelsea. She probably felt like he was framing her to look like a creepy ass pedophile. I thought it was kinda funny. Little did Chelsea know that an unpaid teenager was in the next room drinking all her vodka.

Maybe Chelsea did know about me. Maybe she knew what was going on the whole time. Maybe she just looked the other direction. Maggie would always say things like “Chelsea is so proud of you!” and I’d think “Chelsea doesn’t even know that I fucking exist!” The whole thing was such a mind fuck.

By the way, when Chelsea got mad at Justin for hitting on her I thought that she couldn’t take a joke and that she was being too dramatic. Now that all the Diddy White Party Freak Off stories have come out, I know that Chelsea made the right decision. Unfortunately Justin Bieber was used to adults taking advantage of him emotionally, morally, sexually, and financially. So many hosts and celebrities were inappropriately hitting on him publicly when he was just a little boy. Back in those days I really wanted to go to a Diddy White Party, I had the worst FOMO, but now I’m glad that I wasn’t invited.

I was an intern, a coffee barista, and a college student all at the same time. It was a bit much, especially considering how much I was partying.

One time when I was working at the register at Starbucks a lady asked me if she could use the restroom. When I told her that we didn’t have a bathroom she screamed, pulled down her pants, and took a massive shit on the floor. The intense rage and eye contact seemed unnecessary. I ran to the back of the store, told the manager what happened, and announced that I wouldn’t be cleaning it up. His eyes rolled into the back of his skull while he let out a long audible exhale. He took care of the mess and quit that job shortly after. 

Most of my barista coworkers were stoned surfers, who taught me all about sex and drugs. It was the education I needed. Their wisdom made me seem like less of a fucking loser around the comedians. We often closed the coffee shop early to hotbox the place and eat all the pastries. Starbucks didn’t have any security cameras back then, so nobody gave a fuck about anything.  

One day while I was working, a mentally ill homeless man asked me a series of questions about bus routes that I was unable to answer. He yelled at me for being a selfish bitch and threw someone's innocent latte on the ground. Whatever I said must have deeply upset him. After that he started stalking me around town, which was fucking terrifying. He came back to the shop a few days later, to show off his collection of knives that were lining the inside of his jacket. Then he gave my coworkers a “present” for me. It was a rusty old penny, in hopes that I would “shove it up my asshole and die a horrible blood curdling painful death.” The new manager told me to never come back to that Starbucks again.  

The company transferred me to a different location, which was stalker free, and way less chaotic. Some might say I was the crazy one there, instead of the customers. On my last day I wore hillbilly teeth to work and most people thought they were real. My coworkers loved it, they put me on register. Only men shared their verbal opinions about my appearance. One dude was such an asshole, he ranted about surgical options, while his girlfriend elbowed him to shut up. Another guy got startled and spilt hot coffee all over himself. One guy commented that I could potentially be attractive if I fixed my teeth. My social experiment proved how shallow people can be, especially in California. 

The Chelsea Lately comedians were proud of me for pranking strangers. It felt like I was finally part of the crew. We even kept that stupid joke going by doing a sexy photoshoot with fake hillbilly teeth. 

Around that same time Maggie got really into Agape, an LA Christian based religion focused around love and positivity. She acted ecstatically happy all the time and got rid of all of her belongings. 

Maggie confidently believed in manifestation, positive thinking, and the law of attraction. We expected our lives to be filled with fame and fortune. She started posting about her beliefs around the same time the network changed filming locations. It didn’t look good for the show. Some might say it wasn’t “on brand.” 

The show cut her from production, so we both had to find new jobs. Luckily Maggie always knew how to look on the brightside. She dreamed of being a famous rapper and finally had time to pursue that goal. 

Working in the entertainment industry taught me way more than school did. Colleges were ripping off young people, by charging them tons of money to learn about outdated technology. There was no need to learn about media from old people, old equipment, or old textbooks. 

Going into debt over a piece of paper, just to impress some old squares, never made sense to me. College parties sucked compared to stand up shows, red carpet events, and Playboy mansion parties.

My family totally freaked out when I told them that I dropped out of school to pursue show business. Chelsea never went to college and she was fine! Somehow I’d learn how to survive. 

Going to an elite school could get me into rooms or parties with the right people, but so could show business! I could make impressive connections while working in Hollywood, without having to go into massive amounts of debt. That route sounded way more fun, exciting, and lucrative.

I knew that my curiosity and adventures would continue to expand my mind. I could always keep learning new things from experiences, travels, books, stories, shows, etc. There's always much more room for improvement. 

Ho hired me to be his assistant. He was a comedian on Chelsea Lately for years. It was awkward working as a personal bitch for someone who didn’t trust me. Ho would ask me my opinion on things, but do the exact opposite every time. I tried to talk him out of so many bad wardrobe choices. Chelsea always roasted him for being a fame whore with terrible outfits. He obviously enjoyed being bullied by her. Ho always worried that I didn’t find him funny. I went to most of his standup comedy shows and he would get upset if I didn’t laugh out loud during his routines. 

I heard his jokes repeated so many times. If you want to hold an audience, keep things new and fresh! He had a good bit about his mom, who’s name is Kum Ho. I guess it was more of a fun fact than a joke, but it was still funny. 

Whenever Theo Von performed I nearly died laughing. I’d be crying while suffocating in response to his jokes. One time he performed in Irvine and I was the only person in the audience laughing out loud. I slid into his DMs after the show and said “Rough crowd, but I think you’re funny!” He said “Yeah, Irvine is full of tight asses.” As someone who’s from Orange County, I couldn't agree more! We exchanged numbers, but never spoke, or saw each other again after that. I’m sure we both have different phone numbers now, but I still have him saved in my contacts. Ho was funny too, but his sense of humor was a little too tame for my taste. Nikki Glaser slut shaming herself while roasting the fuck out of celebrity strangers was way more my speed. 

My favorite work days were when I got to assist Ho at E! News. I idolized hosts like Joan Rivers and Chelsea Handler, so I couldn’t believe I was working with or around them. Maybe someday I could be a confident funny blonde bitch on tv too!

Whenever I was in the same rooms as Joan Rivers and Chelsea Handler I felt completely invisible. Even though I was right there next to them, it was like watching them on TV or behind glass in a zoo. I remember walking by the Fashion Police in the hallways at E! Kelly Osbourne was the only host that looked me in the eye, said hello, and asked me how I was doing. She’s the only famous person I’ve met that treated me like a human being. It’s not like we were besties, but it was nice to have her acknowledge my existence.  

Ho didn’t trust any of his employees. One time he had me stay at his place to watch over his maids, because he was afraid they might steal something. His apartment was extremely modern and minimalistic. There was nothing for them to take even if they wanted to. Towards the end of their shift, I ran downstairs to put some money in my parking meter. While I was outside, a fire started in his building, and I got locked out. His maids were gone by the time I got back inside. Ho fired me after the fire. 

Years passed by while I watched Maggie post some questionable pictures online. They concerned me, then inspired me to reach out. I relentlessly questioned her until she confessed that she was living on the streets. 

When I got Maggie to meet up with me her skin was so sunburnt and her clothes were falling apart. It was wild to watch someone fall so far that fast. Her life looked like a dream turned into a nightmare. 

She was still so positive, despite losing everything. Maggie believed that experience was the street cred she needed to fulfill her dream of becoming a famous rapper. 

Maggie told me stories about the different homeless clicks and how they would perform or compete in the streets. They had dance and rap battles on Santa Monica Beach and Skid Row. Maggie’s struggles made her strong and fearless. She hit rock bottom, survived, and felt completely invincible. 

Homeless people in LA are usually pretty talented. They moved there with big dreams, but never accomplished their goals. There are actually really hot homeless people all over that city. Most of them can’t hold a home or a job long term due to addictions and mental illnesses. 

Maggie apologized to me for making me work as her secret illegal intern. She confessed that she collected all the paychecks for all the hard work that I completed at Chelsea Lately. On some level I kinda already knew the truth. Luckily that experience led me towards other opportunities. In a way she helped me more than she hurt me. We agreed to laugh it off and put our past mistakes behind us. I considered her my best friend, before I knew that she was taking advantage of me. It’s smart to forgive, but dumb to forget!

Maggie was too embarrassed to ask for help, but that didn’t stop me from reaching out to Chelsea’s other assistants. I was concerned for her safety. 

Chelsea gave Maggie money for clothes, doctors appointments, and a ticket back to her home state. There’s nothing wrong with being rich. The more money you have the more you’re able to help others! 

The last time I saw Maggie was when I drove her to the train station. I told her that LA fucking sucks. It isn’t worth all the pain and suffering. Maybe at a certain point it’s best to let go of some dreams and move on. It was time for her to go somewhere nicer, better, calmer, fresher, and easier. 

I should have listened to my own advice. Little did I know that I was about to face my own series of borderline amazing rock bottom moments as well. 

Everyone has problems, no matter what their lives look like on the outside. 

Our biggest fuck ups are our best stories. 

Let’s laugh and learn from them together. 

CHAPTER II: THE INEBRIATED TRUTH

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.

CHAPTER III: TASTE THE LIMELIGHT

After abruptly quitting my job during a psychedelic comedown, I came across a Craigslist post from an anonymous company. They were looking for chatty people who love comedy and pop culture. It sounded like a great fit for me, so I went ahead and applied. 

The company ended up being TMZ, one of the biggest entertainment news outlets. During the interview I gossiped about Vanderpump Rules and Real Housewives, which impressed them, so they offered me a job. 

So just to recap, I heard about Robin Williams death through a TMZ report while tripping on mushrooms. It inspired me to go after my goal of being on TV, so I applied to a random Craiglist job post for an unidentifiable company, which got me on the show TMZ. It felt weirdly full circle. What a fucking trip.

Since an early age I intuitively felt like I was supposed to be in the public eye. It was never necessarily a goal or desire to be straight up famous. Recognition can lead towards money, success, popularity, support, ego boosts, and opportunities…but there’s always a catch. 

Sacrificing safety and privacy is usually the cost of fame. It seems to leave most people feeling empty and broken. For some reason I still wanted to put myself out there, despite all my anxious introverted tendencies, and all the potential downsides. Something about that lifestyle looked exhilarating.

Passionate people inspire me to embark on all sorts of creative adventures. There are undeniable powers that come from confidence, talent, and having a platform. 

I loved being on TV. That sounds vain, but whatever. Part of me really enjoys high intensity things, because they make my anxieties feel more normal. 

If I’m on a rollercoaster or a stage it makes sense for me to be a little stressed, frightened, jittery, nauseous, excited, surprised, nervous, or overwhelmed. If I have bad anxiety while nothing is happening it feels wrong. 

Most people in my life don’t perceive me as shy or introverted, and maybe I’m not. I just felt that way next to other performers who were much more loud, bold, confident, outspoken, and extraverted.

TMZ broke all the big stories and the other outlets would copy them. I was shocked to see how credible and accurate they were. There was a fast paced sense of urgency and pressure to break stories before anyone else. TMZ on TV shared our personal opinions, which gave the show a unique edge.

I totally trust TMZ, but that’s about it. Most other outlets are total fucking bullshit. A lot of magazines, tabloids, blogs, and social media accounts are filled with ridiculous rumors. Celebrities have to deal with people lying about them all the time. If you believe everything you see or hear that’s on you! 

One time I heard a rumor going around about how Lizzo killed someone with her weight while crowd surfing. It was just a bullshit lie from some loser on the internet, but imagine reading something like that about yourself.

Another time I saw a picture of Paris Hilton in a white wife beater tank top that read “STOP BEING POOR.” She didn’t actually wear that, some asshole photoshopped that onto her fucking outfit. 

Working for TMZ changed my perspective on life, news, and the media. They hired me to work as tour guide and cast member on the show. We recorded in the mornings, went off to our other TMZ jobs, then watched the final edit air in the evenings. 

On the show a bunch of us sat around the office to chat about the latest entertainment news stories. They expected me to bring in some footage of celebrity sightings from my tours, but that rarely happened. It was awkward going up to famous people with a camera in the wild. I didn’t know how they might react. I never intended to be invasive. 

It’s crazy how many people have kissed my ass or cussed me out because of my association with TMZ. Most days I came into the show with no footage, but the producers still gave me clips to work with. We took turns pitching stories based on our recordings, then everyone would chime in to add their own opinions. 

Some of our chats evolved into hilarious banter while others flopped. The editors turned our conversations into quick little bits. We never knew what parts of the show might make the final edit. Sometimes our conversations seemed funnier and more interesting in real life, other times the editors and voiceover artists really helped us out. The funniest shit people said was too inappropriate to air on TV. 

One time we talked about an actor overdosing then going to rehab. One of my coworkers said “It’s just coke. What’s the big deal?” We all died laughing, because it’s always snowing in Hollywood! 

The producers usually gave me footage to pitch that interested me. I tried to call dibs on all the Miley Cyrus and Justin Bieber stories. Most of my favorite stars weren’t discussed often. Nobody cared for my Flight of the Conchords references. I wanted to know what Chris Lilley and Noel Fielding were up to, but they’re too far out of the Thirty Mile Zone.

The TMZ tours were on public streets, so we had to deal with traffic, fans, stars, cops, and crazies. If we spotted any famous people, it was my job to interview them for the show. I had no problem talking in front of tourists or cameras, but I felt so fucking awkward approaching random celebrities on the streets. Some encounters were iconic moments of my life, but I could tell they were pretty forgettable conversations to them. Passengers would often spot famous people and I wouldn’t know who they were. It was hard trying to interview someone I knew nothing about. When in doubt I would just ask them their opinion on whatever we talked about on the show. 

Some fame whores were dying to be seen. They would linger by the famous hot spots on the bus route, waiting for us to give them attention. If I didn’t feel like talking to people, I would pretend like there was no room to park or time due to traffic. They would get angry when I had the driver keep going, instead of pulling over to chat with them.

There were also tons of stars who hated TMZ. They bolted when they saw me on the bus. A few of them refused to talk to the tourists or cameras. Some of them cussed me out for drawing attention towards them. I think those people are fucking idiots. They just made themselves look bad. Why not embrace free publicity and use it to your advantage? They felt like TMZ was interfering with their personal lives and privacy, while we thought that we were helping their careers. Now I see both sides. I became fans of people I hated and hated people I used to love. 

Paris Hilton had the best footage. She was always so kind and patient with her fans. It looked like she genuinely enjoyed taking pictures with people. Her hot rich bitch persona was totally an act. She had a much deeper voice in real life. My coworkers told me that she had a chill down to earth stoner vibe in person, which kind of surprised me. 

I got to guest host some shows where we would talk about celebrities outfits and rate them for being fab or drab. I thought it was funny, but people gave me so much shit for judging other women. Whatever. Anyone with anything worth talking about is going to have people talking about them. 

Arts and entertainment should be discussed. Especially if it’s controversial enough to stir up a room. Could you imagine if Lady Gaga released a new album and nobody talked about it? No comment about Seth Rogen's latest film? No response after an Andy Cohen reunion? That would totally fucking suck!

Lala was my favorite cast member from Vanderpump Rules. She co-hosted TooFab with me one time. We judged designer red carpet looks while I wore an ugly ass outfit from fucking ROSS. I wince at the thought of my Goodwill shoes and unnecessary extra buttons. Lala fucking slayed. I loved her style, vibes, humor, and energy. I didn’t know if I wanted to be her or be with her.   

Back in the day I hosted a Vanderpump Rules After Show at Afterbuzz. I had interviewed most of the cast members except for Lisa Vanderpump. One day I went up to her at PUMP in West Hollywood. I introduced myself and asked her if she would be willing to do an interview with me someday. 

Lisa snarled back in her bitchy British accent “No. Giggy is signed with CAA. You can reach out to his agent. Maybe he’ll give you the time of day.” Then she handed me her dog’s agent’s business card. I actually grabbed it, while walking backwards in slow motion. It took me a few minutes to process our interaction. It wasn’t just cringe, it was mortifying.

Whenever my coworkers pitched stories about Lisa Vanderpump I’d interrupt and yell “Why the fuck are we talking about this bitch again!?!? Can we talk about anyone else!?!” They would listen to me and move on to other stories. 

Sometimes when I went by SUR and PUMP on the TMZ Tour bus I’d see Lisa waiting outside for attention. I’d tell the drivers “Don’t stop! Just ignore her!” 

The other tour guides would interview her, but I would interrupt their pitches on the show. Lisa complained about how she did tons of TMZ interviews, but never got featured in the final edits. Lisa probably watched that show every fucking night in hopes of seeing herself get some free publicity, but she had to watch ME on TV instead!

Karma’s a bitch, just like Lisa Vanderpump!

I continued to watch The Real Housewives and Vanderpump Rules despite disliking Lisa in real life. It’s too bad we didn’t click. We both love animals, elaborate cocktails, and playing dress up!  

Vanderpump Rules is the greatest show of all time. Even though Lisa is a fucking bitch, it’s totally worth watching from season one. It deserves all the Emmys. Lisa’s character is totally irreverent on the show, minus it featuring her name and restaurants. Just fast forward through her boring scenes.

In Beverly Hills I often ran into Real Housewives. I talked to Kyle Richards all the time through her car windows. She was always so incredibly nice to me. I loved her whole family! When I told her that she was my favorite she said “Don’t say that too loud. Lisa Vanderpump might hear you!” Girl I want Lisa to fucking hear me. Fuck that bitch! 

Even though I watched tons of TV it was hard to remember all the famous people. Most of the time I wondered who the fuck we were talking about. 

Smoking weed before the show did not help. By the time I finally thought of something to say we were onto the next topic. Timing my comments was the hardest part. I couldn’t stop interrupting everyone. I wondered if I might be neurodivergent.

People around me would get so beyond stoked to see certain celebrities. Even though I knew that we were meeting important people they didn’t make me feel any different. 

What’s the big deal? They're just people. Rich, popular people. 

Was I missing something? Or was I just fucking depressed? 

One of my coworkers asked me why I looked like a deer in the headlights. Her comments made me realize how apparent my anxiety issues were. The lights were too bright, the sounds were too loud, and there were too many fucking people everywhere! My lifestyle was such a sensory overload. It was screens in front of screens with some more fucking screens. I wondered if I was on the spectrum and on the verge of autistic burnout. Everyone handled the politics and stress of the entertainment industry better than me. 

I think that minimalism is a societal response to sensory overload. Most art and architecture got simplified post smartphones. Older things are usually a little more extra or over designed, because there was a greater demand for entertainment back in those times. Now people crave a moment of calming peaceful nothing. Humans need silence sometimes. 

TMZ hired people with big personalities who said and did whatever the fuck they wanted to. I’ve always appreciated people who do their own thing, so it was fun being surrounded by interesting authentic characters. 

Comedy has helped me through so many hard times. It didn’t take long for me to realize that most comedians are really depressed. If you can’t hold a “real job” because you’re an emo stoner alcoholic, try working in comedy! Laughter eases pain. 

People slept around the office, but it was pretty secretive, compared to the other places I worked. I discussed bikini bodies and sex tapes while averting eyecontact from the guy I was fucking on the show. It’s kinda crazy that we 

got paid to watch porn at work with our horny coworkers. 

One morning a bunch of people were gathered around an office computer. They were watching Paris Hilton, Kim Kardashian, and Pamela Anderson sex tapes while drinking coffee. Some of the guys kept making comments about their “lack of performance” because they weren’t acting like real porn stars. It made me uncomfortable, so I went outside to smoke, and take a break. 

I loved working with Harvey Levin. His humor, self discipline, and work ethic was next level inspiring! I was usually tired and bloated from binging Astro Burger after bottomless mimosas. Maybe if I ate blueberries with kombucha while working out with Arnold Schwarzenegger I’d be snatched and mentally quick like him too.    

Harvey and I were both queer, but kinda secretive about it. Sometimes I’d make the gayest comments on the show and Harvey was the only person who would notice (or at least he was the only one who would call me out). 

TMZ helped me come out of my shell. My close friends knew that I was a bisexual stoner, but I was still pretty closeted around judgemental family members. For some reason I had no problem talking about women or weed on TV, even though I avoided those topics in real life, especially around my strict close minded family members.  

Sharing my thoughts and opinions at work inspired me to finally come out. My mom thought that I wanted to be bi, because it was kinda trendy. She gossiped about my sexuality being just another one of my desperate ploys for attention. Getting judged and cyber bullied by homophobic assholes was brutal. Becoming shameless enough to be myself was liberating. 

Authenticity provokes repressed people.  

I always knew that I was bisexual, but felt like I couldn’t label myself as bi without real experience. So I met a really rich famous couple on Tinder in the valley. They were looking for a unicorn which sounded like fun to me. 

Alex was the heir of a famous fashion line and Dana produced a bunch of sexy mainstream movies. We gossiped about both of them on TMZ all the time. I still can’t believe that I met them through Tinder. 

Alex was married to a woman for years before dating Dana. My car was so busted and I didn’t want either of them to know that I was poor, so I had my friend drop me off at their Toluca Lake mansion. They gave me tours of their wine cellars, weed collections, sports cars, and weapons. Since both of them liked women, they had threesomes with hot Playboy models pretty regularly. 

Before we hooked up they asked me my age. For some reason I jokingly said that I was sixteen, because I thought that was funny. Dana freaked out and told me to get the fuck out of their house. I laughed then showed them my ID and explained that I have a weird sense of humor. Luckily I calmed them back down. They were both kinda soft spoken and serious compared to me. We got wine wasted on their boat before having a threesome, which totally confirmed how fucking gay I am. 

After that I tried dating girls, but they all scared the shit out of me. Lesibans move fast. One girl introduced me to her mom on our first date. We went to The Abbey and her family just happened to be going to SUR and PUMP. The second time we hung out I met her friends, who said they were excited that she finally met the one. She was the last single person in their friend group. Everyone was so coupled up. That was some fucking Noah’s Ark shit! After that she ordered us the biggest blackest strapon. It terrified me. Girl scared me straight!

Dating in LA sucked. Everyone seemed way too into themselves to care about other people. One time my friend Emy came over to hang out at my place with our friends before a date. The guy she was going to meet up with  asked if he could see pictures of what her friends look like. Emy sent him a few photos and he responded by saying “My friends don’t want to cross the 405 for your friends.” Emy still planned on meeting up with him later, but he stood her up. He ghosted her, but at least nobody had to cross the 405. 

For the longest time I had a crush on my friend Cryus. It felt like we were the only people in Hollywood that looked at the stars in the sky instead of the ones on the ground. We both seemed connected to the moon. He even liked cats! People who care about nature and animals are hot as fuck. Sadly he had a girlfriend. It was easy to ignore her existence when they were long distance, but after she moved to LA we stopped hanging out. I expected him to dump her, because she wasn’t hot, nice, or funny. Maybe she was secretly rich or good at sucking dick. IDFK.

One of my friends said she was straight, but liked playing around with girls, which sounded like fun to me. We hooked up with no future expectations. It was great in the moment, but it totally fucked up our friendship, and made things weird. 

I had a stupid little crush on one of my bosses at TMZ. He had a wife, but joked that she was just for the green card. His accent was kinda hot when he showered me with compliments. We spent most of our time gossiping while chain smoking cigarettes on the clock. 

Getting involved in stupid third party bullshit was a toxic pattern in my life. Guess it was my weird way of avoiding relationships all together. There was too much societal pressure to couple up. If I had a crush on someone who was taken, that could be a good alibi as to why I didn’t have a relationship. 

It was a great way to avoid getting hurt, rejected, or abandoned. You can’t lose something you never had. Honestly I think I romanticized third party bullshit after playing Marilyn. I don’t think either of us intended to be so destructive. Drugs, booze, and traumas can hinder people’s morals. 

When I hear about people cheating or being mistresses I usually sympathize with them. I recognize that their actions can be seen as wrong or immoral, but those types of people have usually endured extreme hardships that led them to do some fucked up shit. 

I never thought that Marilyn Mornoe was evil. She was an abandoned orphan who was sexually abused and taken advantage of throughout her short sad life. Drugs, trauma, anxiety, and depression dictated her actions.

My original love for celebrity gossip stemmed from having such a tight leash. Sexy wild slutty bad girls fascinated me. I continued to follow pop culture to keep up with my favorite artists. Many creatives have big dreams, but only a few of them actually go after them. 

Being around successful goal oriented people could motivate me to finally get my shit together. Tearing artists down was never my intention. 

So many people have asked me if I ever felt bad for talking shit about other people. To be honest, I didn’t really see myself that way. I thought I was the nice one on the show. It’s not like I was trying to talk mad shit about people, I was just explaining or commenting on whatever happened. Most people gossip about others, whether they’re paid to do so or not. 

Okay, maybe I was a professional gossiper, who totally talked mad shit, but whatever. Maybe I was just jealous, because I wanted what they had. 

It’s not like I was trying to destroy Judd Apatow. I want to be friends with him! Maybe someday we could smoke a joint and write a script together. He likes comedies and cats too! Creative collaboration was my motive, but I had the wrong approach. 

Who you know is how status is measured in LA.

When I introduced myself to Stassi from Vanderpump Rules she said “I know who you are. You’re that girl that called me a bitch on TV.” In my defense Stassi won the title “Villain of the Year” at an award show, so I wasn’t the only person to have that initial impression. I actually really liked Stassi on the show and in person. I’m super inspired by her career path. Hopefully I didn’t hurt her feelings too much, because I’m a big fan! I love how she's a preppy bubbly blonde bitch that’s obsessed with darkness and murder. 

There’s nothing wrong with being a bitch. I’ve always loved bitches on TV like Andy Cohen, Joan Rivers, Chelsea Handler, and Stassi Schroeder. I want to be a bad bitch too!

Haters make stars. Every successful person has people talking about them. If they don’t have anything to say about you or your work, that’s a problem. Just because someone has an opinion that doesn’t mean you need to take it. 

I’ve watched enough reality tv and celebrity gossip shows to know that being a crazy fucking bitch can weirdly pay off. Do people make up lies, rumors, or theories about you? If so, that means you’re a star. Let them talk. Let them fucking talk!

My favorite reality shows feature people who create their own things. It’s exciting to watch their ideas unfold and see what obstacles get in their way. I’ve spent hours watching housewives turn into models, authors, popstars, actors, and business owners. Even when their goals flop, it’s exciting to see how they personally evolve and transform their entrepreneurial visions. 

Fame doesn’t necessarily require talent. A lot of Hollywood stars have back stories involving sex, politics, lawyers, bribes, money, agents, or technology. I grew up around artists that were way more gifted than most people on TV. Sadly they didn’t have the connections, confidence, or drive to “make it” to that level. 

I love seeing artists do their own thing. Dave Chappelle ditched Hollywood for Yellow Springs Ohio and Tyler Perry created his own film empire around Atlanta. I’m such a sucker for watching stars abandon LA or NY for random small towns. It’s a great reminder that we can be creative no matter where we live. 

Most people who make it big seem to have a really strong sense of self. They are firm about their values and purpose despite what others think. It’s all an act for some people, but they are professionally fake with financial incentive. 

Being on TV changed my relationships drastically. My day to day life wasn’t very different, but people altered their perspectives of me. Fame whores that never gave me the time of day, suddenly wanted to be my best friend. They thought that associating with me would lead towards notoriety. The people that I expected to be supportive never watched me on the show. My friends got jealous and weird, so they stopped opening up to me. They excluded me from all the tea, because they thought I would tell everyone about it on the show. It’s funny they thought their muggle lives were juicy enough for TMZ. Maybe they should have been more concerned about my journaling habits. Some people wanted to be friends with me while I worked on the show, but once I quit they had nothing to do with me. Acquaintances assumed I made bank and expected me to spend money on them. I was still a broke ass tour guide talking about show business, but my job was more publicly seen. Just because someone’s on camera that doesn't mean they’re rich. 

Tour guides and reporters need stories just as much as artists need publicity. People spend tons of money on publicists, when they could get free coverage from media outlets. Successful creatives use TMZ to their advantage. Some public figures would ask if they could do interviews with me to promote their latest work. Those were always the best interactions. They were excited to get coverage and I was stoked to have footage for the show. It’s smart to collaborate, help eachother out, and be on the same team. 

50 Cent was a guest host on TMZ one time when Harvey was out of town. When we cut to commercial break I yelled across the room “FIDDY!!! THE LAST TIME I SAW YOU YOU WERE FUCKING MY BOSS CHELSEA HANDLER!” The camera crew screamed back at me “WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY THAT WHEN WE WERE FILMING?!?” 50 ran up to me and gave me a huge hug. He said “I knew it! You keep looking at me like I’m supposed to know who you are!” 

As if HE would remember ME? I was his ex-situationships secret underaged illegal invisible intern years ago. I wasn’t even sure if Chelsea knew about my existence. One of my coworkers asked him “Would you rather host TMZ again or get shot again?” Fiddy joked that he’d rather take more bullets. 

I love Fiddy, but if I didn’t I wouldn’t admit it. He takes beef to the next level. 50 Cent's pettiness and trolling skills inspire me. It’s never too late to stand up for yourself or seek revenge! I actually really enjoyed my personal vendetta against Lisa Vanderpump while working at TMZ. It made my job way more fun, plus I got to help underrated underdogs get some publicity.

Being on TV had its perks, like getting free food and drinks all over town. Most LA business owners knew the power of the media. If I were to name drop their bars and restaurants on tours or TV shows that could be great publicity for them. 

The Abbey was my go-to spot. I was friends with the owners and managers who always hooked me up. During my TMZ Tours I would stop by for a quick shot of tequila. I had a fucking blast living and partying in West Hollywood.

One time I saw Nick Jonas getting tacos on Sunset Boulevard while I was giving a tour. He hopped on the TMZ Tour bus and we gave him a ride. Nick told us some intense stalker stories. When he was doing a Jonas Brothers tour in South America girls kept sneaking into his cars, luggage, and hotel rooms. I can’t believe how creepy people stalk celebrities. TMZ may seem invasive towards famous people, but trust me their fans are much worse. 

TMZ is separate from the paparazzi. They have their own camera people in LA and New York, but they also buy pictures and footage from the paparazzi. People often reach out to TMZ in hopes of getting publicity. Celebrities hire publicists to help them get media attention. It’s all part of a big machine that makes people famous!

I staged a little publicity stunt with Chuy from Chelsea Lately just for fun. I told him to wait outside by The Saddle Ranch on Sunset Boulevard. When I drove by on the tour bus I acted surprised like “OH. MY. GOD. IS THAT CHUY BRAVO FROM CHELSEA LATELY?!? TMZ CELEBRITY SIGHTING!” When he got on the bus one of the drunk girls onboard gave him a lap dance. I filmed it and pitched it on the show the next day. He was so happy to be back on TV. 

Chuy asked me out on a movie date. I loved him as a friend, but I wasn’t interested in him romantically, so I told him that I was busy. Shortly after that he DIED. I felt SO BAD. Maybe I should’ve gone out with him anyway. He had such a great spirit and sense of humor. Rest In Peace Little Nugget.  

During one of my tours I made a stupid joke comment about The Church of Scientology. They had huge signs all over Hollywood, it was kinda hard not to mention them. My tour bus happened to be filled with Scientologists who were outraged. They told their church and the congregation confronted TMZ. My managers called me into the office for a very serious meeting. I thought I was going to get fired. 

They told me to respect their beliefs by never speaking about their “religion” again. Every time my bosses said “religion” they used air quotes. We made fun of everyone and everything on TMZ, but Scientologists were deemed off limits, because of me? I wish I could remember what I said on that tour. I’ve heard terrifying stories about people getting on The Church of Scientology’s bad side. I didn’t want to be another one of their enemies who mysteriously went missing.  

My roommate Betsy got jealous of the attention I was receiving. She told me that she wanted to cut off my face and wear it as a mask, so people would like her more. She sounded like a total fucking psychopath, so I told her to move back to bumfuck Alamaba. In response she threw a bunch of ceramic plates at me, but luckily she had a bad aim. After that I broke my lease and moved in with my best friend Kaia, who I lived and worked with for years. 

Kaia gave me a kitten as a present, because I was sad to say bye to Betsy’s cat. Giving people pets as gifts is not always the best idea. They require lots of love and care. It’s a big responsibility, but I’m so grateful for my kitty boy! Kaia thought it would be hilarious to give our black cat a black name. She’s a Star Wars nerd so she named him Lando, but she almost named him Denzel. My black friends think Lando’s name suits his looks and personality perfectly. White people get upset and offended over it. If I explain that my nerdy black friend named our cat, that makes things worse, and digs my grave deeper. 

I can’t believe how many people make racist or superstitious comments about my black cat. I love Lando more than everyone and everything. He’s my soulmate. My ride or die kitty baby! He’s been by my side through thick and thin. Lando has been the only real source of stability throughout my life. 

TMZ was surprisingly filled with nature and animal lovers. When my dog Freckles died my coworkers were more empathetic than everyone else. My boss Harvey was a vegan. He wanted to become a pescetarian to get extra protein, but he felt guilty for eating fish, because they’re “too majestic.”

My dog Freckles was my best friend and like a brother to me. He was hyper, goofy, and never did anything halfway. He had the world's biggest smile, it always looked like he was laughing. I could’ve had the worst day ever, but coming home to his happy face always made everything better. We danced, played dress up, and had elaborate photoshoots together in the wilderness. I’m an only child, so my pets have always been like family to me. Freckles had such a big impact on people. Whenever I run into childhood friends we reminisce about him. He was larger than life. Losing him destroyed me. 

Around that time my mom’s longterm boyfriend Clark legally adopted me. Shortly after that she dumped him and ran off with a stoner surfer dude that she met at yoga. I was left in the middle and had to explain what happened to everyone. All of my mom’s breakups were such emotional rollercoasters. 

Clark and his family continued to spoil me and include me even after that disastrous breakup. The whole thing was traumatizing, but now I’m glad it happened. They weren’t very compatible anyway.  

Partying was my way of coping with pain. Binge drinking and chain smoking while snorting West Hollywood up my nose was fun yet destructive. Traumas create addicts! 

Turns out that if you talk shit, watch shit, and consume shit, you’ll start to feel like shit. It took me a long time to learn that there are healthier ways to release pain and heal. 

In LA I often hit Hollywood breaking points. After a long day of cringe worthy auditions or filming I would pack up my car and bail. Alone time with nature calmed me down and helped me feel grounded. Big Sur was my usual goto spot. I’d drive up the winding coast with black coffee, the perfect playlist, and a pack of cigarettes. I always made sure to bring plenty of bomb weed and comfy clothes. Walking around the beautiful rocks, plants, and waters was always healing. I got do whatever the fuck I wanted to do, because I was all by myself. If you enjoy your own company you’ll never really be lonely!

I accidentally ate a 100mg edible one night before filming. It hit me at work the next morning and I malfunctioned on air. The producers yelled “DANICA IT’S YOUR TURN TO PITCH!” I responded “WHAT?” in a Seth Rogan stoner voice. Then Havey said “Oh my god I forgot that it’s 420.” It just happened to be my favorite holiday, which kinda gave me a pass, thank god. 

People kept making comments about my attitude and appearance on TV. They urged me to put more effort into my hair, makeup, and outfits. I simply didn’t have the neurotypical drive or energy to keep up the good work.

My family collapsed, my dog died, and my friends sucked. Plus I publicly came out of the closet which was traumatizing. It was hard to read all the hater troll comments about my personality and sexuality. I didn’t give a fuck about anything. I wanted to die. 

Harvey came up with the concept of TMZ while drinking margs and gossiping about celebrities with his friends. Those types of hangouts were always my favorite past times. I couldn't imagine life without margs and juicy hot goss! Harvey ended up going stone cold sober while I was working for him. His ability to handle the stress of his job and the news really impressed me. 

I got invited to speak at an arts event for kids alongside some reputable broadcasters. Sam Rubin, one of the best news anchors, was alongside me at the event. Before we went on stage he came up and introduced himself. I couldn’t believe Sam Rubin knew who I was! My mom watched him on KTLA every morning throughout my childhood! Sam told me that Harvey stopped inviting him to his parties. I bitched that he didn’t invite me to any either! We heard that Harvey would throw big parties at his fabulous homes and wish all of his guests goodnight around 8pm while walking up the stairs before going to bed. It sounded like a scene from The Sound of Music.

Sam Rubin had great stories and career advice for the kids at the event. My stoned ass told the children that any publicity could be good publicity, before losing my train of thought. All the professional news hosts, reporters, and anchors disagreed. I wondered if Sam Rubin knew that I was baked. Maybe we should have thrown our own party. A little puff puff pass in the parking lot could’ve been fun! 

A few TMZ stories wrecked me emotionally. When Lamar Odom overdosed at a brothel we had to call some prostitutes to get the full story. TMZ has a fun comedic energy which was pretty hard to hold while talking about tragedies. I didn’t want to joke about drugs or hookers that day, because he could have been dead by the time the show aired. There’s no need to act distasteful or disrespectful while somebody’s life is on the line. Plus I felt so bad for Khloe! 

Seeing her go through so much was heartbreaking. Khloe has always been beautiful and hilarious, but sadly you can see the traumas and insecurities brewing from within. Even wealthy famous people who seem to have it all go through devastating life changing events. 

But at least hardships make us funnier. Some people think that dark humor is concerning, but they haven’t been through enough to know how hilarious or healing it can be. 

I wanted to work on comedy shows to ease my pain. Those jobs were a strange mix of sadness and happiness. Some of the funniest people have darkest pasts. Like Bobby Lee! He was a total fucking meth head by age eleven. ELEVEN!!!

When I was growing up I loved watching Lindsay Lohan and Amanda Bynes movies. They’re both such talented actors! It was hard for me to watch fame and drugs destroy the people that I love. 

The story that really fucked me up was about Jim Carrey. His girlfriend overdosed and died. If that wasn’t bad enough, he got sued for it, because the drugs that killed her belonged to him. Watching my favorite artist get harassed, shamed, heartbroken, and exploited was rough. When we talked about it on the show I was speechless. It was exhausting having to urgently discuss people’s deaths on a comedic show. 

I saw Donald Trump while I was working for TMZ. He was campaigning while I was rooting for Bernie. America needs younger politicians that care about environmental issues!

The United States is controlled by geriatric senior citizens. All of our political candidate options looked like they might keel over and die at any moment. 

Most American politicians were born rich and have never struggled. They don’t know what it’s like to be sad, cold, hungry, thirsty, desperate, fucked up, or mentally ill. The people who are in charge can’t relate to the citizens, because they’ve never faced adversity, so they don’t know what the real problems are or how to fix them.

Even though I am not a Trump supporter, it was kinda exciting to see him. He’s the most famous person on earth, but don’t tell him I said that! 

My friend’s sexy hot model friend acted like she didn’t know who Trump was when she met him. She was like “Hi I’m Stephanie! What’s your name?” TO DONALD TRUMP. He was stumped. 

I’d speak up about environmental issues on TMZ, but my comments usually got edited out. I felt pretty morally conflicted about working for FOX during Trump’s big campaign era. It wasn’t aligned with my morals or values. 

I went to Australia to visit my friend Aria around that time. Everyone there asked me about Donald Trump. Australians watch American politics in their bars and restaurants for entertainment. America was a joke and the rest of the world was laughing at us. 

Australia was safe and clean compared to the US. That trip made me want to ditch the states for more international adventures. I should have worked on the show Summer Heights High! 

Oh by the way Australia had intense political drama back then too. The country kept flip flopping. They made gay marriage legal than illegal then legal again. Those cunts need to make up their fucking minds!

All that political stuff was super annoying, because I wanted a vacation away from that shit! I overdosed on Hollywood, news, politics, and social media. 

I don’t agree with people like Donald Trump, Vladimir Putin, or Kim Jong Un… but I would totally have a chat with them. They are some of the most influential and powerful people in the world. I’d do it just for the plot. Plus I’m delusional enough to think that I could help them see our world from a different perspective. 

America became so divided. People stopped talking to people with different viewpoints. If I only talked to people who agree with me I’d probably never speak to anybody ever again.

Such extreme political divides create wars. If we could figure out ways to compromise and meet in the middle some major issues could be resolved. 

Religious extremists founded America a long time ago and the country is still operating on outdated rules and values that don’t fit our current world. Most of the laws and constitutions need a little makeover glow up. 

I want to create a publicity stunt that helps protect wildlife. Famous people watch shows like TMZ all the time, because they want to see what others are saying about them. If influential stars were to give nature and animals space to live and thrive, they could inspire others to do the same. 

Celebrities could document their conservation efforts through social media, documentaries, or reality tv shows. They could get donations and publicity through nonprofits and charity events. 

When Kim Kardashian went vegan she inspired hundreds of thousands of people to do the same. Influencers should influence people positively. Most of them unintentionally encourage others to be wasteful and destructive. 

Could you imagine “Kourtney & Kim Take The Amazon Rainforest.” Maybe Kendall Jenner could create a show about enjoying nature, animals, and tequila! It seems like she really wants to do her own thing anyway. I would totally watch “Khloe & Kylie’s Beach Cleanup Party.” Just spitballing ideas. I should call Kris Jenner!

Want to be a trendsetter? Why not create something that helps others? Let’s rewild ourselves and our planet. We need wildlife and biodiversity to survive!

I love the glitz and the glamor of Hollywood show business, but I hate how much animal cruelty it involves. Let’s figure out cruelty free alternatives for furs, feathers, and leathers. Can somebody please make a line of vegan dance shoes already? Kris Jenner?

I loved working on comedy shows, but it kinda felt like we weren’t allowed to make jokes anymore. It was such a sensitive time. My goal of becoming a TV host seemed pointless. It felt like that profession was generally dying off. 

People would rather see their favorite artists, comedians, or personalities host shows. Someone real, unique, and relatable. Flaws and all! It seemed like everyone was collectively over the fake shallow materialistic bullshit. No more scripted cyborg prostitute TV hosts. I’d rather watch a chaotic mess of an unhinged yet relatable human being on TikTok anyway.  

TMZ was unscripted and featured authentic people, which helped their shows survive. Most other shows, like E! News, had to completely change and adapt to the latest trends in order to maintain an audience. 

The entire time I worked in entertainment news I suffered from creative fomo. I placed too many people on higher pedestals than I put myself. I was living like an extra character in the background of my own movie. I needed to become the main character of my own fucking life! 

Maybe I could model, dance, sing, write, and take fabulous pictures on a beach in the tropics too! At a certain point I realized that I needed to follow my creative impulses, instead of talking about other people and their work. 

I knew that my media knowledge would come in handy somehow someday, no matter where I went next.

CHAPTER IV: THE CATWALK

Print modeling got my face out there, but fit modeling paid way more. I loved my agent at Ideal Models. She was super professional and had tons of experience in that industry. We made lots of money together. Unlike my past sleazy male agents, who were unqualified fame whores, that just wanted to get laid. 

Working as a fit model felt like being an alive opinionated mannequin. I was required to maintain the same measurements while designers made clothes fit for my body. Sizes mean nothing. I have worn small, medium, and large outfits all while remaining the same measurements.

I met with designers regularly for fittings. They would send adjustments off to manufacturers and have me come back to refit once the garments were returned. I got to watch the clothing creation and alteration processes for a wide variety of different international companies. 

Since I was constantly changing, I got used to random people seeing me naked. Feeling exposed became normal. Especially since I was modeling lingerie, swimwear, and little tiny costumes. 

I’ve been every kind of slutty nurse, maid, or princess imaginable. Of course I never wanted to offend the designers or their work, but it was hard not to laugh at some of the assignments. 

Most companies manufactured clothes in other countries. A lot of the designers spoke in foreign languages, so I rarely understood what people were saying or what was going on. 

One time a lingerie company had me stand on a table in a latex dominatrix costume. The owners drank green tea and chain smoked cigarettes while screaming at each other in Mandarin around me. It sounded like they were talking mad shit, but I wasn’t sure if it was about me, or their cheap skanky little costumes. 

The designers at Leg Avenue were amazing. I loved working and playing dress up with them! One day an owner or manager lady came into a fitting and started screaming at the designers for using me. “Why are you using this flat ass model with big fat titties? Our customers have butts unlike her. Get a new model immediately!” It was beyond awkward listening to people talk about me as if I couldn’t hear them. Like hi bitch I’m standing right here!

Frankie’s sexy bikini company hired me to do fittings for them. All their print models were hot young famous celebrities. Frankie’s large swimsuits were made to fit my body in private fittings. All the it girls like Delilah Belle and Kylie Jenner modeled their extra small swimsuits in public on the runway. On my first day they told me that I was too pasty, so they had me leave, and go get a spray tan. That didn’t make sense, because we weren't even shooting, I was just there to try on clothes. I always needed to look hotter, tanner, and blonder to be part of that world. The fake tan ended up getting all over their fabrics, which pissed them off even more. Frankie got mad at me for wearing a nude thong under her bikinis during fittings, but hygiene is very important to me. I don’t know where the fuck their other models have been! Their rude comments and sexy branding made me feel like a pale frumpy fat bitch. It was hard to hear their team compare me to all the fabulous hot skinny print models on their social media accounts. They even asked me to cut my agent out of our deal, even though she was the one who connected us. I was going to quit working for them, but they ended up firing me for losing ten pounds. 

Sunsets Swimwear company had me try on a bunch of sexy bathing suits for their team of designers. The company owner came into the room while I was trying on a bikini that was way too small for me. It was super cheeky, so he asked me to pull it down, to cover up more of my bottom. I told him that I’d rather have my ass hanging out than my front. That response deeply upset him, so he stormed out of the room. The designers explained that the word ass offended him. I couldn’t believe that a sexy bikini company was owned by an old prude conservative man. Part of that job was to change in front of people and he sure seemed to enjoy watching. Honestly, I didn’t know that ass was a bad word. I thought I was being polite by saying front instead of pussy. 

My weight and appearance became my obsession. I would measure myself multiple times a day. Don’t even get me started on my strange relationship with mirrors. If I was too thin before a gig I would binge eat. If I was too fat before a gig I would starve myself or throw up. 

The more I obsessed over losing weight the more my body clung onto it. Modeling was such an unhealthy mind fuck. Especially since I was trying out so many diets and workouts around the same time. It was hard having my insecurities constantly scrutinized by others publicly. 

Most of my friends grew up performing in Orange County. Confiding in them about body issues was pointless, considering they all struggled with eating disorders. Some of them gave me tips on how to pretend to eat in front of other people. “Just twirl your spaghetti while gossiping. Push it around your plate. No one will notice you’re not eating.” 

Good lord. Who doesn’t have an eating disorder in Orange County? 

All the people that I surrounded myself with were constantly putting me down. It felt like everyone hated me, but no one hated me more than I hated myself. 

My mental and digestive issues kept getting worse and I unintentionally ended up losing a bunch of weight. Since it was my job to stay around the same measurements I lost all my clients. They praised me for looking hotter while firing me. 

Natural Model Management had me model for a campaign that featured healthy bodies. Their goal was to promote a variety of different shapes and sizes. Most of their roster was plus sized and they ended up cutting me for being too thin. The agency director told me that I needed to gain or lose over thirty pounds if I ever wanted to be a “real model.” 

I was signed with Natural Models for a few months, but didn’t book anything through them. The agency owner convinced me to hire her boyfriend to take pictures of me. Once again I dropped hundreds of dollars on my portfolio for an agency that couldn’t get me any work. That experience was such a waste of time considering I was already booking my own gigs online regularly. 

They actually had another girl named Danica on their roster who did tons of shoots. She was like a bigger, louder, richer, blonder version of me. Back in those days the modeling industry embraced extremes, so it was hard for me to get much work as an “in-betweenie.”

Most gigs required me to maintain a certain look or size. One of my first auditions ever was to be a Radio City Rockette. Everyone they hired looked exactly the same. Blonde, tall, skinny, with legs for days. I starved myself for weeks before that audition. I covered my room in magazine pictures of inspirational anorexic waifs. I ate watermelon followed by sweet potatoes, to absorb the water weight. The Rockettes required their dancers to be tall and skinny. The maximum weight they allowed was 125 pounds and I weighed in at 124.5 pounds. I made myself pee and throw up right before they weighed and measured me.

The Rockettes tap choreography at the audition was super intense. I was way too hungry and sluggish to get through the routines. I’m surprised I didn’t keel over mid shuffle ball change. They offered me the chance to play a dancing Christmas tree in the background of their tour. I declined the job and decided to go in a different direction. 

One time I showed up for a Pair of Thieves socks and underwear photoshoot super hungover. One of the brand owners introduced himself then asked me if I wanted any coffee. When I said yes all of his employees glared at me. They obviously put him up on a pedestal. 

Cash was hot as fuck and we hit it off right away. I think he appreciated being treated like a normal human being. I loved hearing how much he enjoyed seeing his work on my body. 

Another one of the models viciously confronted me. “Do you even know who he is?!?! He’s married to Jessica!!! JESSICA!!!” That bitch must have been a really big Jessica fan. I probably should’ve known who he was from working at TMZ. People seemed to recognize him for being a movie star's husband, but failed to see him as his own hot successful entity. 

We only spent a few hours together, but I felt like we got to know each other pretty well. When we finished shooting he asked me if I wanted to go out to lunch. I said no, because that other model made me feel like a homewrecker. Fuck that bitch! I should’ve gone out with him anyway! It’s rare to feel so connected to someone that quickly. 

The other model followed me out to my car to yell at me even more. “Didn’t you see all that HONEST stuff in there?” Honestly, I didn’t even notice it. She was in fan mode while I was in flirt mode. 

I think she was jealous, because she wasn’t the one having conversations with him. Nobody cared about her boring stories about her boring husband. I know this sounds dumb, but he kinda made me believe in love at first sight. Who knows if we were even flirting, he was probably just trying to be nice. 

Cash and Jessica are both outrageously hot, rich, and successful. It’s not like I’m the only person that finds them attractive. They probably get invited to threesomes all the time! 

By the way, I don’t think any of the photos from the shoot turned out. Probably because I was talking in each shot. I never saw them posted anywhere, but whatever, it was a pretty fun day of work. We got paid to shoot champagne guns at each other while running around town in our underwear. 

When I told my friends about my crush on Cash I got such mixed reactions. Some of them encouraged me to pursue him while others urged me to back off. I didn’t want to fuck up his family or anything. I probably could’ve gotten lunch with him though. People don’t usually feed models. Guess I just stayed neutral. I followed him on social media and moved on. I was reading into our interaction way too much anyway. 

Pair of Thieves had me come back again for some fittings. When I returned the receptionist said “I sure remember you” in a snarky voice. Later on I overheard their team gossiping about me being a gold digging bubbly flirt. Towards the end of the fitting, an assistant came by, and handed me some underwear in a size extra small. She asked me to wear it for the owners in their private offices. The designer thought that was extremely misogynistic and inappropriate. She apologized and told me to go home immediately. It sucked because I really wanted to see him again. I probably would have walked into his office butt ass naked. In my defense, who doesn’t love CASH?

I was kinda in a similar situation back at Afterbuzz with Kevin. His business partner girlfriend Maria was so pretty, skinny, and famous. They were both unrealistically perfect, just like their pictures online. Everything they did was for media attention. Their relationship looked like a management business deal. He made sure she was always dressed up, with a full face of makeup, ready to be seen. I heard lots of rumors about their flings with other people. 

One of my friends worked in production on Dancing with the Stars. They told me that Maria and Derek were shamelessly flirtatious over the walkie talkies. 

Dancing is sexy. It brings people closer together!

Kevin told me that I was his favorite employee. When I asked him why he said it was because I liked getting wasted and having fun. The other people we worked with seemed like desperate thirsty tryhards. 

Every woman Kevin dated became famous thanks to his management, deals, connections, and advice. He invented Carmen Electra and Maria Menounos, so he gave me an offer to be his next one. All I’d have to do is suck his dick, lose thirty pounds, dye my hair blonder, and wear high heels. Then I could finally be a STAR! 

My reaction was so fucking awkward. I enjoyed hanging out with him, but I couldn’t imagine having to be on like that all the time. My personal lifestyle revolved around smoking weed on a couch in cozy sweatpants with my cat. 

Their lives looked so fake and exposed. I had no desire to dump my comfortable privacy for uncomfortable fabricated publicity stunts. 

Shortly after I rejected Kevin’s offer he publically proposed to Maria on a radio show and then married her on a TV show. I think they’re perfect for eachother!

After making a stupid gold digger joke that didn’t land well, they set me up on a blind date with an elderly billionaire. His private driver picked me up, served me champagne, and drove me to a fancy waterfront restaurant. Mr. Billionaire looked older than my parents. His little bald head barely reached my nipples. Most of his money came from making dolls that kinda looked like me. We demolished bottles of expensive wines and ordered multiple entrees. I didn’t understand any of his ancient jokes or references, but I laughed at them anyway, just to seem polite. 

In the middle of our date Mr. Billionaire got a call from Ryan Seacreast. I made him answer and put it on speaker phone. They had been close friends for years. I assumed they were childhood besties. They had so many inside jokes that went straight over my head.

We spent most of our date night drunkenly chatting with Ryan Seacrest. He told me that I have a great name for show business. “No need to get a stage name!” Seacrest kept practicing introducing himself as a host version of me “Hi, I’m Danica Kennedy & you’re listening to 102.7 KIIS FM!” 

At the end of the date we hugged and went our separate ways. I ate and drank way too much that night. There’s no way I could have put out even if I wanted to. That date inspired Mr. Billionaire to get back with his gold digger ex wife. My friends were sad things didn’t work out, because they wanted him to pay for our next vacation. They encouraged me to keep going after wealthy senior citizens. “You don’t even have to look at him. Just do it doggy till he dies.”

I’ve struggled with money issues, mommy issues, and daddy issues for most of my life. Maybe I should’ve pulled an Anna Nichole Smith! 

Afterbuzz had a spin off network called Black Hollywood Live. The black hosts worked for free while the white owners kept all of the profits. It was giving slavery. Anyway they threw a Black Hollywood Live event one night. I got verbally invited at the last minute and I wasn’t one to turn down a party back in those days. Nobody told me it was a serious fancy black tie event. Since it was held in a backyard I assumed it was just a casual summer BBQ pool party. Most of my black friends had big family gatherings in LA filled with great food, music, and dancing…so that’s kind of what I was expecting. 

So, I showed up in shorts, a tank top, and flip flops, with a watermelon purse. A JAPANESE WATERMELON PURSE AT A BLACK EVENT. I was one of the only white people there and I had no fucking idea that there was a racist stereotype about black people loving watermelons. I mean, who doesn’t love watermelons? They’re delicious! Kevin pulled me aside and gave me one of Maria’s tiny little outfits to borrow. Her closet was the size of my apartment, but it was hard to find anything to squeeze into. The whole event was giving GET OUT. I bounced as fast as fucking possible.

If you thought that Elle Woods bunny costume or Cady Heron’s ex wife costume were cringe, trust me, my party outfit of choice was way worse. 

I was so nervous to tell my half Black half Japanese roommate about my Little Tokyo Kawaii styled watermelon purse incident. Luckily she thought it was fucking hilarious and she made me tell her entire family. Then I turned it around and started blaming her “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME? HOW’D YOU LET ME LEAVE THE HOUSE LIKE THIS?!” My black friends thought it was funny, because they knew I was completely oblivious, but my white friends were super offended. Let’s just call it a dumb blonde moment.

I’ve had weird experiences with a lot of famous people. Their public appearances through the media and my brief interactions with them do not explain who they really are. I know that my viewpoints of them are skewed from being in strange or uncomfortable circumstances. 

A lot of people looked down on me for being an intern, extra actor, tour guide, fit model, and production assistant. My stories and perspectives are from the bottom of the Hollywood food chain.  

Kevin and Maria have big hearts and mean well. I don’t think they’ve ever intended to use, hurt, or offend anyone. Sometimes money and notoriety can alter people's moves through life. I know that I have come across as a thirsty ruthless fame whore too, even though that’s not how I see myself. 

Humans are complex creatures with conflicting characteristics. Most famous people have substance, morals, values, and real lives that we never see. 

Kevin and Maria rescued tons of dogs over the years. I think it’s kinda weird that they only save little white dogs, but whatever. Anyone who gives a fuck about animals will ultimately win me over. I could totally see myself hoarding black cats, so who am I to judge? 

BET hired me to host an event. I thought it was weird that they picked me, because I’m white. Everyone seemed confused and upset when I showed up to work. They assumed that I was black because of my name. The casting director got in huge trouble when everyone saw what I looked like. The crew gave me bomb food and drinks before asking me to leave. At least I didn’t bring that fucking watermelon purse.

Talking about racism in America is uncomfortable, but we need to have hard conversations to progressively move forward. I’ve been unintentionally racist out of ignorance, which is so fucking embarrassing. I never intended to hurt or offend people with my stupidity. I have also seen and experienced intense racism all over the country. I considered editing those stories out of this, but I think there are valuable lessons to be learned from them. Segregation still exists in America, especially in the south and in the beauty industry. 

By the way I got drunk and took another host home with me that night. The sex was really fun, but of course he confessed to having a serious girlfriend right after we hooked up. Every man in LA that made a move on me had a wife or girlfriend. People in relationships need to get out of the dating pool.

That BET gig reminded me of when I got fired from hosting West Hollywood drag shows. I guess somebody eventually realized that I’m not a real drag queen. My dramatic wigs and makeup stumped a few people at first. Most of my friends were theatrical gay men who loved to perform and party with me. Of course it makes more sense for gay clubs to have real male drag queens host drag events, but I was crushed when I lost those hosting jobs, because they were so much fun! 

For some reason I seem to come across as a black girl or a gay boy on paper. People are always shocked at what I look like when they eventually meet me in person. I’m not sure if it’s my name, resume, or all the places I’ve lived, but it’s happened so many times throughout my life. A lot of my friends have said things like “Oh my god you’re such a gay boy!” I’m like ‘Is this how people find out they’re trans? Am I like the last person to know?!”

IDENTITY CRISIS!

I booked a few print modeling jobs with DryBar. They wanted to pay me with hair products instead of money, but I convinced them to give me a couple hundred bucks instead. I drank a bottle of wine the night before their shoot, so I was hungover as fuck on set. The makeup artist complained that my lips and skin were too dehydrated, but I knew that the bags under my eyes were the real problem. 

Pictures always turn out best when the model doesn’t give a fuck or try too hard. It’s the model look, ya know? DGAF vibes. Less is more sometimes. 

The DryBar owners praised my poses, even though they were a bit out there. Their retouchers fixed my face in post which made me hot, but unrecognizable. 

I went on a trip to New York and it was crazy to see my face all over the place. Those highly edited hungover images of me were plastered all over every DryBar, Nordstrom, and Sephora in America. It made me feel like a fucking star! It was my big supermodel moment. 

The modeling gigs that put my face everywhere paid me barely anything compared to the work that no one ever saw. 

People assumed I made bank from that big DryBar photoshoot. Meanwhile I was making pretty great money modeling slutty Halloween costumes for Leg Avenue in the designers private offices. 

Fit modeling gigs usually paid around three hundred bucks per hour and they had me working regularly. It was an easy job minus all the mental problems from constantly obsessing over my looks, weight, and measurements. 

Many companies used their name and notoriety as a form of currency, but it’s not like I could pay my bills with that shit. Sadly people take advantage of artists all the time. I did all sorts of unpaid projects in LA with the hopes of them leading towards bigger or better things, but they rarely did. It’s so embarrassing, but humiliation was the cost of entry to that fucked up world.

One of the reasons hosting and modeling appealed to me was because I thought it might help boost my self confidence. Those jobs often left me feeling insecure, not beautiful. Sure, there were fun times, but it was hard being picked apart regularly. The constant criticism about my looks, size, and attitude left me feeling broken and ugly. Over the years I learned there are healthier ways to boost self love and self worth. 

As I got older I started booking mom roles, which felt like a sign to reroute and change directions. The kids playing my children never bothered me, but their stage moms were the fucking worst. 

I modeled holiday pajamas for one of Steve Harvey’s shows and they gave me a sexy fake husband. He moved from Oahu to the mainland to pursue modeling. I love Hawaii! I couldn’t wait to get back out there to reconnect with nature and wildlife. I desperately needed to hug a fucking tree or touch some fucking grass. Sexy model boy couldn’t understand why I would want to leave a city filled with opportunities for some tropical plants in the middle of nowhere. I couldn’t believe that he ditched paradise for shit hole LA. 

He worried that my modeling career would end if I moved to Hawaii, but it already felt like it was over thanks to all the mom roles. Ditching some soul sucking Hollywood gigs in exchange for some much needed aloha sounded like a great trade to me. 

It’s natural for people to outgrow environments and see what else is out there. I guess some people are perfectly happy staying in the same place forever. That sounds stagnant and boring to me, unless you live on Kauai. 

Steve Harvey’s show was filmed on the Universal Studios backlot, so my former coworkers would pass by me on the tours. Seeing people stay in the exact same place as where I left them made me appreciate change. I’m so proud I have the strength and endurance to keep moving forward, despite all the obstacles and setbacks. 

It’s true that cities have more job opportunities, but that was not fulfilling my true desires. Working was no longer my main priority. I was ready and eager to escape the rat race. Nature has always been my true happy place. Hammocks on a beach between palm trees sounded better than the lifestyle I was living. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but the city life struggles were real. Hollywood was filled with high highs and low lows. I will always love art and performing, no matter where my life takes me. 

My fake husband asked me about modeling agents while I questioned him about volcanic adventures. Our fake son's stage mom was such a cock block, she kept sitting in between us to keep us from talking. I was just trying to flirt with him to feel closer to Hawaii. 

During Steve Harvey’s fashion show we strut down the runway wearing flannel pajamas and thick ass robes. The outfits and stage lights were so hot, we profusely sweat off all our makeup. The pajamas really confused my Hawiian hubby. He asked me if people really sleep in “Christmas Costumes” on the mainland. 

It kinda got stressful not knowing where my next paycheck was coming from. Imagine reapplying or re auditioning for work every single day. 

Constantly attempting to convince people that I was talented led me to doubt myself. I got tired of spending all my time and energy building up other people's bank accounts and empires instead of my own. When my main focus was on being a part of somebody else's vision, I neglected to follow my own dreams, goals, visions, and passions. 

The smartest artists focus on making their own things, but they also participate in creative collaborations to help get their work and ideas out there. 

If anyone wants to be an artist they could use the internet as a platform to perform and connect with likeminded people. I could’ve built my own stage, had creative control, and probably much more success. When you work for someone else the money goes to them. If you work for yourself the money goes straight to you. 

I started a photography business with my best friend Kaia. In a way she was the photographer who made me a model and I was the model who made her a photographer. Since I was aging out of the young modeling game, working in photography appealed to me. I’ve always been such a shutterbug!

We loved playing dressup and taking pictures together. Most of our friends were brilliant artists. So we had so much fun creating different teams, looks, concepts, and images with our favorite characters. 

People warned us that living and working together could ruin our friendship, but we didn’t listen. Our bond felt unbreakable. Best friends forever!

It was hard running a business with someone who didn’t want to work. Kaia was a very talented artist, but she was also extremely unmotivated. Trying to get her off the couch was nearly impossible. She wasn’t driven to make money, because she didn’t have to be. Her wealthy parents spoiled the shit out of her. She just wanted to smoke weed and watch TV all day everyday. We definitely could have used more balance. Our artwork was amazing, but it was a pretty stagnant and unproductive chapter. 

By the way there’s nothing wrong with spending your life on a couch, smoking weed, while watching tv, if you own it. Shit if my life was sponsored I’d be chillin too!

Some people wanted to work with just her while other people wanted to work with just me. Making ourselves an exclusive team held us both back from so many opportunities.

Kaia and I met at The Orange County School of the Arts while performing. An Orange County billionaire hired us students to put on a surprise musical about his wife’s life. 

Mindy Burbano got discovered while cawing like a crow from Oprah’s live audience. She later became a host, model, and actress. Shortly after that she retired and married rich. Mindy’s husband acted like he was just taking her to some random kid’s show. She had no idea it was going to be a whole musical showcase about her entire life story.

Mindy was hella pregnant. I wondered if her water was going to break on stage or somewhere in the theater. Kaia played Oprah while I played a bunch of random extra characters.

I was sleeping beauty, a dental hygienist, a baseball player, a singer, and an audience member all in a thirty minute show. The whole time I was stripping in the wings in hopes of getting into my next costume on time. 

At the end of our performance I was totally winded. The billionaire came up on stage and started acting like Oprah. He yelled “YOU GET A LAPTOP! YOU GET A LAPTOP! YOU GET A LAPTOP! YOU GET A LAPTOP!” He gave all of us brand new MacBooks and printers! Even the broke kids like me got spoiled, because we had great connections and opportunities in Orange County. 

Oprah Winfrey was invited to see our musical, but she didn’t show up. I’m sure she had better things to do. That musical showcase was such a funny way to befriend someone. Especially Oprah, I mean Kaia. 

One time Kaia’s Parisian artist friends flew out to LA for a photoshoot with a famous pinup model dancer named Dita Von Teese. We met up with them at a Hollywood Hills mansion in hopes of them hiring us both to help out at the photoshoot. They were such cliche French people who were way too cool for us. The creative director looked like an emo goth vampire. We expected him to levitate around and float from room to room. He spoke in a whiny French baby voice when he begged for some drugs. Kaia was on it. She went to go fetch him some pills while I talked to their team about creative ideas. 

They asked me to help out at the photoshoot. I agreed to assist them, because I was beyond stoked to meet my favorite pinup model! I assumed Kaia would also be included, considering they were her fucking friends. 

The team ended up telling Kaia that they didn’t need her at the photoshoot. I probably should have turned down that gig for the sake of our friendship, but I went anyway, because I was broke as fuck, and needed some money. Her “‘friends” later told me that they didn’t want some “druggie girl” around everyone on a “professional set.” They acted like she was a meth head, but she was just sharing her ADHD meds! I guess adderall is kinda methy. 

Of course I was the first one to show up at Dita Von Teese’s house on the day of the shoot. She answered the door in a robe with no hair or makeup. It was shocking to see the pinup queen au natural. Her mansion looked like a cottage from a fairytale. She was like a burlesque Snow White princess. When I told her I was there for the photoshoot she looked confused. She didn’t have anything on her schedule. The vampire-like director magically appeared then begged and cried in his French baby voice for her to model for his creative visions. 

MERDE! ZUT ALOR! PUTAIN! 

S’IL VOUS PLAÎT! MON AMOUR! POUR L’ART! 

SACREBLEU! HON HON HON! 

*french choking sounds*  

I had no idea what the fuck was going on. 

Dita Von Teese obliged to the emo artist's requests, but was not pleased with his ridiculous spontaneous surprises. He was an incredible photographer who had shot her many times before. I assumed she felt indebted to him due to their past collaborations. Everyone knew the plan except for the talent who owned the location. If they gave her a heads up before flying everyone out I wonder if she would have turned down that gig. The team wanted her to do it more than she wanted to be part of it.    

We busted into her fairytale mansion cottage with tons of equipment. Her taxidermy decor creeped me out. Everyone on set spoke French and I didn’t know what was happening. Towards the end of the shoot I stopped giving a fuck which won all the French people over. Once I quit being a desperate try hard they gave me cigarettes and let me join their angsty emo artist clique. Kaia was a photographer who spoke French and smoked hella cigarettes. She would’ve fit in with that rich Parisian artist crew way better than me.  

My French teacher in high school spent her twenties modeling in Paris. She had platinum blonde hair, tan skin, and gigantic boobs. She taught me how to properly drink wine and curse in French. Some people said that she used to be a bunny. She wore tiny denim shorts and rode a sexy motorcycle to work. I think she was the only teacher who got dress code violations. She inspired me to embrace different cultures and live a fun sexy fabulous life. 

Back when I was modeling I worked with a pinup clothing brand regularly. I was warned that the owner brutally fired people and slammed them online for any minor mistakes. Over the years I heard many horror stories about the way she managed her employees and business. I still worked with her, because it wasn’t happening directly towards me. She hired Kaia and I to do some photoshoots for their site and everything was a fucking mess. It was so unorganized and unprofessional. I had to hunt down our paychecks after every fucking shoot. 

Later on the owner reached out to us to do another photoshoot. I sent her a photography contract to make sure we would be getting paid for our work. She went fucking ballistic and talked mad shit about our business all over social media. Shortly after that her business went under. I don’t think she ever planned on paying us, which was why she freaked out over the photo contract. I should’ve known better after hearing so many bad stories about her from other people. We had some wonderful clients over the years, but the bitches made a bigger impact. Bad people teach good lessons.  

I kept banking on other people appreciating my talents. It’s like I was always playing a role, even if I wasn’t acting. Fake for the sake of maintaining toxic relationships. 

Kaia had a huge crush on our friend Levi. They hooked up back in college, but never dated. She was in love with him and he used her. It seemed like everyone knew about their history, except for her boyfriend Sawyer. Levi claimed he didn’t like Kaia back, even though his life revolved around hers. 

Despite their strange dynamics we had a pretty solid friend group. At times we all lived and worked together. When Levi asked if he could move in with us and let his brother stay over I was stoked. They were some of my closest friends who I considered family. Plus I was sick of third wheeling Kaia and Sawyer all the time. 

Kaia got pissed that I said it was fine by me if they moved in. She thought it was inappropriate to live with him considering their history, but she never spoke up for herself. It wasn’t my responsibility to speak on her behalf. I did that sometimes for our business, which was a bad habit in hindsight. 

Instead of telling Levi that she didn’t want to live with him, she bitched about it to me and all our other friends. Kaia kept stomping around while slamming doors and cabinets after he moved in. She even changed our wifi name from “The Shire” to “Minas Tirith.”   

Levi cared about the planet and had a silly sense of humor. He was in touch with his inner child, which helped me bring out mine. Levi performed off key songs and raps that never rhymed, while the rest of us smoked and watched from the couch. His rap name was Lil Pee Pee.

Before we moved into that place we looked at a way better apartment, but Kaia didn’t want to live in it, because the previous tenants died in the unit. I was such a hardcore Atheist back then. The discount and epic views made it seem worth it! We’re all going to die somewhere somehow someday. 

I shared a large bathroom with Levi. One day I got really mad at him for shaking the door handle while I was trying to take a shit. I was like “DUDE LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE AND GIVE ME SOME FUCKING PRIVACY!!!” He had no idea what I was yelling about. We later figured out that my cat Lando was trying to bust down the bathroom door. 

Kaia overheard part of our conversation about the door handle mysterious rattling. She was afraid of ghost, so we decided to fuck with her. We both kept making up stories about weird things happening around the apartment. 

One night Levi randomly placed a long piece of string over a light switch. He was talking to Kaia about the ghost when my cat pulled on the string, which turned off all the lights. My spooky black cat was the mastermind behind all the unearthly happenings. Kaia freaked out and truly believed that there was a ghost haunting our apartment. 

I eventually told her that it was Lando and Levi, not a ghost. I thought Kaia would laugh it off, but she got angry at us for fucking with her like that.

One night Levi and I were dancing in the living room and our moves kept getting progressively sluttier. We grinded up on eachother like horny freak dancing middle schoolers, which led to us having sex. We could’ve been each other's dirty little secrets, but we were both raised Catholic, and felt the need to confess our sins. 

Kaia was pissed. She thought I was selfish for getting with someone she had feelings for, but I thought she was selfish for trying to keep people who like each other apart. Especially since we were single and she was in a serious relationship with somebody else! 

Levi and I tried dating, but our friends treated us like monsters. They kept ridiculing us for having feelings for eachother. Kaia said she would get over it eventually, but that never happened. She couldn’t trust me or look at me the same way after that. 

Levi’s perfectionism was his best and worst quality. It made him talented, but he lacked confidence, which caused him to judge mine. He couldn’t believe that I had the audacity to be a performer. Probably because he would never have the balls to put himself out there like that. He would perform like a total dork in privacy amongst close friends, but there’s no way he would let anyone record him. Levi always projected his insecurities onto me, which led me to doubt myself. His lack mentality was super contagious, even though I preferred to dream big and aim high. The key to success is being delusional. 

Kaia and I got our own places and Levi moved in with me for a little bit. He ended up breaking up with me to camp around the country with his tent and backpack. Levi chose being homeless on the streets over living with me. He planned on leaving to travel before we hooked up, which made things much more complicated. 

Levi made it very clear that our relationship was one sided. He constantly critiqued my weight, skin, height, and voice. In hindsight he was mocking and bullying the shit out of me the whole time. It hurt to hear him tear apart my appearance, especially since I was already enduring that at my modeling gigs. Guess he wanted a flawless perfect girlfriend, even though he was an unemployed short borderline homeless loser. I don’t know what I saw in him. 

He acted like a nice kind person towards the beginning but his true character eventually came out. Levi told me that I had too much sun damage. Then he called me a Dalmatian and advised me to never go outside again. He asked me if I ever played connect the dots with the imperfections on my skin. Then he called my fupa stomach pooch my “third boob.” After bullying the shit out of me he’d ask me where my smile went or accuse me of being depressed.

Throughout that shitty short term relationship Levi made so many comments about my height, weight, and finances. It obviously came from insecurities, cause homeboy was short, poor, and not in shape. He expected love, care, and support from everyone even though he brought nothing to the table. Such a taker, not a giver! Kaia and I paid for most of his bills and meals. 

Levi sat me down and pointed out that I was showing signs of schizophrenia. I was so fucking offended, because I felt misunderstood, and thought he was attacking me. Turns out he was just the first of many people to call me out for showing signs of mental illnesses. 

I wondered how we let such a shitty human into our homes and bodies? I had to completely reevaluate my circle, health, self worth, boundaries, morals, goals, and standards. I’d rather vibe alone than hang out with people who don’t respect me. That fucked up little fling was my canon event. 

Who the fuck was he to treat me so poorly? How did I put up with that shit? Levi seemed kind towards the beginning, but ended up being such a shallow asshole. I hated how much I loved him and loved how much I hated him.

Sawyer ended up being the only one who was still nice to me, but he didn’t know the back story. He had no idea all that drama was going on. I felt so bad for lying to him for Kaia’s sake for years. I wish I got to tell him my side of the story in person over some strong cocktails. 

When I first started living with Kaia I hated her boyfriend Sawyer. He was another homeless unemployed bum on our couch who contributed nothing. Kaia and I both desperately needed to raise our standards. 

Sawyer ended up being the best person in that shitty friend group. He went from last place to first place in my books. I couldn’t help but feel bad for him after seeing Kaia and Levi’s secretive flirtatious relationship. It was so selfish of them to keep their secret just from him. 

Before shit went down Kaia and I had a great bond. We lived together for four years in three different apartments around LA. At times I wondered if we had telepathy, because it felt like we could read each other's minds. She was such a funny, creative, inspiring, and generous person. 

All our friends sided with Kaia. They shamed me for sleeping with Levi, even though we were both single. At one point they even started bets over if I would fuck him again. The whole ordeal was giving Easy A Scarlet Letter vibes. It’s safe to say that I got slut shamed out of our friend group. 

Of course Levi was never shamed for what he did even though it was the same “crime.” There’s such a double standard when it comes to men and sex. I was shunned while he got taken in and appreciated. He was the hero and I was the whore. Everyone embraced him and shamed me, even though we were both guilty of doing the same fucking thing.

For years I tried to get Kaia to hang out, travel, or work with me again. She was unable to truly forgive me and move on. It’s kinda sad because we had so many great times together in the past. 

Part of me wondered if I sabotaged our relationship subconsciously. It’s not like I intended to hurt her, but our business wasn’t working out, and I knew that I would have to move on to survive. 

Around that same time I fell for “the love of her life.” I wonder if I inadvertently derailed everything as a not so easy way out. Maybe Levi hooked up with me as a way out too. He wanted Kaia to stay in the friend zone. Fucking her best friend could be a pretty effortless horn dog escape.  

Working with friends, living with friends, or falling for the same friends ruins friendships. Kaia and I went through all of those things at once. No wonder things didn’t work out. 

Of course I was a part of the problem but wasn’t ready to take any blame. There’s no way I could own up to failure or being wrong even though that was usually the case. I was too crazy and crossfaded to notice or care about anyone else’s feelings. 

Levi ended up moving in with Kaia’s family after he dumped me, which was a total mind fuck. He was such a fucking dick to me post breakup, but I didn’t really understand why. 

He confronted me for being unwelcoming towards him and his brother, even though I had opened up our home to them multiple times. I knew that Kaia complained about them to our friends. Somehow that gossip circled back to Levi and he assumed it came from me. Kaia was the one who didn’t want to live with them, not me! I enjoyed their company before the shit hit the fan. That wasn’t the only time I took the fall for Kaia’s words or actions. We both needed to learn how to speak up for ourselves.

When it came to fight, flight, freeze, or fawn I FROZE. I couldn’t speak up for myself for some reason. There was too much emotional abuse and mind game bullshit going on in my life. I couldn’t handle it.  

It seemed like Kaia would do anything to keep Levi and I apart. Her life was full of lies. Fake photos, fake hair, fake nails, fake followers, fake alibis. The grass was never greener in LA, it was fake! Luckily Kaia was a pretty bad liar, so most people saw right through her bullshit. I’m sure she trashed my name in fear of the truth coming out. 

Why was I okay with my bestie roomie business partner being such a liar? I couldn’t trust her and she couldn’t trust me. It’s sad how things ended, but at least I won full custody of our kitty boy during the divorce. 

Unfortunately that wasn’t the first time I chose a guy over a close friend. My childhood bestie May dated my friend Andi during high school. I hooked up with him before that, but never dated him, so it didn’t really bother me that they were together. The three of us were besties who hung out all the time! We loved throwing drunken bonfires on the beach together. 

When May went off to college she joined a sorority cult and all her sisters became her new besties. She drunkenly fought with Andi until they broke up. 

One day May blew me off after I had already driven hours to go see her. I impulsively ended our long term friendship, because it felt super one sided. Then I drunkenly hooked up with Andi a few months after that. 

I had such a fat crush on him over the years. Someone once told me that if you love someone, you should keep them as a friend, so they can be in your life longer. I eventually decided to go that route with him. I still consider him to be one of my best friends to this day. 

My inability to maintain any sort of job, friendship, and relationship made me wonder if I was bipolar or borderline. My life was full of manic euphoric highs and depressing lows.

Some people told me that my blunt honesty was too much. Other people accused me of lying, acting, and over exaggerating. My friends and family would say things like “THAT DIDN’T HAPPEN!” Was I hallucinating or were they gaslighting me? 

Andi and I kept in touch over the years. I missed my friendship with May, but didn’t want to tell her that I hooked up with Andi. Even though I knew that the truth would come out eventually. 

May went to the same Catholic church as me back in the day. We sinned and rebelled in our own ways, but we both still appreciated the art of confession. 

We both desperately wanted to be sexy bad girls after watching the movie THIRTEEN. I often think about the time we got in huge trouble at church for praying to “THE FATHER, THE SON, & THE HOLY DOUGHNUT.” In our defense the doughnuts after mass were bomb as fuck.  

Years went by and I finally reached out to May. We caught up over margs as if no time had passed. A psychic witch told her that she had already met her soulmate, who was someone that she got set up with in the past. Since May met Andi through me, she assumed that he was her soulmate. 

The three of us had a beach bonfire for old times sake. It felt like May only wanted to hang out with me to get back with Andi. She showed up at the beach with a full face of makeup and her hair blown out. She even told me that she got sugared just in case. May kept throwing herself at Andi even though he had a serious girlfriend. Not like I should judge! 

After a few drinks May confided in me. She had been diagnosed with a life threatening autoimmune disease. I could tell she was eager to settle down, because she didn’t know how much time she had left. That didn’t seem like the best time to tell her about my fling with Andi. We never hung out again after that, but she managed to fall in love with someone else. Now May and Andi are married to people who seem so fucking random to me. Whatever. 

Kaia and her childhood BFF Fawn were attached at the hip for years. They even moved to Paris to go to school together. Fawn ended up hooking up with Kaia’s friend’s ex boyfriend while they were studying abroad. 

Kaia ended her friendship with Fawn because she thought that she was selfish for sleeping within the friend group. I didn’t get what the big deal was. They were both single and liked each other! I never understood Kaia’s territorial over possessive instincts. 

Fawn ended up dating that guy for years. They even moved to Thailand together! Kaia’s side of the story was stupid as fuck. Fawn was devastated over their dramatic friendship breakup. She spent years trying to mend their broken relationship, but Kaia mocked her messages and refused to respond. Fawn was outcasted from their friend group. Everyone unintentionally sided with Kaia, because she moved back to California. I guess we all felt closer to her because there was less literal distance. Most of our friends missed Fawn, but we kept our feelings hidden from Kaia, because she made us pick a side.   

Before I worked with Kaia she had another photography business with her friend Anna. They did everything together until all of a sudden it was over. Kaia said that Anna got arrested and owed her tons of money. I wondered if that was the full story. Kaia always had a codependent female bestie. Most of the people in our lives assumed that she was a closeted lesiban. Her female friendship breakups often resembled romantic breakups, plus her style of art often showcased the female form. Sometimes it takes one to know one. 

A few of my girl friends were gay as fuck, but would never publically admit it. They didn’t want to upset their wealthy close minded parents, in fear they might cut them off financially. 

We both had a history of dramatic friendship breakups, that were pretty gay in hindsight. We each played similar recurring roles in each other's recurring patterns. If you don’t learn the lessons you have to repeat the tests!

Even though I loved Kaia I never tried to resolve our friendship. I saw how shit went down during her past bestie breakups. She villainized her former friends, so I assumed she would do the same shit to me. I didn’t want to put myself through a bunch of predictable catty drama. 

During one of our last friend group hangouts we all took the Harry Potter Sorting Hat Quiz and I got placed in Slytherin. I am very clever, resourceful, magical, and ambitious. Kaia judged my results, but she’s a fucking Scorpio! That’s like being a real life Slytherin. 

My friend Jake noticed what I was going through. They asked me why I let people treat me like shit and talk down to me. Having somebody point out my lack of boundaries and self esteem encouraged me to make some much needed changes. Thank you Jake <3

My health and goals became my new priority. There was no need to hold onto any one sided or toxic relationships. I cut most people out of my life. 

Hollywood lost its sparkle. My personal dreams, morals, and values evolved. It was time to get the fuck out of LA.