I woke up to a Facebook home feed lined up with link after miserable link full of commentary on Miley C’s not soon to be forgotten performance at the MTV VMA last night, which I had no idea was even taking place, on account of who gives a shit about the VMA nowadays? I mean,
… and women everywhere dog her for it. Read ANY online article about M’s recent attendance at the Billboard Music Awards and then scroll down to the comments page and behold the hate. They call her a slut, a whore, they say she’s trash, they compare to Mae West–and NOT in a good way, they
I went to I-HOP in West Hollywood the other day, and I had a total flash from the not so far away past. This was many years ago on a weekday afternoon. I forget why I wasn’t at work that day, and it’s not like me to venture out into having a meal by myself,
I reckon it comes as no kind of shocking surprise to most people who know me when I tell ’em that I loved to play with fire when I was a kid. I’m talkin’ about some pyromaniac shenanigans that did not serve me too well in my little boy life. Simply put, I liked watching things burn.
I witnessed these lovely ladies at the Big Gay Starbucks in the heart of West Hollywood having some sort of conference or work meeting with their matching Mac Power Books placed before them. When they pulled the shades down to shield themselves from the sun, I swore they were gonna bust out a projector
Too much to write about. Too little time. Funny story: A guy got hit by a car last weekend on Friday, December 14, in the heart of West Hollywood. It happened around 8:20 p.m. on the Santa Monica Blvd crosswalk that’s by West Knoll Dr, right next to Koo Koo Roo. The pedestrian crosswalk situation
My ass was dead asleep when something shook me awake. I heard muffled moaning sounds coming from the apartment next to my bedroom. The moans were not the sexual kind. I formed the voice of a woman coming from a what sounded like a speaker phone of sorts. My half-asleep brain was able to unscramble