Reality Check

I'm not in Vegas. No, I'm at my office in downtown LA nursing a bad stomach flu that I got from the EX.
Fucking bitch. I curse anyone who gives me the shits...except that the EX is still the sweetest piece of man candy in the world. Grrrr...As much as I would LOVE to HATE him, I can't!

So this past weekend was spent with me lying on the couch moaning, passing gas, and watching Laguna Beach reruns. How very UN-GLAM! SEE HOW THE MIGHTY HAVE FALLEN?! I've become Anna Nicole pre-TrimSpa. I used to be thin, gorgeous, and in demand.

Altho I felt like complete ASS, I let myself get dragged out to I-Candy in WeHo. That's the bar being featured on that cheesey ass reality show on Bravo with the buff muscle queen with the overly plucked eyebrows crying about how he came out late in life because being gay in LA is so hard. YAWN.
Go watch some hurricane coverage bitch, get off your cross, and realize how lucky you are that youre a rich white man living in California. You may suck dick, but at least you're not starving. Actually far from it. Cry me a river, faggot.

Btw, looking at that hurricane coverage, it makes you realize one important lesson: When the government says to evacuate an area, you do it. Apparantly about 50,000 peole chose to ignore the evacutation notice and ended up realized they made a big mistake once the water filled their houses. That's fucking scary shit there people. I'm including the victims of the hurricane in my prayers.

And now back to my shallow life:
Last night I had to say good-bye to Kirk, my geeky animator, who's off to Italy and New York for two months to work on a series of coffee commercials. Am I sad? Ehhh...uhh... not really.
I told him to have fun, fuck hot D & G models, and to get tan.

And as of Thursday, I finally have health insurance. HEALTH BENEFITS, WHATS UP!??!
One of the few perks of having a boring fucking job.