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Sheryl Crow "Leaving Las Vegas" |
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(Actually written Thursday... but you should read it anyway, because my flava is timeless.)
This "DJ-ing on the plane" thing is really working for me. Hell, I'm doing it again. This time I'm on the flight back from L.A. to Minneapolis. After this, I of course fly to Cedar Rapids on a tractor with wings. We'll see how that goes.
So was all the spending and airport rigamarole worth the trip to L.A.? The days leading up to the big Advocate 40th party were sometimes slow, and I sometimes wondered if I'd veered too far from "my life" (RA stuff, the newspaper, school... regular Jeopardy viewings...) to attend this thing. But then, oh-fucking-yeah, I MET KATHERINE HEIGL AND T.R. KNIGHT FROM GREY'S ANATOMY. T.R. totally knew my name by the end of the night. And Katherine, during an unprecedented shifting of the planets, HUGGED ME. I'm definitely famous now. I'm a cast member. Hope I make it through med school without screwing up George and Kallie's love lives, guys. I am McSaucy.
Andddd I'll show you my slammin' red carpet pic of T.R. and Katherine as soon as I can upload it. You'll get to read even more about the occasion when I write about my interview with Katherine! Don't worry, guys, she basically promised to visit Lemont and Iowa City next month or so. She loves the Wednesday night car shows.
Kathy Griffin and Margaret Cho were out of town for the big event, which TOTALLY sucked. I would not have been intimidated at all by Kathy Griffin, and that's not just because I've planned our futures together. However, some choice celebs DID show up, including that dirty twat Perez Hilton, who I guess opted not to apologize for the mix-up in July. At least I don't smell, that's all I have to say. And we can't forget the inimitably antisocial Heather Matarazzo, the ever-scripted mayor of Los Angeles, Antonio Villaraigosa, the pretty blonde lesbian from Queer as Folk, as well as her FUG, ANo girlfriend! It's hard to believe people like them are passable television actors, since they're so severe-looking and bizarre in person. T.R. and Katherine both looked fabulous and healthy, by the way. Okay, let me blab about how I met them: I was helping usher people along on the red carpet with Corey Scholibo, the Advocate arts editor, and he requested I run around the block to direct lost limos to the right entrance. I'm literally out there for ten seconds when I see a pretty blonde girl in a red coat who makes me think, "She actually looks like Katherine Heigl." Yeah, then who crosses right in front of me but T.R. himself! I sort of blurt, "Oh, T.R.?" He stops, says hello. He's not there with a publicist or anything. I go, "Hi, I'm Louis from The Advocate, I can lead you to the press line around the corner... and, Katherine?" she nodded and said hi. "Um, yeah, follow me." No one had any idea Katherine was coming, which made her entrance all the more, well, entrancing. It's such a strange time to see her in person, especially since she's reached the absolute zenith of her stardom -- with that terrific Emmy win on Sunday. Michael tried to grab an interview with her at the HBO Emmy party on Sunday, but he had to settle for Glenn Close instead (what a shame).
I'm sad leaving Michael to go back to Iowa, but we're both well-aware we're not the most compatible duo. Again, I'm too Madonna, he's too Hilary Duff. Translated: I'm too rational, he's too retarded. J/K. In a way. More like we're both totally strong-willed and assured in our ambitions and righteousness. Don't get me wrong, my time with him in Burbank was delicious -- and I mean that literally, his family makes great fucking food. But we also toured cupcake shops, went to a house party, dropped down to San Diego (beautiful downtown, I was quite surprised), and snuggled and shit. I'm glad we're on the same page, because this situation could've ended up awkward. His mother was a doll the whole time, offering everything in her house and capacity for me. Seriously, the woman drove me to Best Buy to grab a recorder even though she was enduring terrible back pain from a car accident earlier this week. And she lent me a car to drive to the Advocate event, complete with a GPS system. Incredible. Also: the minute I buy a car, I'm buying a GPS system with it, that's all there is to it.
So let's talk about everything I'm avoiding in life
-WOMEN AND LITERATURE CLASS- Evelina. Letters 50 to 965.
-DI- stories on Queen Latifah, Annie Lennox, and Suzanne Vega. (Is that an early-90's clusterfuck or what?)
-RA- programs, the fucking community blueprint, and... well... anything for that damn job. I seem to do an okay job of picking up my check, though.
-ADVocATE- GenQ blog, tying up my Billie Jean King article. Did I mention I interviewed her? That woman is a saint. After I finished my questions, she piped up, "Now, Louis, I have a question for you: You got a dream, man? It's all about the dream. You have one?" Let me tell you, it's refreshing to interview someone famous who maintains the conscience of an average civilian -- or rather, someone who deserves her fame. She was remarkable -- and ranked No. 6 on The Advocate's list of most influential gay icons of the past 40 years. There's a slick divide between being "famous" and being "incredible," and I was astounded to meet someone who was, so clearly, both.
Better news: I talked to Rachel Dowd, the magazine's deputy editor (who I'm obsessed with anyway), and she told me the Editor-in-Chief would hire me permanently if I applied. Erm, semi-well-paying job in Los Angeles for a magazine I DREAMED of working at? Peeing myself. Perhaps even better: I finally got to meet the news features editor of The Advocate who works in New York. He told me he wants to get an editorial assistant for the New York branch, and if the position comes to fruition by the time I graduate, it could be mine. Jeez, guys, all this tiresome weighing of stellar job opps on both coasts... I need a cigarette. Frankly, New York is almost more appealing because I could try to get my foot in the door with Bravo. I'm sorry, television is in my fucking future. The minute I get an offer to host a game show, I'm just going to walk around my house and play "No Scrubs" all day, because I'd be the shit. Is Trebek retiring anytime soon? They'll just give that job to, like, Louie Anderson if I don't apply. Travesty, guys. Ring all four alarms.
However, let's discuss news back in the stratosphere: I miss my friendz. Elyyyyseeee. Saaraahhhh. Kimmmmmieeeee. Monica, for Christ's sake! And Rachel effing Fields! I need to get off my Latino ass and hit them up. I hope to come home sometime in October, so that'll be nice. I'm sure the res hall coordinators are super-keen on all these days off I'm taking. Fuck it, as long as they don't interfere with badminton class, I do what I want.
Get ready for some ultra-cool stream of consciousness.
Some other things I miss: my Mommy, my whole family, an organized life, water parks, doing stand-up comedy, acting, laughing REALLY hard with my friends (not that this rarely happens... but Michael Berner does not = Chris Rock), my extended family (including Tiffany, Bryanna + Austin + Luke, Colleen, my grandparents, Uncle Jim & Aunt Lea, fucking stupid-ass Anna Mae. All of 'em), trivia games, athletic competition, writing poetry (or... song lyrics, if that's what they were), watching old movies... I guess that's about it. Oh, and my hunting rifle. I ain't never felt lonelier.
Okay, the computer's almost out of batteries. Off I go to sit here and dream of Minneapolis. Bye for now, hoes. Love you, love you, thanks for reading.
Xoxo,
Louis
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