The Week That Was…

So this week I had 4 auditions (if you count the one I have tomorrow). I’ve been a British architect (or as I like to call him, an “affected gay guy with a Naomi complex”), a homosexual male dumped when his beau realizes he’s actually straight and a young, successful husband, buying a car for my wife. Time will tell which I was the best @ I suppose. Please let it be the “gay guy who gets dumped” role. I read with a beautiful guy and hopefully life won’t imitate art. And that “co-stars meet and fall in love on set” thing happens. We can be like Brad and Angelina. Or Courtney Cox and David Arquette. This boy can dream.

I saw Underworld: Evolution and liked it so much Mel & I rented the original Underworld. I have been crushing on Scott Speedman since Felicity. For me it was never Noel (too nice and needed a diet), it was all Ben. Conflicted. Flawed. And hotter than damn July! Oh and he’s naked in Underworld: Evolution. His butt is like sunshine! Toss it in the air baby! Brighten my day. Oh and in the 1st Underworld there is my (imaginary) husband, Wentworth Miller. He doesn’t look so good though…Which still means he looks better than damn near everyone else. Went (my nickname for my imaginary husband) I love you.

Last night I was dragged kicking and screaming out of my home by Scott again. WHY?! Damn. We went to see strippers @ a really bad bar. It was also Drinks With The Stars or some other such nightmare. The porn stars were hot from a distance and up-close also to be honest.

It was Roman Heart who I’ve seen pounded in the butt a lot lately and Eric Rhodes who I would love to pound in the butt. They were performing. It was creepy. There were all these old men with pics of the porn stars to sign. And as the porn stars got more drunk and nakeder* the leerers got more icky. They were surrounding these half-naked guys and I just wanted out. I was having crazy reality convention flashbacks. Where people are all around you, shoving pics in your face to autograph that you don’t remember taking. It was horrid. But damn, Roman Heart is hot.

A friend once compared reality stardom to porn stardom. At 1st I was taken aback. Insulted actually. But the truth is they are similar. You only have to do one reality show or porno to be considered “a star”. And it’s really based upon being yourself. But what people don’t get is there is a level of acting that takes place in both. I mean if you are a porn star and don’t like who you are paired with you gotta act. Being successful on a reality show means being nice to people ya can’t stand and never want to see again. I deserve an Oscar. Wait, they give Emmys for TV. “I’d Like to thank the cast of Big…” If I ever do a porn the title of the movie should be Big Brother XXX. Literally. 😉 And the tagline could be “12 hos go in & 1 comes out”. Or “12 inches go in, see what comes out.” Or “See who the BIGGEST brother is…” Or not. I’ve already done one dumb thing in my life for public consumption. Let’s hope porn isn’t in my future. Though I’m not ruling anything out.

The thing that made last night so horrid though was not the naked porn stars. I was not drinking because once again, I’m on the Master Cleanse. Scott got drunk. There is something disconcerting about being in a bar when you aren’t drunk. It must be why bartenders hate their patrons. And I used to bar tend. I know. Well back on point, Scott has a couple too many and I’m ready to leave. I have a movie audition the next day (today) and I need to study my script. “No please Marcellas,” says Scott. “Can’t we go to The Lounge?” “The hottest guys in L.A. go there.” Damn! I just wanted out. I felt like an animal caught in a trap! I was about to gnaw my damn leg off to get the hell out of that gangbang waiting to happen! But if it meant getting out of that bar I’d have gone anywhere. One of the porn stars was eating the butt of one of the strippers and the poor stripper was disgusted! This kid got up, from his knees, with a look on his face that said, “Damn I made some bad decisions. I should have never left the farm. Mama, can you hear me? I’m coming home.” I was sickened. The leerers were cheering! I mean, I like naked guys too but that was gross. And this wasn’t a sex club! So anyway I end up in a cab where the driver launches into a story about picking up a guy who had (sorry) a pussy. The cabdriver bet the guy $10 that he wasn’t a real girl, which prompted the tranny to show him her “you know”, winning the bet. This was communicated in heavily Armenian-accented-English. While he looked back @ us with HIS EYES NOT ON THE ROAD! We arrive @ a bar called Tigerheat. Or a party called Tigerheat @ a bar called something else. 1st bad sign. Only to see Bobby Trendy and some drag queen getting held @ the front door. 2nd bad sign. Bobby wasn’t happy as he thinks The Anna Nicole Show made him a star. I ain’t mad @ you Bobby. I feel similar in similar situations. I don’t pay covers and I don’t wait in lines to get in bars. If there is one perk to being a gay reality star, it’s that! And I’m not ashamed to say it! So we get inside and we are clearly the oldest people there. For me that is like the dream where you show up in class naked. This bar is my worst nightmare. It’s super-young girls and guys dressed badly, dancing to horrific music. And I feel like someones granddad. Trying to be hip. And the lighting sucked! I was embarrassed to be there! Where were these hot guys Scott? And sorry tweaked-out 18 year-olds, wearing make-up and shaking glow stick thingies, don’t count. Just then a drunk teenager, twink I believe is the term, runs up to me, jumps on me and screams “You’re Marcellas from Big Brother!”. “I wanna be like you but I wanna do Survivor“. “But I’m too young, I won’t be able to do it for 5 years.” That’s when I had enough. I peeled this kid off my outfit and stumbled into the street waving for a taxi. I was almost run over from the tears blinding my eyes. And I couldn’t get a cab! And cars were slowing down because the bar is near a notorious hooker stroll in L.A. They thought I was a street walking ho! I look around and I’m surrounded by trannies! And their pimps. Don’t get me wrong, I love my T-Girls. And hos gotta eat too but…I can see the headlines now: “Big Brother Star Falls From Grace…Again!” Or my mug-shot on The Smoking Gun, striking a defiant pose, giving you profile, tears streaming from my eyes, mascara running… I got a cab (finally), made it home and I am changing my phone # so Scott can’t contact me anymore. Scott you are evicted from my island. Until next week.

And I’m not pulling a James Frey. This all happened. As far as I can recall.

*I know there is no such word as nakeder but I love it!