College Dayz

Remember slipping into your dorm room at 2am, to find nothing other than your slutty roommate moaning loudly while her one night stand licks her man in the boat?  Her piercing scream cover the sound of your drunken stumbling, as you crawl into your own bed.  She knows you're there, he probably does too... but they continue to go at it, as you turn over and put a pillow over your head.

Ten years later.  Snowboarding trip with all your adult friends... fresh powder's coming in.  Nothing like a Mammoth pub crawl.  The messiness continues to the house, where everyone hops in the hot tub, continuous boozing.  Then when our bellies can't stomach it anymore... snooze.  We all past out.  Except one.  The one that I happened to be sharing a room (not a bed - there were separate beds).  2am, pounding head, nauseous tummy, I need to throw up... squeak squeak, moan, moan, then... "what the fuck is wrong with you?"  "Why can't you keep it up?"

Oops, that's the last thing I thought I'd be hearing this weekend... but  I guess sometimes it's good to remember how it used to be and remember what aging does to our bodies.  Sexual dysfunctions, so don't bang someone out in the same room... because someone may tell your secrets!

Kittens, Bobcats and Cougars

Going from a Kitten to a Bobcat is not as easy as one may think. It's similar to passing through the threshold from 21 to 25, you know like going from being a child to an adult... but this isn't about MY age. It's about the man on the other side of the bed. At one time I thought that I had learned the best kept secret in town... Divorced Men. They are already trained to know that all it really takes to make us happy is to pay attention when we want them to, listen to our problems without trying to solve them, and telling us how beautiful we are regularly.

But then when that bored me, I moved on to dudes my own age, never been married, successful, and honestly... more pains in my ass than fun. They don't know when to call, how to call, how to fuck even. They are so into themselves that they buy you toys that make them happy for your birthday then wonder why you don't thank them.

So, what is left. YOUNGER BOYS. They are fun, do what you tell them to, and call when they are asked too. And when you tell them to go away. Gone... disappeared into the club crowd just as easily as they appeared next to you at the bar buying you an innocent drink. Then as luck would have it... another one arrives.

Wow. Who knew that life could be this easy, if you just know the secret?

I have now graduated from Kitten (dating divorced/older than me types or men my own age) to Bobcat (5 or 6 years younger). One day, when 9 or 10 years younger than me is finally legal... I will once again graduate - to Cougar. Maybe life does get better for women!!

Love Lessons From the Past

There is a reason for everything. We live, we learn and we move on, but it's what we take with us that is the most important. For the new year, I am going to remember all of the love lessons that I have had, in hopes that this will help me prepare for the next mister right now.

Lesson 1) The Hot High School Sweetheart: Forever is a long time.
Lesson 2) The Prom Date: The Euros are more passionate, but more likely to cheat.
Lesson 3) Brick - The Baseball Player: Love is never just about being hot.
Lesson 4) The J Crew Model: Bad kisser equals bad sex.
Lesson 5) The Actor: All actors are narcissist. Strictly off limits. No exceptions.
Lesson 6) The CE: Jewish boys love spanking.
Lesson 7) The Agent: Mountain biking can sometimes be more important than you think. And Strawberry Hill is a HARD ride full of mountain lions.
Lesson 8) The Writers Assistant: Being really honest, is the only way to go. Even when it feels like a mistake, it will make the eventual break up occur much sooner. Eliminating some of the pain.
Lesson 9) The Rocket Scientist: Fabulous abs go much further than you think.
Lesson 10) The Doctor: Sometimes the first date didn't go as well as you thought.
Lesson 11) The Politician: Samatha from Who's the Boss was every man's first love.
Lesson 12) The TV Writer: In order to become emotionally intimate with someone you must open up. Meaning, you have to talk about your deepest fears, etc.
Lesson 13) The Bike Rider: A man that rides a bike for a living, may phyiscally look like a grown up, but in reality he is absolutely not an adult.
Lesson 14) The NYE Kiss: Artists are highly emotional.
Lesson 15) The Feature Writer: Cubby boys, with tons of tattoos really aren't my thing.
Lesson 16) The Producer: There is a way for a man to get me naked on a second date, without even seeing my body.
Lesson 17) The Fiance: Boys can indeed be just as crazy as girls.
Lesson 18) The Boss: Calling back a man back is essential. Otherwise they move on without giving you any warning.
Lesson 19) Frenchie: Go with the flow.

The Loaded One Night Stand

Everyone has one. The guy you thought for years was your one until finally you came to your senses about him. Realized that the only way to have anything with this person is through sex, and during a desperate attempt at trying to get rid of these feelings... I finally give in and booty call him!

I arrive promptly at 1:15 at his very posh Hollywood apartment. Sign in, escorted up the elevator by a security guard, then am passed over to him. My prince charming... well so I thought. He was waiting at the door for me. Cute, fit, and totally adorable.

We spent several minutes on idle chat, and a quick tour of the "loft" then we get to it. There is no real sex, just a lot of licking and sucking. Slight cuddling, perhaps a date proposal that I completely avoided, then the moment came when I for the first time ever knowing this person asked to sleep over... and well... he kicked me out.

Quickly, I grab my shoes, and the remains of my clothing... throwing them all on and rushing for the door when of course, he says, "you can't walk to your car alone."

Is he fucking kidding me!?!?! I walked from my car into this (less spectacular than expected) "Loft" or I would call it "Room." Why do care if I make it home or not? You will never care really... you just want to make sure that you were respectful enough to me so that I will never begrudge you enough to black list you from one of my movies or TV shows. Or perhaps, so whenever it is you decide that you do want to actually be with a woman on a real level you will know that someone will be here waiting for you... to give you whatever it is that you feel like you need. But whatever the reason is that you want to walk me to my car, I will let you. Because for the last time, I will let you make me feel needed, only this time I know that you will never really need me. This one night stand taught me everything that the psychic told me I would get from you...

So, for the first time ever I realized that it wasn't about you and me. It was about you OR me. I choose me. I choose MY needs today. I will keep calling you because there are several things that I need from you... but a relationship more than one where I show up at your house at 1am, is absolutely NOT one of them. I don't know your calls, or dinner dates. I need you to stop texting me when you're home with your family siting you can't stop thinking about me when you're in my home state. Don't text me on Sunday night to remind me of how nice it was to see me... I know I'm lovely to be around... I am certain that you enjoy your time with me... I give your little pee pee a little suck (clearly for the first time in a while), and you return the favor. That's all we ever really enjoyed about each other...

The chit chat was always rather painful!

So love, I did not find... but peace with the idea that you are in fact not the one... I did find. Sometimes, you have to cut the wound to make sure it's healing properly.

What We Thought We Got Into the Biz For

The Premieres. Ahh, yes. It wasn't the fame and the fortune that drew me in, however, it was glamour of prancing down the red carpet hearing people scream my name for a photo at the premieres that made the biz a no brainer for me. Who knew that working in Hollywood for as long as I have that no one would yell to me for a picture time, upon my red carpet arrival. But I guess it's better that way...

I arrive. Parking about 7 blocks from the actual screening (in LA it may as well be a mile), hearing the sound of 3 inch siletoes endlessly on the pavement, and the sound or familiar strangers trying to make small talk with each other... I believe we call this smoozing. I take in the fresh but causal appeal surrounding me, making mental notes about cute outfit I will want to try at the next one.

Seeing faces I wish I never had to see again. They are the people who thought that I would disappear one day after treating me like total shit after I landed them their rising super star clients. Then starting a trend of not wanting to answer my calls, when I came to them asking for help with a job search. I guess I can be thankful that I landed on my feet, because the one trying to make conversation with me now... was just kicked at of the TV department at the agency. Demoted down to the media division. There is a brief silent "yay" from my inner childlike voice after I accidentally carried on and on about the status of one of those clients I helped him sign... and how fabulous his career is going. Oh then, I even said "thanks for making that such a great place for him to land. The agency really worked out for him."

With his tail between his legs, he replies, "yea, there wasn't any room for growth in scripted TV."

"Well, I'm sure that you'll love your time putting together those thou's, effectively's and all the other legal mumbo jumbo's in your new position outside of the spot light, while someone else looks out for that writer I practically signed for you. Yes, the one you kissed my ass for, promising me a bright new future for, oh and I will never forget the Laker's games you basically dragged me to in order for me to make cheerful banter with your client to be - because you never knew how.

But life is about lessons, and I am learning here. The one that came from that is that Hollywood is a battle ground. There are two types of people... your trenchmates, and well, the enemy. Most are enemies.

Of course, my girlfriends who hate playing the Hollywood game of who's cock is bigger, all insisted that I leave the boy alone. I mean one day I may be down and I would hate to see him kick me... even though he already had.

Oh right, my premiere. SEX DRIVE. Tracking is low. The movie may not hit 5 million, but of course we'll blame marketing. I mean they did insist that a man dressed in a donut costume was funny that an Amish rager featuring the music of none other than Fall Out Boy.

Chirp, Chirp. Sitting through the screening for the 17th time... I can't check my emails because my boss is sitting 3 seats over and HATES seeing the light go on and off. Reading is out of the question, it's dark. Sleeping, what if I snore or worse drool on the brand new dress I bought for this? The guy in the seat in front of me leans back, laying out almost in my lap. Now, I can't move either!

TWO HOURS LATER:

Through it all, we are all gathered here together, to release this film on 2453 screens. PARTY!

The child I have been raising is now going off to war... without a helmet.

Clark Duke, the raising star of the film... offers me a ciggie. I gladly except only because I have a thing for brilliant men... even if they aren't sexy (and perhaps even slightly fat), but I mean he is funny. Cough, Cough as I inhale a moment of what could actually close the deal. Looking away only briefly but apparently long enough for a skinny, model type to steal the show... suddenly, it's as if we barely even spoke. No love from the chubby dude I insisted was brilliant enough to play the suave Casanova role in the film.

Then, my once lover agent friend, who of course now covers my studio is staring intensely. "Who is he looking at?" I mean, I really think he forgot who I was after he cheated on me with Sam from WHO'S THE BOSS (but honestly who could blame him, isn't it every boys childhood dream). The fact of the matter is that we never actually dated anywhere other than inside my mind... but I always wanted to. Until moments later, when he makes his way to me and says... "B, can we grab drinks sometime really soon?" Another lesson, this is code for "you are actually pretty cute, let's grab a cocktail and if convo's not bad, then we'll have a meal together."

Two beers later, I am exhausted. Too much energy has spent defending my film, my reputation, and hell, my need for a little bit of attention...

Why did I get into this business again? Oh yea, for the art of story telling!

Second Date Perplexity

I am sensing a pattern forming. First dates go fabulous. Second seem to go the same... but then... no call for a third. What is it that I am doing wrong? I mean realistically fellas, the third date is suppose to be the one that you are working so hard to impress me for... isn't it the rule that we're suppose to have a good solid roll in the hay after date two. You're suppose to "cook" dinner for me at your place and then we'll "watch" a movie. So what could I possibly be doing to turn you off so badly that you wouldn't even want to spend 3 more potentially pain free hours with me, so that I can rock your world.

I mean last time, I accidentally said the "M" word on the second date. No need to explain that it was completely out of context, but still I can understand that making a boy a bit too shaky to come back for a bedtime story.

To fix this problem, my therapist suggests closely examining all of my second dates, and report back... so we can learn my flaws. I will do it aloud here, so that everyone can learn from my mistakes.

Type Casting

I have been working on countless research, searching for the answer to one question. Do men type cast as quickly and often as women do?

According to (what I am going to now call) the boys guide to dating survival, women are broken down into types:

1) Sex oozing out of every ounce of their body hot
2) Skanky/trailer park hot
3) Girlfriend/I would rather cuddle than fuck too soon hot
4) Did I do it with you last night - how many drinks did I have (aka Beer Goggles hot)
5) Never not once, not even if you paid me - but maybe if you got me a job

As for number 1, Sex Oozing type, you're golden unless you want a steady man. These woman are good for one thing and one thing only... but don't get me wrong ladies, the guys LOVE having you around. They see a woman who can never commit, will get bored fast, and will leave them. Dudes can't stand the idea that a woman might leave them, so they mentally prepare themselves to leave you first. If you are this type he will wine and dine you. Show you off to all of his friends, and colleagues from a far (i.e. take you to the restaurants he knows he'll see his friends - but will never actually have you spend time with these people - he doesn't want them to ever see you as more than an occasional girl that he likes to have a little hanky panky with). Don't worry, if you are this type, opening up to the possibility of forever is the only way to land the special guy who makes your heart beat faster - SO GO TO THERAPY!

Number 2. You strip for a living, wear hooker shoes to walk the dog, over process your hair and your perfume smells like you just walked out of a sex store. He dreams of doing it with you as long as no one will ever know. He usually doesn't do much but send you 2am text messages to let you know he's in the neighborhood.

Number 3. I'm too jaded to discuss. But I think you get the point from the title. Pretty much - you have it all... just fucking choose one! (I'M IN THERAPY)

Number 4. Wow, my head is pounding, I am naked, in a strangers bed, a strange dog with halitosis is licking my face.... roll over and find... YIKES. Where the hell did you come from? Yea, everyone knows that feeling. Stop acting like it's never happened to you! Typically, he bought you a drink or five the previous night. You two may have bump and grinded on the dance floor, and perhaps he was a perfect gentleman, right down the part where he told you that you were the most beautiful woman that he has ever met... But chances are that you will never hear from him again... I mean he did fall out of bed this morning when he looked at you.

Number 5. Ahh, this is my favorite. You know how sometimes when you're among friends you play who would you play house with out of these three people? Or, for a twenty would you bone, so and so. What about a fifty? Everyone has their price...

Do Gooder Debacle

Last night during a drunken misjudgement, Writer Chick and I decided walking through the drive thru of MacDonald's would be a good idea. Of course, for any woman dwelling in the City of Angels, this is absolutely not the best idea for your image or your thighs, but despite that, we choose our drop off point there, and decided we'd just walk home to burn off the calories. You can't walk through the drive thru, it's highly frowned upon, so in what most would call another lack of judgement, we hoped in the car with a lone hottie. There's two of us, what would he possible do to us? Yea, whatever. He ordered 10 cheeseburgers, and paid for ours. (Gentleman). What would you need 10 cheeseburgers for, I slurred, you have a bunch of stoned dudes back at your place waiting for their munchie fix? This could be a lucky night for my sidekick and I!

Nope, he replies, (frowny face) I was on my way home and saw a bunch of homeless people under the bridge by my house, so I thought it would be nice if I bought them some cheeseburgers.

OMG.

We're in trouble, this do gooder is lying through his teeth in order to get us to trust him, and now he's not letting me out of the car. I'm going to miss out on our late night calorie burner, and he's going to kill us while he's at it too. Shit. I knew that car hopping was a bad idea, but I didn't think that it would happen to us.

At least I get to eat 3 crispy chicken tenders before he pulls out a concealed knife and stabs us in the chest.

I have to pee, I announced... this will get us out of the car for sure. It's a little late, we are near the homeless bridge, and the toilets are dark - steel (like when you go camping or hit the beach and have to hoover above or get your cheeks chilled). I hover, plotting a master escape. Ops, Writer Chick is in the car, I have to break her out too... how is this going to work.

I returned to the car. We went to the bridge, handed over the yummy snacks, and were on our way to our destiny.

Boom.

Here we are right in front of Writer Chick's apartment. Safe and sound.

"Can I get your digits?"

"Well considering you did not kill us and you're sort of cute (in a Brandy's type sort of way), I guess so." I passed over the 9 numbers that one can reach me at and winked at him.

How is it that we live in a world where the mere idea that someone doing something good, immediately elicits the response of "this person is up to no good."

Jaded I tell you. I am completely jaded. But perhaps I'll get a good date out of it!

Finding THE ONE is easy

If that was the case, we'd all be married and I would have nothing to rant about everyday. So there, it's not easy. Or perhaps, we've made life so hard, that we can't do easy, because my problem isn't finding THE ONE, it's finding ANYONE.

I have been dating on and off for years now. I would like to think that I am quite the pro, though most of my friends are more open to the guys that they date. I am picky. Have too many expectations. Put up walls. Fall for the wrong dude, while totally ignoring the fabulous one.

Jimmy Choo was chubby, and he mountain biked all the time. But he thought I was HIS ONE. I always knew he was too big of an asshole (with a big ass). I mean seriously, I do have some standards, and agents are absolutely outside the parameters. Even if they do snowboard.

I dated one guy, Mr. Monday, the writer. He was more of a novelist turned TV producer. His plan was to find a wife in 12 months, and during the year of the dog, so he's more like the TRYING TOO HARD ONE. Of course, the year of the dog has come and gone, he tried and tried to bang me out, and you know... he's single and I couldn't bare to let him hit it. Slurring words at parties after too many Grey Goose Neats, begging, "Bunny, can be the good wing woman that you are? PULEASE?" Ugh. Fuck me. I mean seriously, the guy who wanted to find a woman, get married, and live happily ever after, is urging me to hook him up with the woman across the room with saddle bags and bad taste in shoes. Oh yea, Mr. Monday, I'll hang back and watch this train wreck while standing in the corner like the wall flower I never was and let YOU wonder aloud to me why I'm still single. You know the answer.

Then of course, there was the one that I thought was THE ONE. He was gentle, kind, and has softer hands than mine. Not very manly actually, but still made my heart pound. He wasn't ready, still isn't. But neither I am really. Although consumer moral is low on this one ever happening. Too many fish in the sea.

Now, here's one that will make your toes curl. I would like to call this one the ACCIDENTAL ONE. He's cute, but not totally my type. (Skinny, fit, in shapish). Still when I think of him I smile a little. He tried and tried for years, and I politely refused his advances. Then I made out with him. It was magical. He touched my face perfectly, grabbed my hair with authority, then invited me home with him. Of course under the circumstances I had to decline the offer. Then it became a downward spiral of accidental dates. Each inching closer and closer to the inevitable. Sex. For now we linger in temptation.

Clearly there are many ones, I'm guessing whenever I meet someone in the exact same place as myself, I'll settle down with the whatever one he may be. For now, I am the ONLY ONE, happily.

Are all Men Gay

When a guy doesn't call, that means he's not that interested. That's what the book says right?

No call, no interest.

Well, why is it that a guy will call and call and call, then all of a sudden drop out of the clear blue sky. I mean, my breath doesn't stink, I shower regularly, and work out insanely, so my body is totally rocking. I'm stylish, smart, fun. All the things that you would think a man is looking for.

So, this brings me to the ultimate question, are all secretly men gay? Or am I really putting out that "fuck me and leave me vibe?"

A couple of weeks ago, I was having quite charming banter with a person of the opposite sex. After flirting, a few dates, and one steamy roll in the hay he told me, "Bunny, I could totally fall in love with you." Following that lovely remark while I was still in my post romp cozy emotional place, he said "But I would really like for you to return my phone calls a little more frequently."

Dreaming that I may have perhaps finally found a regular piece of ass (or someone to really become involved with on an emotional level), I wholeheartedly agreed to do everything in my power to "make it work people."

He jumps into his car and rides off into the sunset. It was a school day, so no breakfast was required. Whew. But then I thought, you know, I am not so sure that he calls me as much as he says he does. I really thought I was more on top of that sorta thing than he's making it out to be. My upbeat side spoke aloud, "Bunny, let's play it by ear. If he calls, call him back. Don't worry about how he's been in the past."

A day went by. He called.

Score! This is great news. I even picked up his call rather than forcing it to go to voicemail. We chatted. It was lovely.

Then, the next day, nothing. But I'm flexible, I do not need to hear from you every day. Ok. The next day comes and goes with nothing. Then, the next week. What happened? It couldn't have been my breath, I mean he professed his love to me AFTER the saliva swapping, session.

Finally, he disappeared into the darkness.

Did he really love me? And if he didn't, why did he say that the NEXT MORNING. I mean, heat of the passion "I love yous" are easily forgivable mistakes, but next day "I love yous" not so much.

I mean, he could either be madly in love with me and secretly hiding in his room from his feelings (unlikely), dating someone else, or gay.

I think he has officially stashed himself into the back of his closet. Remaining abstinent until he finds a joystick he wants so badly, that he can't help himself.