This post was previously featured on Tammin Sursok's blog Bottle & Heels.
This is a collection of stories that all connect...ish. The best way to read them is to pretend you’re floating in a lazy river. Don’t question it. Just keep drinking that “road-margarita” you snuck into the water park (probably hiding in a Sonic cup), and keep floating down that man-made, chlorine smelling “river”. It all works out, I swear.
I have had the luxury of dating in LA for 5 years. I’ve loved and not loved, casual-ed and full on relationship-ed quite the collection of people, who include but are not limited to: a writer, a stuntman, a YouTuber, another writer, an actor, a hot as fuck bartender, a musician, probably another writer?, a comedian, a chef, a two-time Emmy award winning producer, a cocaine dealer… a butcher, a baker, a candlestick maker… okay, those last three are lies, but one of the writer’s was pretty handy so I’m sure he could make a candle or two. Out of them all, only the cocaine dealer was a bad choice. That story is for another time... I (usually) date genuine, good people, and have grown from every experience. However… as I conclude this portion of the thought-essay I’m writing while drinking a bottle Charles Shaw 2014 Shiraz, let’s get it straight – I’m still single. Single as fuck. Also, this wine is…. really bad, y’all. Liiiiiike, it tastes like the $3 I spent on it were shoved into the bottle, then Smirnoff poured into it, then left out in the sun since 2014. There cannot be real grapes in here.
This was previously posted on Tammin Sursok's blog Bottle & Heels.
I did not take French in high school. I went the practical route and took Spanish. I still say gracias “grassy ass”, but that’s not my fault. I learned Spanish (and English, for that matter) in Arkansas. I escaped Arkansas in 2012 and have never looked back.
I have lived in Los Angeles for 4 years. In my time here, I have heard of a magical land in West Hollywood where you can meet every celebrity and movie mogul of your dreams. This land sits atop a tower overlooking the LA skyline (whatever that is) and it’s adjacent hills, and smells like lavender room spray and money. They call this land…SoHo House.