i came to la and moved into a shitty apartment with a west hollywood tranny. i tried to start my own foot fetish website but realised whores don't understand the word pedicure; so every night i'd come home and sing along to "don't cry" by guns n roses whilst railing enough coke to resemble downey jr in less than zero. after two years of that i was broke and a failure and hadn't even nailed a rose sister so i left la whilst thinking about ashton kutcher's monologue from the end of spread: la will eat you alive.

or i got a job and now work 16 hours a day. either way.