Dating in LA: Scooter

Scooter really is his name. Maybe I should have made up an alias for him, but honestly, the name is like, 80% of the story.

So, the two of us were texting before our blind date, and naturally I dropped that I had a blog because, truth be told, this thing is a real dick magnet. Sorry, for the crude phrasing, but there is no better way to put it. This blog is the Greased Lightening of digital media.

Scooter asked if I was going to blog about him.

Although I was entering into this date with an open mind, I knew somewhere deep down the odds were that I would end up blogging about a blind date with a guy named Scooter.

And here we are.

I have no choice. You know who did have a choice? Scooter’s parents. They did not have to name their kid Scooter, practically forcing me to blog about him.

But like I told Scooter, I only blog about people if you give me something to blog about. Bless his heart, he thought I meant if we had a great date, but I set him straight and let him know that this was all in his hands. I only blog about a guy when he gives me 400+ words worth of material (See: 700 words on The Bicycle Thief). Unfortunately for Scooter, I’ve already passed 200 words and I haven’t even made it to the restaurant yet.

Scoots and I met at a restaurant in West Hollywood, where the waitresses’ uniforms looked like they were in a production of Newsies at Saint Agatha’s School for Wayward Girls. It was both adorable and uncomfortable.

To get the conversation rolling, I told Scootie-Toots that he looked like Peter from Homeland. 

MV5BMjEyNzk5MjIwNV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMDA5MzM3OA@@._V1._SX600_SY800_With a cold, dead stare he said, “no, I don’t.” (SOMETHING PETER FROM HOMELAND WOULD SAY).

It was as if I just told him he looked like Mandy Patinkin.

“But it’s a compliment,” I told him. Maybe he thought I meant Mandy Patinkin? “He’s the young guy who works with Carrie on season 2.”

“No, I know who you’re talking about, I just don’t look like him. We’re just both the same age with dark hair. That would be like if I told you that you look like Emma Stone just because you’re both pale red heads.”

K, SCOOTER!

At this point, I’m a little miffed. Obviously, I look like Lindsay Lohan circa Herbie Fully Loaded.

“Right, but I don’t look like Emma Stone and you do look like the guy from Homeland.”

From there the conversation only went down hill. We moved on from him vaguely insulting my skin tone to him flat out pooping on the city where I basically grew up.

“So, where did you go to school?” Scoots-boots inquired.

“Emerson College in Boston.”

“Oh, I spent about 6 months there for a TV show I was producing… Terrible city.”

“You know that those Boston Marathon bombings occurred in Boston, right? Like, two days ago.”

“Ya, it doesn’t make it any less of hell hole.”

It should be noted that Scooter was saying all of this in a pin striped blazer. He was saying this in a pin striped blazer, and this whole time his name was SCOOTER.

Finally, the bill comes, and I made a VERY half-hearted courtesy reach for the check. He looks at it and says to me, “guess what our waitress’s name is.”

“Melissa.”

“Worse, Victoria.”

SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOOOOOOOTERRRRRRR!!!!!

Victoria, if you are reading this, you were perfectly lovely, and those suspenders looked darling on you.

Scooter, if you are reading this, you can’t have that poor of an attitude AND be named Scooter.

Razor Scooter and I have not spoken since.

razor-scooter_main042811

5 Signs That You Just Moved to LA

  1. You stare at any thin person wearing sunglasses trying to figure out if they’re a celebrity. And you know what, often times it is a celebrity! Other times it’s the woman from the Wendy’s commercial! God, I love this city. Emma-Stone-Ray-Ban-Clubmastfw550fh550
  2. In case you get pulled over, you already have a lie ready for the cop as to why you haven’t gotten a California driver’s license yet. Though, as of yesterday, this one doesn’t apply to me anymore. And my new picture is AWFUL. When I passed my test, I was pretty excited to take a new photo for my license, and not because it was a bad picture — that picture was taken on my 21st birthday when I had that natural, happy glow you only get on your wedding day and when you can legally drink. TSA agents across this great country have given that photo rave reviews. But because I’m blonde in the picture sometimes I get a little trouble from bouncers, so I was happy to get a new one with my red hair. UNTIL I SAW IT. It’s like some sort of Biggest Loser “before” photo where you think “oh, she’s going to be so beautiful when she loses the weight.” The picture is so close up. I look like a bowling ball with horse teeth.
  3. Up until this week, someone has tried to sell you a Coachella ticket. No, thank you! I don’t want to pay $500 to get date raped in a teepee!63e09e62542d322f6ae4495338a03cc6
  4. You don’t know that when someone asks what you do, “unemployed” or “temp/waitress/receptionist/etc.” are never the right answers. You are either “in between projects” or you’re an “actor/writer/editor/whatever” regardless of whether or not you’re getting paid for it. For the second answer, they will inevitably follow up with, “well, who do you ______ for? Anything I might have seen?” and at that point you can just start exaggerating. While at The Den in West Hollywood a couple weeks ago, I found myself out and out lying about what I did to some guy. Then he told me he was a student at UCLA, and I said BYYYYYYEEEEEEEE as I moonwalked out the door.
  5. You get endless delight from reading street signs and freeway names in a The Californians voice. La Cienegaaaaaaa. tumblr_me6scrlCXa1rnfmydo1_r1_400 That’s really how they talk here!!!!!!

Pretty and Pale

I admit that I used to go tanning a lot in high school. In the past two years, I’ve gone, I think once, but overall I’ve sworn off it. Now that I’m almost 23, a sense of mortality is setting in, which brings with it the sheer terror of aging, so I’ve begun wearing sunscreen every morning so I look super young forever and ever.

For the vast majority of the year I’m pretty fair skinned, except for when some occasion calls for a Toddlers and Tiara tan in which case I break out the Salon Bronze Airbrush gun, which I’ve written about before. For the most part though, it takes a lot out of me to look tan all the time. I hardly even notice how pale I apparently am, but there are some idiots who love to point it out. I’ve begun to notice that when people do refer to my skin tone, I go into something that can only be described as just short of a blind rage.

So, if someone calls me pale, or holds their tan arm next to mine, I’m just offended to my core… And don’t you ever test my ability to tan because I can if I want to, I just choose not to! Which makes me better than you!!!!!

I can look like an Addam's family member if I want to!!! My skin, my choice!

If you are also pale and try and put us in the same boat by saying something like “better put on the sunscreen- Irish skin like ours is just going to burn!” I will let you know that I’m only half Irish, and will tell you the story of how for a brief period during my childhood I was sure my father was African American, he is THAT tan, and I have half his DNA. SO, I actually can tan IF I WANT TO, and in the rare case I burn, it DOESN’T EVEN HURT. And give me a week and it turns to tan!!!!

That was just a brief rant…I got a sunburn last week (one of less than a handful I’ve ever had in my life!!!) so this is fresh in my mind.

My real reason for writing is I just want to appeal to you all and ask if we could all just stop tanning. I know everyone looks better tan, but if we were all pale, then eventually, in terms of beauty, we could just lower the bar. It’s like if the whole world cut off one ear, we’d all just get used to it, and eventually we wouldn’t even notice it anymore.

Trust me-you’ll still look fine pale! Look at these actresses! They’re pale and probably already better looking than  most tan people in the world! Please, you guys. Just do me this solid.

Golden Globe Fashion

Mila Kunis in Vera Wang

After Lindsay Lohan went insane after Mean Girls I was left without a hetero girl-crush and a new hole in my heart. Thankfully, that void could be filled by my delicate Ukrainian princess, Miss Mila Kunis. The dress she’s wearing ain’t bad, but to be fair, she could also be wearing a Mother-of-the-Bride pants suit from Kohl’s and I’d still be on board.

January Jones in Versace

She’s old-Hollywood glamour! She’s a ch-ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb! Her cleavage looks like two alabaster cherubs kissing ever so gently inside her dress! How did she do it? Is it tape? Chicken Cutlets? Saline? Or is she really just genetically better than you in every way?

Emma Stone in Calvin Klein

Aw, man! I appreciate the effort here, I really do. The color here is so cute, but I think it’s reflecting onto her face.

Natalie Portman in Viktor and Rolf

Maybe, may-be this dress looked super pregnant-cute in person. However, on film the dress looks she got this from the Deb’s maternity prom wear collection.