The Grass is Always Greener

This summer has been one of intense reflection. Though my return to LA has been fun and, for all intents and purposes, fairly exciting, I am not happy.

I thought that coming back and exploring LA's social aspects would leave me gleeful and hungry for more, but the sad truth is...LA is sort of like Manhattan's daughter trying to walk in its mothers heels. Though glamorous and sexy in her own right, LA can never really mimick the distinct swagger and appeal of its east coast counterpart, and i'm slowly but surely starting to realize this fact. I am hoping that once I begin my semester of school, I will feel more at home; for now, though, like I told my mother, I feel like a stranger in my hometown. I feel like Carrie Underwood might feel in Borneo.

Last night, I spent time with my first gay(s) of the summer. I trucked it over to my good friend Ryan's apartment in Hollywood and spent the evening drinking wine and discussing Dina Lohan with him and his gay from J Crew. Both of their fag-hags were in attendance. (note: I have developed great distaste for this term, but it really does apply - fruit flies are rare and beautiful creatures - they are not common). Though fabulous and incredibly funny girls in their own right, the two ladies clearly followed the lives of their gays; they surely did not lead, but followed.

But anyway, I am very seriously considering a move back to NYC in the spring. Though the chaos of the city is what drove me away initially, I am slowly starting to realize that it is also what brought me immense joy. We shall see what happens.

In other news, Kathy Griffin has disappointed me. Her show, while still sort of funny, is not as enjoyable for me as it once was. Ryan and I came to the conclusion that this is because she is no longer d-list, and appears to only be taking gigs for the show, and the episodes no longer contain elements of her [once] real life status. Now, Griffin can be seen in Chanel garments, traveling via private jet, and demanding upwards of $650,000 per stand up routine. I miss the old Kathy - the one who wore hot pink prom dresses and walked in puppy fashion shows. Come back, KG!