"[I]’ve never had my toes sucked on by anyone in Hollywood, but last summer an aging tv writer, after too many carafes of wine at Café Figaro in Los Feliz, either sharted in my sheets or had shit stuck in his ass hair and left smears everywhere. Several months later, a different writer (this time a one-hour drama guy), accidentally farted aloud on the first date. On a wooden bench. Fucking staff writers, man. Talented as fuck but they’re still the high school dorks waiting for the hot girl to ask them to the dance. In the meantime, when not controlling their bowels, they gossip like hell and they’ll email you practically anything. My favorites? Those emails the networks send out about pilot pitches they want to see. Racist, sexist, and somehow inoffensively offensive? Yes, please.
Speaking of offensive, things I know people would want to read about: Charlie Ebersol really does wear his Knickerbockers in pitch meetings, what goes on behind the scenes at the UCB (do we really think Splitsider is doing a good job covering comedic dysfunction?), what goes on in styling rooms (I’ve heard some good ones about Gucci and Rachel Zoe), how Aaron Sorkin really treats his writing staff, how many filters Britney needed to be filmed for the X Factor, and how the kids moving their start ups down here are doing so just to get a taste of that sweet Hollywood action (see: sheet sharter with tech skills). A glance through OKCupid also reveals some interesting things about LA: all the comedians, staff writers, documentary makers, and assistants are lonely and ready to spill. The smart kids in the middle. One drink, two drinks, and they all start talking.
The new Defamer: it’s like the old one but with the lingering emotional effects of a recession and iPhones thrown in."