Los Angeles: Home To Movie Stars, The Wayans Brothers, And Me
If you've been wondering why some posts on this blog have seemed thin and phoned in lately, I've got some answers for you--unless you're talking about Gladstone's posts; I don't know what's wrong with that guy. But on the off chance you've sensed a little haste in my posts as of late, like calling a koi pond a coy pond, or referring to the Holocaust as if it didn't happen, then you'll be happy to know that I'm not off my game; I've just been hauling boxes of all my worldly possessions up three flights in order to move into my brand new Los Angeles apartment, complete with famousness guarantees and a self-service cocaine bar (currently understocked). Why the move? Well, to be honest, a number of star-crossed romances went south and a healthy percentage of the San Diego Mormon population wanted me out. And you don’t say ‘no’ to a mob of guys with pitchforks and magic underwear. But even though I’ve been a Hollywood celebrity for a whole 48 hours now, I can’t shake the feeling that I'm nothing more than a small-town kid lost in the Big City. So I thought it’d be worth our while to get to know Los Angeles the only way a Blogger knows how: Googling. Join me, won’t you, for a brief walking tour of the
Michael is head writer and co-founder of the hot-shot L.A.-based sketch troupe Those Aren't Muskets!