Life seemed momentarily back to normal as I sat at Starbucks surrounded by Gay David, not to be confused with Dave The Jew from Vegas, Eric Everhard, my friend the porn star, Eric the blogger, whom to the best of my knowledge doesn’t even watch porn, and Andy The Printer, otherwise known as Andy from Colombia—one of my favorite countries due to its agricultural output if you know what I mean. Continue reading OLIVER SPENDS AN EVENING AT RIVERA AND YARD HOUSE
OLIVER’S FIRST READING OF 2009
When April first suggested the blindfold I simply thought she had something kinky in mind, but little did I know that she really meant that she had a surprise for me.
At this sooner point of our story I should clarify that my spontaneous trip to Sin City on Stan Peters’ Gulfstream V private jet was totaling fourteen days. Stan and myself remained captives of James Whiskey Peet III the handsome, wild, gun-toting cowboy who is apparently one of the richest men on the face of the earth. Dave The Jew, Whiskey Peet’s best friend, seemed to be suffering the same fate, at one point confiding in me that he hadn’t been to his own home in almost a year. Continue reading OLIVER’S FIRST READING OF 2009
FINALLY AN ENCORE FOR OLIVER
After being turned away at Encore by an Asian security guard, even though we had a perfectly legitimate appointment at the spa, (and because I was hallucinating as was Dave The Jew I must insist you read my previous blog “No Encore For Oliver” as even now it is too painful to delve back into that part of my seriously damaged gray matter) at Dave The Jew’s urging we went for an Oriental Foot Massage. This forty-dollar experience, which in fact was a full body massage, put every high priced spa I’ve ever been to, to shame. With knots, I did not even know that I had, purged from my body we headed back to Whiskey Peet’s fifty thousand square foot mansion. Continue reading FINALLY AN ENCORE FOR OLIVER
NO ENCORE FOR OLIVER
“Whooooo Shiiiiiiit!!! Look what the cat done dragged into Vegas!!!!” screamed the large, handsome, cowboy looking fellow that had come to greet us at the airport.
I staggered off of Stan Peters’ Gulfstream V and watched as the cowboy fellow lifted Stan off of the floor in a hug that would have crushed a hearty Grizzly, no doubt. Hopefully you’ve read the last blog where the drinking binge that resulted in the flight to Las Vegas with Stan on his private jet began. Because Stan’s Gulfsream is well stocked with fine Scotch the drinking had continued unabated until the moment where our story continues: Continue reading NO ENCORE FOR OLIVER
OLIVER VISITS A WHISKEY BAR
I don’t really vibe with Seven Grand, too many people, too many guys, and a college hipster feel around the pool tables that I didn’t even like in my college years. Those would be the three years at UCLA before I dropped out for no reason.
I sat in the front booth, the only spot that frankly doesn’t feel like a sausage factory to me, drinking a triple Blue Label. Continue reading OLIVER VISITS A WHISKEY BAR
OLIVER AND THE FINAL BEAM
“Oliver, the NSA tells me that you’re not writing at your usual Starbucks. Is everything okay?” asked President Elect Obama.
“I’m fine. I’ve just been writing a lot about LA Live so I’ve been working out of the Starbucks over there. I like to totally immerse myself in my subject matter.”
“Yeah, I thought that might be the case. The piece about the architecture critic was brilliant. Your understanding of the juxtaposition of the current micro and macro economic situation is unique. Oliver, you are still going to be the head of our new Blogging Communications Agency?” Continue reading OLIVER AND THE FINAL BEAM
OLIVER LIGHTS A TREE
When you’re Downtown Oliver Brown, not much fazes you. But waking up with my hot nineteen-year-old girlfriend’s MOTHER naked in my bed did actually give me what felt like a flutter in my chest followed by considerable shortness of breath. I would have been completely distraught but for the fact that my girlfriend Misha’s mother is the former Super Model Paullina Portzakova, who I have already admitted to fantasizing about in my previous blog entry. Continue reading OLIVER LIGHTS A TREE
OLIVER ENCOUNTERS A CRITIC
I stopped by Starbuck 11th and Grand with every intention of walking over to the new Starbucks at LA Live. But as a member of the Downtown community I did feel obligated to at least say hi to my all my friends—wouldn’t want my absence to be a cause for concern. Well, I’m sitting with David Kean, the realtor, and Victor the owner of Hard Eight clothing, sharing a paper.
“Oh look the literary giants at the LA Times managed to find something bad to say about LA Live.” I looked in disgust at an article that questioned how LA Live would do, given that it was opening in a bad economy. Continue reading OLIVER ENCOUNTERS A CRITIC
OLIVER’S REPUTATION PROCEEDS HIM
I spotted Tim Leiweke, the president of AEG, out of the corner of my eye. I had just sat down at Starbucks 11th and Grand to finally focus on a script about a writer who moves Downtown to get away from the pretentious idiots in Hollywood. The irony of course being that I was there to write a script for Stan Peters, the subject of the cult classic book “In Development”, the story of Hollywood’s most powerful and scummiest producer. Continue reading OLIVER’S REPUTATION PROCEEDS HIM
OLIVER’S THANKSGIVING
“Hi, Oliver Brown speaking,” I said into my iphone.
“Oliver, Stan wants to see you in his office with something on paper,” said Iren Shmeklestein, the powerful and scummy producer, Stan Peter’s longtime sidekick.
“Iren, it’s not that I’m avoiding Stan. And I am truly grateful that he kept me from running off with someone else’s bride-to-be at Lucky Strike the other night, but I don’t have a car.”
“You better be writing, Oliver…”
“Iren, I promise I’ll get down to business on the script…As soon as I get done with the project I’m working on right now.”
“Don’t be a smuck…” Continue reading OLIVER’S THANKSGIVING