Nikki Finke Is The New Hotness: 6.16

Hi kids. Miss me? I'm back just because I need to do that thing where I praise people who don't totally suck. Because we could all use a little happy, no?

Nikki Finke is the only journalist I can think of working the Hollywood beat who is actually dedicated to reporting the truth about it, unblurred by the studios, agents, stars or anyone else for that matter.

She beats--consistently, easily, thoroughl--Variety and the Hollywood Reporter; both of which should be ashamed of themselves for not having more go-getters getting scoops like her.

Into this void comes Ms. Finke, a one-woman info-freakshow. If I want the truth about something going on in Hollywood, I go to her site.

And it's usually there, a cross-section of plausible theories and her analysis on the most credible one, reporting on various degrees of confirmation about stories when she can get it.
Check her shizz at: Deadline Hollywood Daily. Do it regularly.

Also, the other new hotness is Gail Collins, who has just officially become my new favorite newspaper columnist.

Why? I'd read her stuff before and she doesn't take herself too seriously, and is often quite funny, like a wry aunt who's led an interesting life but hits the bourbon a bit too hard these days...also because it's not your actual aunt that you'll have to drive to the hospital when she breaks her nose.

I hope she can take this as the compliment it's meant to be.

But what truly gives her this distinction of new favorite and the new hotness was that hers is destined to be the best distillation of the latest iteration of the Palin family drama in the entire history of the Palin family drama canon:

But surely, when it comes to combating teen pregnancy, the Palin family has done enough damage already. What worse message could you send to teenage girls than the one they delivered at the Republican convention: If your handsome but somewhat thuglike boyfriend gets you with child, he will clean up nicely, propose marriage, and show up at an important family event wearing a suit and holding your hand. At which point you will get a standing ovation.

Just...yes.

Well done, ladies.

The cookies above? All yours.

Joseph Gordon-Levitt Is The New Heath Ledger: 6.15

Heath Ledger's death is a terrible loss for art.

I want that to be said about me when I die, btw. And I want it to be true.

The dude entrusted with his roles should be Joseph Gordon-Levitt.

It goes beyond the fact they both had breakout movie roles in 10 Things I Hate About You. It's the fact that both can act and both act in interesting roles to the point where one is not quite sure what he's gonna do next.

It's also that the resemblance can be uncanny, but it's more than that still.

Let this be said: like Heath Ledger, he chooses interesting roles, this Joseph Gordon-Levitt does.

His judgment is so good, actually, that the fact that a movie has him in it makes it more likely that it is a good movie. And how many 20-something actors can you say that about? Not many.

How many actors generally can you say that about?

Mostly the ones with Oscars, that's who.

But JGL, man if you read this, please, always remember that one thing that makes you so good as to receive this anonymous blogger's mantle is that you work well with others in service of your art. Please don't stop being kind to your fellow professionals. And your fellow human beings while you're at it.

Also, drugs. Stay away, okay? And see a doctor often.

You'll be fine, JGL, Hollywood's assistants will see to it.

Why Wonkette Rules: 6.14

I hate politics.

I really do.

I talk about it/them a lot, but only because I have to. Because politics, like media, is intimately tied to almost every important idea in 21st century America/Amurika.

So that sux.

If you haven't heard of it, Wonkette.com is a satirical website about politics that used to be a part of the Gawker Empire. But like many great ideas in Hollywood, they were spun off.

One its defining memes of late has been TruckNutz, which Hollywooders who've been around for awhile will remember as a meme from a certain script readers' website.

But Wonkette's importance extends far beyond memes. It is part of a new breed of media that makes the horrific, gruesome business of politics more palatable. And the only way that that can be accomplished is through absurdist mockery. Because yes, we have descended that far.

I mean, what do you expect? Culture has supposedly been declining since at least culture began, so it can't be that much of a surprise.

I mean, really, look at how much I smoke.

The only sane reaction to a politics that subverts every ideal, that corrupts every policy, that breeds cynicism and apathy, is wholesale rejection. And what better way to do that than with snarky sarcasm?

Like always, I don't have any financial (or any other) interest in seeing them succeed beyond wanting the awesomely funny to succeed.

So as always I urge you, Angelenos, reject reality by being that person who reads books (and a few good blogs).

On Hiring Hollywood Assistants, Flamers Edition: 6.13

Most offices go through assistants like Kleenex in Hollywood, and ours is no exception. So we're almost constantly hiring, it seems.

I told you a bit about that process previously.

Today, our office manager (let's call her Jeanette) and my friend/immediate supervisor (Sarah) interviewed this dude we'll call Richard Simmons.

Now to get right to the point, let's just say that Richard was (and is) what you might call a 'flaming.'

Look I'm obviously gay-friendly. Maybe even super-gay-friendly.

But I'm telling you, I met him for just 10 seconds and I think it's probably an objective fact: dude was REALLY gay. (hence the pseudonym, Richard Simmons)

Now I was under the impression that my co-workers were super gay-friendly. Both Sarah and Jeanette said they would "love to have a gay in the office."

But they just weren't sure about Richard Simmons.

Jeanette maintained that his voice would get annoying hour after hour, though Sarah maintained we'd sound "progressive" with his voice answering our phones.

Jeanette didn't think the Big Boss would like him. Sarah pointed out that the Big Boss, a standard-issue alpha male who needs to dominate his tribe of employees, wouldn't be threatened by him.

Jeanette just couldn't see him fitting in. Sarah, sadly, didn't have a good response.

My protestations that he should have a chance if he was the best-qualified person we could find fell on deaf ears. As my protestations generally do. After all, they said, his voice, demeanor and personality are all part of the qualifications, right?

But this guy basically didn't get hired, not because he's gay, but because he was flamingly gay.

It makes you wonder ... did the stereotype of gay men as hairdressers and interior designers happen because they're just 'naturally good' at that sort of thing? Or did that Plymouth Rock of gay jobs land on them?

The Dumb Reasons Why You Aren't Getting Hired: 6.11

Recently, we've had to hire a few new people for our growing office, a couple of assistant types, basically. The jobs ain't tough--just your standard coffee-bringer-photocopying-call-rolling jobs--and thanks to the crappy economy and the lure of Hollywood, there were a lot of applicants.

So I was enlisted to try and go through the stacks of resumes, help out with some phone pre-interviews, and offer second opinions. And that's how I got involved in the ethical and moral quandaries of being an employer.

If you've been trying to get a job lately, you might be surprised at some of the crazy reasons that cause resumes to be tossed...

"The girl I just talked to seemed really nice, but..."
"But...?"
"I think she was probably too nice to work here. We need a borderline biatch."

One young woman, in passing, expressed a moral distaste for a college professor sleeping with a student: "She just seems too ethical to work here."

One young man was rejected after a brief phone pre-interview because he had a 'weird' voice. "It wasn't like an accent, it was more like, you sound lame."

Another rejection:
"The Big Boss wouldn't like her."
"Why?"
"She seems like the type of person to stand up for herself."
"Oh yeah, that would be bad."

One applicant was overqualified: "Ugh, that biyatch would get in here and try to steal my job."

Another seemed underqualified: "Who the hell puts their goddam elementary school on their resume?" "Um...a 14-year-old?"

Another outright rejection: "He has tattoos."
"So?"
"Do you think a guy with tattoos would get along with the Big Boss?"
"Ugh, fine, point taken."

"Toss this in the circular file--this girl's from Florida."
"So?"
"Sorry, maybe you didn't hear me-- she's from Florida. You know, America's stanky armpit? The only thing out of Florida I would touch with a ten-foot pole is an orange."

"Ha! Look at this--a Fox News intern!" [general merriment as the resume is set on fire and the ashes scattered]

"That guy I just talked to is rejected-- he's obviously a stoner."
"Yeah, that would not be good."
"Whatever, I just don't want someone who's obvious."

"Reject!"
"Why?"
"I just Googled him, he's totally fat."
"You can't not interview someone because they're fat--that's discriminatory."
"Whatever, he's obviously been discriminating against exercise and vegetables for years."

Of course, being pretty isn't enough either. "Ugh, God, look the picture this biatch has on Facebook, Atlas."
"Huh...she has really nice eyes."
"Nice eyes? That's what guys say when they're mesmerized by breasts. I'm not becoming the ugly girl in the office."

So what does this prove? Admittedly, not much.

Just that, once again, working in Hollywood is a complete and total crapshoot that is almost totally unrelated to competence, talent, or intelligence. But you already knew that, right?

Meet the Reason Movies Suck- Joan Graves: 6.10

If you've ever wondered why Hollywood movies suck so much, look no further than the chief censor-harpy of CARA, the Classification and Ratings Administration for the MPAA (Muthafuckin Pathological A-hole "Artists").

Her name is Joan Graves, and she is the reason.

Defamer ran a piece on this cuntface and it brought back so many memories...

...Of Joan Graves eviscerating a terribly smart little indie film for 'adult content' which she takes to mean as "anything that might challenge accepted ideas and/or cause people to think."

...Of Joan Graves refusing to hear any sort of rational arguments and citing the 'votes' of her handpicked 'board' (when in fact, the Joan-led "group discussions" make it clear how members should vote)

...Of Joan Graves treating me like a normal human being when repping a studio, but like a leper when repping an indie.**

But Atlas, you say, how can one woman be responsible for so many bad movies?

Why, with the magic of Hollywood, that's how!

The unregulated and omnipotent monopoly that is the MPAA (composed of, and controlled by, the major studios) chooses the head of CARA (our gal Joan). This supposedly makes him or her 'independent.'

Kind of like how the Wall Street Journal is independent of Rupert Murdoch.

So then Joan chooses a board of cronies who have 'no special qualifications' that might make them reliable proxies for the sentiments of Americans.

The anonymous members of CARA are supposed to be parents of kids under 16 or 18, but mostly aren't. Instead, she uses retirees and older housewives (read: conservatives) with a few token crazies thrown in, because they're cheaper and easier to control.

And just in case anyone starts to get any fresh ideas, they're all drowned out by a massive group-think session after each movie. This allows Joan to carefully guide the votes in her desired direction.

Basically, this makes her able to give the studios what they want: no censorship on their movies, but a whole heap of trouble for indies. So studios can put out movies like the new Rambo with as much mindless violence as they want, while good movies get censored so much that they suck--or they eschew ratings and get no distribution.

Oh--and if you're wondering why any filmmaker would subject their art to such a blatantly rigged system, remember that your film must have a rating to get into 95%+ of theaters in the US. It's an unfair monopoly that should be illegal. It should make you mad. And it should change. Now.

Unfortunately, that would take a non-Republicanized anti-trust branch at the Justice Department or an act of Congress, whose Democrats are in the thrall of Hollywood. So good luck with that. In the meantime, I can only recommend what I always recommend: burn the city to the ground.

For more on this issue, go watch this excellent, behind-the-scenes, cheekily fun but kinda depressing movie: This Film Is Not Yet Rated. It's a must-see for anyone with film industry aspirations. And hopefully, it will convince you to avoid this dark, terrible business like the plague.

**In her interview with her Stanford alumni magazine, she asserts that studios have it easier because they have a designated liaison and know the system. This is absolute crap. She knows who pays the bills.

On Sympathy, Strike: 6.08

The Writer's Guild is standing up for the rights of the Mash-Up Generation. (that's us youngin's, btw, who've grown up in an age where truly creating your identity from ever more disparate strands is the defining choice of Americans)

That's why they're on strike.

So support them.

And I'd like to offer a helpful hint to studios--think about what ultimately happens if you try to crush the writer's strike.

Your most talented writers get pushed into the cold, harsh world of modern New Media.

Where they'll soon find it costs next to nothing for them to do their own thing.

And not much more to harness the power of collaboration, obviating the need for studios.

Which means you lose your job, studio suit.

So sit down, truly negotiate, and cut in the writers in if you know what's good for you.

I'm Proud To Be Gayer Than Most: 6.07

On this national day of coming out, I would like to announce that I am proud to be gayer than most heterosexual twentysomething males.

Because the simple fact is, gay people are awesome.

As a Hollywood assistant, I know that they are at least three to four times as awesome on average than your stereotypical straight guy.

Why? I don't know exactly.

But really, do we ask why the sky is blue?

Usually, when I get the gay implication comment, and I ask why, it's often to do with my apparently admirable haircut, clothing choices, good grooming habits, natural-looking tan (it is, btw), intelligence, manners, or even just general advice.


Look, it's Hollywood, gay is in the air.

So I'm saying, support ENDA, and support the transgenda', too. It's good for you. Because you see, the gays will do you good. They will make your life better.

And let's just let people get gay married, shall we? What's the worst that could happen? Weddings could get less tasteful, shorter, weaker, more of an object of reality television mockery?

Seriously, though, what's your beef with the gays?

If it's immorality, then let he who is without sin cast the first vote against them.

America was founded on the principle of separation of church and state. Marriage, unwisely, is integrated into the function of government, instead of being a religious institution. Because if it was solely a religious institution, it wouldn't be a problem. Some religions could recognize that God is cool with gays, and some could be haters.

But it would all be protected by the aegis of freedom of worship. As it stands, the government has gotten involved with tax breaks and adoption and immigration and inheritance privileges and all manner of civil rights.

So those civil rights have to be equal. Because if America's about one thing, it's equality under the law.

Okay, yes, even preachy, young me knows how naive that sentiment is, but hey, I can have a dream, right?

How 'bout this? It SHOULD be equality under the law.

TECHNORATI TAGS: Hollywood, coming out, gay,civil rights, government, reform, discrimination, young people, justice

Support Hillary and Work in Media? You're a Traitor: 6:06

I apologize for the provocative title, but I had to get your attention, didn't I?

Because this Hollywood assistant has something to say about politics.

My generation isn't supposed to be into politics because....why again? I've forgotten if there are any other excuses for young people not being engaged besides apathy...

Are there any more excuses? With us youngins being into the interwebs and being all connected and shizznit. We know the score. Lauryn Hill told us.

So this goes out to all the media folk...I urge you to do something you don't normally do-- to remember the past to change the future.

Remember when Hillary, pre-9/11, tilted at videogame and Hollywood violence windmills?
She did.

And it brought the heat down, and certainly delayed the recognition of videogames as both art and a desireable high-tech industry.

Of course, like a lot of her policies, it was a lot of hot air and relatively little action.

Even hubby Bill dissed the admittedly left-wing Sistah Souljah to distance himself from the left wing. The Clintons know how to exploit the fear of Hollywood to win votes in the Heartland.

And in these times when we know the government listens to everything anyway, that's going to have a horribly chilling effect on us media drones who are already afraid to do anything that might get us in trouble with our corporate masters.

Plus, it's pretty much a given these days that people vote for whichever candidate they'd want to have a beer with. Seriously, think back. It goes back to at least the 50s. Think about it.

Do you want to get a beer with Hillary Rodham Clinton? Does anyone?

Here's the thing: I'm afraid the Republicans might somehow win with Giuliani or Law & Order's Fred Thompson. And that would be a catastrophe. But Hillary is just divisive enough to make it happen.

Would you rather get a beer with Rudy Giuliani or Hillary Rodham Clinton? Hillary or Fred Thompson, who seems like he would get kinda drunk and start telling awesomely hilarious dirty stories?

I think he would.

But who doesn't want to have a beer with their new black friend, President Barack Obama? No one. Unless they're racist. And that's only like a third of the voting age population nowadays.

Plus, now would be a good time for a constitutional law professor to take over, what with the complete disregard for the law this Bush administration has embodied? And Hill's not exactly been one to follow the letter of the law herself. Whitewater, anyone?

And Obama's got experience-- as a humble state senator for 8 years, before being a Senator for a couple, plus the whole constitutional law professor, editor of the Harvard Law Review, and community organizer in Chicago for 3 years thing(s).

And it's about effing time we gave a black man a go at the presidency. Besides it being time, just think of how that could restore our dreams a little, and the world's in us even more. And we could use that...a lot.

Also, Barack Obama is part Kansan. And we all know Jesus was a Kansan. At least, that was the slogan of a friend of mine who is dead now. She was awesome while she was around. She'd be an Obama girl, I think.

And finally, media peeps, I think even those of us who find ourselves working for Fox would find it amusing that a show on that network, run by right-winger Joel Surnow no less, could pave the way for a black President so effectively.


Above, future American President Barack Hussein Obama....wait, his middle name is Hussein? We'll even have Arab street cred!

And yes, Senator Obama, that does mean you have to send a thank-you note to Dennis Haysbert. But not to Joel Surnow, unless you're feeling generous.

Oh, and why don't I support John Edwards? Why the seemingly automatic allegiance to Obama?

Besides the proven facts indicating Obama is awesome, it's because Edwards is a douche who gets $400 haircuts.

Getting a New Job: 6.04

I've had it.

I'm fed up.

I'm getting a new job.

Don't tell anyone.

And I kinda want to move to New York so I don't have to deal with traffic ever again.

They have Hollywood in New York, and it's kinda like here, right?

Gulp.

Then Posh Spice-Beckham Tore Out This Dude's Eyeball and Licked It: 6.03

I don't usually write about the dreams I have, but I think I absolutely must write about this one.

Because it's totally my subconscious trying to tell me something.

In my subconscious, Posh Spice-Beckham totally tears out this dude's eyeball...and then--well, we'll get to that.

Basically, in my dream, I'm walking past Kitson at 3rd and Robertson-- of course, this is dream 3rd and Robertson, so it's also got tons of Hollywood pimps'n'hos of every color, wearing practically nothing, crazy candy-colored signage in the stores, and paparazzi holding down every advantageous angle...

When who should come along but Victoria Beckham, as she likes to be called? Doting wife to footballer David Beckham, mother of two (three, apparently-- in my dream there were only two), celebrity, and noted fashion icon/disaster.

Which is relevant, because in my dream, I was momentarily bewildered by her outfit. It was something close to the leather jumpsuit I'd seen her in recently, somewhere....you know how media is these days...

So we're on dream Robertson, and Posh is leading one kid by hand, and holding the other. She's in leather, but her kids are dressed like normal kids-- in baseball jerseys if I remember. Improbably, she's just been walking down Robertson for a bit and hasn't been swarmed by the paparazzi, who last I remembered were all vigilant on the streetcorners. Ahh, dreams.

Anyway... suddenly the paparazzi do recognize her, and start beelining for her. About this time, I hear someone behind me say "Oh, she's wearing Karl Lagerfeld." For some reason, this is the key for my understanding of Posh, and I feel less my inner Assistant/Atlas welling up.

Meanwhile, the paps swarm Posh and start snapping away. And at first, everything's cool as she keeps strolling, flashbulbs popping.

Then suddenly, she turns.

She starts screaming: "No stop, my son has epilepsy!"

And indeed, the child she's holding suddenly goes into a fit of shaking, eyes rolling back into his head as he shudders away.

And the paparazzi, they don't stop their flashing bulbs.

Posh doesn't appear to have bodyguards, so apparently it's my duty to spring into action, trying to shield the little guy from the flashes as he foams at the mouth.

I think he's going to die while I try to hold him still, as I suddenly notice that one of Posh's hands has super-long fingernails. Like, talons.

She lets go of Child #2's hand, who then starts to cry. But he, and everyone else, goes silent as Ms. Victoria Beckham issues a violent war-cry.

She swipes her talon, once, twice, and kaws to the heavens. The flashbulbs speckle out and die as jaws and cameras drop, the crowd entranced.

She looks at a photographer who has strayed from the pack, just eversomuch. A particularly noxious photog who attracts disdainful glares from even his colleagues.

She regards him and he's instantly frozen in fear. But she is merciful because she is quick.

That's when she tore out the dude's eyeball. He did not scream.

But she didn't lick it right away. No, she regarded me first, who'd thrown himself to the wolves in an effort to help. She locked eyes with me, deep and dark...

In that void I felt my soul slipping away but I was too drowsy to fight. Fortunately, I was not her prize. If anything, I was a vague memory, shrouded by time, of how human beings might've acted in a world that could only be so good because it was so distant. All this in a dim flicker until she fought herself from the pull of a consciousness so comparatively bright that it registered naught but the shame of her existence.

So she forced herself then to study it, the eyeball with the slightest hint of cord, there on the end of her overlong ring fingernail. She looked at it, then the pap she'd tore it from, then the now-silent crowd of paparazzi, and then she cracks her neck and sensually combs back her hair with the hand that doesn't have five-inch fingernail talons.

"You," she commands, pointing to a frightened pap, "give me your camera."

He obliges, setting it at her feet and backing away, groveling.

"Karl," she calls, and Karl Lagerfeld, as if by magic, steps from the crowd.

Karl comes forward, also dressed in similar leather getup, and takes the camera from Posh's feet.

"Karl will take the picture of anyone who attempts to take any more pictures of myself or my children," she says, practically snarling the assembled paparazzo.

"And now, ladies and gents, I'm going to do a bit of shopping," she says. And with that, she strolls a few steps onward with her children, now apparently recovered, in tow.

"You totally planted Karl Lagerfeld, didn't you?" I asked, incredulous.

She put her finger to her lips: "Shhhhh..."

"You're brilliant."

She turns to me. "I'm going shopping," she says, "Never speak of this again."

She takes Child #2 by the hand, after scooping up the now-sleeping-happily epileptic child, and turns into Kitson.

TECHNORATI TAGS: Posh Spice, victoria beckham, posh spice-beckham, david beckham, celebrity, Hollywood, dreams

Of Health Care and Compensation

Sorry about the long absence, kids. I know you missed me- I missed you, too. And I know you need an Atlas update. So here ya go:

Still in the shadows...

I've successfully manuevered an ally and friend into position as my direct boss by begging the uber-boss to hire her back. Unfortunately, sh*t still rolls downhill. Of course, now that I'm no longer the lowest person on the totem pole, I can send sh*t downward, too.

Plus, there's this whole army of interns that shows up in the summers, too. And while I try not to abuse them it's nice having even more people that I could theoretically order around.

But it's not about me today. Today it's about a second-tier agency (at least according to Wikipedia) known as Innovative Artists.

Scott Harris, Innovative's head honcho, recently decided that in order to cut costs, he was going to cut out healthcare for ALL of the company's assistants, even the "senior" ones about to graduate to agency status.

Check out Defamer if you want the full backstory.

But basically, as ole Scotty tells it, he had two cost-cutting options: 1) Go with a crappy insurance company or 2) Cut insurance for assistants and keep everyone else with a decent insurance company.

So I guess we shouldn't be surprised which option he went with. But in the schmuckiest move I've seen since the supposedly "keeping it real" homegirl Tyra Banks broke a writer's strike, Harris made the cut RETROACTIVE. That's right, the assistants were under the impression they had healthcare in June. Ha ha, suckers.

So then Harris does this song-and-dance about how he's really cutting healthcare because he wants to pay assistants more. Dude, not even Leslie Sloane Zelnick could sell that sh*t line.

So Innovative Artists assistants, I beseech you: fight back. Because even if you don't win, you're young and you'll bounce back. What's the worst that could happen? You could get fired from a crappy job with bad pay and no benefits? Hell, at least McDonald's gives you health care if you work full-time. And they pay overtime.

And if you do win, you'll get healthcare, money, and the eternal gratefulness of the eternally-downtrodden. (ie-other assistants)

And here's how to do it: you know how you're always working overtime and never really getting paid for it?

That's actually completely illegal.

So just send a friendly email to the California Department of Industrial Relations or give 'em a call. Despite the retro name, they will get all up in the grill of companies. Remember, we live in California where the government is full of liberal, secular, Communist pinko bureaucrats...you know they'd be good for something, right?

And Scott Harris, you are a complete asshat. Good luck trying to attract Ho'wood players now that everyone knows you have no money.

So in the interests of screwing over Scott Harris and the increasingly third-tier Innovative as much as possible, here are their top clients (in order of IMDB starpower) that are just ripe for the stealing:

Channing Tatum - Already gone, according to Variety, following agent Louise Ward to William Morris.
Please take me away to CAA.
Amanda Seyfried - gets a ton of work, very much up-and-coming, a rare young starlet with acting ability.

Tina Majorino - similar to Seyfried, but has that cute-geek cachet.

Robert Iler - Sopranos is done, but if he can keep out of trouble, he could have a solid career. Plus, he's very young, so he'll be a moneymaker for years.

Eric Dane - Dr. McSteamy has never been hotter...so what's he doing at a second-tier agency?

Ian Somerhalder - Career's in a bit of funk, but an agency jump could cure that, no?

Now, I was going to name more, but frankly, their client list is already pretty thin. So come on CAA, if you're going to pounce, do it now while they're rudderless and weak.

See what you've done to me, Scott Harris? You've gotten me so mad I'm rooting for CAA.

So either Hell has frozen over, or Scott Harris is the greediest dickwad SOB on the planet.

UPDATE: Success! Innovative Artists has restored the assistants' healthcare! See! Kvetching does work!


TECHNORATI TAGS: health care, scott harris, innovative artists, strike, CAA, Amanda Seyfried, Leslie Sloane Zelnik, assistants, Hollywood

Your Bosses Lie to Everyone Else, Why Would They Tell You the Truth?

I did something very foolish recently.

I believed what my bosses told me.

I forgot that these are people whose jobs are essentially to massage the truth into an "acceptable" reality. And by "acceptable" I mean "warped beyond all recognition."

And yet, when you work with people, a level of trust almost always necessarily grows between you, so it's easy to be sucked into that pit of gullibility.

Trust me, don't let it happen to you.

One reason I'd been posting less is that I'd felt lately like less of an assistant, and thus, have less assistant-y beef and angst.

But with this latest twist on the winding road of my career, I certainly feel like one again. Oh sure, I've still got the nice title to fall back on (that I had to fight for, fyi). But as for a distinct pay rise and increase in responsibility and authority, I've been stymied again, despite very concrete assurances to the contrary.

I wish I could go into what happened a bit further, but I'm in too deep to blow my cover now.
Just like Sidney.

Oh, and of course, now it turns out that regardless of whether or not I got her fired, Nancy, my immediate superior, is truly "leaving."

So I will continue my agonizing rise up the ladder.

Don't remember Nancy? I wish I didn't either. Click the above link to find out more about her and slow motion promotions. Like the one I'm apparently still having.

TECHNORATI TAGS: Hollywood, assistants, career, employment, business

Not Gone, Just Out of the Country, Kinda

Sorry, kids, I know I've been gone forever and ever it seems. I'm sorry. I really am.

But apparently, I love my job more than I love you.

I know, it's harsh. But the thing is, my job gives me money and you don't. You cheap bastards.

So I'm focusing on that. And they've been jetting me around the world, which is nice. I'm a big fan of jetsetting, overall.

Sorta. You know how Canada can be. I do freaking love that country, man. It's like everyone's just kinda baked all the time.

And I've been writing a lot of material that you've been watching or reading, assuming you look at mainstream media sources anymore. Which is gratifying, but saps my will to write here. Plus, I'm not so creatively blocked anymore that this is my only outlet. Also gratifying, that.

Also, I've been doing a lot more drugs than I should be. (just pot, don't get too worried) I know, I know. Wasting my potential.

Thing is, not doing the drugs seems worse a lot of times than dealing with the politics of corporate life. Because the more executive-y you get, the more it becomes about politics instead of your actual occupation. How in the world GE or GM manages to get anything done at all is almost beyond my comprehension. Although I still hate GE.

Oh, and I think I got may have managed to actually get my much-hated superior fired. We'll see, though.

The Hollywood life is a crapshoot, baby, so you better hope Lady Luck doesn't point her a$$ in your direction.


But Chad Michael Murray still loves you. See? He made this himself, just for you.