Over the course these articles I’d like to think I’ve painted you a picture of my life in Los Angeles, just be thankful it’s a written portrait and not a drawn one, I have the artistic ability of a narcoleptic squirrel. Even though I’ve shared little snippet of my days in Los Angeles, the city of smoggy angels, I want to take this opportunity to speak more specifically on my neighborhood, West Hollywood. It’s by turns fascinating and infuriating, complex like a finely aged win or a moldy carpet. Let’s review:

Infuriating: Now I wasn’t in the Vietnam War, but if I was I would have been hiding under my bed after wetting my pants last week. Approximately twenty helicopters were circling overhead; I thought we were under attack. It turns out we were, by the international media. Paris Hilton was driving (well she wasn’t driving, ha, ha) from her home in Beverly Hills to the courthouse, and a squadron was deployed to capture her every move. It was literally a media war zone. Doesn’t someone control this kind of thing? The FTA perhaps? Can anyone with a helicopter zoom around and annoy the bejeezus out of the people who live here. The only positive that came out of the Hilton hysteria is it lead to my personal celebrity new boycott, which I highly recommend but is is unbelievably difficult to keep. The saturation is incredible, I wouldn’t be surprised to open my fridge and hear “Lindsay Lohan’s in trouble again…” coming from the icebox. CNN has devoted endless hours to Paris coverage under the smoke screen of “we’re a respected news organization being forced to cover this.” I wish they’d just admit they’re the national version of a local news channel that covers a water-skiing squirrel and we can all get on with it. This is my proverbial line in the sand, enough is enough. No more celebrity gossip. Even though on of the most prominent celebrity bloggers in the country “works” from the café next door to my apartment/ His name, Perez Hilton. Well here’s some gossip of my own before I get out of the game forever, Perez wears blue croc shoes and a sweatshirt every day, then fields cell phone calls and pretends like he’s in an office, though he’s really just in the Coffee Bean on Fairfax and Sunset. So there, I’ve celebrity scooped a celebrity scoopers, I’m done. Paris Hilton is dead to me.

Fascinating: There is one thing I love about West Hollywood, the gay people. The city is divided between old Russian women, aspiring actresses, and gay men. Check out the city council agenda. There’s nothing like a joint Russian/Gay and Lesbian advisory board meeting. We’re not just a little gay, our city symbol is a rainbow, meaning the police ride around with rainbow flags, just check the attached picture for confirmation. That’s from the recent Gay Pride Parade, which I’ve been told is the second largest parade in the country behind only the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade. It is worth taking a step back and recognizing how unique the city is. On a birhgt Sunday morning approximately 100 Dykes On Bikes came roaring down the street in all their glory, in other words it was literally Bill O’Reilly’s nightmare. I think it’s safe to it would be the most eventful thing to happen to the good folks in Davenport, Iowa. I can’t help but notice that I grew up in Massachussetts (the only state to have legalized gay marriage), moved to San Francisco (need I say more), and then to West Hollywood. There’s something about me that loves living in places that are gay havens. If I had to hazard a guess I’d say it’s because where there’s a lot of gay people, there tends to be no shortage of delicious dessert treats and pastries, and I love dessert (may I recommend Sweet Inspirations in San Francisco). It must be some sort of subconscious pull towards sugar. Of course you can draw your own hypotheses.

Those are the extremes of my little neighborhood, we welcome anyone…provided they have the money. And of course the few folks who manage to slide in despite the more meager checking accounts, a la myself. If you’ve ever watched the show Entourage it’s filmed primarily in West Hollywood, the Chateau Marmont is around the corner. As the same time there’s an elderly man who recently had a heart attack and does slow laps around the courtyard. Aspiring actresses from Illinois live next door to Russian grandmothers who have lived in the area for generations. If you visit we'll buy some baklava and hang out with screenwriters, there's nowhere else like it.