9 Horrible Hollywood People You Need To Avoid At All Costs

Entourage
Entourage

1. The Older Man At The Nightclub

Not the rapey kind of guys, but the ones that stand by the bar in a nice suit making eyes at any young starlet, friend of a starlet, or any wanna-be-model who’s thirsty to be snapped by a nightlife photog. They don’t drink scotch, they drink vodka Red Bulls and are basically like a slightly younger version of your dad– if your dad was a socially maladjusted pervert who’s worth like, 6.5 mil liquid. This is the guy you may go out with once, just to see what it’s like to date a generally harmless seeming rich pervert. He probably wants to make out and see your ass, tops. The first date will be a nice dinner and a couple hours of him lubing you up in his Beverly Hills condo. There will be no second date after you refuse to let him take a pic of your thong with an iPhone, but he will continue to text you for the next two years. He’ll suggest that you owe him and flat-out say that you missed out despite the fact that you still see him perched at the side of the bar at whatever place is hot right now, sipping his VRBs and continuing to come on to girls that will never actually give him the time of day.

2. The Professional Hot Mess

You’re lucky as shit if you make a solid handful of friends who are more interested in doing something “real” than becoming rich and famous via their unique brand. I’m talking about the music therapists, the pre-med students, the career volunteers and the finance types. But in this mix of normal, comparatively healthy people, there is always a wild card. The lawyer who likes to stay out late four nights a week doing coke and has had HPV like, six times. The lady who gives me B-12 shots in a closet in the back of a health food store who I saw at Soho House screaming in the back of the bathroom line that she gives B-12 shots to half of Hollywood and wants to cut the line. Basically, the ones that have gotten all “Hollywood” because they advised a celebrity on their divorce or stuck a needle in Brandi Glanville’s ass because she was getting the sniffles.

3. The Alcoholic’s Alcoholic

Every person I know in this town is addicted to something— pills, hard drugs, pressed juice, weed, $40 work outs 7 days a week, blow drys—it’s just what we do here. But there’s a certain type of boozer that not even the hardest partying person can deal with. It’s the guy who drinks three scotches in an hour, looks like he’s just shot up, and keeps slurring about how he got fucked over on some deal that was probably never going to happen anyway. These are the types who don’t want to be helped and are a drag to be around. Distance yourself quickly and keep your fingers crossed that they’ll sober up and ask you out for mid-day smoothies in a couple of years.

4. THE Connector

Many will argue that this is the only relationship you need in LA, but in reality dealing with THE Connector is a fucking nightmare. Becoming a connector or finding a less-connected-but-still-generous friend is the way to go. THE connector will own your ass. They are power-driven vampires that can manage to take down anyone who is in their path and no one is exempt from eventually winding up in their crosshairs. I’m talking about the Insta-Friend that pops up when you’ve got a little mojo. The one that will indulge you when you selfishly want to ramble on about your career, the people you hate, and why you are the way you are. Talking to THE Connector just feels so easy because they mask their greed by going overboard on the “selfless, just wants to help” routine. Once you’ve come clean about what you’re looking for, THE Connector will pull a couple strings and set you up for a win because you have proven yourself someone who is willing to work for what they want. But whether you realize it or not, you are no longer working for yourself, you are working for vicious leech in unassuming clothing. When you wake up from the nightmare of running on THE Connector’s hamster wheel, you realize that your dream has been compromised to include THE Connector’s roster of D-list wannabes that she hopes to use when she’s done with you. And she knows she’ll be done with you eventually because consuming your energy and will was her only plan in the first place.

5. The Needy Improviser

I tell everyone I meet that’s new to LA to march their ass down to The UCB Theater and sign up for classes. It’s the best way to give yourself some confidence and meet some chill people in the process. But much like any scene, there are always a couple people who wear it like a lifestyle and make everyone miserable in the process. They might stop talking to you for a month because you missed their 301 graduation show. It’s not uncommon to get a text from her in which she asks if she can use your apartment to film a sketch. If you say yes, your place will be covered in weird comedy wigs for twelve hours and they’ll eat all your Pirate’s Booty. She’ll apologize profusely for downing that whole bag of light cheddar puffs, but she’ll never replace them. You’ll wind up having to workshop her one-woman show. You’ll constantly be getting unfunny texts that are essentially just her trying out new material on you. And all of this is made much more unfortunate by the fact that this chick relies heavily on the assistance of others because she’s just not that good.

6. The Club Kid

This guy is great to have around whenever you’re experiencing a social slump or getting over a break up, but only in moderation. He casually talks about DJs as if they are as notable as former US Presidents. He knows where you can drink and do coke all night in a city that shuts down at two. You can smoke inside of any club he takes you to. You drink for free to the best music surrounded by some of the best looking people in the world. It’s fun at first, but after too weeks of figuring out what the best tank top to do molly in, you’ll kinda want to shoot yourself.

7. The “Revenge of the Nerds” Type

Do I even have to explain this? The C-list television actor whose money and success fueled confidence has him constantly on the prowl for poon. He’s a smooth talker who’ll punch chicks in the gut when they start to get feelings and pull power-plays with any guy that even vaguely reminds them of someone who used to be mean to them in high school. Yes, they are alluring, but stay the fuck away if you don’t want to let a sad sack of douche make you cry.

8. The Floater

I’m not talking about the whimsical type that reminds you of Phoebe Buffet. I’m more talking about the kind of dude who shows up in LA because he wants to do… what? What again is it here you’re trying to do? You want to find a cool group of friend who’s beer you drink every night and support yourself by being a bike messenger and a pizza tosser “if you feel like it.” What are you adding to the discussion here? Can you be Puck from the Real World in like, another, less demanding city? I mean, you were good for laughs and good times when we were like, 23, but we’re 27 now and you’re still crashing on our couches because the pot brownie you ate was more intense than you thought it would be (spoiler alert: they are always stronger than you thought they would be). I mean, have you thought about San Diego or Long Beach?

9.The Struggling Actress Over 30

Every bone in my body hesitates to call women crazy—it’s the go-to I hate the most for passionate women—but there’s something that happened to an actress when she turns 30. I’m talking specifically about the ones that may have booked a couple one-line parts in indies and had a national commercial three years ago. The desperate cut-throat types who’ll lay it on thick for anyone they think can help them and have given up on their plan of never being sexually inappropriate with a person in a position of power. They smile too big, they pry for more info whenever anyone industry related is in the room and speak loudly with their best posture and calculated hand talking that they’ve practiced in the mirror. It’s not that these ladies are bad people— I actually really feel for them. But man, they suck the energy out of the room like it’s a Katzenberg’s junk. TC mark

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