Monday
Sep222008

Dear Friends and Fans

As you all know, I have suffered the slings and arrows of life as a corporate peon day in and day out. How do I bring myself to rise up to the abuse every day? Today I will let you in on a couple "big screen" fantasies of mine which deliver me from the clutches of my hell with a smile on my face.

1. Granted, I work for a strong man, a leader and a relatively good dresser, but there is another man I dream about, the too-good-for-words Ryan Gosling. Oh, how I yearn for Noah Calhoun to love me eternally. Every night when I turn "The Notebook" on I can't help but close my eyes and imagine it was me he met at the carnival. Don't be fooled, my dear readers, the happiest place on earth is not Disneyland. It's on Noah Calhoun's rowboat drifting down a lake filled with hundreds of white ducks as it rains heavily and our wet clothes clench our bodies.

2. There are men I dream about and sometimes there are men I dream to be, like Kurt Von Trapp from "The Sound of Music." I know, I know, he's not sexy or well-dressed. He's better! He's a Von Trapp Family Singer! I love them all so much (except annoying Brigitta - yuck) and would never favor one child over another, but there's just something about Kurt I connect with. I don't know, maybe it's because I, too, am an incorrigible young buck under the control of a powerful, emotionless Captain Von Trapp. Kurt gives me hope. He is free now, frolicking in the hills with his brothers and sisters, tipping over canoes, and yodeling. Doe-ray-NOT mi! I still sit captive, dreaming of the day a kind-hearted governess emerges from the elevators, walks over to me with hand-sewn play clothes to rescue me as, just she did Kurt.

3. I also escape to various worlds beyond the one we know. To fly through space on the Millennium Falcon with tough chick Princess Leia, adorable Chewie and the rogue Han Solo. I've so often of dreamt being Luke Skywalker, the first gay superhero. I'd draw my light saber, use the force and do battle for the future of the galaxy with Darth Vader. And once I've saved the galaxy, me, Yoda and the version of Obi-Wan played by Ewan McGregor would relax with a blue milk cocktail at the Mos Eisley Cantina, the most fabulous lounge this side of Lucky Cheng's.

4. Don't "Say Anything" when I'm dreaming about Lloyd Dobler standing defiantly outside my window, blasting the celestial sounds of Peter Gabriel's "In Your Eyes." There is something about a sweaty kickboxer with a sensitive side that makes me have unpure thoughts. I can't help it. I fantasize all the time about losing it in the back of my father's car, or sitting next to him during his first flight, putting him at ease as the plane goes up and I go down. Oh, what Lloyd could do to Lloyd.

5. And then there are times when I think I'm not cut out for this life at all. Nights when I look upon the human condition, and I don't want to be human at all. I just want to be held gently, preferably by Antonio Banderas in a black mask. I am Zorro's sword, the most lethal, and loved, object in Mexico. Antonio grabs me by the butt - that's a technical term, I think :) - and with three flicks of his wrist, I cut Catherine Zeta-Jones' dress off. But Antonio doesn't care that a beautiful woman stands before him disrobed, no sir. Antonio would give it all up if I, his gay blade, were in jeopardy.\

Dear readers, what are your fantasies? To where do my wonderful readers escape from the rat race? To whom do you sweet readers give yourselves to when the lights are low and your imaginations are running wild? Do tell in the comments! Until next time, ciao!

Lloyd

Monday
Sep152008

Thank You My Dear Readers

Thank you, thank you, thank you my dear readers. I put out a call and you responded IN FORCE. I even got advice from a new friend living in the far off lands of Alaska. Cuterthanamoose wrote: "Have you tried praying? Prayer has cured so many members of my community from homosexuality. Being progressive, myself, I thought perhaps it can help you keep Tom gay." Unfortunately, my sweet Eskimo, I must inform you that this is not prayer's territory. It neither cures homosexuality nor brings Jake to cook meals in my kitchen instead of Reese's. Trust me, I've tried. I used to close my eyes every night and secret Mr. Gosling would be mine. I put it out in the universe just like Oprah instructed and I drove him right back into Rachel's arms. I love Tom too much to leave this to the powers that be. I had to take action. I was tempted to make Tom jealous. (not by "doing the nasty with one of his friends", Scott from Seattle!) I could not let Tom hurt as I did. Evil never prevails. After receiving such support from you, my friends, I was able to think clearly and regain my confidence. Suddenly, I knew exactly what to do, what to say, and what to wear to win my man back! Rachee23, you were right - screw Jenna! Tom definitely came around. The insightful, if not unfortunately named, StudMuff wrote: "If you want him back, its easy. Just catch him off-guard at his apt when you know he'll be blue (say, after an episode of Grey's). If you want him to be yours forever, bring food." Brilliant idea! Whenever Tom's depressed, he binges on Chinese food. He loves Wokcano - as do I - and orders it when he starts to miss me (I may or may not be Tom's "little dumpling"). It was time for me to woo Tom back when I got a call from my spy - the hostess. Tom placed an order for delivery so I rushed down to the restaurant, picked up his food, and drove to him as fast as I could. Oh, it was perfect when Tom answered the door. He had no idea his Chinese food would be delivered by his Chinese man! I went to speak but Tom hushed me. We needed no words as he kissed me passionately. It was straight out of a movie. Thank you readers, I couldn't have done it without you. Now, on a side note this week, I must get something off my chest. As most of you know I am employed by a rather brash and powerful man ("Alphaboss") who I daresay is growing more impetuous by the moment. Distracted by my personal problems (I know I know, rule number one: leave it outside), I haven't pulled the puppet strings as cleanly and efficiently as usual. It's been a rough week with the return of our favorite fledgling client ("V") and I just feel awful for him. I wish I could have calmed the waters before Alphaboss laid down the truth. Poor V. It seems everyone isn't seeing him for who he really is: a hardworking, handsome, caring young man with talent to boot. It's just hidden behind the hair. Maybe I could convince Alphaboss to get him to buzz it? Ohhhh I think that would just bring out his charm! But I digress. Love to all...until next week,
Lloyd

Monday
Sep082008

Oh woe is me

Oh woe is me, my dear readers. It's 11 PM and I'm still in the office. My work is done, my eyes are closing and yet I still can't bring myself to leave. How can I, knowing that all I have to look forward to is an empty apartment and another sleepless night? I hate, hate, hate when Tom sleeps at his place.

We've had fights before. Big fights about little things, little fights about big things, but something about this one is just so unsettling. I'll start at the beginning: Tom has this 'friend' Jenna. Perfect little Jenna with no job who can spend her leisurely heterosexual days with my man. Sure I should be understanding - Tom does need a companion when I'm stuck in my employer's ("Alphaboss") clutches for hours on end - but I want her to die. No, excuse me, I'm a little emotional. I just maybe want her to choke and have to be given the Heimlich. But not by my Tom...she would like that too much.

I tolerate her as best I can. We've taken her to dinners and listened to her whine about how there are no good men in LA. I would tend to agree with her if I wasn't so savvy to the fact that what she was really saying was that "there are no good straight men and who I really want is your Tom." But I digress. I am a bigger man than her and have bitten my tongue over the past few months and allowed this charade to go on. That is, until three days ago.

It was Tom's birthday. I was sitting on his bed, covered head to toe in wrapping paper. Yes, I looked as cute as you think I did. And yes, it took me hours. And yes, I couldn't be more excited for Tom to unwrap me!

I heard the door open and Tom's breathless pant. He had been working out, keeping up his killer physique for me. Or so I thought. Or so I hoped. The desire rushing through me turned to rage when I heard Jenna's raspy voice. She's here! In his apartment! On his birthday?!

I ran to the bathroom, unseen and unnoticed, but not unaware that this bitch was trying to straighten out my man.

I couldn't hold it in any longer. I had to take action. So I grabbed a towel and covered up as best I could and burst out of the bathroom to confront this bitch head-on. I let that little priss have it. I stood up for what was rightfully mine and told her to find another tree to bark up and, if she knew what was good for her, to pick a straight tree this time. I went on to some harsher things that I will spare you readers from. In truth, I am a little disappointed for going so low. She left and I was alone to face my infuriated Tom.

I couldn't believe how he could still defend her. So I opened my big mouth and reminded him of when we watched "The Object of My Affection" and he said he'd consider "changing teams" for Jennifer Aniston. In hindsight it was a little immature but after all those sweaty runs and shared pinkberries was it really such a far-fetched idea? I reminded him of how giddy he got when Alphaboss told him how good-looking he is and that he could "get girls." Maybe he jumped out of the closet before really thinking it through? Maybe he still wondered if a companion with perky boobs and a stupid tulip tatoo on her stupid hip was something he could get used to?

So, I said some things I shouldn't have said. I questioned Tom's homosexuality. I accused him of using me for my family money and my agency perks. He turned on his heels and left. And with that sultry flourish of his wrist, he flipped me the finger. I knew I was wrong. I had made a huge mistake.

I gave into the evils of jealousy and Tom gave up on me.

Why am I such a self-destructive creature?

If only he knew how his absence torments me. I cannot sleep when he's not there. My dreams turn into nightmares. I wake, drenched in sweat, dreadfully missing him.

What do I do, dear readers? How do I get him back?

Sunday
Aug312008

The "Pajamas Incident"

So, some of you fine readers who reside in the thirty mile zone may have already heard about a certain, shall we say, incident that occurred at the Miller/Gold offices. Without divulging any names (you'll have to go to Defamer or Nikki Finke for those juicy details), a very important agent was indeed found sleeping in Mr. Gold's office, in all his pajama-and-bathrobe-clad glory. And this isn't even close to the craziest thing I have seen at Miller Gold in my four, long, miserable years.

In fact, the "Pajamas Incident" wouldn't even crack the Top 5! What are the top 5, you ask? Without further ado, I present:

The Top 5 Craziest Moments of the Lloyd Lee Era

5. The Marcel Proust Affair

Mr. Gold has a client who will remain nameless who comes to the office every day between the hours of 11 and 2. He stakes out Ari's office if Ari isn't in, which he rarely is, having gotten wise to this client's plan. I am usually the one who receives the lion's share of this man's complaining and cajoling and conspiring all in efforts to land a staring role worthy of a man of his talents (and, yes, he is a man of many unquestionable talents). Well, one fine day, when Mr. Gold was in about as foul a mood as I have ever seen him, Mr. Intrusive Client decided he would not leave until he was cast as the lead in a Marcel Proust biopic. This display culminated in an impromptu reading from Proust's "In Search of Lost Time" for the entire fifth floor.

And this was only the fifth strangest.

4. The Woman, Scorned.

The most recent addition to the list, this is also the most controversial. In our business, friends, people are not always of the highest moral fiber. One such man works at Miller-Gold and was carrying on an affair with a younger agent. When this man's wife found out, she exploded off the elevator in a high-decibel search for, and please excuse the language, "the whore who's f**king [her] husband." She even stomped into an in-progress meeting in the conference room and interrogated female agent after female agent until, finally, Mr. Gold rescued everyone - especially the scorned wife.

Now, I, again, can't divulge names, but I did play more than a passing role in this calamity. The young agent who had the affair with the elder agent is a nice girl. A sweet girl. A beautiful girl. And, I am sure, a blameless girl. So, I called her. That's right, I called her and warned her and told her to leave the building. I know, it's a bit meddlesome, but the new generation has to stick together!

3. The Twin Killing

Another day at Miller-Gold, another game of high-stakes infidelity. This crazy incident happened out of nowhere as two of our top agents, who happen to be identical twins, managed to bring their home lives into the office, costing both of them their jobs.

One twin was sleeping with the other's wife. Normally, I have much sympathy for the cuckold, but the whole notion of this "twinfidelity" weirded me out to the nth degree! I have seen Sir Gold fire plenty of people. Some are merciful, some are reckless and some are just plain cruel. But, if I don't say so myself, these twin idiots had it coming.

2. The Curious Case of the Male Strippers

When I wake up in the morning, I brush my teeth, floss, take a shower and primp myself for the day ahead, all while cursing my wretched existence as an indentured servant bound to a pitiless barbarian. However, one lovely morning, I arrived at the office and shortly thereafter had the unmatched pleasure of watching two policemen-cum-male-strippers bumping and grinding all over Ari's sorry face.

This stunt occurred in the middle of a spontaneous prank war between Ari and a young rival agent, and was immediately followed by me sending a bag of feces to said agent. Procuring feces for this task is still the most humiliating thing I've ever been made to do. Ari and his rival may have been having a prank war, but the joke was squarely on me.

Now, I am no fan of this hotshot agent, but he will always hold a small place in my heart for brightening one dark day, for when I was sticking my delicate hand in a, well, a toilet, I had the gyrations of Officers Nickerson and Morgan dancing in my brain.

1. Vincent Chase Fires Ari Gold

This story was well-chronicled in mainstream media at the time, but let me give you the inside scoop - this was absolutely devastating for Mr. Gold. Ari has a lot of clients, and a lot of big-time earners, but Vince was, and is, singular. Ari discovered Vince. He plucked him out of a Mentos ad! Their careers rose in synchronicity and harmony. They were almost like brothers. Vince firing Ari would be like Bert firing Ernie! Peanut Butter firing Jelly! Dolce firing Gabbana!!!

But it happened. And thank whatever deity is moving us around like pieces on a chessboard that it didn't last long, for He only knows the kind of torture Mr. Gold would be subjecting me to without his favorite client around.

Until next week, ta ta!

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