different site. same old bullshi*.

I’ve notice garnering a few followers in the past few months, and I haven’t posted on ST in almost a year. Ironically, I tweet every day, and I lose followers! As my Spanish teacher used to say, “asi as la vida…” or was it “chicle en la basura!” … something like that.

So if you are following me and would love to hear my nonsensical opinions on the world, I have consolidated my blog and my website.

So hop on over to www.mikeyscott.com and let me know what you think.
love and unsatisfied twitterers,


Artist Search 2011

I never wash my car.  Dora is one dirty bitch. Dora, the Explorer that is.  I know, I’m probably getting sued by someone right now for tainting the name.  But it’s not my fault.  That’s the name she was born with.

As a result of being a very dirty bitch, not to mention a very old beat up bitch, I really don’t take it upon myself to take her through the 6 dollar car wash on Santa Monica very often.  Let’s face it, a 6 dollar car wash run by mexican boys is like a 10 buck Vietnamese manicure. Those bitches know how to up sell, and I always fall for it. Continue reading

(hair)Piece of Mind

Last week I argued with everyone at my restaurant.  Why?  The guy at table 21 HAD to have a hair piece.  I’m convinced.  But it was a good one because the staff and the select customers I interviewed on the subject voted against me.  I know it was wrong to cause such a stir, but when Snook wore the neckbrace she knew people would be talking.  What’s the difference?

The last time I spotted a toupee it was obvi.  “Obvi” is what the kids say now for obvious.

Shamelessly Tacky Toupee

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Ragnar Relay: Bunnies in polyester blends?

Don’t buy running shorts at Target. I guess polyester blend running shorts more accurately describes it.  Last weekend I did the Ragnar Relay, a 200 mile run from Huntington Beach to Coronado Island (with a couple detours inland) divided by 12 people.  I think I had a nervous twitch the day they asked me, and they mistook the twitch as a nod and signed me up.

Ragnar Relay: Team Fast, Furious, and FABULOUS!

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the J Brand Jeans experiment

When I try to pull off anything in fashion it’s awkward.  I’m a t-shirt ‘n jeans guy, alternating between a couple of dirty hoodies I refuse to wash for fear that they just won’t fit my lorso after.  Lorso = long torso.  If overdried, my above-the-wasit garments can go into halter top mode which puts me in tragic mode.  The only time someone should see a boy’s stomach is when he’s shirtless or doing one of those unconscious shirt lifts to make sure the abs are still there after that slice of drunk pizza.

I am certainly not above a Devil Wears Prada makeover, especially when my friend, Erin, surprised me with a present: two pairs of pants from J Brand Jeans, which is a pretty sweet clothing line. She gave me a pair a month ago, and I wore them on a first date, and that lead to more dates, so when a fairy god mother throws a pair of jeans your way, take ‘em.  If Cinderella was wearing some cute bun-huggers, she might not have heard the clock turn midnight because she’d be securing her place in royalty upstairs.

Review a pair of jeans?  Cute, but definitely not tacky enough for me.  Mikey needs a mid-evening costume change.  Also, Mikey needs to stop referring to himself in the third person.  So I took my Sunday Funday plans with my friends and a guy I’ve been kinda sorta seeing (wasn’t sure if we extended past “kinda sorta” phase yet), and did a shamelessly tacky experiment.

I started the evening in my Trooper vintage caffeine colored skinny cargo pants.

JBrand Trooper Cargos

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Vanity and Kennedys:

should a first impression be given a second chance?

It’s worth considering. There’s probably more than a few people who’s first impression of me was a drunk peeing in a bush somewhere ‘cause after a few Rose Kennedys I have zero bladder and zero shame.  By the way, a Rose Kennedy is a vodka, soda with a splash of cran.  It’s probably the same amount of syllables, either way, but once you put  a Kennedy in anything (or anyone) the status goes up. Right, Jackie?

On Friday night after my show and a post-show celebration, I walked into the Gold Coast, my neighborhood dive bar, and got:

“You’re so fucking vain, Mikey” Continue reading

can men who aren’t drag queens or meth addicts wear make up?

My (grl)friend Jim is a bitch.  When we started cohabitating the opening shifts at the taco shop, it was during my days (and nights) of indiscretion where a night spent at home was less frequent than a Kelly Clarkson song where she’s not angry.  I’d stumble into work at the early hour of 10, and Jim would turn to me with judgement rare in West Hollywood (all sarcasm intended).

“Grrrrrrlllll.  You look like shit.”

I couldn’t be mad.  I did.  While a picture’s worth a thousand words, the eyes are worth a dozen cocktails.  On those mornings I started wearing black thick framed glasses with no prescription to hide the dark circles and avoid the rest of the world asking me how many lines of cocaine did I, in fact, do the night before, and did I ever sleep??

While my Lindsey Lohan regime has milded out, my under-eyes always keep a darker tint, no matter how many z’s I get.  Is it genetics or just a previous lifestyle stuck on my face like those poor girls who got slapped on the back in One Crazy Summer with John Cusack?

One fateful day, my pal, Teddy and I visited a friend who was working the make-up counter at Bloomie’s.  Queens who sell make-up are forceful, and she sat me down like a dominatrix, took out Erase Paste by benefit and did one eye.

they are not paying me, I swear

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talk dirty to me, Rebekah Kochan

Rebekah taking one for the team in Eating Out 3

You want to rent a cute gay movie to watch while you nestle with your boyfriend of three and a half weeks.  Or maybe something terrifying that will send him hiding in your arms (and your sheets).  Either way, Rebekah Kochan is there to help. You can’t browse through the gay section on your Netflix page without Rebekah’s face staring at you from numerous titles, including all of the Eating Out movies, with those eyes that say, “Go get ‘em, you bottom, you!”  With plenty more gay movies in the mix, a nod on IMDB’s top 100 Scream Queens list, and stand-up gigs all over the country, she is GAY-merica’s most beloved blond bombshell.  And did I mention she’s our guest hostess for the queers of comedy show this Friday??? Continue reading

too old for old people clothes?

I’m sitting at Tuesday night Karaoke when my friend, Jake, points someone out and says, “No one over the age of 30 should wear a cardigan.”  That threw me.  First of all, people in karaoke houses should never throw stones.  Second, a nudist is more equipped to discuss fashion than me, as I sashe around in Goodwill Chique, but I had to question, aren’t cardigans old people clothes anyway?  How can someone be too old for them? Continue reading

If therapy is 99 cents, I might be able to afford it.

So after my trek to the valley yesterday where I wrote my “about” page (by the way, 2 hours turned into 5 – throw in rape and a couple bodies and I wouldv’e had a Tarantino movie on my hands), I came home an extra few hundred bucks in debt.  Perhaps I should’ve had one less white zin at Coco’s?  Being broke is depressing, and being broke in an apartment void of groceries and other items is depressing for you and your guests / tricks / new guy you’re dating who looks like he saves his money rather than blows it on headshots, bootcamp, and frozen mangos. Continue reading