Living With a Porn Star….

…is not as fun as it sounds.

Ladies and gentlemen, what you are about to read is a story of fear, desperation and what happens when you are too cheap to rent a decent apartment.

For over a year now, I’ve had recurring nightmares about a former roommate killing me in a variety of ways, ranging from wacky to Guillermo Del Toro levels of horror. I don’t mean to belittle anyone’s experiences with PTSD, but I feel like I can relate.

About a year and a half ago, I was searching for a new place to live in Los Angeles. I’m a fairly cheap person and refused to fork out $1000+ on a studio apartment, so I was forced to look into renting a room. So, I did what any idiot with an internet connection does; I went to craigslist in search of shelter. It seemed like the cheapest rooms were being offer for around $600 a month. And these weren’t rooms as much as they were a couches in the middle of cat infested living rooms , in the middle of crack houses, in the middle of infamous gang territory. Oh yeah, I would be living the dream. I met with a few landlords, eager to take my money, and possibly my kidneys. I realized that if I wanted to live cheap, I would not live well.

Eventually I found a charming post, presumably written by a young woman who wanted to sublet her bedroom. She was moving, thanks to her upcoming PhD program, and I’d be splitting the loft apartment with her boyfriend. Her boyfriend who, the ad claimed, was an actor and would be spending most nights at his “place” in Hollywood, while filming. Here’s the kicker, rent would be $550 a month, including utilities! Oh happy day, I was willing to sign on the bottom line before I finished reading the listing. The next day, I met with the girl and her boyfriend, and they seemed like decent, down to Earth people.

Let the record show that I’m an awful judge of character.

It was love at first sight. I loved that I’d have a clean loft, mostly to myself, and they loved that I was willing to pay months in advance. A few weeks later, I moved in, and the honeymoon phase began. Being 24 years into an addiction with all things media, I immediately asked if he’d been in anything I might have seen. That’s when everything went to Hell. He proceeded to show me a few youtube clips. I proceeded to wonder where all of the actors’ clothing had gone. Turns out, my new roommate was a proud member of the adult film industry. I’m a pretty accepting guy, so I took it all in stride and decided there could be a silver lining here. I could see the underbelly of the North Hollywood adult film community. Oh, I saw the underbelly all right, and it was pierced and smelled a lot like Windex.

As the weeks went on, I realized that this working actor didn’t work all that much. Actually, he never worked. Every day I woke up, and there he was, glued to his laptop, watching random British and Australian television series. Because American media was too watered down and didn’t mesh with his delicate porn addled brain, apaprently. However, he did leave, once a week, for about an hour, and quickly returned. This was because his “place in Hollywood”, was a beat down RV he parked on the street. He only left because he had to repark it once a week, due to street cleaning! Looking back, that’s when I should have ran for the hills. 

Here’s where the story gets a little spooky. I work an odd schedule, so I sleep during the day. This was known going into the lease agreement, so I assumed there would be no issue. On more than one occasion, I was woke around 8-9am, which is my 2am, to him banging on my door. He was typically begging for an advance on rent, because his phone/internet/car had been turned off. I quickly learned these monetary issues were never his fault, but due to the world’s agenda against him.

You’d think a guy who got paid to have sex would go through life with a skip in his step and a song in his heart. This guy went through life with a chip on his shoulder and various sleeping aids pumping through his system. I forgot to mention, this man was my height, but walked around at 220lbs of solid muscle. I started sleeping with the lights on and a sewing needle under the pillow. Should I have left at this point, probably, but the rent was sooo cheap. 

Things got a little better when the girlfriend returned for a weekend visit from school. Actually, things got better for about 4 seconds. That weekend was filled with them having screaming matches and begging me to be their respective alibis, if/when the cops showed up. All for the low, low price of $550 a month.

Everything came to a head one night, when the girlfriend called me multiple times, while I was at work. I assumed they were having one of their typical spats, and they expected me to referee the bout. Turns out, they had been arguing, but after he admitted to taking a pill or twelve, he shut his phone off. She was convinced that he had killed himself. And she wanted me to leave work and check! I don’t wish harm on anyone, but I couldn’t help but see the positives here. Without this guy, the world would probably be a better place. Food would taste sweeter, children would dance in the street, and I’d finally get the loft all to myself, as promised. Being the aspiring Scooby-Doo that I am, I eventually drove to the apartment to check on him. Armed with nothing but my trusty keys, I opened the door, half expecting to see this guy splayed about the living-room, like a scene out of Saw. Turns out, the poor guy really did go to sleep. I can’t help but say I was disappointed.

Shortly after, the Sun finally decided to shine on little old me, and I moved out of that freakshow. Yes, the rent may be a little steeper, but it’s worth it to sleep soundly, knowing that the only thing I need to fear in this apartment, is fear itself. Oh, and Chodie Foster, I just don’t trust that cat. However, I still have nightmares about that moose of a man beating my bedroom door down with a rusty bottle of KY jelly and finishing me off. That sounded better in my head.

Please, let this be a cautionary tale. If you decide to move to Los Angeles, always bet on black, and remember that spending a little more on rent could be the difference between life and death. The California sun turns normal people into complete wackos. Just look at what it did to the entire Jackson family! Janet is considered the “sane” one, but she still dated Jermaine Dupri. That was not the action of a sane woman.

One day, I hope that these nightmares will be gone. Then, I can go back to my nightly hiking trips with a circa mid-90’s Liv Tyler. Mmmm, Liv Tyler. Goodnight everybody!

 

The Little Porn That Could

 

*I’ve got an update/question regarding this post. This has easily been the most viewed thing I’ve written on this blog, and I thank everyone who gave it a read. Due to the “pornographic nature” of this story, we’ve gotten some interesting search terms leading viewers to the story. My personal favorite was the one or two people who searched for “Porno Paul”.  At first, I thought it was a new nickname my admiring public had coined, and I secretly hoped it would spread like wildfire. It turned out to be a transgender porn star. We here at christypaul2013 wish Porno Paul the best in all his/her future endeavors.

We’ve seen multiple search terms related to “littleporn”, which has piqued my interest. What is “littleporn”? My vanity assures me that it’s just what people type when they want to read the story.  My brain tells me that it’s a term used by people who seek  pornography consisting of minuscule actors, who aren’t so minuscule where it counts, I bet 😉 If anyone knows what “littleporn” means, I’m begging you to leave a comment or send us an email at christypaul2013@gmail.com, so that we can put this conspiracy to rest. As always, I love you all and thanks for visiting-Paul

 

With all this free time, I’ve had too many new ideas. Which means it’s time to get rid of some of my older, less-shiny ideas. It’s spring cleaning time around here. I’ve been keeping a hopper of script ideas that, God willing, I’d eventually get around to writing. Once written, these scripts would make me a millionaire. Unfortunately, I’m still broke. So, once a week, I’m going to share one of these gems with the world. Out of my mind, into yours. You keep it, I don’t want them anymore.

The Little Porn That Could started as a short story written in some random creative writing class. It took about 30 minutes to write, but the story has stuck with me for almost 4 years. Set during the WGA writers strike of 2007-08, it was about a young man who banded his rural town together to make a porno. The film became a smashing success, and even included hometown hero Craig T. Nelson. Due to a weak field of contenders thanks to the writer’s strike,  this artistic porn somehow earned a Best Picture Nomination.

The big wigs in Hollywood had enough to worry about with the strike, but they’d be damned if a porn would win Best Picture. Especially a porn made by amateurs, further shattering the Hollywood system. The President of the Academy hopped on the first flight to Ireland and strong armed Daniel Day Lewis into helping. Daniel Day Lewis half-heartedly spoke for ten minutes, while the President shot the whole thing on a cell phone. While the production value was low, Daniel Day Lewis was incredible. This cell phone footage was immediately hailed as the new frontrunner.

It all came to a head at the Oscars. The Academy vs. The Amateurs. The young man and his crew arrived at the Oscars and were berated by their peers. The Writers, still on strike, saw them as scabs who took an easy opportunity to seize fame with smut. The Academy President flipped his lid once Craig T. Nelson took home Best Supporting Actor for Seven Dongs for Seven Daughters. The President even tried to strong arm the presenter for Best Picture, Jack Nicholson, into announcing Day Lewis’ film the winner, no matter what.

I love a good underdog story, so of course the Porn wins Best Picture. The Academy President almost Kanye’d the young man’s acceptance speech, until Jack Nicholson and Daniel Day-Lewis saved the day, letting the porn have its moment of glory. The next day, the WGA strike would be called off. The young man and his porn would go back into obscurity, but they had made a lasting impression on Hollywood.

The script would be pretty similar to an underrated Christopher Guest film, For Your Consideration. Only this film would have much more nudity. Craig T. Nelson Nudity. This film would make up for Zack and Miri Make a Porno.

BUT, or butt I guess J, I think the window for this script has closed. It’s been too long since the WGA strike, and the script is incredibly indy to begin with, so this would have no chance in getting made into a film.  It’s sad, since I think this would make for a charming, off-beat underdog story, but The Little Porn That Could is destined to live forever on this blog and this blog alone. At least someone will read it. Maybe.

Paul’s porn name would be Bologna Jones.