I love the L.A. Weekly, even if they won't hire me as a writer.
L.A. Weekly helped me fall in love with this town; not an easy task for an East Coast transplant. To avoid that cliche trap of complaining loudly and claiming intellectual superiority simply because I grew up on the Eastern seaboard, I turned to this publication. Every fall when their highly-anticipated "Best of" issue is released, I grab a cup of coffee and attack it with a pair of scissors. I did try the "Best Tacos" and I did drive up to the "Best View of the Ocean" - I was determined to love it here.
The thing that separates L.A. Weekly from all other city papers, is that:
- 20 pages in the front are dedicated to plastic surgery
- 20 pages in the back are dedicated to escorts
But with this dwindling economy, these ridiculous ads are fewer. The paper is lighter. Less advertisers means less revenue, and I can't have my weekly shutting their doors on me. I love editorial the best of course, but what's an issue of L.A. Weekly without trashy ads of Filipino girls clutching their breasts and begging for the affection of strangers? What about the plastic surgery ads featuring girls with inflated inner-tube lips covered in frosted pink gloss circa '84?
There are even fewer vaginal rejuvenation ads, which must mean the porn industry is tanking. Lord knows what that will do to our pitiful economy. Here's to hoping L.A. Weekly won't ever, ever leave us!
Vaginal Rejuvenation Ad