She became a vegan AFTER moving to LA
While red flags get raised at the mere mention of vegan, there’s another level of concern with the girl who decides to become a vegan shortly after she moves here. She thinks it’s the LA thing to do and she wants to follow the trends, get some ombre highlights, buy a white Volkswagen EOS, and get a medicinal marijuana card which she’ll never actually use. The decision to not consume any animal products all day every day is not one you should make because ½ the girls in your acting class are doing it. This isn’t like when you pretended to be bisexual for four years at your all-girls college. We’re all adults now, even in LaLa Land, so if you want to maintain your pre-pubescent girlish figure, do it like the respectable LA girls do – tell everyone you’re allergic to gluten.
She hates avocados
Hating avocados in LA is like hating pizza in New York: sacrilegious. Here in the Golden State these super fruits are as delicious as they are plentiful. You’d be hard pressed to find a legitimate menu that doesn’t offer the avocado as an accessory to every dish worth eating. And then there’s the whole issue of guacamole. How you could go to any party that’s worth attending in this town and not eat the guacamole is a question we don’t even care to ask. You want to hate avocados? Live in Seattle. Here in LA we worship them for the God-made-perfect products that they are.
She lives in the valley
“In”, by the way, does not mean the down slope of the hills off Laurel Canyon that is technically called Studio City. That’s somewhat acceptable by virtue of the strip of legit restaurants that have miraculously popped up on Ventura. We’re talking North Hollywood/Sherman Oaks/Burbank valley – the towns where people who insist upon large houses in neighborhood with good public schools go to die. Any woman choosing to live in a place that is 30 minutes further and 15 degrees hotter than the rest of Los Angeles can’t be trusted to make good decisions in other areas of life. Has she been to the hopping streets of West Hollywood? Has she experienced the beach side glory that is Santa Monica? Hell, even Koreatown is cooler and more centrally located than the valley. Wait, what’s that? Oh, she’s whining. Something about working in Burbank and that she’d rather live in a crappy neighborhood than commute. Right. Let’s be serious, if she’s prioritizing proximity to work over proximity to bars, we’ll let that speak for itself.
She’s a surfer
Not to be confused with the person who is a female who just so happens to surf, we’re instead talking about the girl who is a little too serious about her ability to ride a wave. She has special boards for times of year. She hangs out with dudes named Laird and Bodhi. Her face is perma-tanned by the endless summer sun. But while it may sound hot and it certainly worked for Kate Bosworth in her flawless Blue Crush era, Surfer Girl’s ego is more inflated than that janky floatie that’s the extent of most LA guys’ ability to ride a wave. Power struggles aren’t fun. And even if the relationship starts to take off, it’ll most certainly end poorly when the dates start shifting from land to water. Surfers don’t like people stealing their waves.
She has a C-List celebrity friend that she follows around like a puppy dog
It’s quite possible and not all that uncommon for an LA resident to become actual friends with someone that others consider a celebrity. But the alarm bells should start to go off if the celeb is barely Star Magazine fodder and yet the girl treats her like Julia Roberts circa Pretty Woman. The third lead on a CW show is not someone to roll out the social scene red carpet for, nor is the side kick on a reality show or the daughter of some semi-popular 80s actor (i.e. does Steven Webber from Wings have a kid?). We support the idea that it’s often “who you know” in this town, but if you can’t recognize that who you know is not someone particularly worth knowing, you’re not going anywhere fast.
NOTE: Double red flag if she insists on using this person’s first and last name at all times.
She goes to the Saddle Ranch
We’ve all had wild, crazy, fantastic nights at some sleazy Western-themed bar with a mechanical bull where boys and girls go to make mistakes they’ll pretend they don’t remember. But for most of us, those nights ended when we
were sober enough turned old enough to recognize the D-clientele to which such establishments cater. Not the case for your LA girls who still frequent the Saddle Ranch. They’re not done with the body shots on the bar or the blackout dance routine to “Pour Some Sugar On Me.” They still want to tie their white wife beaters in a knot behind their backs so they can create the modern equivalent of a ‘90s belly shirt. They can’t wait for the spotlight to shine on them as they wear their Jersey Shore meets Texas A&M costume while they ride the mechanical bull with a precision normally reserved for professionals. Where the hell does she get all that… uh… practice?
She’s on what appears to be a permanent hiatus (a.k.a. “piatus”)
Hiatus is a euphemism actors/writers/producers and other Hollywood types use for, “currently unemployed.” Sure, many people on hiatus will return to their paying gigs the minute the show goes back into production. But then there are people who seem to be on a rather perma-hiatus – a piatus, if you will. She’s the girl whose show is “just figuring out its production schedule,” or she’s, “waiting a little while to figure out if her deal is going to go through.” Mad respect to the plight of the struggling actor, but frowny-face red flags for the woman who’s insecurity causes her to lose sight of the fact that IMDB laughs in her face every time she lies about one of her projects. There are dozens of other euphemisms out there for her to choose from. She could be “in between jobs” or “working on her reel” or “taking a break to consider maybe going to grad school.” And if she can’t figure out how to lie about how successful she is, how good of an actor/writer/producer can she really be?
She can’t parallel park
Driving is to LA what breathing is to most other places in the world. You must do it. And you must do it well. So whether you want to call it tricky or hard, it doesn’t matter – learning to parallel park is an essential component of living in LA and any self-respecting girl should learn it and live it if she’s going to survive in the asphalt-paved West Coast jungle. So whether the explanation is that she’s generally a nervous driver (anxiety disorder), she has terrible space relations and can’t help but bump the cars in front and back of her (she lacks basic coordination skills); or she was never taught how to parallel park (daddy issues), the result is the same… red flag.
She has an AMAZING agent (who no one’s ever heard of)
We can’t decide if the real problem here is that she’s bragging about some hack with three unknown clients to his name or that she thinks this hack is going to make her a star. We’re leaning toward the “make her a star” issue, but it doesn’t really matter because both render her close to elimination from the pool of eligible bachelorettes. Gullible and Los Angeles do not mix well, especially in the category of wannabe actresses. Plus, if we’re going to spring so far as to date a crazy, emotional, needy actress, then she better be good at it. Otherwise it’s like dating the smoking hot chick in high school who starred in all the musicals, but gives absolutely zero street cred with the football team. Only this time, dating will require more than
hooking up watching a movie in your parents’ basement.
She’s from LA
We’re not saying all girls from LA are spoiled, entitled brats who don’t know the value of a dollar or the meaning of a hard day’s work, buuuut, we’re not saying that’s not the case. Los Angeles is a pretty amazing place to live: brilliant sun year-round; gorgeous people everywhere you turn; money practically printing itself on every street corner. It can make a person – shall we say – picky? And if picky runs its course for too long, there’s another word for that: demanding. If a girl is born and raised in LA, she may be beautiful, stylish, cultured, and fun but all those green flags come at a price, and it’s a price you’ll literally be paying if you let one latch onto your arm. To make it even worse, they all talk with a weird slurry, half-asleep accent, an explanation for which we don’t have, but we’re pretty sure involves some random act of god that replaced her Valley Girl voice with one that mimics a drunk Drew Barrymore.Tweet