Tex’n the City: Item No. 2 — Well-paying career

On his march to age 30, Brandon James Singleton continues his quest to check off as many items from his list of achievements as possible. Up this week: A career… or the start of one.

Mike check … 1 … 2. Testing. Test. OK.

Is this thing working?

Good. I’m ready.

“I’ve gathered you all here for an officially announcement that I’m sure will effect you all and even shock some. I. AM. POOR.”

There. I’ve said it. Now, if someone would kindly pass that info along to the bill collectors and those department store clerks who work off of commission, and smell my shopping addiction from a mile away, I’ll be set.

California is considerably more expensive than Texas. That also means it’s time to lock down a job, hopefully in the same industry now that I’ve settled.

I never thought I’d be one of the statistics. You know, single and pregnant. OK, I’m not pregnant, fingers crossed. But I def eat enough for two. Which means I need to be bringing in the bacon for two.

I had almost forgotten how to write a resume. It’s been so long since I had to make one. So, I asked my new neighbor, who ironically used to live in Dallas, for some assistance. Skip ahead with him trying to understand the way the entertainment business works, and we finally managed to make me something I could work with.

Morning of my first interview and I’m a wreck! Why am I so nervous? Oh, that’s right. No job, no money. And no money, no home. And, well, I don’t do homeless very well.

I spend the next week in and out of different offices around Hollywood. Not understanding why these people weren’t just snatching me up before I even left the office. I kept getting offers about interning.

Interning? Really? Um, no thank you. Try again.

I meet up with my friend Dustin for brunch. He had moved out here two years ago from Dallas, for a job, so maybe he’d have some critiques to give me on what I’m doing wrong. Before I even sit down at the table, he realizes the problem and calls me out.

“Brandon, you’re trying to get a job, not auditioning for the Real Housegays of Beverly Hills.”

I’m sure I have no idea what he’s referring to.

But as we eat, he explains how difficult it was for him to relocate. In 30-something years, he had never left lived too far from his family and close friends, so to move out to L.A. just for a job? He had to make that transition of finally taking his work seriously.

It wasn’t always glam. And it wasn’t something you’d always want to show off. But it was a career. Funny enough, he found himself interning at 32 in a strange new city. But a month later, he was given the position he wanted, and has since been promoted again. It was hard, but he was working even harder to set up a successful future for himself.

It was one aspect I never really needed to consider. Or at least, never took the time to. I mean, I just never considered that I wouldn’t be working alongside Kim and Kyle Richards, as I do in my head.

It’s like when you’re in grade school and the teacher asks you what you want to be when you grow up. Everyone would automatically say doctor or lawyer. But thanks to eight seasons of Grey’s Anatomy (still pissed about how Lexie died!), we know that it’s not simple to just become a doctor — that’s only after a lot of hard work, the gratification of knowing you worked your ass off makes it worth it. (Unless you work at Seattle Grace, where it seems the death rate is higher for its doctors than it is for its patients.)

But he was right. It was time to get over myself. So I responded to a few of the internship offers. I accepted one with this entertainment company casting for major networks. If I do well, I’ll have an actual paid position within the month as a casting associate.

Sure, I’m not working alongside Kim and Kyle. But I am casting for their network. That’s only one hop, skip, and diamond-motivated jump away from future BFFs.

Career? Maybe just the beginnings of one. But it’s enough to give me hope.

Peace out.


Follow Brandon on Twistter @The_HugoBoss

—  Arnold Wayne Jones

‘Real Trainwreck of New Jersey’ starts tonight

I am an openly gay man who proudly admits: I do a lot of kinda gay stuff (watch the Oscars, shop at Barneys) and a lot of very gay stuff (you know, the sex part), but even I have never been gay enough to get into The Real Housewives. I have caught random episodes, and I know who NeNe is (and that she is insane), but actually paying attention, week after week, to pampered ladies obsessed with clothing bitching about each other? If I want to see that, I’ll go to JR.’s during happy hour.

Still, I do get the appeal — I really do. Everyone on the shows is so into herself, apparently ignorant of how unsympathetic and interesting she must seem to everyone who doesn’t have a chemical dependency to the botulinum toxin, that it can be perverse fun, like the circus freak show. But only in small doses.

I do watch enough of the series as part of my job to recognize that each city represents a different Bravo demographic: Orange County is rich white folks; New York is rich Jewish folks; Atlanta is rich black folks; Miami is rich Hispanic folks. And New Jersey? Well, the Italians, of course.

Of course, we already got to see this series, when it was called The Sopranos. Or Jersey Shore. The characters are the same: Blowsy women in overteased hair. Joi-see accents thick enough to hold a chunky marinara. Goombah men with shady businesses who are either fat and balding or short, muscular and balding. (Apparently, all that extra hair on the women has to come from someplace.) OK, granted, some of those goombahs are pretty hot in that drunk-guy-crashing-a-frat-party-“You think you’re better than me?” dangerous way. But how do you put up with it? (I’ve never watched soap operas, either.)

Season 3 of New Jersey begins tonight with the disappearance of one wife (Danielle), the additional of another, Melissa (sister-in-law of Teresa; Teresa’s brother, Joe — one of the hotties), and unaccountably nasty feelings among them. It’s violent, trashy, foul-mouthed and ugly. But I did enjoy it.

But every week? Well, with Joe doing drag and getting a bathing suit in future episodes, maybe. I don’t wanna have to give back the toaster oven.

Premieres tonight at 8 p.m. on Bravo

—  Arnold Wayne Jones

Donald Trump comes out against same-sex marriage in possible step toward presidential bid

Nene Leakes

Is the first step in entering a national race on the Republican side to show how homophobic you are?

Donald Trump announced this week that he is against same-sex marriage and isn’t sure partners should receive even receive “medical or civil benefits.” Trump has not announced whether he’s running for president but did indicate an interest in the office when he appeared at a conservative conference last week.

Trump said he’ll make an announcement about his intentions in June. One serious matter stands between him and the presidency — the fourth season of Celebrity Apprentice. The NBC show begins on March 6.

The network has a rule against stars of its shows running for public office. So Trump said he would wait until the end of the season in June to make his decision.

At least he has his priorities straight. Homophobia first. TV show second. Country third.

Last week, before announcing his run for U.S. Senate, former Mayor Tom Leppert sent out a homophobic tweet. Leppert hasn’t explained the message, but it was probably sent to distance himself from his Pride parade and Black Tie Dinner appearances, as well as his openly gay former chief of staff.

Oh, and Nene Leakes, who was one of the stars of Real Housewives of Atlanta, is one of Trump’s new season of celebrity apprentices. No word on her position on same-sex marriage, but it probably matters about as much as Trump’s.

—  David Taffet

‘A-List’ casting in Dallas! Now you can be FAMOUS for being a selfish jerk!

Admit it: You watch The Real Housewives because you see yourself in those characters. Are you kept by a “big papa” like Kim? A crazy, in-your-face bitch like NeNe? A big-haired, table-up-ending psycho like Teresa? Or maybe you crashed a White House party. Only you could do it better and be fabulous at the same time. And with more product in your hair.

Well, now’s your chance.

As Logo’s The A-List: New York winds down its popular inaugural season, the company that produces it is expanding its franchise a la the Housewives. That means new cities, and first among them: Dallas. (Los Angeles is also casting.)

If you want to be the new Reichen (although, let’s face it: You’re probably more an Austin), you can go to TheAListCasting.com and fill out a questionnaire. Casting agents will then be in town from Dec. 6 through 23 doing on-site interviews to find the gays they want to follow for a few months.

Here are some of the questions you get to answer (and some suggested responses guaranteed to get you noticed):

• “Have you ever been arrested?” (Answer: It’s not that I was arrested — it’s what I did for the arresting officer in the squad car that got my record cleared) …

• “What does your significant other do for a living?” (Trust me: Being my significant other is a full-time job) …

• “Are you sexually active?” (No, I just lie there) …

• “Are you trying to have children!” (Yes! I’ve been fucking my boyfriend daily for a year but he’s still not pregnant … too bad I went to public school in Texas and didn’t get decent sex ed) …

• “Why do you think you are A-List?” (I’m self-absorbed and shallow, and gossip constantly about others while failing to see those same traits in myself … Why? What have you heard?)

We have a weiner! See ya on TV!

—  Arnold Wayne Jones

PREVIEW: ‘Real Housewives of D.C.’ is another round of ‘Lifestyles of the Bitch and Shameless’

My review of the new season of Flipping Out will appear in the print edition Friday, but Bravo has been debuting its new seasons and series all week … too many to do at one time. As the newest Real Housewives incarnation — set in Washington — debuts officially this Thursday, I figured I’d preview it here.

Truth be told, I am not a regular watcher of the Real Housewives franchise (which, last year, led Lisa Lampanelli to question my gayness), so it’s difficult to compare for the faithful. As a practical matter, I don’t see what makes the pampered bitches on all these shows “real” at all. They deal with tragedies such as which 4-star hotel to stay in and how to hire a nanny for when the kids are home from boarding school. How about women looking for work at McDonald’s and bailing junior out of juvie? That’s the show I wanna see. But I digress.

The Real Housewives of D.C. is probably no better nor worse than the others, although it has the added pressure of being about my hometown area. So when Mary, in the opening scene, declares herself a “native of Washington” then admits to living in suburban Virginia, you know they have at least captured the pretentiousness of those who think of themselves as elites. That’s pretty delish.

But then, you have to endure them doing the same Lifestyles of the Bitch and Shameless shtick over and over again. Polo matches. Fashion shoots. Birthday parties. More bleached hair than a Lauderdale salon on top of waifishly thin but ageing and dress-inappropriate social x-rays. The entirety of the show, and all these shows, is how artificial they seem. You don’t believe a word of it, and even the catfights feel scripted. (A biometric lock on a closet? Who really paid for that?)

My tolerance for watching on TV people who I wouldn’t care to talk to in real life must be too low. I don’t get why people are addicted to these shows. If you do, maybe you can explain them to me. Yawn.

Premieres on Bravo Aug. 5 at 8 p.m.

—  Arnold Wayne Jones