Awards, assaults and after parties.

You know you work in Hollywood when you can describe the previous night's activities in this way...

* Fought off herds of burly paparrazi men [and that one, sad femme pap as well, poor thing] as they stormed party arrivals.
* Nearly swiped someone's Emmy whilst tidying up a table.
* Hit a famed comedienne in the face (accidentally, accidentally).

You know you live in Koreatown when you can describe the later part of the night's activities in this way...

* Couldn't find a parking spot.
* Walked a 1/4 mile home in the dark, praying to make it to the door alive.
* Discovered a shortage of running water upon arrival home and had to wash soap off hands with bottled water.

Paparazzi. Making private moments public. Every day. Deal with it Mr. West.

When I was young, I wanted to be a famous actress. I wanted to star in big budget movies or, at the least, nationally televised commercials. I took acting classes and auditioned for school performances and enthused over the eyes that landed on me when I was on stage and the laudations that followed a performance. I didn't love performing for the art of it. I was not even much of an actress. But I craved the attention I received for my efforts.

The entire construction of a set fed my love of the spotlight. Microphones amplify a performer's voice so it can ring louder than the rest. Houselights are dimmed and a light shone on the stage so that the performer can stand out from the crowd. Stages are built high so that its talent can stand higher. Performing is the natural calling for the ego-driven, the narcissistic, the self-important.

So, somebody tell me why the f++k Kanye West threw that mother f++king paparazzi's camera to the ground this week. Why he had the audacity to get himself arrested at LA-mother-f++king-X because some dude with a long lens was doing his job, trying to fulfill Kanye West's God-complex. Kanye West, you hear me and you hear me good. I didn't make it as an actress. And I'm not mad. But you made it. You are filling arenas with fans--thousands of them--and preaching that you are the next John Lennon, the next Bono, the next thing we should care about. Well, Mr. Lennon 2.0. You got what you wanted. So act nice, get grateful, and smile next time I try to take a mother f++king picture.

[TMZ: Kanye Felony Assault Footage]

P.S. At a recent get-together, I happened to pick up this paparazzi of my own.

Apparently, according to the packaging, he recognizes my 'it girl' status. Finally. Someone does. I am currently growing him. Look for me in the weeklies soon.