The Ball…


My first studio apartment building

After we moved to LA, my sister stayed for about six months and went back to Philly and my brother stayed in LA for about a year and then he left too. But after a year or two in Philly, he decided to move back to LA for good.  I was living alone in Hollywood in my first studio apartment, which was on Franklin Avenue.  I could see the Hollywood sign from my apartment and it was also across the street from a big scary cult, I mean the Scientologist Celebrity Center.

(About the Scientology Celebrity Center:  it’s a really cool, big building that has a four-star restaurant in it and it’s on really nice grounds.  I’ve always wanted to go and check it out, but they recruit heavily and I’m afraid I’ll walk onto the grounds and automatically get brain-washed. They try and recruit people on Hollywood Boulevard by asking them if they want a stress test. They’re very bizarre and I suggest you stay away, or at least watch the South Park episode where they explain Scientology.)

Big scary cult

So anyway, my brother moved back to Hollywood and stayed with me in my studio, but after a couple of months of his snoring, I insisted we move to a bigger apartment. The problem was that we couldn’t afford a two-bedroom apartment, so we moved into a one-bedroom apartment and I got the bedroom while he slept in the living room on a futon….for 8 YEARS!

For a majority of the time we lived together we were broke and I have plenty of those stories that I will go into with more detail, but I just want to explain the relationship we developed being forced to live together for so long while being flat broke.  My brother and I have always gotten along well, but you can’t help to feel closer to someone when you see one of their balls. Yep, I saw one of my brother’s balls.

He was sitting on the couch in the living room in boxers (need I say more?) with one leg up on the coffee table (need I say more?). I was walking from the kitchen into my bedroom and just happened to glance over and his ball was hanging out of his boxers and just resting on the couch. I immediately said with disgust,  “C’mon, your ball is hanging out!” That is something you don’t want to see, ever. But it happened.  He tucked it in and we had a good but slightly uncomfortable laugh about it. Of course it’s disturbing to see your brother’s ball, it’s disturbing to see any balls, but when they’re not your brother’s, you can at least tolerate them.

I’m so glad I don’t have balls, but I guess in a strange way, it’s those kinds of things that bring you closer together. You know how they also say “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” I think seeing my brother’s ball made me stronger.

Have you ever seen your brother’s balls? Did it make you uncomfortable too? I guess that question is really directed at the ladies since guys love balls.

His balls were probably really small when this picture was taken

Imagine him wearing boxers....this is the couch where I saw the ball

Happy Friday!!

About Death To Hollywood

My name is Celeste Donohue and I am a writer/comedian who started this blog to tell stories about my life growing up in a funeral home and my adult life which I have spent in Hollywood, California – hence the name, “Death To Hollywood”. Hopefully, you like to read those kinds of stories. If not, go read something serious and boring.....
This entry was posted in celebrities, family, Hollywood, weird and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to The Ball…

  1. John Donohue says:

    One: my balls were never small!! Two: You had the bedroom, i had the living room. If i wanted to “hang out” in the living room in my boxer’s that was perfectly in my rights. Balls to the wall!!!!

  2. Kris says:

    The ball story is so funny and strange at the same time!!! Love the couch pictures…..was that the apartmemt where the guy would look in and talk to your cats….in a weird way?

  3. mdonohue says:

    Dear Writer,Who dressed you? Love Mom

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