Milestone

Yesterday was the 20th anniversary of the day I drove into LA for the first time. I arrived on July 4, 1988 at about 9:20 pm, just as the fireworks at Dodgers Stadium were going off. At the time, I considered that a good omen and thought to myself, "gee, they could have just baked a cake.."

Ironically, I celebrated my 20th anniversary as a Los Angelino in another state. I flew to Santa Fe, NM after work on Thursday -- needed some rest and relaxation and really needed some time to myself. One of my friends at work said that spa visits and massages are the female version of hiring a hooker as a tension reliever. (She may very well be right.)

Last night I sat on the balcony of my room with a bowl of fruit and cheese and sparkling water and watched the fireworks in Santa Fe. I had forgotten just how DARK night is -- the city lights in LA overpower the stars and are so bright the sky only goes gray at night -- it's been so long since I've been away from LA on my own with time to contemplate such things that I forgot the stars were up there at all.

Today I'm taking a yoga class and I'm going into town and having the tattoo on the back of my neck re-colored. My little mark of impetuous youth has faded to fuzzy black & white and looks like one of those WWII tattoos you see on an old man's forearm and I want it to be pretty and bright. I feel pretty and bright, so I want my 25-year old tattoo to be pretty and bright, too. Maybe after that I'll see a movie.

The Letter - Revisited

Hey readers... remember this post back from June 2003?

I finally feel comfortable enough after five years to send it to the President of "The Studio". I emailed it to him this morning.

And it felt good.

Double Zinger

Last night I was in Hollywood with some friends and there was this guy at the restaurant that I knew... it took about 20 minutes to place him, but then I realized that it was somebody I dated about 15 or so years ago. I remember that he had a very high opinion of himself. He obviously recognized me because he kept looking over at me with a quizzical look, but it was clear to see he couldn't remember from where. I was dressed to impress in black skinny jeans, strappy high heels, a low-cut black tank and a tissue-thin wrap, with my favorite silver handcuff necklace and big silver hoop earrings. If I say so myself, I looked hot.

Fifteen years ago, this guy broke up with me over the phone, because (quote), "You're too rough around the edges. You don't fit the image of the girl I think I should be with. I mean, you drive a Volkswagen, for Chrissakes."

Whereas I hesitated for just a moment, and then said, "Well gee, Tony, that's too bad... Because I give great head." and then I hung up.
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Skip ahead to last night. As I was leaving, I walked up to him -- he was in a big group of about 10 guys. "Hey Tony, how've you been?"

Tony: "I knew I knew you. Did we fuck?"

Me: "Classy, as always. No, we didn't..." then I leaned in and said, "You know, I still have that green Volkswagen."

I waited until it dawned on him by the look on his face that he remembered me. Then I ran my tongue over my bottom lip very deliberately, smiled, and walked away.