Celebrities Must Have So Many Complexes

SCENE 1: PARALLEL PARKING

At Urth Caffè, behind a dark grey Range Rover that couldn’t decide which spot she wanted. A few awkward maneuvers, and the driver and I were face to face. window down, window down
I say, "Do you want this spot or the one behind you?"
The girl replies, while pushing her large sunglasses up her nose, "This one, am I in it?"
"Yes," and I notice the large, white skulls all over her black sweater. smile, smile, window up, window up
Taleen, with a little less enthusiasm than the exclamation points imply: "Hey that’s Michelle Trachtenberg! You know, Harriet the Spy!"
Not sure what to think, I say, "Oh. Okay. I haven't seen that movie. . . But why do you know her name?
Either she doesn't really answer, or I am pondering the paradox of celebrity life and don't hear her.

SCENE 2: PARKING METER

As I put money in, Harriet the Spy runs/skips back towards the meter and says, "Oh look at me, I totally forgot to pay! Thank God I had some quahtahs." I look her in the eye and wonder to myself, "quahtahs?"

SCENE 3: CASH REGISTER

In the caffè, still standing next to Harriet the Spy, I reply to the gay Asian waiter, "Half chicken curry sandwich, and . . . you have hot tea right?" The slender, plucked man-boy plays his usual tune with, "Yes, what kind would you like?"
"I guess earl grey is safe."
And in a very aggressive step towards me, he breathes heavily and whispers, "Okay, gorgeous."
Taken off-guard, I open my mouth in one of those uncontrollably loud laughs and show him my molars.
He takes back that aggressive step and says, "What? You don’t believe me?"

WAS HE REFERING TO HIS COMPLIMENT OR HIS SEXUALITY?


Five minutes later, Lele Sobieski enters and orders food.

Creature Feature: Sarah and Erin

When we set out, our intention was definitely something other than to accidentally "cruise the strip" (!!) on a Friday night.

Anyone that comes in contact with my Nikon D50 inevitably mutates into a paparazzo;

long hair starts to flow, yearning for some wind;

and glamour becomes natural, La Dolce Vita style.

In December, we girls will start graduating in single file.
Nights like this will become insufficient for the demand.

The reverse end of leaving will finally get its revenge on me.

Ode to An Old Piece of Leather

What is that? Cracked earth you say? Terra cotta?

No, it is one of the shoes that I just replaced. I know it may seem trite, but I'm a sentimental girl. These shoes have been with me for five years, and they have walked all over the world. They've been to Hawaii, Louisiana, Kentucky, New York, Oregon, Nevada, Florida, Michigan, Illinois, Switzerland, Italy, Mexico, Austria, Germany, France, Greece...

They've been stuck in luggage in airports, they've been soaked through with Mississippi overflow, they've walked the ancient ground in the forum, they've been drenched in the Aegean for good luck, they've kicked up their fair amount of dust on the Appian Way, they've been forgotten at Pompeii, they've been threatened by stingrays and snakes, they've trampled on Vesuvius, they've been in a gondola, they've walked in the footsteps of Julie Andrews, they've walked the Hollywood walk of fame...

They've said goodbye to boyfriends, they've said goodbye to best friends, they've said goodbye to moms, dads, and nonnas. . . they've nursed my feet back to health, they've been replaced by Birkenstocks and then preferred once again, they've scoffed at heels. . .

They've lost all their sequins. Their only remaining twinkle is from the gold thread which is now silver - I had to wash real terra cotta and the gypsies of Rome off of them with bleach and a toothbrush.

They've basically been dipped in the river Styx by the heel, but even those magical waters couldn't protect them from the trash can.

And after all this, I went to Target and found a cuter pair for $12.99.

The Museum of Neon Art - Los Angeles (MONA)

The MONA offers a tour of the neon art of Los Angeles, from Downtown to Hollywood and back again. Their purpose is the maintenance of the neon signs of the city, and if any neon/argon tubes have to come down, the museum offers them a home - with electricity. The $44 for each ticket are used for switching on pieces that were turned off for energy conservation during the Depression.

The idea of riding in a red, double-decker, convertible bus through Los Angeles on a chilly night while listening to American history lessons and observing glowing glass tubes seems pretty intriguing; however, when your tour guide has a really crude sense of humor and no brain or conscience, three and a half hours can turn into an eternity.

The night began with a beautiful sunset, fortunately, and then a look at the MONA with some cheap aperitifs and a tour around the downtown area.

The highlight of the tour was the quick hustle through Skid Row (sarcastic tone). It is a section of Downtown between 3^rd and 7^th Streets where about 8,000 homeless people live in cardboard boxes and sleeping bags. A lot of them are missing limbs. I wonder if $44 could be better spent in charity.

It looked like a war zone. The tour guide ridiculed the people on the streets with his voice amplifier.

I wonder who threw away those flowers.