After moving to Hollywood from New York I found a rental in a 1960’s era building with the pool in the middle and the neighbors all fanned out in a voyeur’s circle. Exactly like Melrose Place but without the sex.
Now I’m not one of those people who has to know what my neighbors are up to (I’m lying) so I only open my curtains to let in the sun. (Lying again) I made management put a screen on my front door so I could keep it open and let a breeze in. (My DKNY pants are on fire) I did not miss New York, where people kept their doors closed or slammed them in your face.
But like New York, I could walk anywhere in my neighborhood and do all my errands, which was a plus. I went to my local supermarket one day and while standing in the check out line eyeing the candy and pretending not to read The Enquirer, I found my favorite, a Snickers bar. I reached for it only to discover that it was hard as a rock. I reached for the one behind it and it too was hard as a rock. Maybe Corporate Snickers had not let Los Angeles Snickers know that the preferred mode of eating them was when they were edible. I asked the cashier if they had any more.
“What’s wrong with those?" she asked.
I kept my Big New York Sarcastic Mouth shut and bought one anyway. I unwrapped it in the car and discovered that parts of the chocolate had discolored to a grayish brown. I called my sister.
“Why are the Snickers bars at the supermarket hard as a rock and discolored?”
“Because they sit there forever. And why on earth would you eat one of those?”
“I love them.”
“We don’t eat those here. I mean, do you want to die?”
“I had a craving for chocolate.”
“How much do you weigh?”
“ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-THREE!”
“I’m 5’5”, that’s totally normal.”
“Maybe on Planet Jumbo, but not here in L.A.”
“That’s a size 8.”
“It used to be an 8, in the Midwest it’s now a (she whispered this part) twelve. Here in L.A. it’s still only a 10 but unless someone is referring to how you look overall, you do not EVER want to be a 10.”
“How much do you weigh?” I asked.
“Well I weigh more than you because my muscle mass weighs more than your fat. Once I measure your B.M.I. you’ll see what I mean.”
“I don’t have a BMW.”
“B.M. EYE: Body Mass Index. Don’t you read Muscle & Fitness?”
“Yeah, only I call it Vogue. So what do you buy when you go to the movies?”
“Have people over?”
“Have a craving for something sweet?”
“They should post signs at the airport, Attention: Now Entering a Food-Free Zone.”
“Very funny. Just up your protein intake, more chicken, fish, and edamame, you like edamame, right?”
“Unless that’s a fancy word for candy, I’m guessing no.”
“And no food after six p.m.”
“Sometimes I want something in the middle of the night.”
“Oh my God, you have NES.”
“Impossible, I haven’t had sex in months.”
“Nighttime Eating Syndrome. Just eat more protein and you’ll lose your sugar cravings.”
“I don’t want to lose them.”
“Yes you do.”
“No I don’t. First I lose the sugar cravings and then what? I start voting Republican?” She hung up on me.
I now weigh 122. Well not really, but my sister reads this blog.
End of chat.