Thanks to the 8 people who put me over 100. I wish I had door prizes. The first 200 people who follow me, I follow back. So if you've followed me and I haven't done it back due to TOO MANY DOCTOR'S APPOINTMENTS, send me an email (in my profile) and I'll do it. That's all you're allowed to follow, 200. Makes no sense to me. 5000 can follow you and you get to follow 200. Is everyone still awake?
I'm still shocked over the death of Natasha Richardson. 45 years old and from three generations of esteemed British actors. Especially since it was a head trauma and she appeared okay. Almost 2 years ago I was hit by a car while I was walking across the street. The guy who hit me insisted I go to the hospital and I said I was fine, mainly just in shock. I was talking but had a slight headache. I've since fallen twice inside my place and one outside by the pool, where I flashed the gardener. Accidentally.
The man who hit with me with his car said his insurance would pay but from all my experience, hospitals find things that insurance doesn't cover, like toilet paper, and you get billed for an extra $10, 000.
So how come Natasha hit her head and then died? Icy slope? Is that harder than concrete? It's like survivor's syndrome, which I've never believed in. I always just thought, "Their time to go, not mine." According to all my metaphysical books and especially the ones on reincarnation, we choose when we are born and when we die. Which family we choose to be born into, which is for some, the most incomprehensible of all. Would you knowingly pick a drunk, a pedophile or an abuser? But reincarnation is something that we won't understand until it's too late. It's all about the growth of the soul. The body just serves as the way to get you through a particular lifetime.
I 'picked' a father who was distant and not affectionate and I used to pick men like that, until I fucking GOT it and that all ended. Would I have made that choice without picking my Dad? Obviously I needed a few lessons in self worth.
Religious people, as opposed to spiritual people, will tell you there is free will so man has all the control but reincarnation says the exact opposite. Braja had planned a trip to New Zealand from India, with a stop over in Bangkok. Instead she ended up in a hospital in India. Where is the free will? That she made a plan and packed her bags?
Sidebar: If you're currently giving money to a church, STOP. They just use it for themselves and won't get you into what you refer to as 'heaven.' Instead spend it on a neighbor who needs help. Like Bernie Madoff. The Vatican is the richest 'country' in the world followed by the UK's Royal family. Either of them helped you out recently?
Back in 1994, the last major earthquake we had in L.A. there was a picture taken of 7 or 8 houses all on a ridge overlooking the Valley of Los Angeles. They were all built by the same builder in the same year. They all survived the earthquake intact. All but one towards the middle. It slid down the mountain and killed the two occupants inside. Not one other house on that ridge moved.
Most studies say that you know when you're going to die (subconsciously) and you're not afraid and you realize that all you were supposed to learn in this lifetime, you've learned. So you go. Without fear. Gary Zukav once told a couple who had lost a child that birth can't be determined by you, some souls don't even go into bodies until right before the birth, or in some cases, after the birth. So he said to them, "If you can't control birth, why do humans think we can control death? If God sent someone to give birth to you, you have to believe God sent someone to bring you home." So forgiveness for murderers and rapists is essential for your growth because uh, there's no malls or houses or money where we're going. Even Dr. Brian Weiss says all there is in life is love and forgiveness.
My book is all about the paranormal activities (and distant and unaffectionate men) that follow me around. It's been quiet for a while, usually when it starts up it's pretty creepy. I will say that this last 5 years has been a period of patience, something I never had. So as much as I loathe the position I'm in now, maybe I should be grateful instead.
End of chat.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
100
See that box with 99 followers on the upper right of my blog that's been there since the 1760's? That 99 is like a loose button to me. You fiddle with it until you rip it off in frustration because now you're afraid you're going to lose it because you've messed it with so much. SOMEONE GIVE ME THE FUCKING 100.
The Wedding Of The Year
Vodka Mom and I were married over the weekend while she claimed publicly that she was going to Florida for some Nudist Camp Convention.
Yes, there were some issues we had to work out:
1. She lives on the East Coast and I live on the West Coast so hogging the covers won't be a problem.
2. I'll have to convert to her religion, alcoholism.
3. We're not lesbians so sex will be awkward.
4. She has kids and I've seen examples of them in stores and on the streets.
5. She has a husband and I'd recognize him if I ACCIDENTALLY slept with him.
Where are we registered?
1. Every bar in the United States and Canada.
2. Rosie O'Donnell's family cruises.
3. Ellen's online store. We're both an extra small.
Where are we going on our honeymoon?
We're thinking a golf resort. Golf is pretty easy to play, isnt it?''
Why did we do this now?
Because Braja was KEEPING US APART.
Yes, there were some issues we had to work out:
1. She lives on the East Coast and I live on the West Coast so hogging the covers won't be a problem.
2. I'll have to convert to her religion, alcoholism.
3. We're not lesbians so sex will be awkward.
4. She has kids and I've seen examples of them in stores and on the streets.
5. She has a husband and I'd recognize him if I ACCIDENTALLY slept with him.
Where are we registered?
1. Every bar in the United States and Canada.
2. Rosie O'Donnell's family cruises.
3. Ellen's online store. We're both an extra small.
Where are we going on our honeymoon?
We're thinking a golf resort. Golf is pretty easy to play, isnt it?''
Why did we do this now?
Because Braja was KEEPING US APART.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
I Should Have Become A Doctor And Saved Myself The Office Fee Visits
Yesterday, the MRI. As soon as I was ready to go, I went on autopilot, which is what I do when I go to a doctor. Any doctor. I usually have to take someone with me because I block out what they talk about unless it's "nice matching underwear" which dentists tend not to say.
So I parked in the doctors' lot. Boy people get mad when you do that.
Then I walked into Suite 205 AND SAW THE NAME OF DR. WHORE FOR MONEY, otherwise known as Dr. Bob, on the list of doctors that worked there. The doctor who did my foot surgery just HAPPENED to work in the same office? I did not want to see him. So I asked one of the front desk people if I could have a private conversation BEHIND CLOSED DOORS. Turns out that creeps the hell out of people because all talking ended and glances were exchanged. Glances that said "I've heard she can't figure out peeing. RUN."
My new doctor was an avuncular man with a wry sense of humor. And quite brilliant. The word 'surgery' didn't come up once; that's my definition of brilliant. He said I didn't need an MRI yet. (Good, because the valet was ONLY $10.50 that way. Fucking Beverly Bite Me Hills) He said I needed 2 x-rays and when I told him Dr. K. had offered to do them for only $40., he said I should go back and get them there. He was not after my money, like Dr. Bob.
Dr. S. made me walk, did touch tests on my hands and basically said it was all going to go away. He said I was walking like I was on a boat and trying to keep my balance. I actually have some feeling in certain fingers and this whole thing started when I was 13 and got scoliosis. There was nothing I could do about it. I should be grateful this is ALL I got because so many people get worse. I used to say that if I got famous the only disease left for me to shill for would be prickly heat.
This was the first doctor I've seen that didn't have me dissolve in tears. I came home and laid down and fell into a 3 hour nap. It was just a relief from the last 5 stressful years.
Dear Suzy, Hope you read Braja's doctor's orders in my general mail! NO LAUGHING!!! Promise?
I've been banned from making Braja laugh. Whenever I get to meet Rama, who wrote me that, I'm going to make Boss O Everything beat her up. I'm pretty sure that's how Hindus settle disagreements and Boss O needs to start converting now. Her new Hindu name will be Hare Krishna Red Chair.
End of chat.
So I parked in the doctors' lot. Boy people get mad when you do that.
Then I walked into Suite 205 AND SAW THE NAME OF DR. WHORE FOR MONEY, otherwise known as Dr. Bob, on the list of doctors that worked there. The doctor who did my foot surgery just HAPPENED to work in the same office? I did not want to see him. So I asked one of the front desk people if I could have a private conversation BEHIND CLOSED DOORS. Turns out that creeps the hell out of people because all talking ended and glances were exchanged. Glances that said "I've heard she can't figure out peeing. RUN."
My new doctor was an avuncular man with a wry sense of humor. And quite brilliant. The word 'surgery' didn't come up once; that's my definition of brilliant. He said I didn't need an MRI yet. (Good, because the valet was ONLY $10.50 that way. Fucking Beverly Bite Me Hills) He said I needed 2 x-rays and when I told him Dr. K. had offered to do them for only $40., he said I should go back and get them there. He was not after my money, like Dr. Bob.
Dr. S. made me walk, did touch tests on my hands and basically said it was all going to go away. He said I was walking like I was on a boat and trying to keep my balance. I actually have some feeling in certain fingers and this whole thing started when I was 13 and got scoliosis. There was nothing I could do about it. I should be grateful this is ALL I got because so many people get worse. I used to say that if I got famous the only disease left for me to shill for would be prickly heat.
This was the first doctor I've seen that didn't have me dissolve in tears. I came home and laid down and fell into a 3 hour nap. It was just a relief from the last 5 stressful years.
Dear Suzy, Hope you read Braja's doctor's orders in my general mail! NO LAUGHING!!! Promise?
I've been banned from making Braja laugh. Whenever I get to meet Rama, who wrote me that, I'm going to make Boss O Everything beat her up. I'm pretty sure that's how Hindus settle disagreements and Boss O needs to start converting now. Her new Hindu name will be Hare Krishna Red Chair.
End of chat.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
The Princess And The Pee
I stopped wearing underwear about a year ago. With that cast on my leg and foot, it would have taken 2 hours to put on a thong, which I usually wear. When the cast finally came off and I was transferred to moon boot status, there was no way I could get a thong over that either as it was doubling as my coffee table. So, still no underwear.
But yesterday was my acupuncture appointment so I remembered that although men prefer to look at commando, they're usually boyfriends and hopefully not doctors. So I searched for the pretty black thong that matches my strapless black bra and for a minute thought I should just go like that because me look so sexy and after all, isn't that what doctors are really expecting from women, matching underwear? I may have that axiom confused with mothers and ER's.
I wandered around my apartment in a good mood. This would be the LAST doctor and he was from Japan and I'm sure their country is closer to heaven than ours so I was convinced The Japanese Jesus was going to restore me to normal. (Yes, I know that's virtually impossible but let's all just jump on that bus anyway, ok?)
Right before I left I had to pee.
As I was sitting there I thought the pee was a little warmish, more warm than other pee I've peed and I thought, is that my pee edging toward my butt crack? Good grief, why is this peeing taking so long? Is my pee canal somehow hooked up to a faucet and it's just now that I'm noticing?
Eventually the peeing ended and I went to wipe and thought, "Where is the pee exit gone to? Is it like one of those garden hoses that has just rewound itself back into my abdomen?" OH MY GOD, AM I DYING?
I had peed into and through the formerly black and now inky black thong. And now I had no time to shower again because I had wasted so much time staring at myself in the mirror. After a quick clean up, I threw on a pair of panties that were black and leopard. They ought to keep the doctor occupied for a while. God, I just used the worst word in the world, "panties." Oh I'm dying alright.
I wish this was the end of the story but it's not. Because not only did Dr. K do nothing to me, he called TWO MORE DOCTORS, one of whom I'm going to see tomorrow to get an MRI of my neck to make sure I have no BRAIN BLEEDING. Man, you can't hear that enough. Where do these people think my money comes from, Mrs. Ruth Madoff? The acupuncturist had right off the bat guessed my exact weight which made me think I got lost on the way over and ended up in a carnival.
His little dog Chippy kept circling me and the doctor said, "He no like strangers, rescue dog." So I didn't bother to be friendly. Then the dog came up and let me pet him and the acupuncturist said, "Oh myyyy, he never do that. He like you." Then the dog jumped up on me and begged for ear scratches and Dr. K said, "I can't believe this, he NEVER do this to anyone. EVER!"
Yeah, but maybe Dr. K had never had a patient who smelled vaguely like a fire hydrant before.
End of chat.
But yesterday was my acupuncture appointment so I remembered that although men prefer to look at commando, they're usually boyfriends and hopefully not doctors. So I searched for the pretty black thong that matches my strapless black bra and for a minute thought I should just go like that because me look so sexy and after all, isn't that what doctors are really expecting from women, matching underwear? I may have that axiom confused with mothers and ER's.
I wandered around my apartment in a good mood. This would be the LAST doctor and he was from Japan and I'm sure their country is closer to heaven than ours so I was convinced The Japanese Jesus was going to restore me to normal. (Yes, I know that's virtually impossible but let's all just jump on that bus anyway, ok?)
Right before I left I had to pee.
As I was sitting there I thought the pee was a little warmish, more warm than other pee I've peed and I thought, is that my pee edging toward my butt crack? Good grief, why is this peeing taking so long? Is my pee canal somehow hooked up to a faucet and it's just now that I'm noticing?
Eventually the peeing ended and I went to wipe and thought, "Where is the pee exit gone to? Is it like one of those garden hoses that has just rewound itself back into my abdomen?" OH MY GOD, AM I DYING?
I had peed into and through the formerly black and now inky black thong. And now I had no time to shower again because I had wasted so much time staring at myself in the mirror. After a quick clean up, I threw on a pair of panties that were black and leopard. They ought to keep the doctor occupied for a while. God, I just used the worst word in the world, "panties." Oh I'm dying alright.
I wish this was the end of the story but it's not. Because not only did Dr. K do nothing to me, he called TWO MORE DOCTORS, one of whom I'm going to see tomorrow to get an MRI of my neck to make sure I have no BRAIN BLEEDING. Man, you can't hear that enough. Where do these people think my money comes from, Mrs. Ruth Madoff? The acupuncturist had right off the bat guessed my exact weight which made me think I got lost on the way over and ended up in a carnival.
His little dog Chippy kept circling me and the doctor said, "He no like strangers, rescue dog." So I didn't bother to be friendly. Then the dog came up and let me pet him and the acupuncturist said, "Oh myyyy, he never do that. He like you." Then the dog jumped up on me and begged for ear scratches and Dr. K said, "I can't believe this, he NEVER do this to anyone. EVER!"
Yeah, but maybe Dr. K had never had a patient who smelled vaguely like a fire hydrant before.
End of chat.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Hey, The Tide's In
P&G has asked BlogHer to help them get the word out about their efforts to raise money via T-Shirt sales to support families that are affected by disaster.
The shirts are vintage-looking and support a great cause. Shirts can be purchased through this link: http://rs6.net/tn.jsp?et=1102501489124&e=001GzzDufMyAceHxH-K7v_0dRx_jKbblWdu24N8dPUbzs7ivmD_pdCUAGjCY9n3zB3HJfVXsuKGuZNWYDikT9JnI0x2MwTKVBUDS6cJlvaryMaZji1PaAxAihRSBPkJCaknG2NfYXYlUDHkvkgYM4FG177eJmk_66JWZuMcslt_KxQgyy7-UEt08A
The shirts are vintage-looking and support a great cause. Shirts can be purchased through this link: http://rs6.net/tn.jsp?et=1102501489124&e=001GzzDufMyAceHxH-K7v_0dRx_jKbblWdu24N8dPUbzs7ivmD_pdCUAGjCY9n3zB3HJfVXsuKGuZNWYDikT9JnI0x2MwTKVBUDS6cJlvaryMaZji1PaAxAihRSBPkJCaknG2NfYXYlUDHkvkgYM4FG177eJmk_66JWZuMcslt_KxQgyy7-UEt08A
Please use this link (this helps distinguish the source, as we are having a good-natured contest between several social media companies - but of course, the goal is to get the word out about this great charity!) (BlogHer will OBVIOUSLY win. I'm like Monica on Friends: "My team always wins!)
So, here's what we're asking: Please post a short blurb on your blog (Do they REALLY know me? The only thing short about me is my patience)about the program, (Oh I get it, BlogHer doesn't even read me) and share the T-shirt link with your readers. If you DO post about it, or tweet about it, will you drop by this form and leave me the links? You can also share on Facebook or Twitter. (Again with the not reading me) BlogTalkRadio hosts? Podcasters? We want to show P&G the power of social media! The form is here.
I USE IT because my mom used it before me and I'm a robot child.
From Tide's Loads of Hope Website: Tide Loads of Hope helps in the aftermath of a natural disaster by providing clean clothes and a sense of comfort to families in need. Partnering with Feeding America, we travel to disaster affected neighborhoods with the Tide Loads of Hope truck or vans and offer our free mobile laundry service. (Please start with my house because the disaster that hit my place was called Hurricane Laziness)
They use 32 high-efficiency washers and dryers stationed on the truck and can do 300 wash and dry cycles a day -equal to one year's worth of laundry for a single family which means they wash about 9,000 loads of laundry over a four-week period.
In partnership with a local laundromat, the Tide Loads of Hope vans provide free laundry service at the same load rate as the trucks leveraged during disasters where neighboring communities still have a source of electricity.
To date, Tide Loads of Hope has washed more than 35,000 loads of laundry for over 20,000 families. Most importantly, the Tide Loads of Hope program means we're equipped to take action whenever and wherever there is a need in our country. In the wake of Hurricane Katrina, the need for clean clothing became critical, and Tide found a way to help. So in November 2005, the Tide Loads of Hope truck headed to Camp Hope in the Metairie, LA area and cleaned over 10,000 loads of laundry. The spirit of this first venture informs and inspires everything Tide Loads of Hope program does.
Thanks a million! We appreciate any help you can give us to get the word out.
Sincerely,
Jenny Lauck for the rest of the BlogHerAds team. (Please come to my house first. I'll let them use my Tide if they bring pie. If you have to cheat to win I have NO problem with that).
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Old Friends
My comedian friend Jane is in town from NY and we made those sorta kinda plans, you know, the ones you can't remember? Between us we managed to figure out today was Saturday; and that only took five minutesish. Every time I talk to her she makes me laugh until my cough starts up and then I have to hang up and consult WebMD to make sure I don't have throat cancer.
Last time she was in LA we went to LACMA (Art Museum) and had lunch there.
This is from their exhibition "What The Fuck Is This?~ 2007" I'm eating peanut butter straight from the jar since I'm out of food and this picture made me hungry. If only I could remember what it was.
I DO know it's Saturday if that comes up on a pop quiz.
I'm going to the acupuncturist on Monday. A Japanese man recommended by my Vietnamese pedicurist. And really? Acupuncture is Chinese.
End of chat.
Last time she was in LA we went to LACMA (Art Museum) and had lunch there.
This is from their exhibition "What The Fuck Is This?~ 2007" I'm eating peanut butter straight from the jar since I'm out of food and this picture made me hungry. If only I could remember what it was.
I DO know it's Saturday if that comes up on a pop quiz.
I'm going to the acupuncturist on Monday. A Japanese man recommended by my Vietnamese pedicurist. And really? Acupuncture is Chinese.
End of chat.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Now EVERYONE Can Bite Me Friday
Our very dear blog friend Braja, from Lost and Found in India has been in a serious car crash on her way to the airport in India to go to Bangkok and then on to New Zealand.
I feel more than just horrible because she was supposed to call me from the airport so I kept my phone on a leash and dragged it around all day and night, not knowing when the call would come through since India is next to Saturn in the Solar system.
When I didn't hear from her I thought, "She must have been running late." and "She'd better not have forgotten me!" I've never met her but I instinctively knew she's the type of person who keeps her word.
I've been to India and THEY ARE THE WORST DRIVERS. They make South Korean, French and Italian drivers look handicapped.
Please check here for links to the updates as she and her husband were both injured and he is in critical condition and the driver might lose his leg.
Please send prayers and light. She would do it for you.
I feel more than just horrible because she was supposed to call me from the airport so I kept my phone on a leash and dragged it around all day and night, not knowing when the call would come through since India is next to Saturn in the Solar system.
When I didn't hear from her I thought, "She must have been running late." and "She'd better not have forgotten me!" I've never met her but I instinctively knew she's the type of person who keeps her word.
I've been to India and THEY ARE THE WORST DRIVERS. They make South Korean, French and Italian drivers look handicapped.
Please check here for links to the updates as she and her husband were both injured and he is in critical condition and the driver might lose his leg.
Please send prayers and light. She would do it for you.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Chris + Rihanna = M + Suzy
I'm not going to jump down Rihanna's throat because I've been there, done that. When I was her age. M was in his 30's and and used to rough me up. He would grab me by the arm and yank me. And then he'd do what he always did: apologize. Said he'd never do it again and give me flowers or jewelry, which he stole from his mother, usually things from the 1940's that I still have.
It was my roommate who noticed the marks. I didn't even see them. Young love can be so stupid when you're 22 and the man is insecure and controlling. I was planning on marrying this man. Thank God that never happened. Statistics say getting married in your 20's is now no longer recommended by psychiatrists, marriage counselors or even the clergy. People in their 20's just don't have a lot of street smarts. And I was one of them when I was 22. GOD did I have a lot to learn.
So when my roommate asked if M was beating me, I said, "Of course not." To me, beating involved blood and weapons.
But it soon escalated. M was jealous. Ridiculously jealous. A glance from another man would set him off. It was always about men. I was in a theater company and got a lot of attention. He had no job at the time and I guess felt ashamed. He was a master manipulator and charming to everyone. Even me. Until we were alone.
The year we met we drove across country so that I could have a surgery that would eventually save my life. In Amarillo, Texas we checked into a motel and then went to a local bar. We had a few beers and left. On the way out, a cowboy asked me what time it was. I looked at my watch, turned around and answered him. When we got back to the motel, all hell broke loose.
"Is that your new boyfriend?"
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
"He asked me what time it was."
"A whore, a lying fucking whore, that's what you are."
"HE ASKED ME WHAT TIME IT WAS."
"He wrote something down on his hand, what was it, your PHONE number?"
"I don't HAVE a phone; we left San Francisco, remember?"
People pounded on the wall next door and yelled SHUT THE FUCK UP. M pounded right back and told them to shut the fuck up. They didn't pound again. I don't remember what I said next but he pushed me backwards and then when he got close enough, he threw me across a bed and I landed on a bedpost and got a black eye. He said he was going to kill me.
I cried. He apologized. There was no flower shop in the motel and his mother's jewelry box was mercifully hundreds of miles away. So I took the apology, the kisses, his tears and just sat on the edge of the bed feeling like a rerun.
He said we should go back to the bar so HE could cool down. So, like the ever faithful afraid I was going to lose him girl, I acquiesced. The bar finally closed and we walked out all smoochy and holding hands. We were soon surrounded by 5 men. They asked us if we wanted to go party.
"No, we've got an early ride out of here tomorrow."
"Oh come on; it's good stuff."
They surrounded us and made one guy go in our car while the other 3 went in their car and told us to follow them. My black eye started to pound but that was nothing compared to the kind of trouble I knew we were in now. The 3 of us sat in the front seat, me in the middle, the rape seat. I suddenly got real calm and told the stranger next to me that I hoped there was a gas station along the way since we'd been experiencing car trouble. Then I told him M had just beat me up so he'd know he was a fighter. The stranger didn't even look at me and grunted.
After about 10 silent minutes I turned to M and said, 'There goes that front tire again."
"What tire?"
"The right front tire.' I elbowed him hard. M finally got it. Stretched out in front of us was miles and miles of dark highway and the tail lights of the other car were far in the distance. M and I were not going to get out of this alive.
M slowed the car and I asked the stranger to get out and check the tire and to leave the door open so when he told us what was wrong we could hear him. He yelled from the dark, "Looks good from here."
"Are you sure, check the ghdysgsh."
"The WHAT?"
"Floor it," I whispered to M, "and do a 180."
He did. The open door knocked the stranger flat and M's Dodge Charger turned, burned serious rubber and took off at about 90 mph.
I guess I had SOME street smarts. And M never hit me again. But when we got to my parents' house, my dad didn't talk to me for 7 months because of that black eye.
When I went back to California, M and I got back together. WOMEN ALWAYS GO BACK. People never understand this but it happens over and over and over in this kind of dyad. Don't judge unless you've been there. I don't approve of Rihanna going back to Chris but it's her path to walk in life, their karma that does not concern you or me so I don't judge. I've learned one thing, I've NEVER met ONE person who wasn't fucked up in some way. Some, obviously, more than others. My dad used to hit me when I was a kid. Is that why I allowed it from M? I thought I deserved it? Or was it just part of what I had to go through to get from Point F to Point G in life?
I never got hit again by anyone again.
M died of a heroin overdose.
It was my roommate who noticed the marks. I didn't even see them. Young love can be so stupid when you're 22 and the man is insecure and controlling. I was planning on marrying this man. Thank God that never happened. Statistics say getting married in your 20's is now no longer recommended by psychiatrists, marriage counselors or even the clergy. People in their 20's just don't have a lot of street smarts. And I was one of them when I was 22. GOD did I have a lot to learn.
So when my roommate asked if M was beating me, I said, "Of course not." To me, beating involved blood and weapons.
But it soon escalated. M was jealous. Ridiculously jealous. A glance from another man would set him off. It was always about men. I was in a theater company and got a lot of attention. He had no job at the time and I guess felt ashamed. He was a master manipulator and charming to everyone. Even me. Until we were alone.
The year we met we drove across country so that I could have a surgery that would eventually save my life. In Amarillo, Texas we checked into a motel and then went to a local bar. We had a few beers and left. On the way out, a cowboy asked me what time it was. I looked at my watch, turned around and answered him. When we got back to the motel, all hell broke loose.
"Is that your new boyfriend?"
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
"He asked me what time it was."
"A whore, a lying fucking whore, that's what you are."
"HE ASKED ME WHAT TIME IT WAS."
"He wrote something down on his hand, what was it, your PHONE number?"
"I don't HAVE a phone; we left San Francisco, remember?"
People pounded on the wall next door and yelled SHUT THE FUCK UP. M pounded right back and told them to shut the fuck up. They didn't pound again. I don't remember what I said next but he pushed me backwards and then when he got close enough, he threw me across a bed and I landed on a bedpost and got a black eye. He said he was going to kill me.
I cried. He apologized. There was no flower shop in the motel and his mother's jewelry box was mercifully hundreds of miles away. So I took the apology, the kisses, his tears and just sat on the edge of the bed feeling like a rerun.
He said we should go back to the bar so HE could cool down. So, like the ever faithful afraid I was going to lose him girl, I acquiesced. The bar finally closed and we walked out all smoochy and holding hands. We were soon surrounded by 5 men. They asked us if we wanted to go party.
"No, we've got an early ride out of here tomorrow."
"Oh come on; it's good stuff."
They surrounded us and made one guy go in our car while the other 3 went in their car and told us to follow them. My black eye started to pound but that was nothing compared to the kind of trouble I knew we were in now. The 3 of us sat in the front seat, me in the middle, the rape seat. I suddenly got real calm and told the stranger next to me that I hoped there was a gas station along the way since we'd been experiencing car trouble. Then I told him M had just beat me up so he'd know he was a fighter. The stranger didn't even look at me and grunted.
After about 10 silent minutes I turned to M and said, 'There goes that front tire again."
"What tire?"
"The right front tire.' I elbowed him hard. M finally got it. Stretched out in front of us was miles and miles of dark highway and the tail lights of the other car were far in the distance. M and I were not going to get out of this alive.
M slowed the car and I asked the stranger to get out and check the tire and to leave the door open so when he told us what was wrong we could hear him. He yelled from the dark, "Looks good from here."
"Are you sure, check the ghdysgsh."
"The WHAT?"
"Floor it," I whispered to M, "and do a 180."
He did. The open door knocked the stranger flat and M's Dodge Charger turned, burned serious rubber and took off at about 90 mph.
I guess I had SOME street smarts. And M never hit me again. But when we got to my parents' house, my dad didn't talk to me for 7 months because of that black eye.
When I went back to California, M and I got back together. WOMEN ALWAYS GO BACK. People never understand this but it happens over and over and over in this kind of dyad. Don't judge unless you've been there. I don't approve of Rihanna going back to Chris but it's her path to walk in life, their karma that does not concern you or me so I don't judge. I've learned one thing, I've NEVER met ONE person who wasn't fucked up in some way. Some, obviously, more than others. My dad used to hit me when I was a kid. Is that why I allowed it from M? I thought I deserved it? Or was it just part of what I had to go through to get from Point F to Point G in life?
I never got hit again by anyone again.
M died of a heroin overdose.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
More (And Almost) Less Of Hollywood
The Chrysler Building in NYC was my favorite building in that city. The Capitol Records Building is my favorite one in LA. and not just because it's a few blocks from my house. Read below for the Internet's description, things I didn't even know and I KNOW EVERYTHING.
Opened in 1956, this 13-story tower, just north of the legendary intersection of Hollywood and Vine, is one of the city's most recognizable buildings. The world's first circular office building is often, but incorrectly, said to have been made to resemble a stack of 45s under a turntable stylus (it kinda does, though). Nat "King" Cole, songwriter Johnny Mercer, and other 1950s Capitol artists populate a giant exterior mural. Look down and you'll see the sidewalk stars of Capitol's recording artists (including John Lennon). In the lobby, numerous gold albums are on display.
Opened in 1956, this 13-story tower, just north of the legendary intersection of Hollywood and Vine, is one of the city's most recognizable buildings. The world's first circular office building is often, but incorrectly, said to have been made to resemble a stack of 45s under a turntable stylus (it kinda does, though). Nat "King" Cole, songwriter Johnny Mercer, and other 1950s Capitol artists populate a giant exterior mural. Look down and you'll see the sidewalk stars of Capitol's recording artists (including John Lennon). In the lobby, numerous gold albums are on display.A few years ago they wanted to turn the building into CONDOS. Thankfully the Landmarks Commissions stepped in and the idea was permanently scrapped. CONDOS?
What is WRONG with people?
End of chat.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
A Daily Occurence
When this is in your backyard:
You see this from your second story window every day:
And can hear them talking about the weirdo in the second floor window who only has on a black bra and edible panties:
You see this from your second story window every day:And can hear them talking about the weirdo in the second floor window who only has on a black bra and edible panties:
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