i was abruptly woken up this morning. my next door neighbor (whose window is three feet away from mine) was frantically screaming loud enough for everyone on my street to hear, "MY ASSHOLE'S BURNING!" i didn't know if i should call 911 or bring her a glass of water. i decided to ignore it and toast myself a bagel.
yesterday i dropped my friend nina off at the airport. we got there ahead of schedule, so we decided to stop at a nearby denny's for some lunch before her flight. i ordered a super-bird and some fries with a side of ranch. the super-bird arrives...no ranch. not a big deal. i wait until the waitress comes around and ask again. she apologizes and assures me she'll return with the ranch. i have to assume that she went on break at this point because i don't see her for another 30 minutes. no big deal, i was once a server; i can wait this out. eventually she comes around again and i politely ask again for a ramekin of ranch. she begins this lengthy apology about how it's been a long morning, she doesn't know where her mind is, she's so sorry, etc. Fine. To make up for past transgressions she returns with an entire SOUP BOWL filled to the very brim with delicious ranch! I requested a straw.
speaking of nina, her aunt and uncle live on Sunset Blvd (la DEE da!) at the base of the hollywood hills. this is basically where all the celebrities live in their big celebrity mansions. their house (and most houses in this area) was build around 1928 and is ENORMOUS. it's like old-school hollywood, something you'd envision Humphrey Bogart living in in the 40's. huge vaulted ceilings, elaborate crystal chandeliers, bay windows in every room looking out to a perfectly manicured lawn containing vines and mini-palms. you get the idea. in fact, their next door neighbor is Jamie Kennedy. it's not Pacino, but it's something.
her uncle grew up in the hollywood area and is one of those awesome storytellers. at all times he had a glass of booze glued to his left hand and no matter how much he drank the glass always seemed to stay full. he would tell me wild tales about his trip down the zambezi river in africa, how he spent four months living in peru, how he spent a year working as a taxi driver and would take money on the side from whorehouses to bring them visiting sailors every weekend, and on and on and on. then the hollywood stories began to flow. i didn't recognize the names of half the people he was telling me about, but it didn't matter. i was just totally enthralled. he told me Loretta Swit rented out their guest quarters (formerly the servant's quarters) for five years. the blank look on my face told him i had no idea who Loretta Swit was. he said, "you know, Hot-Lips, from M*A*S*H?" it was just hour after hour of really cool stories, which got louder and more zany as he slowly drained the bottle of tequila.
he and his wife were complaining all night because for the past few days there have been at least three helicopters hovering over their neighborhood 24 hours a day. the reason for this? paris hilton lives two minutes from their house. in fact, when nina and i were trying to locate their house we accidently took a wrong turn and ended up driving past this house that had six news vans, various photographers, and a cop car in front of it. this was of course paris' house. she had just been sent back to the courthouse about 20 minutes before we drove past. that's hot.
the aunt and uncle had some of their friends over for dinner. one of them was Larry Flint's (of Hustler magazine fame) personal PR manager. also, there were two screenwriters! one of them was a pretty big stand up comedian (so they say) in the 80's and later got into television as head writer and then producer on 'Blossom'. the other guy did television also, but now does just playwriting for stage. it was a fine line for me though because they were sitting there eating and chatting with their friends and i didn't want to be the schmuck who bursts into the room like, "hey guys! aren't these tacos great! so how about setting me up with an agent?" but in the end, i did get some gems of wisdom from them. no agent, but whatever. i got gems.
lastly, i was driving on the road today and for about five miles i was behind this little honda civic. across the rear window in huge seven inch white lettering said the words, "FUCK HATERS" awesome. welcome to LA.
No comments:
Post a Comment