2.19.2007
TRAMBLINGS. . .
Sadly, birthday week has come to an end. It ended at 4 in the morning, in San Francisco, with these big smiles, lots of breasts (mostly mine) which you can see from the picture. Those are two of the five women I've often referred to as My Best Friends In The World. No small thing, that.
We had a really good time but, somehow, we always resort to being fourteen. Don't believe me? Well, we're small town girls which meant a good portion of our teen years were spent "cruising parking lots" where the kids from both high schools congregated. We didn't cruise on Saturday but we did end up in a parking lot at 3.am. giggling until we had belly aches and talking about cute boys. Where have all the cute boys gone? That was the question of the night.
ELIZABETH GILBERT was supposed to join us but when I called to inform her that we were leaving at 11 p.m. she broke into hysterical laughter and shouted, "When have you ever seen me at night?" It's true. While we were at Ucross, Elizabeth was in bed every night by 9 o'clock. I called her hotel to tell her our plans then I said, "Listen, these are bona fide city girls so we probably won't leave until after 10." That tickled her funny bone and we made plans to get together on the next go round.
Anyway, I missed Elizabeth at the Italian Cultural Center in L.A. (where she was expecting me) so I got a great response (surprise) when I showed up at her San Francisco reading on Friday night. The Crown Prince and I left Friday morning and I made it just in time to get dressed and jam over the bridge with my friend, D. Great night. Elizabeth is a great storyteller and the BOOKSTORE was packed to overflowing. Folks on the sidewalk. Cool night. I bought a signed copy for the Queen Mother, C.P.'s mom and I found BREAD AND JAM FOR FRANCIS which I loved as a kid. Loved!
The sight of that sweet little cover used to make me so happy. I haven't seen or thought about it in years so it was a nice treat. Saturday, I did some editing on a manuscript I received last week, read a little, then went to lunch with my friend, L. Just a nice weekend. But, like I said, I got home at 4.am. and C.P. decided, of course, to call at 9 a.m. to tell me to be ready to "hit the road". Wanted to kill him but I didn't have the energy. I was comatose on the ride back to L.A. So much so that this is an actual conversation.
C.P.: Did you see those crows? They're hella fucking with that bird.
Me: Silence.
C.P.: Look at them, Chelle. Look.
Me: Louder silence.
C.P.: That is fucked up.
Me: Maybe there's a nest around.
C.P.: No, they're just aggressive. (shakes head) I just don't understand it.
Me: It's not for you to understand.
C.P.: But they're hunting him down to kill him.
Me: That bird probably did something stupid.
C.P.: No, he didn't.
Me: Yes! He did.
Silence.
C.P.: Crows are gotdamn assholes.
Now, if that last line is not a T-shirt logo, I just don't know what is.
Anyway, after this birthday and until I turn sixty, sixty-one, ma'am is officially a dirty word to me. An insult. Completely and utterly without sexuality (unless, unless, it's delivered by a shirtless cowboy that you've invited over and is now standing in the doorway to your bedroom tilting his ten-gallon to you. Wait, did I got off on a tangent?) so I don't want to hear it. Not having it, just in case you meet me out on the road.
Lastly, is it just me or have those tacky wenches on REAL HOUSEWIVES gone monkey-wild this season. Every year I pick one tacky-ass show that I have no business watching. Just one. One. And this is it. They make me ashamed of myself. But, here's the fun, they have no idea that they're tacky, low-budget and gross. The ignorance is profound. One housewife asked a visitor from Canada if she spoke Canadian. Priceless. And each week another one reveals racist tendencies that they then try and explain away on their blogs. A train wreck with runway flares.
The DIGABLE POET has produced a series for youtube called THE LAST DAYS OF BOBBY BLUE. Check it out. ABC's planning a GREY'S ANATOMY SPIN-OFF. And the AMERICAN IDOL girls just shred all over the boys. TIVO is perfect for watching this show because they have so much filler. I got a 2-hour show down to 30 minutes by fast forwarding through the backstory, recaps and chitter chatter. I listened to the song and pieces of the judge's comments. In and out. Best way to watch a bloated show.
Until next time. . .
Sadly, birthday week has come to an end. It ended at 4 in the morning, in San Francisco, with these big smiles, lots of breasts (mostly mine) which you can see from the picture. Those are two of the five women I've often referred to as My Best Friends In The World. No small thing, that.
We had a really good time but, somehow, we always resort to being fourteen. Don't believe me? Well, we're small town girls which meant a good portion of our teen years were spent "cruising parking lots" where the kids from both high schools congregated. We didn't cruise on Saturday but we did end up in a parking lot at 3.am. giggling until we had belly aches and talking about cute boys. Where have all the cute boys gone? That was the question of the night.
ELIZABETH GILBERT was supposed to join us but when I called to inform her that we were leaving at 11 p.m. she broke into hysterical laughter and shouted, "When have you ever seen me at night?" It's true. While we were at Ucross, Elizabeth was in bed every night by 9 o'clock. I called her hotel to tell her our plans then I said, "Listen, these are bona fide city girls so we probably won't leave until after 10." That tickled her funny bone and we made plans to get together on the next go round.
Anyway, I missed Elizabeth at the Italian Cultural Center in L.A. (where she was expecting me) so I got a great response (surprise) when I showed up at her San Francisco reading on Friday night. The Crown Prince and I left Friday morning and I made it just in time to get dressed and jam over the bridge with my friend, D. Great night. Elizabeth is a great storyteller and the BOOKSTORE was packed to overflowing. Folks on the sidewalk. Cool night. I bought a signed copy for the Queen Mother, C.P.'s mom and I found BREAD AND JAM FOR FRANCIS which I loved as a kid. Loved!
The sight of that sweet little cover used to make me so happy. I haven't seen or thought about it in years so it was a nice treat. Saturday, I did some editing on a manuscript I received last week, read a little, then went to lunch with my friend, L. Just a nice weekend. But, like I said, I got home at 4.am. and C.P. decided, of course, to call at 9 a.m. to tell me to be ready to "hit the road". Wanted to kill him but I didn't have the energy. I was comatose on the ride back to L.A. So much so that this is an actual conversation.
C.P.: Did you see those crows? They're hella fucking with that bird.
Me: Silence.
C.P.: Look at them, Chelle. Look.
Me: Louder silence.
C.P.: That is fucked up.
Me: Maybe there's a nest around.
C.P.: No, they're just aggressive. (shakes head) I just don't understand it.
Me: It's not for you to understand.
C.P.: But they're hunting him down to kill him.
Me: That bird probably did something stupid.
C.P.: No, he didn't.
Me: Yes! He did.
Silence.
C.P.: Crows are gotdamn assholes.
Now, if that last line is not a T-shirt logo, I just don't know what is.
Anyway, after this birthday and until I turn sixty, sixty-one, ma'am is officially a dirty word to me. An insult. Completely and utterly without sexuality (unless, unless, it's delivered by a shirtless cowboy that you've invited over and is now standing in the doorway to your bedroom tilting his ten-gallon to you. Wait, did I got off on a tangent?) so I don't want to hear it. Not having it, just in case you meet me out on the road.
Lastly, is it just me or have those tacky wenches on REAL HOUSEWIVES gone monkey-wild this season. Every year I pick one tacky-ass show that I have no business watching. Just one. One. And this is it. They make me ashamed of myself. But, here's the fun, they have no idea that they're tacky, low-budget and gross. The ignorance is profound. One housewife asked a visitor from Canada if she spoke Canadian. Priceless. And each week another one reveals racist tendencies that they then try and explain away on their blogs. A train wreck with runway flares.
The DIGABLE POET has produced a series for youtube called THE LAST DAYS OF BOBBY BLUE. Check it out. ABC's planning a GREY'S ANATOMY SPIN-OFF. And the AMERICAN IDOL girls just shred all over the boys. TIVO is perfect for watching this show because they have so much filler. I got a 2-hour show down to 30 minutes by fast forwarding through the backstory, recaps and chitter chatter. I listened to the song and pieces of the judge's comments. In and out. Best way to watch a bloated show.
Until next time. . .
Labels: Birthday, Books, Girlfriends, Small Town Girls, TV
