New Year's Eve and it's hard to believe
another zodiac has gone around.

While you drank yourself high on hoping
and watched the ceiling spin from the ground.

Counting down from ten it's time
to make your annual prayer.

Secret santa in the sky
when will I get my share?

Then you tell yourself
what you want to hear.

Cause you have to believe.

This will be my year.

This will be my year...Semisonic


Go Ahead Punk: E-Mail Little Squaw @ squawpunch@hotmail.com

AIM: gimletgurl7 (Remember when she used to be here?)

Monday, June 07, 2004

Since I was homebound today with a sore throat I'll start at the end...for your convenience everytime I name drop while discussing the more interesting points of my travels I'll write said name in PINK.

My last evening ended up in a limo with three girls on the strip attempting to procure "Jersey Diner Food" aka...grilled cheeses, burgers, fries and milkshakes, etc.etc. etc...

Well the girls were obviously tired from our prior evenings escapades or perhaps from the monster round of shopping and that had been done earlier in the day. They all draped themselves across the car like divas on massage tables. They took off their shoes. One even took off her bra. I sat upright with my pointy toed spiked heeled pink sling backs firmly in place. Earlier in the evening Joel Schumacher (a friend of a friend) had greeted me with, "I didn't think that they let married ladies out of the house in shoes like that." Plus...well a lady never takes her shoes off in public for many reasons but in this case, foot sweatage, proper behavior and/or the potential of foot swellage post shoe removal making for difficult shoe replacement.

Anyway I was twiddling with knobs and trying to find the LA K-Rock and thinking I wish I was with some active people and not three girls acting like dead trout on a rope or something equally as expressive.

After a lot of drama we ended up at The Standard 'cause they have a hip trendy diner that allegedly serves hip trendy versions of diner favorites. It was hopping. The lobby was hopping. People were pouring in and out of the bar. There was a girl sleeping face down in a bikini in a class case behind the receptionist. It was quite LA normal.



We go into the diner. LOUD LOUD MUSIC lay on top of swells of "bar room banter and ice tinkling laughter". I note the ELO playing and choose to enjoy the oddness of it all. It's a shame that my companions did not.

I positioned myself so I was facing the door and facing the window looking out on to the strip. The waiter brings menus. The girls crinkle up their noses...I note that "sirloin burger" is just a fancy way of saying "hamburger" and there were chocolate frosted cupcakes on the counter on our way in. The joint had to have some sugar and grease potential.



Crys of, "All I want is a greasy grilled cheese!" are uttered and I inquire politely from the waiter if that can be done.

Of course it can be done. These people are used to catering to the rich and ornery. It makes no difference if you're unrecognizable. Ornery is ornery and our dad's could be producers, etc...etc...etc...

I tell the squawker the result of my conversation and get a, "I don't want one now. I just want a diet coke."

URRRRRGGHHHH.

I instantly become the "polite" one. Nobody smiles except me. I roll my eyes at him when they bark and complain. He directs all his inquiries to me now that I am the "filter".

Two girls start complaining about how they hate hate hate LA. All the girls look the same. All the guys look the same. It's segregated. There aren't enough blacks or Latinos. The only Asians are shopping in Hollywood or working in nail salons...it's okay during the day (AKA shopping time) but not during the evening, (AKA when it's harder to get in to places)...girl number three has an irate mother on the phone complaining about her 18 year old daughter not getting home from the awards show. The girl was in a car, had it drop her in Pasadena and then released it. It was all very dramatic. The "ethnic" enraged girls are screaming about poor parenting and how it's her own fault that her daughter can't be trusted. They keep telling girl #3 she shouldn't be helping the woman. She's done enough. She put the girl in the car to begin with end of story.

Then the all the "all the men we work with screw around on their wives" conversation starts. It began as a result of the loudest Latina speaking in awe about how the official LA office "hottie" has what she considers a Plain Jane wife. She'd been yammering about it all night. ALL NIGHT. I had explained to her that from my conversations with him I had found out that he was younger than her. She was the homecoming queen and she pursued him! It was all very cute if you ask me. He seemed to love her very much. As to whether that love includes sticking his whatsit somewhere else well who knows. I wasn't going to guess.

Well she starts talking about how it's a natural thing that "all men want fire and adventure" in their lives and thus are apt to cheat. I got extremely irritated and told her that was false and that not all men are like that. But she says most of them are and it's a fact. Then she starts cross checking which men in our dept. she is certain cheat. The wooden Indian aka 110% girl aka no expression latina/asian/island mix supports her theory. Girl Number 3 chimes in but is still dipping in and out to talk to the crazy mom. That's when I checked out. You see I am normally quite chatty, sarcastic and expressive. I started to stare into space (about as rude as I can get 'cause I listen to EVERYONE)...and I start thinking about things.

The Latinas are mad that all the girls in LA "look the same" i.e. thin and white. YET...earlier in the day I had heard them both make disparaging remarks about some chubby girls we'd seen while out.

In their opinion the women in LA are all surgically altered (honestly I saw fewer breast implants there than I normally see in the Short Hills Mall)...both Latinas have small chests and big butts. They think that there is a lack of big butts in LA. I saw plenty of big butts. That's a thing I would notice being of a little butt stature myself.

Not once did they speak about their own "boyfriends" while talking about "men". You want to know why? Because a. the boys won't propose and b. because they think that they can do better. There have been comments made about how their boys aren't cute enough, etc...etc...etc...

Insert "wisdom" here. Very cute and attractive model type boys surround me every day at work. They surrounded me way before I had a ring or a marriage. I on occasion get to interact with famous or rich men who are woven of very loose moral fiber. The kind of men that are used to women offering up services before they even open the door for them. I have been attracted to said men because they are attractive and they are there. I am very persuasive. I have large breasts and a very sharp mind. It would not be hard for me to talk a man into thinking that he was talking me into bed. It would not be hard for me to be deceptive. It would not be hard for me to do a lot of things that are wrong, but only if I stopped believing that they are wrong. Which is something I refuse to do.

I have never ever ever ever once strayed from my Gilly. I have never played the, "If they don't ask they don't need to know game." I have never tucked my rings into my purse and played the game to see what I could win. When it comes down to it, the happiest I've ever been is with Gilly. He loves me when I am don't even want to even like me. I am a very difficult person to manage at times. He has never given up on me. And he has never made me feel less than. Less than meaning less than a person that I myself should be proud of. He stops me from listening to me when I tare me down.

Those girls certainly put a damper on my last night in LA. A night that should have been filled with interesting characters and sparkling lights. I like them now even "less than" I did before.

posted by JustKeepMum on 4:13 PM