As I passed a big burly tattooed guy on the street today, he said, "Excuse me, miss, do you need someone to massage yo feet?"

Business proposition or come-on? Hell if I know.

How did you respond?

I smiled and said no, thanks.

Incredible Hulk Lou Ferigno pacing back and forth at a car wash in Santa Monica yesterday looking like he wanted to tear the place apart if he didn't get his car back soon.

James Woods and his 21 year old girlfriend .


Surreal because I thought she was his daughter, until the lip lock. Silly me .

Yeah, and the surreal part is that the Technical Problems Today thread was where we were, trying to post anything that would take. I rambled tangentially about the Tacoma Obituaries, then discovered my epitaph: "Posted Twice When Connection Failed." That's about it. Sums up my little life.

I got an email asking me if I'd be interested in appearing on a local TV station's consumer watch program to discuss the attributes of a certain winery database software I use.

Emeril Lagasse will be grand marshal of the 2008 Rose Parade. Shoot, I was hoping Paris would be out in time.

This morning I was hanging around backstage at Avery Fisher Hall when I was introduced the Jake, the backstage dog. I started commenting that Jake would make a great subject for an illustrated children's book when the stage manager walks to his office and comes back with an book called "Jake and the Philharmonic."

It seems someone already had that idea.

I have a friend here, visiting from England. I was trying to get in touch with a mutual friend #1 in Austin to see if he wanted to have dinner with us tonight. Meanwhile, I was online, IM'ing with another mutual friend #2 who has just moved to London. He IM'd me that he had just that moment received an email from mutual friend #1 whom I could not get ahold of. I asked mutual friend #2 in London to email mutual friend #1 in Austin and ask him to phone me immediately. He did, and mutual friend #1 in Austin called me.

Got it? Very surreal....

And what is the connection between Emeril and roses or Pasadena? Is the parade theme about food this year? And Wolfgang won't be in town? I don't understand. And, by the way, did we almost get past two days without anyone mentioning what's-her-name? You vixen, you!

You insist on a theme, eh? The ToR comes up with themes broad enough to include anyone or anything. Thus,

As for Ms. Thang, maybe you are missing (?) the breaking news we get in LA. It's a media feeding frenzy. Talk about kicking it up a notch! Yikes!

Yeah, I keep the AP Breaking available at a moment's notice. Poor Thang. Although, I think she is finally where she needs to be - - in the Stir Psych/Medical Ward. At least she will be near clean sheets and lots of drugs.

The immigration officer at JFK offered to buy me a beer at Farrell's.

how surreal it is this year, to see women in maternity clothing who are actually pregnant..

Jack just told me to give him a break. Which is what I wanted anyway.
So.

Genius boy *with* ESP? I'm so proud.

This whole Paris Hilton thing is becoming very surreal.

I flipped through the TV channels this morning, and probably 10 channels had reports on it during a two minute spin. Only the Animal Planet is immune, so far...

And it's not just the American media. BBC News couldn't shut up about it yesterday.

It must be big; even the TV-free Moras were discussing it over dinner last night.

Holy crap. According to the listing, I'm the only member on the site right now. I've never seen that before. Was I not invited to the MF party? Why am I home alone here? HEY... where ARE all of you??

Nobody's here because everyone's out blogging.

I have been fishing in the Adirondacks until today. Trout were caught. We had every type of weather short of a blizzard, including a hailstorm (mothball-sized), freak windstorms, torrential downpours, and blazing hot summer weather.

It was great.

All male dogs are sons of bitches.

I don't know if there are more young women styling themselves after Ms Hilton or I am just noticing them more. But there are too many.

A family friend told me this weekend that last month a relative of hers fell to her death after she was sitting on the railing of a third floor balcony eating a mango and lost her balance.

I'm very sorry to hear that.

Mangoes are actually quite dangerous. Because they are so delicious and so slippery. When peeling my one and only mango recently for a mango-kiwi salsa, I must have dropped it as least five times. (Quick aside. And I got a pretty stylin' and sharp peeler, too.) If I were doing this outside on my deck, leaning on the rather weak balcony, I would hate to think what might have become of me.

Also on the mango front, I was staying at a little B&B in E. Hampton a week ago. And they have one of the most over the top breakfasts you ever did see. Part of it includes a big circular tray that is hand delivered to your table on which at least ten round bowls lay, each with a different kind of precisely peeled and cut to size fruit. Here was a quick excerpt from our discussion at that point in the meal:

Not me. "Oh, look at all that lovely fruit. How to decide?"
Me. "Mmmm. Why decide?"
Not me. "Oh, those peaches are just soooo good!"
Me. "You know why you love those peaches? Because they're mangoes."

We went through Penn Sta. Saturday night & there were literally hundreds of them.

I don't know whether there was some event at MSG that attracted them, or this was just a normal Saturday night with hordes of PH clones taking the trains in from the burbs.

The Smashing Pumpkins are performing at The Fillmore in San Francisco.

ELEVEN times!?!?!?

(This is a venue known for one-night gigs -- sometimes an artist will play two nights in a row, but rarely.)



Eleven.



Christ.

Weather moving from northeast to southwest. Can't recall when I've seen that before.

I can't recall ever seeing that either. Or ever noticing it, I should say.

i just discovered i own a copy of "the best of joan baez". the good news is this means i have a copy of "diamonds and rust" which surely must be on the list of top 10 "who knew s/he had that in her?" songs.

It's called a Nor'Easter.

Except that this isn't a Nor'Easter. It's just a weird confluence of weather fronts. Weather all down the eastern seaboard moving from northeast to southwest:
http://www.intellicast.com/National/Radar/...ue&animate=true

Not unheard of, but very unusual.

There is a very rich little girl who has settled into the neighborhood with her junkie boyfriend.
At first they were lodged in a store front on Main and slept and performed all sorts of antics in the window while the boyfriend "produced" his art installation. Now they have acquired a loft in the building upstairs, and they roam the neighborhood in fantastic deshabille. She is perhaps seventeen, dresses in thin white sheets and stilletto heels and being that she is already very tall and very, very skinny, looks like a wraith with a pile of tangled dirty blond hair trailing behind her. When she is not wearing stillettos she is barefoot, skipping freely thru the piss and broken glass needles in my hood high as a fucking kite. They have stiffed us twice at the cafe.
Should your heart go out to her, please note that she has an Amex Blackcard that she uses freely at the DVD store and the market across the street, and drives a pristine late '70's El Camino which is parked at the most expensive lot on the block. Her father is a Big Time Hollywood Guy, whose recently shuttered famous French restaurant is awaiting a new re-opening whenever his whim decrees it. Judging from her toys, I'm sure he loves her very much. The rich aren't that different from you and I.
So when the barefoot homeless woman dressed in a similar fashion tried to eat the leftover food at someone's empty table and got chased away by the security guard, I think, how do we know the difference?
Who's to say her daddy didn't love her too?

But did she have a Blackcard?

No a black face.
Big difference.

Where's Sidney Lumet when we need him?

He and his beautiful daughters aren't in this part of town. More's the pity.

Who's to say her daddy ain't Frank Sinatra, reminiscing, reimbursing, reinventing, making his past our present:

When I was seventeen
It was a very good year
It was a very good year for small town girls
And soft summer nights
Wed hide from the lights
On the village green
When I was seventeen

some crazy person's website i found

Well, that's a different perspective on reality. I look at that and think: Gee, maybe mongomania makes sense after all?

And it's Flag Day. Have some apple pie. I don't understand why Miss Skinny Sheets with the Amex blackcard would stiff Monkeymay not once but twice. Must be running a tab. Monica, keep track, invite them in for your lovely paninis and then thank them for their blackcard business. Oh. That wouldn't work. Junkies don't like to eat cuz it sobers them up. The absinthe should work, then.

Brillat-Savarin's hometown was Belley.

I think this guy lives next door to me.

ironically, they don't allow discussion of politics on their forums either.

Is there a place for irony in a clinical setting?

Only until overtaken by ingrained cynicism, heavy sarcasm and brutal degradation of the sick which occurs in about the second month of residency.

Can I get that in an emulsion?

By way of illustration. (I particularly like TEETH -- tried everything else, try homeopathy -- and HBP -- hand bag positive.)

So is the tooth to tattoo ratio a valid diagnostic tool?