August 9, 2006
Better than watching paint dry. Just barely.
Do not ask me why on earth I thought these videos would be interesting to anyone, and also can I add that folks on the bus must have seen me do some mighty strange things in our time together because not one passenger batted an eye when I whipped out my camera and video captured the bus ... driving. In traffic. Really, when I told you it was boring I was kind of being generous in praise.
But this boringness is to offset the WHITE TRASH DRAMA MAGNET that is me, yours truly. Do you have time for the tee tiniest story before I show you the boringest videos?
Last night I went on a d-a-t-e and it was actually real nice, we had a nice time, he's got potential so ya'll don't ask me questions and jinx it because I will tell you nothing, nothing! Except that he opened doors for me and took me on a proper date so you know. It was nice. I came home pleased as pie.
So I am on the phone deconstructing said date and basking in ensuing nice happy warm feeling with one Jennifer, who I swear knows all my secrets and must never be allowed to fall into the hands of enemy bloggers. It would be bad. And we are chitchatting as we do (it sounds like this: Jen says, "And I can't believe how the Dyson really does pick up more than other vacuum cleaners, and I emptied the canister and now I realize why you vacuum so much..." and I say, "He's nice. Do you think I am too crazy and drive off nice men?" Jen: "You are not crazy, crazylady. Of course not. Then I vacuumed again, I think the level of clean is at an all-time high..." Me: "Thank God you finally bought a Dyson, oh I don't think he loves and adores cats. By the way, I kind of didn't let him on to the plural nature of the herd members..." Jen: "That's best for now." Unison: "Thank God for Dyson.")
And she and I are chitchatting in this manner, which is to say we have two different conversations happening at the same time, and then someone shuffles up to my front door AT MIDNIGHT. Drunker than a skunk. Smoking a Marlboro red with the ash about sixteen feet long. AT MIDNIGHT.
"Can you help me?" It's Julie, Crackhead Bob's girlfriend and cousin.
"Are you OK?" Me, and Jen is on the phone hearing it.
"Blur blurbuly slushher slur."
"Ah, Jen, can I call you right back?"
And of all the people in the nighborhood, I was the lucky one to be pulled into their vortex of crazy and I swear I do not know how I manged to get up this morning, seeing as I was up until two a.m. and we were thisclose to having to call the law. So, I will not go into long detail because really it is all sort of sad and unpleasant, but here is what I have discovered:
A: I always THINK I am crazy and eccentric and three and a half minutes from talking into my bra while directing traffic in my nightgown, but when you see real crazy it's kind of comforting. Because you realize that you, meaning me, maybe are a little off your rocker but hell. You are not standing at a stranger's door with your shorts half-unbuttoned and slurring into a can of Natural Light at midnight on a Tuesday.
B: Thank God.
C: And also maybe you realize that for all the California, wheatgrass, yoga, Starbucks and silicone of this city, THERE ARE REDNECKS EVERYWHERE. Next time someone wants to mock me for being a cracker, I plan to haul 'em over to Bob and Julie's house. COUSINS for chrissake. Makes me look practically genteel.
D: Friends like Jennifer are good to have in times of peril, and also of course in times of not-peril, but in this case we're in peril-ish, because she got on the horn and called 311 (the non-emergency 911) with something like, "Um, my friend? She had to go help this woman who was drunk and her boyfriend who is also her cousin set the house on fire once, have any 911 calls come in like that? From Encino? Because Laurie is not answering her cell!"
E: Isn't that the best friend EVER? I love you, Jen.
After this little story, you can see why the boringness of my early morning bus drive would appeal so to me. It may be the dullest damn thing on YouTube, but for that I am eternally grateful and even PROUD. It is not easy being a White Trash Drama Magnet. It does tax the strategic reserves.
Now for... TA DA!!! THE PROOF OF WHY TECHNOLOGY IS GOING TO HELL IN A HANDBASKET AND/OR BUS:
Morning drive on the 101 in Hollywood:
Morning drive past the Capitol Records building:
Morning drive past the Cathedral in downtown:
Posted by laurie at August 9, 2006 11:10 AM