Dispatches from the City of Angels
I'm a writer and humorist living in and writing about Los Angeles. You can catch my novel LOSING CLEMENTINE out March 6 from William Morrow. In the meantime, feel free to poke around. Over at my website you can find even more blog entries than I could fit here, as well as a few other ramblings. Enjoy and come back often.
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Favorite Quotes:
"Taint what a horse looks like, it’s what a horse be." - A Hat Full of Sky by Terry Pratchett
"Trying to take it easy after you've finished a manuscript is like trying to take it easy when you have a grease fire on a kitchen stove." - Jan Burke
"Put on your big girl panties, and deal with it." - Mom
"How you do anything is how you do everything."
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Spiders like to watch you tinkle
EVENING OF DAY ONE
Husband: (crouched down on the floor trying to look under the couch) "I think I saw a spider run under here."
Me: "Can you see him now?"
Husband: "Nope. He was pretty big though."
6 AM DAY TWO
Husband: (face under a pillow, muffled voice emerging from the depths of goose feathers) "Yougoinrun?"
Me: (rolls out of bed and lands with a smack on the floor, uses the opportunity to feel around the floor for running clothes that don't smell too badly) "Uh huh." (struggles to feet trying to pull a pair of shorts on over my head, make it to the bathroom with my head stuck through one of the leg holes)
Here's the thing. I don't speak in complete sentences before I've had my Soy Puffs. And I try very, very hard not to have a crises before my first Diet Dr. Pepper. So a 6 a.m. trip to the potty is just way, way too early for the following scene.
(Taking care of business and flipping through Vanity Fair, brain fog still heavy, vaguely thinking that Anderson Cooper looks better with gray hair)
Movement near my foot. I blink. Contacts aren't in this early. I blink again. The damn thing was the diameter of a golf ball and sneaking up on me unawares like the devil's spawn it surely was.
Did you know it's virtually impossible to finish tinkling when being advanced on by a giant killer spider? It's true. Your brain shuts the whole system down, like some sort of biological fuse box. You get just enough juice to run out of the room with your undies around your ankles, shorts on your head, screaming for your husband.
Nothing like a little dignity to start your day.
First the bees. Now the spiders. Plagues usually come in a ten pack, right?
Husband: (crouched down on the floor trying to look under the couch) "I think I saw a spider run under here."
Me: "Can you see him now?"
Husband: "Nope. He was pretty big though."
6 AM DAY TWO
Husband: (face under a pillow, muffled voice emerging from the depths of goose feathers) "Yougoinrun?"
Me: (rolls out of bed and lands with a smack on the floor, uses the opportunity to feel around the floor for running clothes that don't smell too badly) "Uh huh." (struggles to feet trying to pull a pair of shorts on over my head, make it to the bathroom with my head stuck through one of the leg holes)
Here's the thing. I don't speak in complete sentences before I've had my Soy Puffs. And I try very, very hard not to have a crises before my first Diet Dr. Pepper. So a 6 a.m. trip to the potty is just way, way too early for the following scene.
(Taking care of business and flipping through Vanity Fair, brain fog still heavy, vaguely thinking that Anderson Cooper looks better with gray hair)
Movement near my foot. I blink. Contacts aren't in this early. I blink again. The damn thing was the diameter of a golf ball and sneaking up on me unawares like the devil's spawn it surely was.
Did you know it's virtually impossible to finish tinkling when being advanced on by a giant killer spider? It's true. Your brain shuts the whole system down, like some sort of biological fuse box. You get just enough juice to run out of the room with your undies around your ankles, shorts on your head, screaming for your husband.
Nothing like a little dignity to start your day.
First the bees. Now the spiders. Plagues usually come in a ten pack, right?
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