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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Devil in a Lab Coat
I have only one thing to say: "AAAAHHH!"
As noted in the previous post, I had an itchy eye that I am blaming entirely on the illness-inducing powers of L.A.'s post-apocalyptic smog cloud.
Well, itchy eye turned into ouchie eye, which I explained to the 12-year-old girl posing as a doctor at my usual family practice center.
"It was itchy and now it hurts?" she asked.
"Yes."
"So you are in pain?"
"Yes."
"You would say that you are currently, right this minute, suffering?"
"Right."
"Okay, scoot forward for me, and lean all the way back in the chair."
Here's a little tip from your Aunt Ashley: Whenever instructed by a 12-year-old doctor to "scoot forward and lean all the way back," run. Run for your life because whatever follows ain't gonna be pretty.
My sixth grade graduate proceeded to grab hold of my eyelashes and flip my red, swollen, shockingly painful eyelid INSIDE OUT. And then had the nerve to shout over my blue streak o' curses and wildly contorting limbs, "It does look a little inflamed."
"YOU THINK?!?"
The sadistic little ankle biter handed me a tissue to mop up my watery, reddened face and suggested I apply "a warm compress" for a few days.
Have to hand it to her. Blinding me before making a quick dash out of the room was smart, but just as soon as I'm done with this damn compress, I have plans...
As noted in the previous post, I had an itchy eye that I am blaming entirely on the illness-inducing powers of L.A.'s post-apocalyptic smog cloud.
Well, itchy eye turned into ouchie eye, which I explained to the 12-year-old girl posing as a doctor at my usual family practice center.
"It was itchy and now it hurts?" she asked.
"Yes."
"So you are in pain?"
"Yes."
"You would say that you are currently, right this minute, suffering?"
"Right."
"Okay, scoot forward for me, and lean all the way back in the chair."
Here's a little tip from your Aunt Ashley: Whenever instructed by a 12-year-old doctor to "scoot forward and lean all the way back," run. Run for your life because whatever follows ain't gonna be pretty.
My sixth grade graduate proceeded to grab hold of my eyelashes and flip my red, swollen, shockingly painful eyelid INSIDE OUT. And then had the nerve to shout over my blue streak o' curses and wildly contorting limbs, "It does look a little inflamed."
"YOU THINK?!?"
The sadistic little ankle biter handed me a tissue to mop up my watery, reddened face and suggested I apply "a warm compress" for a few days.
Have to hand it to her. Blinding me before making a quick dash out of the room was smart, but just as soon as I'm done with this damn compress, I have plans...
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