Ashley Ream
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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The Pants of Youth

I stood in the dressing room, tags dangling off the hip of the pants and I knew the day had come, a day every woman dreads. The day you are forced to ask yourself: "Am I too old for these?"

This moment was quickly followed by several glasses of champagne just to take the sting out of it. If I'd had something stronger, I'd have taken that, too.

The pants in question, rather than zipping or buttoning, laced up the fly. I know. I know. But the rear view worked. And ladies, I know you understand, when your butt looks good in something, you buy it. No questions asked. They could be made of burlap. They could have little duckies embroidered up the leg. They could be neon pink. Doesn't matter. It is all about the butt.

Except.

It cannot be avoided. I am kissing 30. And at some point, you just can't lace up your pants. Well, you can except you have to move to a trailer park and start smoking Pall Malls. And that's a mental image that doesn't help things. The one place you do not want to be facing a personal identity crisis is under yellow neon lighting, half naked behind a curtain that doesn't really close all the way. Trust me.

I hemmed. I hawed. In the end, I bought the pants. It's L.A. The rules are different here, right?


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