So I'm driving down Pico Boulevard today and I suddenly make a screeching stop outside of a BestBuy store. For those of you who don't live in LA, BestBuy is one of those stores where you can buy a refrigerator or a CD or a pen. But I did not want to go inside of BestBuy. What stopped me was a hot dog cart. A regular old New York hot dog cart. And I'm thinking, I can't eat a hot dog. It's going to make me unbelievably ill. What, am I crazy?
"Can I please have a hot dog? Not too spicy."
"What do you want on it?"
Maybe I just wanted to say, "the works", but I ordered the little wiener with everything on it and I got back into my car and I ate the sucker. Oh man, it was soooo good. I could only eat half of it, of course, but it was fantastic. I can't even remember the last time I had a hot dog on the street. So I finished and I wiped off my hands and I sat in the car until the moment when I knew I was going to throw up. And there I was at BestBuy with wonderfully clean rest rooms and I ran in and did the job and when I finished I was so happy that I had eaten that hot dog. The surgeon told me that this would happen. That I would eat things even though I knew they would make me sick but I wouldn't care because for two minutes it would feel great and that's what really mattered. That's why a lot of people get pregnant. Probably, I could have done without the relish.
I drove into an underground garage and I pulled to the side to let someone pull out of their slot and a woman in the world's most gigantic car (I think bigger than that Hummer) pulled around me and took the damn slot! Her car was something called a Cayenne and it seems to be a Porsche SUV. It's the kind of car that says, "Fuck you I'm rich and I can do anything I want and I'm going to take this space BECAUSE I CAN and I don't give a shit about you and your stupidass politically correct Prius!"
So I gave her the space with no argument because it did not seem worth losing another hot dog over a parking space. But then later I'm coming out of the underground lot and I stop to make sure no cars are coming around the corner and a man in a really beat up unrecognizable older car comes barreling through a stop sign and his misses me by a minute. And his car was the kind that said, "Fuck you I'm poor and I can do anything I want because I was given a raw deal in life and I'm going to drive however I want to BECAUSE I CAN and you are driving some kind of fancy Hybrid thingie you asshole you and you have insurance so why should I care what you think?"
The other night I watched a movie with Julie Christie and a really good male actor whose name I can't remember and I can't remember the name of the movie either. In it Julie Christie has alzheimers. I'm certainly glad I can remember HER name. It was the world's saddest movie. If you had a choice between watching that movie and sticking pencils in your eyes, I would go for the pencils. No, it was good. Maybe it's too close to what could be my home but I'm watching and wondering, "Why am I watching this? I should be laughing. I should be thinking about happy things. Little polar bears and puppies and stuff. Not, oh my god Julie Christie is old but thank goodness she didn't have any surgery and if she did it's not working anymore but she's still pretty and so what if she can't remember anything, she's pretty and her hair looks cool."
My infection is still here. Better, but still here. I have chosen to ignore it until after Thanksgiving. Ah, turkey, stuffing. What a great holiday where you eat until you explode. I explode when I eat half a hot dog so I can't wait to see what happens when I eat stuffing. And this is going to be the really hard part...I cannot lie down after dinner...After any meal. I have to sit up due to my new plumbing. Lie down and it's just an invitation to disaster. But two bites of turkey and I'm out like a light. Maybe they could tie me to my chair and I could fall asleep sitting up.
And you think I'm kidding.
Speaking of chairs, I've been meaning to put in a little holiday DeNiro story...The first time I was with him in the Biblical sense...(I never quite know what that means. The Biblical sense. Seems like it should be the opposite of what it means. Maybe it doesn't mean what I think it means. But you know what I mean, right?)
Anyway, the first time that I was with him it involved a chair in the middle of the room..................
What? You think I was going to give you more details? Children read this blog. Use your imagination.