ahream

It’s weird how Hollywood sneaks into the life of normal people out here.

Sometimes it’s useful: My neighbor locked himself out of his apartment and then gave me a tank top from the show he works on (MTV’s “Pimp My Ride”) when I helped him get back in. (Hey, it’s a perfectly acceptable workout top when turned inside out.) And my friends got their apartment when the original tenant got cast in a touring production of something or other.

Sometimes it’s not: I couldn’t park at my dentist’s office because a film crew was shooting there. Then I couldn’t park at my writers’ association meeting for the same reason. And now my yoga teacher is waiting to hear back from “CSI: Miami.”

While rolling up my yoga mat and stuffing my sweaty towel into my gym bag, I listened to the instructor rehash her reading for the “CSI” casting agent (who apparently was screaming at her assistants for something involving stunt people) with several other women in the class who had apparently all also auditioned at some point for the same woman who they all knew by name.

Is it wrong of me to hope it’s only a one-day gig? Take my parking if you must, but by God, leave my workout schedule alone!

Maybe she’ll bring back t-shirts...

ahream Dispatches from the City of Angels I'm a mystery writer living in and writing about Los Angeles. You can catch my short story, "Running Venice," in the new anthology LAndmarked for Murder. Look for it in bookstores and on Amazon.com now. 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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