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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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Read/Post Comments (0) Most Recent Twitters: A 3-foot long alligator was found walking down the middle of the street in Venice Beach this morning. I love L.A. In case you were wondering, it is very difficult to get a hummingbird out of your house. They are irrational and prone to hysterics. L.A. Finds: The Nickel Diner on Main between 5th and 6th is a made-to-look-old, throwback of a place that melds into the old downtown and is, at the same time, part of the renaissance. They serve their burgers medium, their soda in bottles and offer all they can to locals in need. Flickr Updates: The second Thursday of every month is the Downtown Art Walk. The galleries stay open late, the restaurants are packed, bands perform on the streets. God, I love L.A. What I'm Reading: Attack of the Unsinkable Rubber Ducks by Christopher Brookmyre What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami Want E-Mail Updates? Click here, type your e-mail address into the first field (for public entries) and receive an e-mail note each time a new blog post goes up. (Photo updates, Twitters and "L.A. Finds" features not included. Those you have to swing by and check yourself.) Absolutely, positively no spam. Promise. Other author blogs: Sue Ann Jaffarian Eric Stone Christa Faust Lipstick Chronicles |
2006-05-16 9:30 AM Lobster claws: Not just for dinner anymore For really long runs, my body gets divided into two categories. There are the parts that get slimed up with Bodyglide – think Vaseline in stick form – and the parts that gets slimed up with SPF 6,008. Waterproof, of course.
The Bodyglide keeps away the worst of the chaffing. But only the worst. (A runner will lift up their shirt in the banana-and-bagels line after a race to compare missing sections of skin with complete strangers. “Oh, yeah, look at this!” “Man, that’s a big one! That’s gonna hurt tomorrow.” “Yeah, good race, huh?” “The best.”) The sunscreen keeps me from looking like a drunken Kansas City Chiefs* fan all painted up for the big game. But the thing about sunscreen is that it only works on the spots where you actually apply it. I did the back of my neck. The tips of my ears. That little section of face between the corner of my eye and my hairline. You’d think I’d be good at this by now. Turns out, not so much. Yesterday, I went for a three-hour run, and I forgot to SPF my hands. From my wrists down, I am lobster girl. And let me tell ya, it’s a sexy look. I’m particularly looking forward to the peeling and the post-burn freaky tan line, ‘cause there is nothing like a visible reminder of your stupidity that lasts for six months. And on top of everything else, I have the B52s “Rock Lobster” song stuck in my head – a song I never much liked in the first place and now mocks me mercilessly. I keep trying to replace it with “Cherry Bomb” by John Mellencamp, but it’s not working. Stupid lobsters... *My hometown team will make it to the Super Bowl one of these days. Really. Hopefully. Probably. I mean the law of averages...right? Read/Post Comments (0) Previous Entry :: Next Entry Back to Top |
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