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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When Scientologists Attack
The scene: Saturday at the L.A. Marathon Expo - a convention center space the size of New Hampshire littered with vendors all but tackling the 20-some thousand runners and actually ripping their wallets out of their hands. I am intent on examining every new piece of athletic accoutrement. My husband is intent on getting the hell out of there before traffic gets any worse. I win.
Me: "Ohhh look! Super sweat-absorbing, SPF 709, aerodynamic, fatigue-reducing running socks!"
Him: "I think there are Scientologists over there."
Me: (Without looking up from the socks) "Don't be silly. Here have a Gatorade sample."
Him: "I think they're doing stuff to people. Don't they call those things e-meters?"
Me: "I'm sure there aren't any Scien..." (finally looking up long enough to follow his pointed finger) "Holy crap."
Him: (breaks into a disturbingly large grin, clearly convinced his fortunes are looking up) "Go in the tent!"
Me: (as horrified as if he'd suggested I might like to slow dance with an ill-tempered hippopotamus) "YOU go in the tent."
Him: "It'll make a great blog."
Me: (seriously re-thinking this man so willing to throw me to the wolves or worse Tom Cruise) "I don't think it's worth it."
Him: "Awww...come on. Sometimes you have to suffer for your art."
Scene: Yesterday, my phone rings. It's my husband, out of town on business. He's out of breath and more than a little panicky.
Him: "They tried to get me. I was surrounded."
Me: "Who tried to get you?"
Him: "The Scientologists! They're everywhere. I was walking back from the restaurant. They were on the sidewalk. She shoved a pamphlet in my hand. I took it. It was a reflex! I didn't mean to!"
Me: "So throw it away."
Him: "You don't understand! It was a beacon! A GPS locator! It was the Bat Signal!"
Me: "Have you been drinking?"
Him: "They were stationed all along the street. They saw me with the pamphlet. It was horrible. They descended. They hunt in packs, I tell you! Packs! Like hyenas! I almost didn't make it. They chased me down the street."
Me: "Where are you now?"
Him: "On the floor of my hotel room. I'm afraid to turn on the lights."
Me: "Sometimes you have to suffer for your art."
Me: "Ohhh look! Super sweat-absorbing, SPF 709, aerodynamic, fatigue-reducing running socks!"
Him: "I think there are Scientologists over there."
Me: (Without looking up from the socks) "Don't be silly. Here have a Gatorade sample."
Him: "I think they're doing stuff to people. Don't they call those things e-meters?"
Me: "I'm sure there aren't any Scien..." (finally looking up long enough to follow his pointed finger) "Holy crap."
Him: (breaks into a disturbingly large grin, clearly convinced his fortunes are looking up) "Go in the tent!"
Me: (as horrified as if he'd suggested I might like to slow dance with an ill-tempered hippopotamus) "YOU go in the tent."
Him: "It'll make a great blog."
Me: (seriously re-thinking this man so willing to throw me to the wolves or worse Tom Cruise) "I don't think it's worth it."
Him: "Awww...come on. Sometimes you have to suffer for your art."
Scene: Yesterday, my phone rings. It's my husband, out of town on business. He's out of breath and more than a little panicky.
Him: "They tried to get me. I was surrounded."
Me: "Who tried to get you?"
Him: "The Scientologists! They're everywhere. I was walking back from the restaurant. They were on the sidewalk. She shoved a pamphlet in my hand. I took it. It was a reflex! I didn't mean to!"
Me: "So throw it away."
Him: "You don't understand! It was a beacon! A GPS locator! It was the Bat Signal!"
Me: "Have you been drinking?"
Him: "They were stationed all along the street. They saw me with the pamphlet. It was horrible. They descended. They hunt in packs, I tell you! Packs! Like hyenas! I almost didn't make it. They chased me down the street."
Me: "Where are you now?"
Him: "On the floor of my hotel room. I'm afraid to turn on the lights."
Me: "Sometimes you have to suffer for your art."
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