Blue Jean Wearing Dogs and Glaring Goths


We went to Toast Café on 3rd in Hollywood to have lunch yesterday while we were in the area. While waiting for our table, Norman met someone who went to high school with Jack Nicholson’s daughter.We got seated and, due to the heat, I took off my jacket to reveal my not-often-presented arms to the world. I thought, who really would care about, or even notice, my flabby white limbs? “I got nothin’ to lose”, I felt at that weakened moment in the heat. Our daughter, Paris, is becoming gifted at spotting paparazzi. While we were eating lunch, she said, “Mom, there is a paparazzi standing over there.” I turned and didn’t see anyone suspicious looking. She said she had identified someone with a large bag who appeared to have no real purpose but kept moving to different locations along the sidewalk. Anyway, we proceeded to talk to the man behind us who haddog jean custom made jeans for his dog, pocket chains and all. I even took a picture of the spoiled critter. It turns out the dog’s owner was an international DJ who said he would love for Norman to attend some of the parties he works. We handed him one of Norman’s business cards, then we watched him and his blue-jean-wearing dog and model girlfriend drive away in their Ashton Martin vehicle. After we finished eating, I decided to walk alone to get our car down the street and offer curb-side pickup to my family. So I am walking down the street and I heard someone running behind me, then along side of me, then in front of me running backwards. I said aloud, “Oh no!” The experienced backward-runner pulls out his camera and starts flashing. I put my head down and let my thick blonde mane fall forward, because…well…it seemed like the right thing to do to try to hide the large pimple that erupted on my forehead earlier that morning. Perhaps the blocking of my face only added to the scene. I got into my Prius with newly darkened  windows and drove around to pick up my family. They were photographed non-stop until we sped off down a side street. “Why are we speeding down a side street?”, I thought.Later that day, after attending an art gallery show and going shopping at The Grove, we went to check out the ArcLight Los Angeles movie theater, since Norman will be attending his HBO Documentary film premiere there mid-week. We wanted to investigate the location we have heard so much about. The theater has a completely different feel from any we have attended—very high end. The gift shop, alone, is a worthwhile event. We saw at least one celebrity—Indian beauty Mindy Kaling who plays chatty Kelly Kapoor on the NBC sitcom The Office. She was just hanging out with her friends, with her cute higher-than-normal voice.

After watching the tear-jerking “The Time Traveler’s Wife” film, we left the theater. My daughter and I were ahead of Norman, and we realized when we got to the elevators for the parking structure that we had lost Norman altogether. We waited, and then around the corner came Norman with a security guard. I said to Paris, “Oh great, what did he do NOW??” Norman then proceeded to tell me that he had “special security detail” assigned to him who would be escorting us to our car. Now that’s what I call a theater experience.

At 10 pm, our final event was to attend an invitation-only underground art opening on Melrose. It was a surreal experience; it should have been filmed for your stereo-typical goth party scene in a movie. The art was all creepy with lots of skulls, bones, and blood, with death-to-everyone rock playing loudly in the background. Some of Norman’s darker sculpture work would have actually fit in quite well. Being the only blonde in the place I stood out like a sore thumb, not to mention the fact that, while everyone else was in scantily-clad leather, tattoos, and nose-rings, I had a business jacket on. At least my jacket was black. Well, I tried to fly under the radar, but unfortunately, I got the attention of the whole place when I toppled over a glass of white wine onto a table. I understood how Pee Wee Herman felt when he knocked over the row of Hells Angels motorcycles like a cheap set of dominos. Needless to say, we quickly left the place and drove home to see our happy puppy. That was enough excitement for the day.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s