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cyranoThis entry written when I should have been in bed two or three hours ago.
Today Margaret Cho flew to Eureka, probably to do a show at Humboldt College. Tomorrow she's on her way back to Burbank. Guess how I know this.
After my job at the airport where I work for an airline that flies from San Francisco to Eureka, I went by my other job where I sell costumes to people who may be on their way to Eureka. I needed my schedule for the rest of the month (five more days in October) and saw Rachelle, the new girl. Gave her a ride home (she's staying at the home of her mother and said mother's boyfriend, at least temporarily) up in the San Jose foothills.
This is where I say 'not fair'. Apparently there's a lot of money in this set up; time shares, property, that sort of thing. The view is gorgeous. The kitchen is huge. The pool looks delightful. But the house has a serious split personality. The kitsch is knee-deep in places. Pillows designed to look like fish. A plywood flat that looks like an old lady's butt. Ceramic dogs. All arranged to inspire maximum clutter. I told her that if I had a shovel and a tacky detector I could turn the house into something spectacular.
There was spinach dip and talking and Charlie's Angels (the new movie not the tv show) and some quiet dozing and suddenly I realized it was already nine and I wasn't in bed yet. So rather than make her share, I came home and now here I am and um so there.
Today Margaret Cho flew to Eureka, probably to do a show at Humboldt College. Tomorrow she's on her way back to Burbank. Guess how I know this.
After my job at the airport where I work for an airline that flies from San Francisco to Eureka, I went by my other job where I sell costumes to people who may be on their way to Eureka. I needed my schedule for the rest of the month (five more days in October) and saw Rachelle, the new girl. Gave her a ride home (she's staying at the home of her mother and said mother's boyfriend, at least temporarily) up in the San Jose foothills.
This is where I say 'not fair'. Apparently there's a lot of money in this set up; time shares, property, that sort of thing. The view is gorgeous. The kitchen is huge. The pool looks delightful. But the house has a serious split personality. The kitsch is knee-deep in places. Pillows designed to look like fish. A plywood flat that looks like an old lady's butt. Ceramic dogs. All arranged to inspire maximum clutter. I told her that if I had a shovel and a tacky detector I could turn the house into something spectacular.
There was spinach dip and talking and Charlie's Angels (the new movie not the tv show) and some quiet dozing and suddenly I realized it was already nine and I wasn't in bed yet. So rather than make her share, I came home and now here I am and um so there.