Yeah right

I was reading a little article today in which the author references numerous exotic foodstuffs. Among them were truffles from Pierre Herme. "Hmmm," I thought, "I like Paris. I like chocolate." So I went to the website, which features a video of a Pierre Herme runway show. I admit that the idea of gorgegous, expensive desserts having their moment to "do that little turn on the catwalk" has some appeal to me. However, having no legs of their own, the desserts must be carried--in this case by half-naked zombie-like models. Every so often these creatures take a little dip of mousse or what have you and lick it from their fingers with maximum sultriness. I laughed aloud. Whatever fantasy they may wish to inspire, one thing we can all be sure of is that these girls do not spend a lot of time eating dessert. Their asses are pretty much on full view and they are not asses that are familiar with Pierre Herme's oeuvre.

Later in the video the man himself shows up. Ah ha. Now there is someone who looks like he knows his gateaux.

Yesteryear

I'm telling you, I just can't get enough of old time radio.

Philip Marlowe says, "As I drove back to Hollywood, I tried to figure it out, but I had about as much to work with as Gypsy Rose Lee after the third encore."

The cool kids

My boyfriend and I go to a wedding reception where he knows no one but me and I know no one but him and the bride. During the cocktail hour, we stand together, drinks in hand, surveying the other guests who are in happy little chatting clusters. Near the buffet table I spot a group of guys who are decidedly unlike the rest of the crowd. One guy has a tattoo on his neck and carefully sculpted facial hair, one guy sports a buzz cut and frilly pink tuxedo shirt, one guy wears a hint of arrogance like an accessory along with his slightly disheveled blazer; he seems somehow Italian. Of all the people in the room, these are the people I want to talk to.

"Check out the cool kids in the corner," I say to my boyfriend. "Those are my people." It's odd that I would say this since I am not myself a cool kid, but I felt a kinship nevertheless.

We are ushered into the dining room which is set up with dozens of tables for ten. The happy chatting groups select tables where they will become happy dining groups. The two of us wander around like orphans as I search desperately for the cool kids. Finally, as tables fill all around us, I give up my quest and we stake a claim at a table beside two perfectly pleasant couples.

When we get into the buffet line a few minutes later, dinner music is already playing. I look up at the stage and start laughing. The cool kids are all in the band.

Plays galore

Here I am wielding my illusory cyber power yet again.

PlayGround is back. Are you some mysterious stranger out there who's never heard of PlayGround? Well, today is your lucky day, my anonymous friend.

One topic.
36 playwrights.
Four days.

Six plays selected.
One night only.
Fun, fun, fun.

Monday, October 17. 8pm. Berkeley Rep. You can buy tickets for Monday or, better yet, subscribe. It's a crazy bargain.

Desert Mountain Marsh Road

I am addressing envelopes and have just found that someone lives on Reedland Woods Way. You know, life is full of tough choices, but I think it's best to stick with one major geographical feature per street name.

Rapunzel, Rapunzel

I am getting things out of my trunk when with much clattering and many cries of "dude!" three skater boys tumble out of the the house across the street. There is some experimental skating, but all is not well.

"Dude! Dude!" The boy yells up to the open second-story window. Another remarkably similar shaggy-haired youth appears. There is some discussion about how Dude #1 has unwittingly hit the street with an undersirable board. They plan an exchange. Dude #2 suggests that, instead of coming all the way back upstairs, Dude #1 should throw the unwanted board up, and he (D#2) will throw another one down. Although I never considered it before, I have to say that it's impressive to see someone throw a skateboard straight up two stories. Dude #1 gets it high enough for Dude #2 to catch on his second try. The first-floor windows remain intact. Nice work, dude.

Dude #1 specifies his needs "Dude. Gimme the one in the hall. Not the really big one. The little one with the fat wheels. It's the only other one."

So, apparently he only has three.