August 1st, 2001


Swimming pools and movie stars

In five hours and thirty-nine minutes, I will be flying to LA for a long weekend with VJ and Dale. This is doing awful things to my already short attention span here at work, but I digress. I spent the majority of last night pacing around my apartment reciting my packing list in my head backwards and forwards and pointing at various parts of my body repeating, “shoes, yes, socks, yes, pants, yes, undies, yes, shirts, yes, bras, yes, jewelry, yes, makeup, yes). Even this morning, I nearly choked on my Crispix and tripped over my Chuck Norris Gym reciting my lists and looking at every room of my house trying to think of the things I use on a daily basis that I might need.

I realized as I was stepping onto the train that I forgot pajamas. I have an hour layover in Houston, so I’m thinking about buying Houston and/or Texas-themed boxer shorts.

I am filled with anticipation about this trip. I have no idea what to expect. Having never been further west than Graceland (except for those four minutes I spent being lost in Arkansas), I have no idea what California looks like. Sure I’ve seen pictures and stuff, but I really don’t know what it’s like out there. Are the streets going to be lined with Avocado? Will everyone be wearing tiny little Bebe or FCUK shirts? Should I pitch a screenplay just for the fun of it, or should I start moping that I can’t get said screenplay read?

The True Hollywood Story for Beverly Hills 90210 was on last night. Coincidence? I think not.
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