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OF THIS AND THAT
3.30.98 So my predictions for the Oscars were way off, sue me. I just now saw "The Full Monty" and I highly, highly recommend this movie. However, I can see why it didn't get Best Picture. First of all it's got that foreign problem and secondly it's just too damn unique. The best part about the movie is its subject matter, six very homely British chaps takin' their "kits off," manages to push some boundaries. It was better than "Cats." I'll see it again and again. Not much has been going on in L.A. for me. I'm still looking for a "real" job and am pretty frustrated at my current one. I went out last night to Baja Cantina at 311 Washington Blvd to nosh with some college friends of mine. This place was actually pretty fun and seemed wildly popular. I had a 40 oz. strawberry margarita -- that's one Big Gulp of fun for you 7-Eleven fans. They serve it in this giant margarita glass and then keep an eye on you the rest of the night. I was recently reminded of the charm of having a regular hangout. It's hard to find a hangout here in L.A. A good hangout is easily accessible without a car. So, ya know, the Sky Bar is out. The second criteria is that your fancy be fairly inexpensive whether it Starbuck's new Chai-Tea latte (as plugged relentlessly on NPR) or french fries or a hoppy micro-brew so that you can order it over and over and over again. Thirdly, perhaps my age is starting to show, you need to be able to converse with your mates. I'm so beyond club-deafness. There's just nothing within walking distance of my sad little apartment that I'd care to spend more than three minutes in. Speaking of the apartment, I'm sick of it already which is not good. I could rattle off all the internal things which are driving me nuts but I won't dwell on that right now. Mostly I'm very annoyed at my neighbors. There are more kids here than I realized when we moved in. I'm pretty sure that there's at least 10 people living in the one bedroom next door including at least four children. One of the adult males might have some "issues." I was home for awhile in the morning the other day and was oh-so-pleased to hear him scream, curse and yell at the kids randomly. After close to two hours of this (of course the walls are paper thin) I said, "Shut up." I didn't mean to say it all that loud but I guess I did. When I left the apartment he opened the door enough to give me the evil eye and a full view of his unshaven, dirty undershirt-wearin', pock-marked, greasy-haired, scary self. The thought crossed my mind that maybe he has tourettes. However, the idea that he's an alcoholic bastard seems more plausible. Yea...this will be great fun for the next year. On the weekends kids are crawling all over our front steps and beating this tiny puppy that one of them got for Christmas. I don't like kids. I just don't. Does that make me a bad woman? So be it. T. and I are having long talks about procreation so far the score is about 300 points against and zero for. Some like to say we'll change our minds -- we'll just see about that won't we. One last thing, we went to the Santa Monica Pier a couple weekends ago and had a grand old time. We had absolutely no idea what to expect. It's huge. It's a whole park with rides and games and clowns and magicians. Highlights were:
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