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I can't think of anything witty

The other random thought I forgot to mention in the last entry was this:

Why do Art Center students smoke Parliament?

This morning, Mr Bingo left town in a convertible muscle car. I hope he cruised around West Hollywood before heading back to San Francisco. Itís not everyday that you can tool around in a Look At Me conveyance, in a town obessed with Looks.

We did many fun things while he was here, among them:

- went to the Roy McMakin show again

- attended a party sponsored by Nike and ReadyMade magazine, drank fruity sake sangria and watched all manner of Lil Kim wannabes parade around with their bad tattooes

- ate lunch at Toast and counted how many women were there in Juicy Couture velour, and how many men were sharing food. Terence and I said nearly simultaneously, "I need to get out L.A."

- went to a scooter rallye in Eagle Rock to see some other SF friends. Mr Bingo, of course, had to point out the gigantic fat man with his belly hanging way down over his shorts, by jabbing me and remarking ďCheck out the meat apron on that one!Ē I nearly hurled. The Meat Apron became the weekendís theme.

- ate like itís going out of style (well, it is out of style to eat in Los Angeles, so how hip are we?)

- peeked at the shoes at Sigerson Morrison

- shopped at Fred Segal, Barneys, Modern Amusement, and Douglas Fir. Mr Bingo actually made some purchases so that was a nice vicarious thrill for me

- ate a hot fudge sundae

- heard the neighbor having sex again. This time I was not the only one to catch it, Mr Bingo did too.

Iím sure thereís more, and Iíll probably remember details as the day wears on, but right now I need to go lay down and let the ibuprofen do its thing.

10:48 a.m. - 2003-04-28



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