Monday, August 05, 2002

Hey, Miracle Gro!

I am in Hollywood! It's buttery and soft.

But I am still having pleasure-flashbacks from my perfect last day in Mpls., which included, of course, getting Slopped. Oh man, I can't wait to listen to the tape and dig the majestic "Ariel" action!

Jim Walsh took me out for Mojitos too. We ended up having hibiscus margaritas. Then I forced him to take me to the CC Club, the final Minneapolis rock institution which I'd missed this trip. A booth was open and ready for us and we had Newcastle.

The jukebox played Motley Crue's "Too Fast For Love," and I started talking about how "do you remember?" is one of my favorite lyrics ever----from Earth Wind & Fire's "Say do you remember?/dancing in September?" to Michael Jackson's "Do you remember the time when we fell in love?" to the Crue's "She puts her leg up/ and calls it good luck/do you know what I mean?/ Do you remember?/Well I remember!"

If I were even remotely awake I could tell you why it's neato.

But at the moment I can't remember.

Golly, it feels swell to be home. (Shit, is this the Fifties or something?)

My keen sweetie-pie roomie is so dreamy: He cleaned the apartment and then took off to some hotel with his GF.

But wait, there's more: He broke a troubling precendent and bought a HUGE package of the really good, expensive toilet paper.

Maybe this doesn't sound so big, but if you had a boy-roommate you might understand. I feel like a princess.

There is no pea in my bed, either. Just pillowy goodness.

It's calling.



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