Got home from L.A. Pink’s was disgusting. I will never go there again. The chili still makes me feel like I want to throw up. The hot dog foreskin is really gross. I don’t need a snap when I bite into a hot dog. Hoffy hot dogs are not a hot dog you want to write home about or even blog about. Yes, I know that I am but I must give everyone fair warning. Don’t go there! Ugh! Ick! Plah! Spit! And the orange grease and pieces of gristle in the chili were disgusting. Well, it tasted like gristle. Cheap meat or something. The onion rings and Dr. Brown’s black cherry soda were the only things that taste good.
Hebrews are so much better.
The museum was beautiful. The security guards really have sticks up their ass. I sat down on a chair with my leg under me. Big mistake. Someone had to tell me to put my leg down. My daughter stood too close to the wall. We were just getting in all kinds of trouble. I was so glad to leave. The paintings and sculptures were beautiful and so were the pieces of 17th century furniture. I hope to post some pictures.
Of course we had to go to Canter’s and get some bakery goodies.
I found this on Splendora and thought it was good. After getting away last week and going to Hollywood this week….
Little Miss Hollywood: Life Lessons Learned at Bris
Sometimes the best part of living in LA is leaving it, and if the best excuse you can find is to attend the bris of a friend’s friend’s baby, then so be it.
This weekend a very sweet little boy named Gideon sacrificed his foreskin so that I could spend some time in San Francisco. Actually, it had nothing to do with me, but I was very happy to take the opportunity to get out of dodge (and visit my dear friend, Splendora editor, Karen Bard).
And while I was walking through the mist-filled streets, shivering in my LA-appropriate open-toed shoes, I was reminded of some very important things: the world is vast, there are infinite possibilities for what to do within it, life is beautiful, short, and sometimes painful, and all that really matters is connecting with people we love and perhaps creating a little legacy to leave behind.
When you are living in Hollywood, it is very easy to become a solipsist. There are times when it seems that perhaps your mind, and this crazy business, are the only things that exist. For a writer this is an easy trap to fall into – especially if you’ve been obsessively trying to finish a screenplay for months – so getting away, and seeing that life is going on outside of you, is key.
And so I want to take this opportunity to send a little “thank you” to my friend who thought it would be a good idea to invite me to a barbaric religious ritual which makes very little sense (but was very well catered), because the significance of sharing in a young boy’s first rite of passage was more therapeutic than expected.
The moyel of the story… sometimes a little bris can go a long way.
Time to get ready for the work week that’s ahead.
