I did absolutely nothing today. I spent the morning laying on the couch, trying not to blink loudly, and when I felt a bit better, I graduated to pounding back Alka Seltzer ™ and laying on the couch, watching “Fight Club” with the volume down really low.
I am Jill’s pounding cranium.
Actually, I feel a lot better now, although I must have sounded really pathetic on the phone, because Mr. Movie Star tried to come back a couple of days early from Cannes, but was unable to get a flight. He does have his moments – I’m touched that he even tried.
In a long distance attempt to cheer me up, he’s left a series of hilarious (and spectacularly filthy) messages ruthlessly mocking The Asshole. Although laughing until Alka Seltzer ™ comes out of your nose is painful, I am officially cheered up – or maybe that’s just the absence of the headache.
I’m not much of a drinker normally. I don’t like paying 15 bucks for a glass of something that’s really, really bad for me (and can get me a D.U.I.). The thing that normally saves me is when there’s a party with an open bar, the cluster fuck to get the free booze is so severe that it prevents me from getting more than one drink every hour or so (or maybe I’m just not that good at shouldering the M.A.W.’s aside. I’m kind of afraid I might accidentally break one in half).
Last night, there were waitresses circulating through the club with trays and trays of drinks – at one point, we had 15 different cocktails lined up on the table and the waitresses just kept them coming. They were so perky and cute and fun, and they looked so hurt when I said “No, thanks. I’m still working on this one” that we just gave up and let them load us up.
When I finally pried myself out of the booth (it had to be around 2 am – the waitresses had stopped bringing around booze and sushi, and were passing around dessert and coffee), as soon as I stood up, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to drive, so I had to have the bartender call for a taxi. Luckily, my car’s parked at a friend’s house, so I can go pick it up now – I have a 9 am call tomorrow on something (I just said ‘yes’ and didn’t ask too many questions).
The quote of the night: as I was leaving, some guy pointed drunkenly at me and saying “I saw you on TV!”. What makes that the quote of the night is that I have no earthly idea where he would have seen me on TV.
While I was standing on Hollywood Boulevard waiting for the taxi, I saw my Craig’s List ‘fuck and run‘ from a few months ago. He walked by, and did that thing where he turned his head away in the hopes that I’d not recognize him.
I just laughed.
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