barfing in LA

Friday, aug. 15, 2003   |   0 comments

OK so for one thing, I was in Los Angeles for a week, for Lulu’s fourth birthday, which was of course amazing: A pride of little girls came over and made candy necklaces and decorated a bunch of can-frosted cake-mix cakes and made masks and played dress up out of a chest jam-packed with sparkly lady-of-the-evening costumes that they’d been getting rid of at Sophia’s work.

And wow it turns out that the girth of the average Hollywood actress-playing-a-hooker is pretty much the same as that of a four year old girl. No! Yes! Oh no.

The big difference in the fit is the length, which really alters the flavor of the thing, dude: Designed to ride about a centimeter above the vaginal tuck on a full-grown actress, the dresses were elegant, ankle-length gowns on those teensy, pre-school girls. They all looked very glamorous and nuts.

“I hope none of the mothers noticed that the labels all read ‘foreplay’,” Sophia said after the party. “Though I guess it kind of looks like it could be read as “for PLAY’?”

The other big thing I did while I was in LA was hurl out of my mouth and ass for five days straight. It was a particularly puzzling body blitzkrieg because it came with none of the usual aches and shivers of the flu. Also I would get these periodic hours-long chunks of feeling aOK. Then I’d try eating something, and then … Hi! Projectile, piñatal spraying!

Like I managed to make it through a few bites of noodles with Mary, but as we were walking through the minimall parking lot on our way out, I had to interrupt her mid-sentence to say, “Uh, I have to go throw up everywhere,” walk briskly over to the bushes and, without a second to spare, CUT LOOSE, much to the titillation of a band of onlooking tourists. Rock!

I wasn’t well enough to eat a full meal until the night before I left (plantains and beans and chickens and et cetera with Gene), and I didn’t really feel completely myself until the day after I got back. So yeah, jesus, LA.