I’m back! After two weeks of traipsing around the southland, I’m finally home. And I don’t know, two weeks is a long time to be gone (one-twenty-sixth of a year!). It’s left me feeling slightly abstracted, like how do these keys work again and is this the way milk usually smells?
Anyway, I had a solid good time down there. New Years Eve, and New Years Eve Day, and New Years Day were especially pleasant, full of cake and meat and fettuccine alfredo, plus meeting up with old and new pals.
On the morning of the 31st I visited this cute and nice woman whom I’ve been doing some freelance writing for but have never met in person, and we rapid-fire chatted for about an hour, which was superfine and good (especially since going from email to reals can sometimes be a disconcerting affair). Then I dashed off to Sweet Lady Jane’s for sandwiches and bright green princess cake with Mary Chen, who was all fresh-faced and windsong-y and kung-fu-ed up. We side-eyed the anorexic actresses eating their salads and cups of soup amidst all the frosting and cookies as we ate heartily and mulled over boys and work and how the maybe the asshole is the new vagina. Then I went “home,” back to Sophia and Jonathan and baby Rex and wee Dinah and little Lulu’s house, to do a little reading and napping.
When it got dark, Jonathan cooked dinner as Sophia and I took the kids up to the Mormon temple to see all the insane lights. I don’t know what the deal is with those nutty Mormons, maybe there’s something in the original Josepth Smith writings about how depth of faith directly correlates to the number of teeny lights a believer can cram into a square foot of space, but at this time of year every leaf and blade of grass on the extensive grounds is festooned with red and green and white and blue and pink lights, and the overall effect is almost hallucinatory. They also have this goofy nativity scene up there, where you push a button and this booming voice tells the whole manger story as timed lights illuminate the players, Mary and Joseph and the sheep and cows and the three kings and baby Jesus. Lulu kept asking me where the angels were, and I told her that they were probably flapping around somewhere, up there with the fairies. Meanwhile, Sophia leaned over and split her pants open.
When we got home, the kids went to bed and Jonathan fed us amazing New York steak and salad and sweet potatoes, man so good. Then at like 10 o’clock I drove over to Pamie’s ridiculously cute house (with garage AND office AND washer and dryer), where I drank champagne, watched the MTV countdown, and ate the cookies and treats that she’d martha-ed up. Her boyfriend was there, and he was incredibly nice and super funny and a sterling host, and a bunch of their friends, who were all either foxy actresses, or comedy writers, or both. They clinked glasses and yelled at the television and fired off lots of lightning-rapid repartee while I mostly just sat there and paddled frantically, trying to keep up. And actively forcing myself not to say anything about my exciting new “asshole is the new vagina” theory. Because, sisters and brothers, that’s this year’s main resolution (you know, aside from the usuals, like “start going to the gym again, you sad, flabby fuck” and “floss!”): Stop talking so much, Evany, especially in crowds of new people, and double-especially not about sex holes.
That said, I still managed to work conversation around to coffee enimas and how Ashton and Brittany need lube just to kiss. And then I went and told Pam and her lovely friend Jessica the whole hole theory anyway. So Pam? I completely understand if you never invite me into your home again. But could you send me the recipe for those piquant little lemon shortbread cookies? Thanks. And Happy New Year!