Thing number five hundred and one that I like about Los Angeles: I have a Valentines reservation at a restaurant which is supposed to have a good fixed price menu. At 10:45pm. P. M. Love it.
Forrest and I did Playboy’s Night Calls again yesterday. Didn’t go as well as the first one, although it was still fun. I never ever do this, but I had totally spaced on the fact that I was supposed to go there. I had been thinking about booking one or two of my favorite girls from Gothic Sluts and Barely Evil, but didn’t. Usually the head guy over there’s assistant would have faxed me a callsheet a couple days beforehand, so there would be no way to forget. Only a friend of hers overdosed last week and she was at a funeral. Usually, I would put it in my calendar, but we booked it when I was in Vegas, after I had been there for over a week and was a little dragged out.
Defended a friend of mine on a board today when someone asked if he was a complete idiot. I pointed out that my friend is good in business, sophisticated, and good-looking. Not an idiot. So this dude, who doesn’t even have anything in his sig to identify himself, starts in with what is my favorite restaurent in Paris. I thought that was stupid, but I answered the question. So the guy accuses me of looking it up in Google.
One thing I hate hate hate about the internet is that you never know if someone is looking something up in Google or whether you really have something in common with them. Like, if one was chatting in ICQ and made an allusion to how “My favorite weapon is the look in your eyes,” it would take a person no time to be like, “oh yeah, I loved Rape and Honey.” But you have no idea if they really did or didn’t feel like showing up. You really don’t know whether you are connecting.
In person, it would take a moron to think I had never spent time in Paris. I’ve lived in Germany, Belgium, Switzerland, and England. I can discuss this at length with no internet connection. But, on the internet, apparently everyone is sort of reduced to moron status because it is so hard to know whether or not the answer to a question comes from Google or the heart. Although probably, in this instance, the person attempting to debate me on my friend’s merits actually *is* a moron.
Sent out a newsletter this morning. Should work on a site update, but I think I’m going to go finish primping. Happy Valentines Day!