I thought I saw Lil' John sitting in the big window of the IHOP down the street from LACMA and the Variety office the other night when I was out walking. He was enjoying a Rooty Tooty Fresh and Fruity breakfast (I think strawberry) with his homey and for some reason this seemed really funny to me and I started cracking up. I was alone, and an obviously insane homeless woman nearby looked at me like I was out of my tree. For some reason, I looked again and then I noticed that it was just a Jamaican dude that looked like Lil’ John. For some reason at that moment I was very disappointed that it was not Lil' Jon and his homey eating Rooty Tooty Fresh and Fruities. In fact, I still am kinda disappointed. I guess I shoulda known though, because the dude didn't have a crown or a pimp cup anywhere near him!
It's about 9:20 pm on Thursday as I sit and write this. I'm at home, downstairs the neighbors are humping unbelievably loudly, to the point that it's distracting me from working on my script so I am going to go to Kinkos to fax some paperwork to William Morris Agency, excuse me, WME (ughh), because my stupid fax machine refuses to work. That last sentence is most likely a run-on, but I haven't been in English class since Milli Vanilli was popular so who can say...well I'm off...
Oh, wait...I just thought of something which for me epitomizes life in Los Angeles...
I was at Starbucks this morning and as I was sipping my burned, shitty coffee and I suddenly smelled Poison perfume in the air. My God, I don't think I've smelled this in like 15 years, and there it was, as big as friggin' life! This scent immediately whisks me back to this scene from college. I'm in school at the time and we're on this overnight field trip. After a long day of ridiculous, meaningless marketing symposiums, me and the other guys in my room drank ourselves into a stupor to clear our minds. Everyone fell asleep around 2am or so except for me, and I'm lying there staring at the ceiling thinking about God knows what, when suddenly I heard the softest little tapping on the room door. Actually, it's more accurate to say that I sensed it, because it was probably about the volume of rapping that a mouse paw would produce, but nevertheless I sensed it, got up, and answered the door. Lo and behold it was this girl I liked. She was buzzed on Bartles and James and wearing pink flannel p.j.'s, with her hair in a pony. When we started kissing she smelled ever so faintly of Poison, which at the time, I actually liked very much. Long story short, things went pretty well in the Day's Inn bathroom and we woke up all the guys who were asleep in the room and for that we earned a round of applause when we emerged from the bathroom. Anyway, she was a great girl, really cute and sweet, so this was a nice little memory for me.
All right, so after this pleasant little mental diversion, I take a sip of my coffee and slowly come back to reality at Starbucks on Wilshire Blvd. and now I begin to wonder who in the shit is wearing Poison perfume in 2009? I turn slowly to my right to investigate and I indeed see from whence the fond odour is coming, and SWEET JESUS, it was the most heinous transvestite I HAVE EVER SEEN in all my born days. He's sitting with stubbly legs crossed, wearing a leather mini, and smiling at me with this gap toothed grill that would startle the dead. Now people, I'm a pretty strong minded man, I've braved Hollywood for about 15 years now, but I have to say in all honesty... it shook me a little.
So much for the pleasant memory of Poison. C'est la vie.
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ReplyDeleteI really appreciate the story about the Poison perfume...that made me realize perhaps it's time to switch it up. I didn't realize it's not as popular as it once was, next you'll tell us the AppleIIci isn't the future of technology, I've had it since the 90s and it works just fine! Well, maybe it's a bit slow, this comment is what I'm doing on a Friday night.
ReplyDeleteBut really, you've made me think, I certainly wouldn't want to be caught in a coffee shop with a nice gentlemen staring in my direction that is internally asking himself, "Who in the hell is wearing Poison?! Either it's that transvestite with the stubbly legs or the girl sitting next to him with the stubbly legs."
Well, thank you again, no more Poison perfume for me Sir! It's Opium from this point on!