- 1:11 p.m.
I’ll get to THAT in a minute.
It’s day four, five or six of JUNE GLOOM (ish) here in the LOS ANGELES area… and if WE don’t see the sun until 4:00pm in HOLLYWOOD, I’m guessing that they NEVER see the sun out at the BEACH… this must be what it’s like to live in ALASKA, but WITHOUT the ICEBERGS, and ENORMOUS POPULATION OF MEN (unless you count the Soup Plantation in West Hollywood (ish) where they might have Iceberg (lettuce) and an enormous population of.. men. (whatever.)
So, anyway… and having nothing to do with the opening sentence which might not ever see the light of day in my final version of this entry which is completely unfocused and without the least bit of a theme or purpose.
Wait. That’s a lie. I do have a purpose. My girlfriend/same-sex partner/lady-lover/meal-ticket/purpose-giver asked me to “write in your thing” about something that happened to her yesterday. She did. Really. She said “Tell them about… blah, blah..” So, yeah. I do have a theme(ish).
And now… THE “ I promised my girlfriend/same-sex partner/lady-lover/meal-ticket/muse that I would do it” RE-TELLING of something that happened to her yesterday.
So…Yesterday. My girlfriend/same-sex partner/lady-lover/meal-ticket/yoga-student finished her yoga class (hello FEMALE YOGA TEACHER who sounds intriguing and better NOT be FLIRTING with my girlfriend/same-sex partner/lady-lover/meal-ticket/yoga-student) and, what better to do after stretching and toning and breathing and chanting and getting all “at one with your good self” than to go to STARBUCKS ™ and fill your system with caffeine, the drug that your NEUROTIC LOVER-OF-CHOICE cannot/shouldnot/willnot have. And make it a double. That’s right, you heard me. Everysingle day my girlfriend/same-sex partner/lady-lover/meal-ticket/coffee drinker starts her day with some sort of a “DOPIO” situation, meaning
2 SHOTS of black-gold.
I’ll pause while you do the math on how jealous I am about that.
(Pause: duration 5 minutes).
So yes, my lady starts her day, some days, with the previously mentioned “keep your vegetarian, toned, witty hands off my girlfriend/same-sex partner/lady-lover/meal-ticket/yoga-student YOGA TEACHER” then gets her DEVILS JUICE.
This particular day, SHE (my girlfriend/same-sex partner/lady-lover/meal-ticket/caffeine-cutie walked into THE DEVILS PLAYGROUND (again, Hi Starbucks, you evil/wonderful dealer of all things caffeinated) and saw a man who looked familiar standing in line. She quickly tried to place the face and where she knew him from. Hmmm. Who? Hmm? She looked back at him again and he gave her a nod… with a twinkle in his eye. You know, THE NOD and THE TWINKLE. She realized, suddenly, who it was.
That’s right. PONCH. Ponch, and he’s still got THAT SPARKLE in his eye.
Celeb sightings aside (yeah, whatever) my girlfriend/same-sex partner/lady-lover/meal-ticket/ponch-sighter really enjoyed spotting him. So much so that she came in all tickled and thrilled and stuff. Really she did. Humming the C.H.I.P.S. theme song and everything (okay, maybe it was the Starsky & Hutch theme song, but her heart was in it).
She was damn excited to see Ponch. But why? Some sort of new, bi-curious leanings? Naah…What could it be?
Maybe it’s because for my birthday last year she had a party for me where she had all our friends (THE LADIES! Hi ladies) dress in uniforms (more fun than it sounds)… of any kind…. and my girlfriend/same-sex partner/lady-lover/meal-ticket/party-planner dressed as… A COP. A very, very HOT cop, I might add (hi honey) and so… maybe, in some way, she felt a kinship to Ponch. That must be it.
Cop-raderie. Cute, right?
So that’s my girlfriend/same-sex partner/lady-lover/meal-ticket/purpose-giver’s story.
Let’s be careful out there...especially YOU, the toned, tan, centered, witty, FEMALE YOGA TEACHER.
I mean it. I'll downward dog your ass if I have to.