I don’t know if anyone has noticed, but I haven’t been adding my “A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month”‘s at the end of my posts for the last few days. The reason is because when I look at my archives, I see that the first anniversary of my father’s passing is coming up, and I’m avoiding looking at the archives. The last few days have been depressing. Since the Jewish calendar is different than ours, my father’s memorial day was on Monday. That’s right — on 9/11. I lit my father’s “yahrzeit” candle in Los Angeles, and my mother lit hers in New York. I couldn’t deal with reading all of the 9/11 blog posts until Tuesday, which made me depressed two days in a row.
Even my recent posts seem grouchy. Sophia’s job has been extended another week or two and I’m forgetting what a woman smells like. I would be miserable if my friend Barry didn’t come to town on business. He is a friend from New York who I have known since kindergarten. Yesterday, we met up for dinner.
Remember when you were a kid you could spend the whole day having “adventures,” but when you got home and your mother asked, “What did you do?” you answered, “Nothing.”
It was that kind of “wild” night.
The night actually did start out with a bang. We were stopped by the police on La Cienega Boulevard. The reason: My registration sticker was one month old! Woo-hoo, I’m a rebel! I looked the cop in the eyes and said, “F**k you LAPD pig! I’m no Rodney King!” And then I meekly said, “I’ll take care of this immediately, Officer,” and he let me go.
Next up: Barry thought he had an ear infection. Rather than going to the hospital, he suggested we go to this “walk-in” clinic in Beverly Hills. I didn’t even know they had these things. We met with some friendly Iranian doctor, who gave Barry a prescription for antibiotics. We headed over to Walgreens for the pills, but they said it would take three hours.
Three hours! What do two Jewish guys from Queens do? We walked to Pico Kosher Deli and ate some of our favorites. We flirted with the cute waitress and tried to figure out if she was Jewish or a non-Jewish actress acting Jewish as her role of deli waitress.
As we ate our soup, we discussed 9/11 and why so many people think Bush knew about the attacks ahead of time and did nothing, wanting it to happen as an excuse to go into Iraq. We decided that the only way for this conspiracy to work would be if both the Bush and the previous Clinton administrations were in cahoots, which would at least show some bipartisan cooperation.
After our meal, we discovered this cool used clothing store that sold wardrobe pieces from major films and television shows. Most of the clothes was very high-end and looked like they had only been worn once or twice. Barry bought a nice Perry Ellis sport jacket for $35 that originally starred in Mission Impossible 2.
We went back to Walgreens, but still had an hour to kill. So, we spent the time wandering in and out of the aisles, playing with products. We talked about which razors we both used. We agreed that Swifter is overpriced for what it does. When we noticed that Barry had a mustard stain on his shirt, we experimented with different “spot removers,” but nothing worked. We read Us Weekly, Star Magazine, and Black Men Magazine. Finally, Barry got his antibiotics and downed it with some Gatorade.
We hung around for another half hour, sitting on the trunk of my car. Barry got cold, so he put on his new sport jacket. We wondered who could have worn the sport jacket in Mission Impossible 2. Was it Tom Cruise’s sports jacket? Anthony Hopkins? Or was it just some extra in the background?
There was only one way to find out!
We walked over to Blockbuster, rented Mission Impossible 2, and went back to my place. We watched the movie in slow motion, our only purpose being to FIND THAT SPORT JACKET! Unfortunately, this was so tedious a job that we both fell asleep with the TV still on.
Fun! Eat your heart out, Sophia.