I had a blind date Saturday night. Well, I was SUPPOSED to have a blind date Saturday night. He called an hour and a half before he was to pick me up with a handful of lame excuses. Blind AND lame. Not an impressive combination for a first date. Oh yeah, and he's a talent agent. Stop right there, you're saying, this sounds like it ended exactly as it should have.
Yes, it did. I was all showered and blow-dried and dressed when I got his voicemail. (That's right; he cancelled via recorded message.) As I hung up, the woman who manages my building came to my door in search of a Pitfire Pizza menu and told me how beautiful I was. "I don't look like a woman who should be stood up, do I?" Absolutely not, we agreed. I slipped her a menu and clicked down the hall in my Carlos Santana heels to the car, which took me to a very cool neighborhood art gallery opening at which I enjoyed photos of clown pornography (this one is the least graphic of the collection) and the illustrated essays of a Renaissance man. If you're in Downtown LA, go and see: http://www.transportgallery.com/transport/. At the party, the live, bare-breasted porno clowns showered us with sparkly confetti. I came away with a balloon animal -- a pink poodle. I love party favors.
After complimenting his work, I was invited by photographer Justin to join him and his artsy crew at photographer Glenn's place in Echo Park. I declined, opting to go to Night Vision at MOCA for another gander at Rauschenberg's Combines, which are inspiring me to complete a project I conceived years ago. I love being a MOCA member. After wandering the exhibit and the party and the store, I affixed my ID sticker to the pink balloon poodle -- right about where the poodle's member would be (I'm quite sure the porno clowns would have approved) -- and headed home, where my next-door neighbor and her friends were preparing for a late-night rooftop barbeque. I met them in the hall, carrying a platter of raw lamb chops and burgers. Upon receiving their impromptu invitation, I assured them that I was not a woman to turn down an offer of free meat.
To his dubious credit, the talent agent left me an apologetic message. I also got a call from photographer Justin, thanking me for the creative conversation that he said, "made my night."
All in all, a much better evening than I'd have had with Agent Boy.
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