Separate Ways |
C.Sto and our friend Rachael paid me a visit this weekend.
C.Sto: Listen to what Rachael said on the plane:
(Super Expensive Flashback Effect)
C.Sto: Who wrote the Iliad and the Odyssey?
Rachael and C.Sto think for a very, very long time. Still thinking. Then, suddenly…
Rachael: Ulysses S. Grant!
C.Sto: The former president?!
And, thus, the tone of the weekend was set. Following are a few more bits as well as I can transcribe them.
During tea on the back patio at the Four Seasons Hotel. (Totally fancy. Totally)
Rachael: How do I get to the bathroom?
Jessica: Go inside, turn, go straight-- Actually, just ask someone when you get inside. It’s too complicated.
Rachael: I’ll wait.
(ten minutes later)
Rachael: So how do you get to the bathroom again? …I go inside, turn, go straight, and then ask someone?
(C.Sto spit-takes a cracker)
Jessica: Yes, exactly in that order. Make sure not to ask someone first. That would be way too easy.
(Rachael leaves and comes back)
Jessica: See anyone interesting?
Rachael: I saw some popsicle gangstahs.
Jessica: WTF is a “popsicle gangstah”?!
(C.Sto spit-takes another cracker.)
Rachael: I said POSSIBLE gangstahs.
Jessica: Oh. So I can make up the definition for a “popsicle gangstah,” then?
C.Sto: (choking) Yes.
Pop·si·cle Gang·stah n.
1. A member of an organized group of criminals who also happens to be gay but has not “come out” yet.
popsicle gangstah·dom n.
popsicle gangstah·ism n.
[syn: popsicle mobstah]
To some loser guy who couldn’t take a hint:
Rachael: Go away. We don’t want to talk to you. I’m taller than you and I can kick your ass.
Introducing herself to a random person:
C.Sto: We’re from Massachusetts and we’re elitists.
Advising some drunks:
Jessica: Go to the movies. It’s good to sit in the dark when you’re hung-over.
C.Sto: Yeah because you guys look like shit!
Walking down the stairs at the ArcLight:
Rachael: Do you ever get confused on steps?
(Jessica laughs so hard that talking is impossible.)
C.Sto: Confused in what way?
Rachael: Like, I’m walking and I have to, like, stop because my depth-- I have to reset it… Like I don’t know how big of a step to take.
Jessica: (laughing hysterically) Dammit! This anecdote will be impossible to describe on my website.
Living in LA is a lonely existence. Many of the friends I have made have since moved. (The turnover rate here is rather high.) Although I have grown accustomed to going it alone, when friends from home visit or when I return from a trip to VA, it is really hard to re-adjust. And, I miss C.Sto most of all. She brought me a DVD copy of Darby O’Gill and the Little People so, after dropping her and Rachael off at the airport, I tucked myself into bed and fell asleep to the sound of an Irish Leprechaun jig. (That movie is awesome.) It was a good weekend. I had places to go and people to go with. Now, it’s back to long distance running…
I even miss Rachael’s random, annoying singing. Luckily, I used my Ninja stealth to secretly record her. I did eventually crack up, which was not so Ninja of me, but I’m sure you’ll agree it was unavoidable under the circumstances.
Listen: Rachael sings for you.
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