1. Thursday, April 4, 2002

    i hate it when 

    i’m right. michael jordan has called it quits – for the season, at least. unfortunately the domino effect has already begun. one of my best friends here called me up last night and told me she’s thinking about calling it quits here in the city of angels, and move back home to chicago to be closer to her family and friends and snow and humidity.

    i cant say i blame her. LA isnt for everyone, even those, like her, who have shown the whip to the this thoroughbred and used it a few times. it’s definately not the mid west, or the east, or the dirty south, and it certainly isnt home. it took me leaving and coming back a few times to really look at this place as more than just a pretty layover, and it wasnt until i had a good two dozen or so friends and a half dozen former addresses that i realized that i wasn’t just passing through here.

    i didnt tell her this, but i dont recommend her moving back home just yet.

    before any hot chick decides to pack it in, heres a few things that they should experience before they go back to whereever they’ll grow old and wither:

    – drink, smoke, induldge, experience, do what you have to do and then contemplate it all as you watch the dawn break while sitting on the cliffs off del playa in the terribly magical hamlet called isla vista.

    – camp and catch one elf in the romantic forrests of big sur – and try not to fall in love with whoever brung ya on the drive home.

    – dance with hef and his girlfriends at not only Las Palmas on a wednesday night, but at the mansion when the lakers are in town – i mean on a weekend.

    – crash at least one hollywood party in the malibu colony. invites are for wusses, and producers.

    – ski mammoth in the day, and skinny dip zuma that night.

    – learn at least three new dance moves at a south central house party, not just any one, but one that includes paid go go girls.

    – get your picture taken with robert downey jr. at a palm springs hotel hours before he violates his probation.

    – and no girl can say that she’s truly experienced life in LA unless they’ve gotten to pass the guitar at one of greg’s classic all night hootenanny’s, followed by breakfast at the pantry, a trip to the hollywood farmer’s market, and mimosas at my house while burning through a half dozen rolls of film to send to hef for no other reason than to say thanks for putting us on the list the other night.