I’m back. But not for long.
I returned from L.A. at midnight, but I’m leaving in a few hours for Virginia, from which I’ll return on Sunday, only to leave once again for Manhattan.
I’m so very unused to being this…social.
This entry will be a bit spastic because I’m sort of stuck between both coasts.
I did not see any celebrities in L.A., though I saw many young women who have inexplicably and tragically chosen post-rehab Lindsay Lohan as their style icon. Blech. I decided to crash on the 1000 thread count sheets watching You’ve Got Mail on HDTV and mourning the loss of Meg Ryan’s old face while my mother hurried herself down to the lobby of our swanky hotel to watch the casts of Everyone Hates Chris, Kyle XY (which my mom kept calling “Kyle K-Y” and would be an altogether un-Family Friendly program…) and other shows I’ve never watched walk the red carpet for something called the Family Friendly Entertainment Awards. (Or somesuch.) Rumor had it Paula Abdul was in the building. In an inspired bit of award show presenting/accepting, David Cassidy was on hand to present an award to Zac Efron who was definitely NOT there and whose acceptance speech was pre-recorded and beamed on the big screen.
Speaking of Zac, I watched High School Musical 2 on the flights to AND from L.A. which is why “BET ON IT!” and “What time is it? (SUMMER TIME!)” and “Every day! Of our lives! Wanna find you there! Wanna hold on tight!” have insidiously ear-wormed their way into my overtired brain. I CAN’T STOP HUMMING THESE SONGS.
And speaking of songs (I’m too tired for more clever seques), many thanks to Becky for requesting, All I Want for Christmas Is You at UCLA on Wednesday. Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember the lyrics to the entire song on the spot–only the tail-end of the chorus. And just like the snappy comeback that pops into your head an hour after you need it, the lyrics came at me in a rush as I fell asleep later that night, just like a giant runaway snowball…
I DON’T WANT A LOT FOR CHRISTMAS
I WON’T EVEN WISH FOR SNOOOOW
I JUST WANT TO SEE MY-YI-YI BAY-YAY-BEE
UNDERNEATH THE MISTLE-TO-OHHHH!
Dammit. I could have sold the hell out of that number.
More thanks to: Puthea Chea and everyone with the UCLA Campus Events Commission for making my final appearance for Fourth Comings so much fun. Teen author Leigh Purtill for blogging about it before I did. L.A. authors Megan(“BET ON IT! BET ON IT!”) Crane, Sonya Sones and Robin Benway for tour-guiding me and my mom around the city. And finally, my L.A. by way of N.J. dining companions, for validating what know-it-all adults always promised during the darkest high school days: Life does indeed get better as you get older.
