When I was working at the ole Michael Ochs Archives music photo agency in Venice Beach about 8 years ago or so, this little cutie walks in doing research on some E! True Hollywood Story or some bullshit. She was quite mesmerizing I must say. The sultry essence of her feminine wiles easily overcame and dare I say was in fact enhanced by her downplayed casual jeans and Patagonia sweater. Long brown hair echoing her curves. Big brown eyes with rocket propelled gravitational pull.
And I was smitten for sure. Showing her around the pictures. And miscellaneous inumerata. Taking extra time. Trying to flirt. Being kinda awkward. And blushing sometimes because she isn't laughing at my forced jokes.
So I get her work contact information. Cuz we're working together and I gotta send her stuff about what she was there for in the first place. If anything, I'm a professional.
And after she leaves, I send her a real innocuous message about coming to see my band. Actually I left a fucking voicemail. I remember. I must've sounded like a real idiot. Cuz I was too shy to ask her in person you see. But I got her work info on a post-it to send her pictures for the show she was a PA on.
So I went ahead and abused that piece of information she had to give me anyway in order to invite her to my show that night at Highland Grounds (which no longer has live music and is now some trendy joint called Street) where like ya know being optimistic about 30-45 people was gonna show up.
It was probably anywhere between 12 and 23 that actually walked through the door that Friday. Kind of a quaint little intimate thing. Maybe even a wee-tad depressing. But still fun as all get out. Like life. I mean I could probably name all 17 people that were there. And probably have talked to all of them in the last week. And even probably still know all their phone numbers by heart. It was a different time.
So anyways, I'm all real proud of myself for being so -- forward, and I write an email detailing this whole circumstance to my old high school friends. The Knights Of Debauchery. (Which doesn't exist by the way. But we still talk almost every day. It's a secret society of mutual disrespect 20 years strong.)
And one of 'em. The dumb one. The Oracle of Moron, I calls him. He's a doctor now. Anyway, he Googles her name.
(For some reason I put down her full name in the message. I would never do that now cuz of Friendster and Myface and Facebase and such. People are too easy to find. And that guy he's real sketchy. I had to block him on Facebook, for the crime of skeezing down all the semi-provocatively dressed girls on my friends list one by one a couple years ago.)
And this Oracle Doctor Moron guy -- He's the guy who'd sit at a computer all day and take the key strokes to actually email "Hey one of you look in the paper and find out what time the movie starts." Instead of typing the name of the movie and the ZIP code into the Google and finding it out in .8 seconds. He still can't really use Google. But that day -- that fortuitous day back in 2003 or so, he happens to Google this girl's name. I can't remember. It was Jennifer Kaufman or Anderson or Cooper or something like that. Real generic American. Anyway he sends back this link from some pre-TMZ Shmerez Shmilton gossip site. Turns out she was dating Leonardo DiCaprio for like 2 weeks. And that was one of the weeks. Well I invited her to the show before I knew that at least. But she didn't come.
The sad part/moral of the story is that I was only being so nutty and forward (which I guess in reality are both exaggerations looking back on it) because I was really in love with this other girl and we had just broke up and I needed something to get her off my mind. But then I see her later that day and I realize she's way more beautiful and hypnotizing than Leonardo's little fling. Her blue eyes -- oceans, bottomless, brimming with galaxies.
I wonder where that girl is now. Well I know where the important one is at least. I even remember her old beeper number. 310 810 5010. And I have her phone number memorized.
And I was smitten for sure. Showing her around the pictures. And miscellaneous inumerata. Taking extra time. Trying to flirt. Being kinda awkward. And blushing sometimes because she isn't laughing at my forced jokes.
So I get her work contact information. Cuz we're working together and I gotta send her stuff about what she was there for in the first place. If anything, I'm a professional.
And after she leaves, I send her a real innocuous message about coming to see my band. Actually I left a fucking voicemail. I remember. I must've sounded like a real idiot. Cuz I was too shy to ask her in person you see. But I got her work info on a post-it to send her pictures for the show she was a PA on.
So I went ahead and abused that piece of information she had to give me anyway in order to invite her to my show that night at Highland Grounds (which no longer has live music and is now some trendy joint called Street) where like ya know being optimistic about 30-45 people was gonna show up.
It was probably anywhere between 12 and 23 that actually walked through the door that Friday. Kind of a quaint little intimate thing. Maybe even a wee-tad depressing. But still fun as all get out. Like life. I mean I could probably name all 17 people that were there. And probably have talked to all of them in the last week. And even probably still know all their phone numbers by heart. It was a different time.
So anyways, I'm all real proud of myself for being so -- forward, and I write an email detailing this whole circumstance to my old high school friends. The Knights Of Debauchery. (Which doesn't exist by the way. But we still talk almost every day. It's a secret society of mutual disrespect 20 years strong.)
And one of 'em. The dumb one. The Oracle of Moron, I calls him. He's a doctor now. Anyway, he Googles her name.
(For some reason I put down her full name in the message. I would never do that now cuz of Friendster and Myface and Facebase and such. People are too easy to find. And that guy he's real sketchy. I had to block him on Facebook, for the crime of skeezing down all the semi-provocatively dressed girls on my friends list one by one a couple years ago.)
And this Oracle Doctor Moron guy -- He's the guy who'd sit at a computer all day and take the key strokes to actually email "Hey one of you look in the paper and find out what time the movie starts." Instead of typing the name of the movie and the ZIP code into the Google and finding it out in .8 seconds. He still can't really use Google. But that day -- that fortuitous day back in 2003 or so, he happens to Google this girl's name. I can't remember. It was Jennifer Kaufman or Anderson or Cooper or something like that. Real generic American. Anyway he sends back this link from some pre-TMZ Shmerez Shmilton gossip site. Turns out she was dating Leonardo DiCaprio for like 2 weeks. And that was one of the weeks. Well I invited her to the show before I knew that at least. But she didn't come.
The sad part/moral of the story is that I was only being so nutty and forward (which I guess in reality are both exaggerations looking back on it) because I was really in love with this other girl and we had just broke up and I needed something to get her off my mind. But then I see her later that day and I realize she's way more beautiful and hypnotizing than Leonardo's little fling. Her blue eyes -- oceans, bottomless, brimming with galaxies.
I wonder where that girl is now. Well I know where the important one is at least. I even remember her old beeper number. 310 810 5010. And I have her phone number memorized.
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