Los Angeles is a very lonely place. You spend so many hours driving by yourself, listening to the same Arcade Fire song on Morning Becomes Eclectic, and thinking the same thoughts again and again until you are certifiably insane. I totally understand why so many people out here get busted for prostitution. So many people crave any type of companionship.
No matter how Jewish a person in LA pretends to be, there is always some motivation to keep the chosen people going. Susan Ellen claims to be Jewish but that doesn’t hamper her from believing in the animal spirits associated with the Easter Bunny.
Susan Ellen’s number one A-List client had a Jewish assistant around my age and Susan Ellen found it to be her Jewish duty to set me up with him... Jewishly. His name was Josh, which I totally hate because my brother’s name is Josh. I know it’s weird, but I never want to date anyone who has the same name as my brother or my father, for that matter. It’s just this thing I have; I can’t help it.
Also, I never want to date Jewish people. I love my people; really, I do. But there’s so few of us, I have a huge fear that if I do date a Jewish person, he will wind up being very closely related to me and I try to avoid incestuous relations when I can. I can barely associate being with people who have the same music interests as me without fear that our child will end up having half an eye or fingers coming out of his or her ears.
However, Susan Ellen gave me no choice. “I am setting you up with Josh,” she proclaimed one day.
“Okay,” I said as I was inventing a colon cleanse routine for her book. (It involved Lucky Charms and Coors Light, by the way.)
A while ago, I had showed her my headshot for some reason and she said that I looked beautiful. I found that very flattering.
A few days later, I was working and Susan Ellen picked up her cell phone and just randomly called Josh. There was something about Josh that bothered me based on the fact that he could stand to have a casual conversation with Susan Ellen.
“There’s someone I want to set you up with,” she said.
Since I could hear Josh’s voice, I heard:
“Well, is she pretty? I kind of only go for pretty girls.”
“Yes,” Susan Ellen said. “She has gorgeous red hair and a face… I mean, she has a face. Listen, I’ll send you a picture of her headshot. I mean, it’s just a picture so it looks kind of worse than how she normally looks. But she’s Jewish and smart and-“
“Well, as long as she’s pretty…”
“Well, she doesn’t look like the girls out here, so she’s not pretty like that-“
I got up to go to her downstairs bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror. I knew I would never hear from this guy Josh. And the good news was that I never did.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Chapter 39: Bathroom Breaks
I suppose I’m making myself very vulnerable right now, but for those of you interested in Freudian analyses try not to get come on your keyboard:
I have recurring nightmares where I’m sitting on a toilet, going to the bathroom, and there’s no stall and the toilet is just in the middle of everything and everyone. I have had dreams where the only available toilet would be in the middle of my college dorm hallway, a classroom right next to the teacher’s desk, an office next to my boss’ desk, the UCB stage during a show, in front of the flatscreen in a living room at a party, and anywhere else where the public is basically staring at me going to the bathroom. It’s horrible and I know I need a lot of counseling, but I cannot help but have these recurring dreams and I just think it’s integral that I share this with you.
Susan Ellen has no door to her office bathroom. What the fuck? Who just takes down a door to the bathroom? The hinges were there. The soap was moist. This was a workable bathroom, but who uses it sans door?
Susan Ellen said she never minded me using that bathroom. She didn’t care if I was peeing a visible three feet away from her.
Sure, I’ve gotten drunk at parties and peed in front of my girlfriends in the bathroom because it’s the only place we could make fun of gross people making out with each other. But peeing in front of my boss? No fucking way!
Therefore, anytime I ever felt the urge, I had to walk all the way downstairs with Susan Ellen constantly saying, “Really! I don’t mind.”
I do!
Even though she probably couldn’t hear the actual tinkle hitting the water, I minded. Going to the bathroom was the only place and time I could make fun of Susan Ellen with the person who understands my situation best: myself.
I have recurring nightmares where I’m sitting on a toilet, going to the bathroom, and there’s no stall and the toilet is just in the middle of everything and everyone. I have had dreams where the only available toilet would be in the middle of my college dorm hallway, a classroom right next to the teacher’s desk, an office next to my boss’ desk, the UCB stage during a show, in front of the flatscreen in a living room at a party, and anywhere else where the public is basically staring at me going to the bathroom. It’s horrible and I know I need a lot of counseling, but I cannot help but have these recurring dreams and I just think it’s integral that I share this with you.
Susan Ellen has no door to her office bathroom. What the fuck? Who just takes down a door to the bathroom? The hinges were there. The soap was moist. This was a workable bathroom, but who uses it sans door?
Susan Ellen said she never minded me using that bathroom. She didn’t care if I was peeing a visible three feet away from her.
Sure, I’ve gotten drunk at parties and peed in front of my girlfriends in the bathroom because it’s the only place we could make fun of gross people making out with each other. But peeing in front of my boss? No fucking way!
Therefore, anytime I ever felt the urge, I had to walk all the way downstairs with Susan Ellen constantly saying, “Really! I don’t mind.”
I do!
Even though she probably couldn’t hear the actual tinkle hitting the water, I minded. Going to the bathroom was the only place and time I could make fun of Susan Ellen with the person who understands my situation best: myself.
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