first thing in the morn she would call me with an “oh my god my love you’ll never guess what happened…”

then she would come to the hangar and we’d walk to the coffee shop.

sometime before lunch she would call me and maybe if i wasnt flying she would come to my desk and we’d talk some more. she’d read my magazines or hang out with john woo.

or nothing.

or maybe we’d take pictures on the balcony.

her energy was infectious, which is doubled when its coming from a pretty girl in pretty clothes and by pretty i mean nearly see through and flowy and sheer and near.

at lunch we’d bitch about work and dream. after lunch she’d pose some more, but im no good at the photography thing. but thankfully she was patient.

all day yesterday and today i wanted to write about how much i missed her and today im here late, everyones gone. one lonely copy machine warms up in anticipation and only to retreat into sleep mode. and i type. sore wrist and all. carpal creeping up my shoulder. i would play hurt in every game if this was a game. i would write till i had to do it left handed exclusively. theres a million ways to type what she meant to me.

first day i met her the fellas had beat me to it. they came back and said tone youre gonna love the new flower girl. and the women were all, yeah, you of all people are going to love her. and sometimes i dont know what theyre talking about. and when i saw her i was all, what, cuz shes pretty? im the only man in the world who likes a pretty girl?

and we talked for a few minutes and then a few more and an hour sped past that fast. all we talked about was about books. hem, buk, salinger, creeley, vonnegut. the likely subjects. then music, then tv, then movies.

i dont know exactly how that turned into lunch date after lunch date but it started and never stopped for the exception of the one or two times.

and then never again.

she used to say that i was the only reason that she enjoyed coming to work and i said it back but i didnt mean it.

now i mean it.

and more than my wrist is sore that danielles not here any more.

verbungle + george must go + keeping it real

she called in sick yesterday.

i was all, what makes you think you have the Nile?

she was like, “hello, im sick!”

i was all, so, lots of people are sick. how did you get sick?

she went, “well i was hiking this weekend in this place that had signs that said ‘West Nile Has Been Spotted Here.'”

so i have been planning her funeral.

im thinking something natural and upbeat. gerbers, grateful dead tunes, navy blues – not blacks, and healthy lo-carb snacks for her model type friends.

it looks like i wont be able to invite Flagrant who is planning on moving away from me. which will break my heart. but danielle has always been jealous of girls skinnier than she, so maybe that would have been a bad choice anyway.

and now danielle is mad at me because i wont go get coffee with her.

“i dont want the Nile,” i tell her.

Youre not going to get it! she says. informing me that its the bite of an insect that delivers the deadly virus.

i dont care. i have always been very safe with my health and therefore youthful looking and full of life.

speaking of which i was supposed to get a root canal yesterday but Fate made me lose my wallet until, ironically, the minute that my appointment was scheduled to begin.

anna kournikova, fresh from a weekend rendevous with her “boyfriend” in Chicago picked me up from work to drive me home to find the lost wallet, and on the way there i told her that she looked better than ever.

it was tough for me to keep my hands off of her because it had been so long since we had seen each other.

she smiled and moved my hand from her thigh to her bare knee.

i pushed it closer to her thigh again and she blushed and pretended not to notice.

we had a good thing. she apparently has a good thing now.

win some, lose some.

i seem to have really lost that one.

quite a shame.

especially since danielle will probably be dead very soon.

sk smith + raymi + makeout city

over the bike path, tumbling across the lush green lawn and nearly into the koi pond before i had a chance to step on it for the little dickens so he could recycle it into his backpocket

which a cartwheel easilly freed.

danielle was scooping out some yogurt complaining that shes going to go mary-kate on my ass and stop eating entirely because shes fat and almost before she could finish her sentence i had popped her good in the thigh

as is our deal for whenever she begins blabbering the ridiculous.

she grabbed her bare leg and laughed and said “good one” acting every bit the masochist that she probably is

although she claims the contrary.

my cell phone vibrated in my pocket and i saw that it was anna kournikova who has blown me off so many times ive lost count.

last time we were supposed to do something she blew me off to console her best friend who was having issues with her boyfriend who was spotted having outdoor public sex with a known strip tease artist

ive seen this womans work and artist is justified in describing her

but all the ladies in the house went omg ewwwwww! a stripper!

and convinced anna that she had to tell her friend that she was going to have to confront the little romeo that the free ride was ending.

and then they talked about how they saw him at Deep, the club at hollywood and vine that nobody goes to anymore because it’s so 2002 with its velvet ropes, skanky hos dancing in the ceilings and walls, and $10 amstel lights.

“i swear to you anna he was doing coke right there at the bar.”

which in certain circles is worse than cheating.

i wouldnt know those circles

all my friends are deeply religious.

or drunkards.

so anna turned to me and told me that she had to break our date last night to watch Outfoxed, the fabulous new documentary about how Fox News is slanted blah blah blah. i have it on dvd.

i said, why not tell your friend tomorrow so we can play tonight.

she said, if she has sex with that dirty boy and catches something i would never be able to live with myself.

i said, if theyre having protected sex then everything should be cool.

she said, she’s on the pill and thinks hes being loyal.

i looked at her.

she said, i know i know.

and i said, fine, but it means that we wont see each other for a week cuz im sure you’ll be consoling her for at least that long and she nodded her head and i knew i shoulda banged her in her range rover last week when i had a chance.

when i called her last night she filled me in, telling me that she told her friend about the drugs but not the sex.

“i thought you Had to tell her about the sex so she wouldnt catch something?” i said.

“i didnt have the heart,” she said. “plus shes so distraught that he is a cokehead that she cant even think about sex.”

who are these people you might ask.

fuck if i know, i might reply.

even in the throws of 9/11 i could have gotten it on with the right woman. in fact isnt that how we kept the terrorists from winning? dont tell me you didnt do your part for the country.

so there i was. alone again. pretty much lied to. nobody getting any in all of LA. all cuz one stupid ass cheated on his girl and fucked it up for all of us.

she could tell i was disappointed, and called me back minutes after we hung up.

“i really want to be with you tony. Really. but cheating on enrique makes me cry.”

then dump him i said.

“you know i cant do that.”

all these people who Can’t do certain things. things they know are the right things to do. Can’t stop driving down dead ends. Can’t stop bad relationships that aren’t in the slightest bit full. Can’t tell boyfriends the truth. Can’t stop the devil from saying, “i know hes a loser but tony is a player and since you cant hate the player hate the game.”

so when the little kid saw his forgotten saltines wrapper taking flight near the koi pond it took everything for me not to push him into the water as i passed by.

but i did it anyway.

kalidescope + lick blog + zulieka