A River in Egypt

I finally received my library copy of "Parts per Million: The Poisoning of Beverly Hills High School" by Joy Horowitz and am using my final days of freedom to plow through it. In addition to giving a colorful portrait of the neighborhood next door, it reveals that the cover-up of the carcinogenic effects of the oil wells and power plant in the Beverly Hills High/ Century City area continues to this day.

This is worrisome. I don't live far from that area of town, and according to the extremely vague map found in the book, it appears that there are many more wells located in my neighborhood. Hopefully I'm not paying this exorbitant rent just to give myself thyroid cancer. That would be a bummer, especially in light of my third-rate health insurance plan. Maybe it really is time to cut out for Malibu!

I was reminded of the Todd Haynes film "Safe," in which Julianne Moore plays an affluent San Fernando Valley housewife who develops a severe reaction to toxins in her environment, such as the smell from her child's markers. While at the dry cleaner's during a visit from pesticide control, she suffers a seizure, and she then moves to a New Age compound in the desert. You don't know if she is really being poisoned or has gone batty from boredom.

After seeing the film, my friend and I would always report to one another when we were having a "Safe" moment, such as when stuck behind a dirty tailpipe in traffic (nothing sends me into a violent rage more).

Interviews, Celebrity Sightings, Parking Mishaps...or TGIF, Part IV

Had a good job interview this morning at the cruiseline. I liked the employees and the environment, and the job itself is intriguing. The office didn't seem like the type of place where the roof caves in if someone misses a call, or where you should feel extremely grateful to work extremely long hours for extremely low pay for an extremely difficult person. Not to criticize the entertainment industry, ahem.

The interview was held in Century City, so there were a lot of Industry types buzzing around the food court where I ate lunch (another B-list celebrity sighting: Harry Hamlin!) I sat next to (and too close to) three men who work in entertainment and who ogled all the women who walked by, noting that they were seated in a good pickup location. One of them talked to his friends about working on The Girls Next Door and shooting an upcoming scene with Bridget. Through TGND he met a former Playboy centerfold who showed up at his house one night "looking hot" in a cowboy hat and wife-beater. He leaned into his friends and said intensely, "What do you think about this idea for a reality show? HOT MODELS on a RANCH."

Readers, look for it in your TV guide next season.

After lunch I could not figure out how to get back into the most mammoth, convoluted parking garage known to man. I ended up just walking down into it through the car ramp and then the security guard had to call me a golf cart escort to drive me back to my car.

While I was waiting for my escort, Bridget, from the above mentioned The Girls Next Door, drove through in her red sports car with the Playboy license plate.