So the silliest thing happened the other day. We finished eating lunch, which always signals the return to the work day, and we were both facing annoying tasks. Cal was on my lap, as he usually is during meals. He doesn't try to eat the food, he just sort of likes being food-adjacent. Lately, Cal's developed some natty dreads in his coat, and I was pulling on them and trying to separate them. He also has dandriff, which all the other cats enjoy making fun of him for. They brush his shoulder when they stand next to him in the elevator.
Anyway, so I said, "Let's give Cal a bath!"
And when weighing bathing the cat or doing the eighth rewrite of some outline, she said, "Hell yeah."
So instead of working, we bathed the cat. He really didn't mind very much. He's a very mellow cat, except when he's not. He didn't really like the blow dryer very much, but no guys do. The only thing, we couldn't find the cat shampoo, so we had to use some Pert Plus. So Cal and I both smell the same right now. I don't know if that's reflects well on him, or poorly on me.
The screening of BUTTLEMAN the other night went really well. It's a very swanky place that shows movies while you eat dinner. There really is no need for that kind of swank, but what can you do. It's LA. People like to sell 12 dollar hamburgers and bring you an eight dollar bottle of water when you just asked for tap. The hostesses' nipples pointing out of her tiny shirt was the only thing pulling focus away from her silver Bindi, as she bitchily told us she had no record of our reservation. It was okay, though--I went and got her in trouble. Stupid Bindi head. We had a full house and people seemed to like the movie, so that was good.
Beforehand, we met a friend of mine from school who moved into a new house near the theatre. His place... my God. It's not far from my old apartment in the ghetto of the Hollywood Hills, but it's far, far nicer. It's a really old semi-recovered condemned building that used to be Clara Bow's house. But now it's seven different apartments. His is the top floor 2 bedroom with gorgeous views of the hills (and the 101 freeway). The living room is the biggest I've ever seen. There are balconies and skylights and he pays less than we do. The best thing: his roommate is only there a week a month. He owns a company that sells meat door to door and is often travelling. (Yeah, meat. Door to door. Seriously.) Anyway, my friend always lucks into places like this.
However, the one thing that would make me very nervous about living in the place: it's directly over the fault line that goes under the Capitol records building on Vine, and it's already just about the least archetecturally sound building I've ever been in. The floor to the bathroom slopes about six inches down. The whole thing just feels unsturdy as hell. And while the views are great, the way it's built into the hills, it would be a loooooong drop if the balcony happened to give while you were out having a smoke break.
So while I'm jealous, I do enjoy the notion of not falling through my bathroom floor. I'm just weird like that.