Tag Archives: adorable

StoryTime! …yay!

Its as straight-forward as it sounds. Story Time = a Time for a Story.

On with the show.

02 June 2007…
I don’t know if I’m tired. But I find myself on a cousin of the vinyl/plastic-y comfort of the mats that line all high school gymnasiums. In a certain New York suburban abyss, they were orange; here, I believe they are some sort of navy…. With my scratchy fiber-glass “blanket” that I am instructed to take from one in a series of garbage cans that hold things like scratchy blankets and useless sheets… And so, I feel absolutely exquisite!!!

…if not for the fact that I just ruined my entire life and/or the fact that I now share quarters with crack-addict middle-aged women felons in the felony tank somewhere in Van Nuys. I don’t even know where Van Nuys is. I understand that it is in ‘The Valley” though. A place where, unless required to by a work commitment, or a medical emergency, one really has no reason to be. No reason to travel over the wondrous Hollywood Hills to Burbank or Sherman Oaks. It’s like living in Manhattan and going into Brooklyn or Staten Island . Useless and time consuming.

But for not better, and much much worse, I find myself in the Van Nuys prison. I must side-track a second here and say that I was looking pretty kick-ass. My hair was still passable as awesome [growing out, but still boyish short and adorable at that] and I was wearing this totally unconv-trendy-like almost sea foam green Diesel t-shirt/dress-like, though sweat-shirt material ensem; completely off-the shoulder, it wrapped around just under my collar bone… with black capri leggings; lace at the bottom and ballet flats [this will become useful later].

After a myriad of finger printing and confiscating of bag complete with searching through and itemizing; counting of my cash; removal of all jewelry [rings, earrings, toe-ring, necklace… some of which I never take off]. I am sent to this random room then to holding cell; where I’m first introduced to bed-cots with aforementioned high school gym-mat mattresses while cold cold air blows on me. It is June in California , there is no reason that cold, cold air should blow on anyone. Though it is the valley, I suppose.

I am allowed to keep my jacket. In the holding cell, there are no scratchy blankets or useless sheets; and my exposed shoulders and bottom of legs POP with goosebumps. There is this one other chick in there when I get in. Sort of young like me watching some mind rotting reality-something on this television that is blaring it’s sound from the ceiling with it’s friend the cold, cold air. It’s like I’m on an ecstacy trip gone bad wherein all of my senses are hyper-aware of all that is uncomfortable in my immediate experience of the world and rendered unavoidable. [this is theoretical, mind you, I was not on ecstacy]. And this is also when I stop receiving information about what is presently and will happen to me.

I was arrested in West Hollywood probably a quarter of a mile from my house. The arresting cops were really nice. I dug them. And asked them a lot of questions about themselves. I mean, I was freaking out a bit, this was not part of the night’s plans or anything, but why not make it fun? There was this one rookie cop that was totally fresh off cop academy or whatever. I asked the other guy, seasoned and such if he’d ever killed anyone. He had not.


heh… I always say that.

It’s not a lie unless I die without continuing…

p.s. the fact that I got caught was surprising to me. kiko is above the law, you see. I mean, the rules never applied to me before this relatively ultimately debacle.

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and you know how I love cute things!

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Adorably Cute

It was a Friday. And I was feelin’ fine. Strangely fine. Not blissed-out mind you… just fine enough that I could honestly say, “it’s all good” and bring the hearty truth of the statement forth.

My friends have a band. This band has a show. This night. This particular Friday.

“You should come.”

I reckon I will.

Let off of work early, however, I am left to my own devices.

And it’s all time… time… time. I mean, 11:00pm guys? Really?! Any earlier…

But I handle it like a pro. …the time.

Finish reading a script (which was pretty kick ass). Clean a bit. All lovely, slow ‘things to do’. And I do them. And I’m feelin’ fine. Like a normal person that carries out actions… does stuff… within time.

It’s simply simple. And simply incredible.

So… I go to the show. Show’s great. See friends… exquisite. And I continue to exist in the mood of laconic, slow, low-key ‘fine-ness’. Mighty grand.

None of this has anything to do with “adorably cute”, of course. But now is the time to segue like all of the motion that stays in motion until I step abruptly on the brake and stop short… after I remember that I am actually driving.

So, good friend has girlfriend. Much younger than he. Slightly younger than me. I’ve known her in a passing version of theory for a while. I meet her aforementioned Friday. Introduce myself. Hand out, firm handshake and a smile. Good Friend apparently unable to bring me around any girlfriend he may have at any slice of time’s present. And she’s quite pleasant.

Later, I find out, she found me adorably cute.

And, I must say, in anyone’s defense, I am adorably cute… sometimes. And I don’t take offense or anything. It’s just as I’ve gotten older, adorably cute increasingly sounds a bit condescending.

Thank you. Drive Thru.


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