About a week ago I was in my office packing up all of my personal stuff. I'd had enough, and I was getting ready to walk out for good. For the past six months, I've been working on a case that is on a fast track to trial in Federal Court against a law firm that will stoop to any level in order to win. In the midst of that, our firm has been remodeling and we had to pack up everything on our floor and move to a temporary location for two months and then pack it all up again and move back. Meanwhile, my boss has been made the managing partner of the firm -- which is like the boss of all bosses -- and the added pressure has been making him act like a real dickhead. So the other night when I was staying late to prepare him for an out-of-town deposition, and he basically told me that I was no help at all and I might as well go home, I came damn close to taking him at his word.
But I didn't. What I did do, however, was decide to take a couple of "personal" days off in order to try and restore my mental health. So the next morning I emailed them (that's what we do these days instead of calling in sick) and told them I would be out due to "illness." The thing about "Personal Time Off" is that you generally have to ask for it in advance, unless of course you're sick, then you just call in (or in my case send an email). But if you're sick for more than three days, you have to bring a doctor's note. Since I got "sick" on a Thursday, I didn't have to worry about the note.
There were other factors influencing my mental condition, besides the overwhelming amount of work and my boss's rude behavior. There was my back, which has been aching ever since I had to pack up and move about three hundred boxes worth of files when we changed floors. There's the fact that I'm trying to play in a band and write screenplays and never really feeling like I'm getting anywhere with either. And then there's the fact that my Mom had open heart surgery two weeks ago. Fortunately, she got through it very well and is recuperating nicely. My sister Cindy went down to see her last week and my other sister Susan is going next week. I will be heading down in early March. Even though I've spoken to her on the phone a lot since the operation, I don't think I'll feel quite right until I see her. An essential step in my recovery was to catch up on some movie watching, especially with the Oscars coming up. So on Thursday I went see Million Dollar Baby, which is the best film so far by one of the best directors ever. It was truly cathartic and while I wouldn't say it made me feel "better," it definitely changed the way I felt. I also had a long talk with my Mom who was home from the hospital, well not too long, she still gets a little out of breath. She was completely supportive of my mental health vacation. I talked to Cindy too, it was a good to know she was there with Mom.
The next day was for errands -- I bought new underwear at Target. Why do they never have plain old size medium all-cotton boxers? I mean they carry them, sure, but every time I go there they are sold out -- except for one or two pair which I have to dig through all of the other sizes to find. I swear this is true every single time I shop for boxers and every single place I go, Kmart, Old Navy, you name it, they are always sold out of size medium all-cotton boxers. They have all the other sizes in abundance. They have boxer-briefs by the truckload. What the hell are boxer briefs anyway? Either it's a boxer or it's a brief. You can't have both. You can't. Who the hell is buying boxer briefs? Make a goddamn choice guys. Boxers or briefs, one or the other. And why can't the store figure out to carry more size mediums, since that's the size that always sells out? Do the math!
Clearly I was still a little stressed-out on Friday.
On Saturday I did a little work on my new screenplay and met up with Jimmy the lead singer in the band. We had dinner and then came back here and worked on a new song he is writing. Now this is how life should be. Work on the screenplay, dinner with a friend, play a little music. No boxes of documents, no annoying lawyers, nobody in the hospital.
By Sunday I was feeling almost human again. I worked all day on the screenplay and cooked myself a nice healthy meal with lots of fresh vegetables and brown rice. I watched the Grammys and fell in love with Alicia Keyes. I was ready to go back. Not looking forward to it, but ready.
When I got to work on Monday I heard all about the two huge last-minute crises I had missed on Thursday and Friday. I also found out the boss was out of town all week. All week! It was like another four days off. And unlike most of the time when he's away, this week I had no voice mails, no emails from his Blackberry, no last minute faxes -- not a peep. Maybe my sudden vacation had some effect on him as well.
Yesterday, the boss came back. And we were embroiled in another crisis -- some deal we had made with the other side had fallen through as they always do since those guys are a bunch of lying bastards. Plus we were in the middle of packing up everything to move back into our old offices. Naturally the crisis demanded that we come in to work this weekend, but we couldn't come in today since the offices wouldn't be ready for us. So it looks like the boss and I will be in the office tomorrow, shoulder to shoulder once again. Yesterday, he seemed a little reluctant to talk to me at first, but after a few awkward minutes we were back to the old routine. We've got two more months to trial, with any luck we'll make it without killing each other.
Wait until he finds out I'm going to Florida in two weeks to see my Mom.
So I still haven't quit my job. But I did bring home all of my personal stuff that I had packed up the other night. The only control I have in my job is the ability to leave it. This time it was enough just to leave for a couple of days. Next time it may be a lot longer.
I've often said that you never really appreciate where you live until someone comes to visit you. That's when you actually take the time to go out and see all of the wonderful things that you always say you're going to take advantage of but never really do. And even though spotting celebrities has become something I take for granted, I like to try and make sure that when a visitor comes to town they get to see at least one "star." I know they're just people and they don't deserve to be worshipped or admired any more than teachers or firefighters -- but the thing of it is when you do see a really big star, first of all it's cool, and second of all it gives you a good story to go home and tell all your loser friends who had to suffer through another bitterly cold east coast winter week while you were sipping mimosas on Sunset Boulevard and rubbing elbows with the beautiful people.
This past weekend was my niece Annie's birthday and her mom, my sister Cindy, came out to visit. I picked Cindy up at LAX on Saturday and took her straight to the Sky Bar, a prime star-gazing location. We sat and sipped our drinks in the balmy afternoon breeze watching the surgically enhanced and mentally impoverished and feeling superior to all. But alas, no stars.
After drinks we headed up Sunset to pick up Annie from work and get ready for her birthday party that night, at the apartment of her new boyfriend Tony. We sat at an outdoor cafe on Sunset while waiting for Annie to get off work, watching the ultra-blonde, wobbly-legged, pouty-lipped women and their tiny rat-like dogs. Still no celebs.
At Annie's birthday party, which was actually being held two days early, we met Tony's mother and her four friends who were in town for the week. I had actually met them on Friday night at a Buzzards gig. Not that they flew all they way to Los Angeles from Buffalo just to see the Buzzards, but then again, two of them were here in October for the last Buzzards gig, so you do the math.
Anyway, the "Buffalo Gals" were psyched to see some celebs. This weekend was the Golden Globes and the town was filled with stars. Earlier, the Buffalo Gals had been hanging out at the Four Seasons bar and got into a heavy conversation with Liam Neeson. But Liam was just an appetizer -- they were out for big game. The kept talking about ditching the birthday party to go try and crash the HBO pre-Globes soiree. These women were real pros. They had a plan for the night of the Globes that would guarantee success, and with any luck we would be able to coat-tail our way along with them.
The next afternoon Cindy and Annie and I did a little shopping along trendy Melrose Ave. Cindy picked up some knockoff 'Dolce Garbonzo' sunglasses that made her look just like a studio exec at Cannes. Annie got a pair of wide-screen shades that gave her that "I don't want you to recognize me, but you better not ignore me" look that all the stars go for.
We stopped for dinner and a hip Chinese place and finally saw our first celeb. Actually a two-fer, raspy-voiced former Newhart wife Suzanne Pleshette and her real-life husband, and also former Newhart co-star, Tom Poston. Tom currently appears as the "clown in the closet" on the soon-to-be-forgotten NBC sitcom "Committed." While they aren't exactly A-list, or even B-list, they were bona-fide celebrities and rated a quick cell phone call to the folks back in Florida.
But the best was yet to come.
We got the call from Tony and learned that the Buffalo Gals had staked out a couple of couches in the lobby of the luxurious Peninsula Hotel across the street from the Golden Globes. We rushed home to change and then headed over to join them. When we got there we immediately became aware of the cunning genius behind their plan. Many of the big stars had booked rooms at the Peninsula to get ready for their big night. After the awards, they scooted back to the hotel to change out of their gowns and tuxedos and kick back. And when they did, they'd fall right into our trap.
Within fifteen minutes of our arrival we were rewarded with a genuine celebrity sighting as super-tall activist/actor/director Tim Robbins ducked his way into the lobby, sporting a scruffy beard and mustache. He knew he was in the presence of serious star-gazers as we locked him in our sights and followed his progress across the lobby and over to the elevators. He smiled and nodded somewhat sheepishly, acknowledging our prowess.
Sex in the City's ghostly pale Cynthia Nixon made several appearances, apparently having lost track of her room. She failed to acknowledge our group to her continuing discredit.
Chazz Palminteri looked about as cool as you'd imagine wearing his black leather jacket -- he skulked around the entrance to the bar for a while before eventually daring to run our gauntlet. Nobody was going to mess with Chazz and we let him pass unfazed.
Handsome couple Felicity Huffman and William H. Macy made several passes in front of our reviewing stand, until Macy, looking characteristically flustered, confessed "we're just getting some exercise."
At one point I noticed an elfin-looking man wearing silver-tipped cowboy boots. It took a moment to realize that he was manic attention-hound Robin Williams, escorting his wife and kids over to the elevator. Robin earned a round of applause from our group, which he clearly enjoyed. In fact he returned later on for repeat performance, poking his head through a potted plant and saying "thank-you so much!"
Gap-toothed director Ron Howard came by, but I must have been in the men's room. He reportedly received a round of applause as well.
As I was coming back from the men's room, I tried to catch the eye of a stunning brunette chatting with a friend in the lobby. She turned out to be the adorable Kristin Davis. I think she was interested in me, but trying to play coy.
I may be forgetting one or two -- some guy from the Sopranos, one of the Queer Eyes -- but all in all I'd say we had a pretty good night of it. On the way out we ran into Miramax mogul Harvey Weinstein, not exactly one of the beautiful people but a real heavyweight. Certainly we had seen enough stars to make the folks back home sit up and take notice. The Buffalo Gals really taught us a thing or two. How to stalk with style and and how to have a pretty fun evening without getting up off the couch. I'll have to remember that place.
The next night was Annie's actual birthday and we celebrated at a cozy little restaurant nestled in the heart of Laurel Canyon. Courtney, Annie's friend from the University of Vermont joined us there. She had recently moved to L.A. and after hearing of our amazing night of star sightings, complained that she had yet to see a celeb. She was in luck -- we still had the magic of the Buffalo Gals on our side. A few minutes later, leggy cover-girl-turned actress Molly Sims came in and sat just a few tables away. Courtney was thrilled. Now she really was an Angeleno. Eventually, of course, she'll have seen a bunch of stars and she'll become jaded like the rest of us. That is, until some friends come out to visit her and she gets to relive the wonder all over again.
I think it was Woody Allen who said: "I don't have a problem with change -- I just don't want to be around when it happens." It seems we live in a society where progress is paramount and history is too often forgotten. The problem with most progress is that it is driven by greed rather than by a legitimate need for change. Such is the case in my neighborhood, where a local historic landmark is facing demolition in the face of the seemingly epidemic proliferation of premium coffee franchises. I felt I had to take a stand.
When I first moved out here, I spent some time hanging out at my buddy Brian's apartment. He let me use his computer to work on my screenplays while he was at work. I liked the area and took many long walks looking for apartments. During one of these walks, I stopped at a burger stand called Irv's Burgers and had a very tasty turkey burger. Right then and there I decided that this was the neighborhood for me. Any neighborhood that had a place like Irv's was right up my alley. In fact, I ended up taking an apartment just two blocks down the street and soon became an Irv's regular.
Now it isn't just the burgers that make Irv's the best place to eat in town. The owner, Sonia Hong, also happens to be the most cheerful and sweetest woman you ever met. She greets every customer by name and personalizes each order with handwritten notes and drawings on the paper plates and bags. Over the years I have brought everyone I know to share in the Irv's experience and Sonia has treated all of them like family. Her's is truly a family place as her mother and brother work alongside her. Everyone who comes to visit me in L.A. counts Irv's as one of the highlights of the trip.
But Irv's may not be around much longer. The owner of the property wants to lease the space surrounding Irv's to a coffee chain called Peet's and their plan is to get rid of the burger stand to make room for a parking lot. "They paved paradise and..." Well you know how it goes. Anyway a bunch of Irv's loyal customers have banded together with a petition and letter-writing campaign to try and persuade the developers to allow Irv's to remain where it is. Irv's is one of the last of a dying breed of walk-up hamburger stands and is truly one-of-a-kind. The fact that Irv's happens to be located on the original Route 66 and was frequented by the likes of Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin contribute to its historic value.
The other day I went over to Irv's for a "delicious" turkey burger. While I was there, a reporter from Channel 2 showed up and interviewed me for a story they were doing about Irv's. There has been quite a bit of media attention, including stories in the L.A. Times, the Washington Post and the Wall Street journal.
I hope the Burger Brigade is successful, it would be sad to see Irv's disappear. There are too many shiny new things that lack substance and not enough shabby old things that have character. Maybe this time there are enough people who care about the shabby old things to actually make a difference. We'll see.
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