Dinner At Tiffany's

On the way, I heard a piece on NPR about the Southern Baptist church getting up in arms about the new New International translation of the Bible, which contains "all-inclusive" language. Now, God is still a He, and Jesus is still a He, but Jesus is here to save "all people" rather than "men."

The Baptists have protested and are planning to boycott the book. Without it having been published here, without any "offensive" phrase being pointed to. Simply on hysterical say-so.

This is stupid. But it's amazing what being an insular, thick-headed community can do to your rational faculties.

Had a wonderful time with Tiffany and her friend, who was a soap writer, but has had an amazing life above and beyond that. Tiffany made a coconut-mushroom-shrimp soup and we dined on her porch, which has a commanding view of Santa Monica and the Pacific Ocean. I can understand why she wanted the apartment, even though it's small.

Ville and I started talking about various ailments we've been having, in a bid to one-up one another in the hypochondria category. We both have extreme night sweats, which has caused us both to wonder if we're experiencing early menopause. Tiffany wants us to meet her acupuncturist, who can deal with these strange, amorphous ailments.

Tiffany has an acupuncturist? Who knew.

I am so desperate, though, with the various ailments I've been having, including ridiculous lethargy and those night sweats, that I'm willing to try acupuncture. (That sound you hear is Darin screaming.)

I came home and started chatting. Very bad. Very, very bad. Too much typing.