you say self-important egomaniac like it's a bad thing.
As far as the government's concerned, you're an arms dealer, pal.
(Don't send me your answers. This is just a little way to expand your horizons. Honest.)
I am assured by people who know--women who have gone through this--that morning sickness eventually ends. Let me say only that currently I do not believe this. Reportedly I'm going to get my appetite back and actually enjoy eating. I don't believe this either. I think I am going to have a miserable upset stomach for the rest of my life.
I also have to stop looking at childbirth books with photographs of the birth process. They're disturbing and serve little other purpose than to make me yell, "No fucking way!"
I see now why you're supposed to have a baby when you're young--say, 16 or 17. When you're young, you're too goddamned stupid to know what you're getting into.
Mary has told me that I glow, but at the moment I am not a happy mother-to-be.
Sei Shonagon suggested the baby names Hannibal and Xena. I mentioned this to Darin and he said, "Well, I like the name Hannibal." As a matter of fact, I do too, but the cultural zeitgeist is rather against our actually naming our baby that. Although Darin pointed out that we could call him "Han," and I pointed out that for as long as he was an only child, "Han Solo."
Last night Darin and I were signed up to have a dinner with Lucy and her husband John, Chuck and his wife Beth, and Steve and his wife Viv at a restaurant we've been meaning to try, Pinot Bistro. (Not only was the food reputed to be excellent, but I keep reading in gossip columns about the elite meeting and greeting there.)
"I don't know any of these people!" Darin said to me.
"You've met Lucy!" I said. "And besides which, when has not knowing people ever stopped you from socializing with them?"
It didn't last night either. We had a great time. I'd met Chuck briefly once before, but it hardly counted as meeting because it was so brief. (Chuck and I had sent one another e-mail about getting together to go do sushi at some point, but as the very idea of consuming sushi currently fills me with nausea--as does the thought of consuming most types of food--we're probably not going to do it any time soon.)
We talked about kids and the joys of hosting children's parties at Chuck E. Cheese's. (Well, the children love it at any rate.) I asked for a moratorium on birth-hell stories and life-post-children-hell stories. We ate really good food--Pinot Bistro is one of the few restaurants I've come across in LA that not only is reputed to have good food but actually has good food. Beth raved quite a bit about the chocolate bread pudding dessert, which Darin had and similarly raved over.
We discussed a few journals, but I'm not telling you which ones.
Lucy took digital pictures, so perhaps you will see the incriminating photos on her page.
We did not see any celebrities, despite staying there until they turned up the music to make us leave.
I met Aaron on Friday to chat. Hadn't seen him in over a month, and he's had a lot of stuff going on. He mentioned that he'd been tweaking one of his scripts and told me about the changes. I blinked a few times and said, "Your definition of tweaking fits right in with my definition of a major rewrite." He laughed and said, Well, okay, it was a rewrite.
Due to some bad timing, we can't get the writing group going until later this month. After a full hiatus in August, I'm eager to get it going again.
I am so looking forward to the new sitcom Action. I want to be sure to watch every episode, because I know it won't last long.
And did everyone in the free world watch the MTV Video Awards? It seems like it. Best line: "The rich man's Skeet Ulrich--Johnny Depp!"
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Copyright 1999 Diane Patterson
Send comments and questions to diane@spies.com