A Night Away
We are in Los Angeles at my favorite hotel of all time, the Chateau Marmont. Everything here is just perfect, from the stupendous linens, to the incredibly good-humored service, to the terrific food. God, I love this place. I wish I could move in here. Plus, there's a build-up of some incredible Hollywood movie romance vibe and Michael and I can't help but tear each other's clothes off as soon as we walk through the doors of our room. Thank god for the little "intimacy kit" they provide, because I'd probably be pregnant, again, god forbid, because who can remember to travel with birth control? It's all I can do to pack a toothbrush.
I have some issues I'd like to address, however. It's one thing to spew your guts on a blog. I admit it's inappropriate, and that I'm part of the cheapening of privacy in contemporary society. But when did it become okay to take care of bathroom tasks in public? When did it become okay to floss your goddamn teeth in the goddamn airport? I mean, WHAT THE HELL? I'm sitting at the Oakland airport, minding my own business and reading my Entertainment Weekly, when some woman sits down next to me. At first I thought she had Tourette's Syndrome, but I soon realized she was just sucking on her teeth. Then she pulled out the dental floss. There she sat, next to me, working up the world's smelliest case of floss fingers. Gag.