4-17-00 So, You Don't Look Like a Bouncer

 4-17-00 11:13 AM Tu

Stocks?!  I'm needing some tape.  After I typed this morning, I rode my bike to Hollywood Video and dropped off the derivative "Stir of Echoes" (It gave Rochelle nightmares, I think because the wife/mother became irrelevant to the husband/son--not going to make good pregnant dreams), "Three Kings," (great) Fellini's "8 1/2" (great) and a movie about air traffic controllers called "Pushing Tin."  Then I rode over to the news patio at Wilshire and Detroit and bought Los Chicago Times. That's what I'm calling the LA Times now that Tribune owns it. I read the sports page at a little table there.  Then I rode back to the house.  

A message on the machine from Sandra Puterin's office at American Financial said my credit is "perfect, superlative, and macho," but I need to pay off two little claims against me.  I felt like a superhero. 

[grotesque blue ink self-portrait with wife and family friend]  I woke Rochelle so we could go up to the credit union and see how much of a loan I qualify for.  I filled out a card, and they said they'd let me know in three to four business days.  We strolled up to City Walk.  I was feeling like a cool guy with superb credit.  At bar/restaurant/bowling alley, a shrimp at the door said we couldn't go in because of a private party.  He had a security wire in his ear. 

 "How do you know we're not with the party?" Rochelle asked.  

"You don't look like "Baywatch" lifeguards.

I said, "So?  You don't look like a bouncer."

He didn't laugh.  I didn't want to risk running into Shirelle in there, anyway. We walked away.  I didn't feel like a superhero with superlative, macho credit anymore. 

We walked back down the hill and drove home.  Rochelle made some chicken parmesan and angel hair with marinara and a salad.  I drank a beer. When I'm done here, I'll read some Quartz.  Then third-person.  Then read some Didion. Then Jim.