As promised, I'm back again. I'm sneaking some time in at my parents' ancient computer, trying not to go blind staring at their old-fashioned monitor--I've gotten totally spoiled by my flat screen at home. Their curved screen is making me go all cross-eyed.
I grew up less than 50 miles from Hollywood and Beverly Hills, and lived here for 22 years. I never once met a celebrity, except for sitting next to Sigourney Weaver in a movie theater in Santa Barbara once and seeing Ricky Schroeder at a LA Kings hockey game (does he count as a celebrity?). However, I have now officially met someone famous. Ming Na, the female Chinese doctor who had a baby a few seasons back on ER, showed up at my booth at our conference and introduced herself to me! We shook hands and chatted. She's interested in writing a children's book for us. I was totally cool and pretended I had no idea who she was.
Okay, that's a total lie. I turned around from helping a customer, saw her, and shrieked, "You're famous!" while pointing at her and jumping up and down. I'm not kidding, I actually did. And she was only like three feet away, so it's not like she didn't see me. I'm now totally embarrassed. But after that first shock, I was cool as a cucumber.
Someone else said they saw Mel Gibson dropping someone off at our hotel, but I missed that. To be honest, I would have preferred to have gotten to shake (okay, lick) his hand. Sorry, Ming.
The conference went well. We stayed at the Beverly Hilton, which was fabulous--chocolates on the pillow, terrycloth robe in the closet, Nintendo in the room ($6.95 for an hour), a balcony, and a pool heated to the temperature of a bathtub. I loved it, although I will say it was totally chintzy that they didn't have HBO. What's up with that? I was completely counting on finally getting to see uncut episodes of Sex and the City. We used to have HBO, but when Sex and Oz went off, we dropped it.
I got room service the first morning. It arrived on a table covered with linen. There was a rose in a vase, chilled juice, and a teeny weeny bottle of ketchup that I was seriously tempted to keep as a souvenir. And a very, very hot waiter in a tuxedo. Seriously. I almost threw him down on the bed, but 7:15 am seemed a little early for that sort of thing. And I hadn't brushed my hair in two days, so he probably didn't feel the same way about me. His loss, I say.
The King told me not to start expecting him to throw on a tux and bring me breakfast in bed, but since he forgot our anniversary last year, I'm pretty sure he's going to have to put up and do it at least once in the near future.
Ooh, I think Mom and Dad are back from their appointment. You know how when you go home, you instantly remember every distinguishing sound in the house? The toilet dripping, the annoying chirpy bird that lives outside your old bedroom window, the creaky floorboard in the kitchen? Well, I just heard the garage door open, so I must run and get dressed, because they want to take me to Uncle Herb's, the best diner this side of the Mississippi. And it's not just the best because they have a little train that runs around the walls, although I admit that I totally, totally love that little train.