Legend of the Sleepy Hills and a Blonde with a Horse

Welcome to Hollywood! That line seems to haunt my dreams after watching the last great Garry Marshall film, Pretty Woman.

We've all heard stories of the land of tarnished tinsel, the struggles, achievements, mishaps and the occasional run in with a tranny posing as a, well, Axel Foley could probably do a better job than me when discussing that. Oh, wait, maybe he was just trying to help Sher out.

Regarding life out here...It all comes down to research and marketing, I guess. Looking back to last year and reading about the, ummm, mistake of a decent director (I won't mention any names out of respect, but he did direct The Edge, Along Came a Spider, Die Another Day). Apparently he was arrested on Sunset, dressed in drag and trying to get a plain-clothes cop to let the misguided director PAY for him/her to go down on them. Wait, hmmmm, a drag queen paying to service another? Odd. A little bit. It reminds me of that IQ puzzle...two jugs, one is five gallons, one is three gallons and you need to measure off exactly four gallons of water. I find myself trying to figure that one out all the time, I eventually do, then four months later I forget how to do it. Thanks to a guy named Hensleigh for embedding that one in my psyche since seeing Die Hard with a Vengeance.

Sorry for the digression. It happens. Life happens. It seems to happen when none of us are paying attention.

Legend of the Sleepy Hills...Beverly Hills. It was my first party. Now, bear in mind that in Minnesota, (Fargo is in North Dakota btw) where we kill a pig when in doubt...Parties there typically occurred in basements, barns or cornfields. Cow tipping was a regular highlight.

Memories.

The party in the Sleepy Hills. A few amateur industry peeps had invited me to this little shindig. Tiki torches, a shitload of brie, melba toast, and pinot grigio flowed as suits, actresses and the rest of us milled about.

I found myself buried in a deep conversation about, wait for it, last week's episode of Friends and this girl's conclusion that Rachel Green was not happy with her life. Rachel was played by Ms. Aniston if anyone cannot recall.

After about 27 minutes of a Friends recap of her favorite episodes, the blonde actress asked if I was into horse? Horse?

"Horses are cool." I replied.

I was having my JD moment from Scrubs as I reflected a life left back in the barnyard of Minnesota.

The blonde actress grabbed my hand and led me inside. I feel like an idiot now for blabbering about the horses of my youth at Camp Wakanakateekee.

Inside the house, she brought me upstairs and down a hall.

"Where is your horse?" I asked while looking around, trying to figure out why they'd keep a horse upstairs.

She opened a door at the end of the hall and said that her horse was in there.

Now how in the hell is the horse living in there???

(Insert record scrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeecccccccccccchhhhhhhhh here!)

I'm well educated and not naive, but coming from Minnesota where rolling mary-janes is about the extent of our drug education being in the suburbs.

HORSE = HEROIN

I'm not really in the mood to divulge the rest of that retarded moment of my life...I'll leave it up to my readers to tack on the ending they'd like to see.

Namaste