Just another day in paradise...

"Erections, Ejaculation, Exhibitions, and General Tales of Ordinary Madness" -Charles Bukowski

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

Go Cardinals!

So I got a phone call last week that said something along the lines of “Hello OCgirl, this is Tom Quinn calling on behalf Coach Cunningham at Stanford. We’d really appreciate it if you would give us a call back. Again this is Tom Quinn at Stanford.” He proceeded to leave me his phone number twice, to ensure I had it. This stumped me. Why was the Stanford University Athletic Department calling me? I narrowed it down to the few options it could be:
  • A wrong number (who happened to know my name).
  • Somebody found out that I wanted to do sports broadcasting in college, and they decided to give me a shot.
  • FINALLY I was going to get my wish and for an early b-day present, somebody got me a basketball team.
  • Writing my name on the locker room wall has (finally) paid off.
Since then we have been playing a little phone tag. I now know that he is with the football dept at Stanford. I’m completely intrigued.


One concern is that perhaps I met somebody a couple of weeks ago, a few days prior to going to NY. You see, as I get a late start when going out if I am coming from my evening job, I sometimes have felt as though I need to ‘catch up’ with my friends when I meet them out. A few Fridays ago I made the mistake of not only catching up- but just flying right past them. At the third place we went to- of which I have a very vague recollection- I told T that I needed to go home, that I was going to catch a cab. Then, I apparently came up to her once more, and said, “I guess I’m taking him home with me”, pointing to some random dude. T looked at me and said, “Are you sure? He has bad hair.” I couldn’t tell you to this day if he did or didn’t have bad hair, I couldn’t even tell you if he had hair. This is because by the time I got home, I had no intention of him coming home with me. (I have never got home with a complete random before, and don’t plan to start now). I don’t remember the conversation, if there was one, on the way back to my house, and I am pretty sure I wouldn’t have given him my phone number…As we got to my place I got out of the cab, and said “Thanks for paying for the ride”, and promptly shut the door, leaving him in the cab, and I went inside my house.

The next day as T, Gigi and I recovered at my place their friend M-Why called to say that his friend was all powerful (at least as far as we were concerned) at the Montage Resort, and he had a cabana set up for us with food and cocktails. Now this is what I call recovery. We lazily laid by the pool, sharing random [hook-up] stories of our lives- of which I am sure you will hear before too long- and recovered watching the sun set (although the view is better from my house).

Jay Mohr played that night at the Improv at Irvine Spectrum. T and I had tried to get tickets all week, to no avail- as they were completely sold out. So who do we see walking by us as we sat in the jacuzzi? Jay Mohr and his lovely wife. We tried to convince each other to go and randomly ask for tickets, as he would think that we were someone of importance, staying at the Montage and all… he didn’t need to know that truth, but we both were to chicken, and feared of looking like some random losers, asking for free handouts (again he didn’t need to know the circumstances of our stay there).

So, over all, I left town on a good note, needing some time off from the raucous here.

Side note… I am sooo completely smitten with Bright Eyes music right now. Buy it, listen to it, love it.

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