Confessions and Cops

Yesterday started inauspiciously as I had to retrace my steps for a couple of blocks because I remembered I’d forgotten—sounds like an oxymoron, doesn’t it?—to close my laptop, leaving it sitting there on the desk and stewing along with the router and modem I had also forgotten to shut down. I don’t remember what I’d left on the screen, but heaven forfend my mother coming over and accidentally hitting the mouse to remove the screensaver. . .
It wasn’t till I got on the bus and out of this unusually humid heat that I realized I’d forgotten my new reading glasses. . . and for a book signing! Suddenly I have three pairs, if you count my new Cyclops camera, instead of just the shades.
As I like to mention, when I’m going to a concert one of that night’s musician’s songs comes on while I’m making my way there. I wasn’t going to a concert today, but I was meeting Christiane Kinney for dinner before the book reading, and of course Almost by her band Riddle the Sphinx gently blasts into my ears. By now I’ve become pretty expert at navigating my way through Park La Brea, so I was early for our meeting, sitting on their back porch waiting for Chris and/or Sean to show up. Luckily I’d remembered my Kindle Fire, and spent some time playing chess, watching a Firefly episode, and solving a sudoku on its hardest setting in only 5:03.
It was both fun and surreal having dinner with two kids under five and two still-very-much-kids well older than that, but I made a conscious effort to only remember the fun moments as we gorged ourselves at Farmer’s Market, then walked over to Barnes and Noble, where the kiddie section was right next to the place where the readings were held; an unlucky coincidence, no doubt. On the way we spotted the Goodyear blimp overhead, and even though I took a few shots with the little camera it wasn’t any kind of big deal compared to the one I’d gotten at the Rose Bowl during the Women’s World Cup Final in ‘99, so they’re not gonna get posted.
Even though I’d timed it to arrive purposefully late, it wasn’t late enough, as tonight’s writing diva Caprice Crane hadn’t shown up yet; I knew I was late because the only seat I could find was in the back. In front of me there’s a guy in suit and tie–who turned out to be Caprice’s agent–telling a cutesy blonde that he’s going to Burning Man, but I heard Birmingham, which made me wonder why she was so excited. . .
Not much preliminaries once Caprice arrives with her famous mother–Ginger from Gilligan’s Island–in tow, launching right into a bit from her new book, Confessions of a Hater. It’s described as being a young adult novel, though I imagine from her earlier works the only difference will be a few less swear words. . . and then during the reading she blows that theory out of the water. I do love witty women, though, and her replies during the Q&A were golden; I caught a few with the little camera in the video below, but I’m now realizing the Cyclops–in a video I’m not posting–is not good when it comes to recording sound.

When it was over and people were lining up to get their books autographed, I instead tootled to the play area–I mean, children’s section–to hang for a while longer with the Kinneys until they left and I joined the end of the autograph line; four-year-old Ireland refused to give me a hug, so there will be no repeat of the Merida backpack on her next birthday. . . which I would probably keep for myself anyway. As always I manage to come up with something unusual enough to make the celeb remember me—hopefully, anyway—and by the time I told her what part of her first novel made me a lifelong fan, and that I sometimes followed her on Twitter, I had her laughing; she even mentioned that in the autograph.
Okay, time to go. . . except, is that Missy Peregrym from Rookie Blue and Reaper sitting in the back, playing with her phone? It is! Now, considering Caprice always mentions Missy in her book acknowledgments, I knew they were friends, but she hadn’t been here for the previous reading a couple of years ago—probably filming in Toronto—so I didn’t expect her to be here this time either. Of course, reverse expectation. . .
Just like Daniela Ruah and Molly Quinn, Missy was completely nice and joking along, even when I reminded her of that time someone had painted a beard on a billboard shot of her, which someone else had dubbed Wookie Blue; her face when she explained the billboard was 20 minutes from where she’d grown up was hilarious. She even posed for a photo with me before I could say I only wanted a shot of her; said photo below has been cropped not just for security reasons, but because I photograph even worse than I look, which I didn’t think was possible. Taking the photo with my camera was Missy’s friend, whom I think plays the new character on Rookie Blue—the young pixie manic girl cop who’s fooling around with Dov—but I wasn’t sure enough to mention it, though I probably should have asked.
So, I missed July: Daniela in May, Molly in June, Missy in August. I am seriously hoping that means meeting two of my fave actresses in September, though I will certainly take Katherine Heigl or Uma Thurman or Charlize Theron as worthy of both spots. But the thing to take away from this encounter is another checkmark on the fave actress bucket list! Squeeeee! {I can’t believe I just wrote that, but I’m honor bound to keep it there.}
Relatively pleasant walk to Wilshire, but public transport clusterfuck after that! Both the regular and the express arrived at the same time, and figuring I wasn’t in a hurry, and my fave seat was available, I took the slow one. I thought I’d made the right choice when a cute brunette sat across from me. . .
But it was so slow I finally got off at Wilshire/Western to catch the purple line, rather than going on to Wilshire/Vermont and catching either the purple or red, as is my usual. Turns out the purple was on shuttle duty, taking me only to Vermont, where I just missed the red. . . and then finding out the red was only running every 20 minutes instead of 10 as usual.
So yeah, missed my bus, which meant an hour wait for the next one. And I couldn’t get internet inside Union Station, or just outside amongst the roses and birds of paradise. Finally I went over close to the bus stop on the other side of the skyscraper, where I’d gotten the public internet before, but it was only one bar and horribly slow. Still, it was enough to see when my bus was coming. . . only to have it read no information available. At the bus stop they have a board listing when the next bus of each line is coming, and my bus wasn’t listed there either, even though it was supposedly due in less than ten minutes. Shit!
Thinking that I’d have to take the Pasadena train and trek an hour home again, I waited it out, and the bus arrived two minutes early; I’m guessing its GPS was out. The surly young female driver didn’t make it any better, but I got my seat and wasn’t bothered, so it ended better than expected while I looked over the above video for the first time, though nowhere near how I’d hoped. . .
And then I remembered I’d just met Andi from Reaper and Andy from Wookie. . . er, Rookie Blue, and all was right with the world. . .


One thought on “Confessions and Cops

  1. Pingback: Top 15 outings of 2013 | LoganBruin--An Unauthorized Autobiography

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