When I call my friends in London, Aspen, LA or anywhere but here I always announce myself as follows: "Hi, it's your best friend in Oklahoma." Which is true and makes me feel really special. But in the case of the lady on the right she is my bestest, mostest friend among a constellation of superlative friends. Lisa Gunther who is just wrapping up a 22 month round the world TWICE Odyssey managed to squeeze in three days in The Homa. In London we are known as The Two Lisas and particular she is known as Lisa Om and I am know as Lisa Dog. The former because she often sports a big gold Om on a chain around her neck and is pretty cosmic, and the latter because she (meaning me) is a bona fide Dog Whisperer of some renown. So Lisa Om managed to sandwich a trip to Oklahoma City, (where progress is near), after Goa, Bang! Cock!, Bali, Australia, New Zealand, LA, OKC, LA and will be going back to London day after tomorrow but promises to be back in LA in the autumn before fucking off to Hawaii in December and then heading back to Goa after a brief Holiday stopover in Spain. Not that I'm jealous.
Anyhow, I'm sure you all got the news that there was an earthquake in LA yesterday. So after her eyelash extension appointment Lisa Om was in the back room havin
g a Brazilian when the 5.8 rocked the city. She thought the technician (I find it funny that a person removing ones nether hairs is called a technician. But then again, considering that they work in an area that might involve yeasty cultures I guess it sort of fits the bill and it sounds really euphamisticy) had fallen over. The Technician had fallen over, not Lisa Om. But then she saw the ceiling undulating as the "Technician" was yelling "Earthquake! Earthquake!" I did not hear how the story ended, because I'm sure that hundreds if not ten of thousands of Brazilians are performed each day in The City of Angels, so I just had this visual sequence of A, B, C and D list stars, some of them men (George Cluney), running out of treatment rooms all over the city from Santa Monica to Topanga Canyon covered in wax and muslin strips with all of their bits flapping in the wind. But then I thought it being LA they might have a speci
al "Earthquake Brazilian Emergency Towel" hanging on the back of the door, and that the Technician, before asking you to get naked and put your ankles behind your ears would do an airplane-like demo: "In the not so unlikely event that an earthquake should take place while I am farming your Beav-Hairs..."
What are they offering to Blow dry anyway?