Chicks Dig Metaphors

[badatapologies]

I was in LA on Wednesday and Thursday for meetings, and once again I stayed at the home of the infinitely faboo explosivo, for whom I am regularly grateful beyond words.

The day of the big meeting I was up quite early, which as you know is not my forté. About 7:15am I staggered half-asleep into the shower without closing the bathroom window shutters, so when I got out of the shower and looked out the window, I was standing bare-ass naked in front of...

Dakota Fanning. Who was walking her dog in front of explosivo's house. The dog had chosen that moment to stop for a wee tinkle. Dakota seemed completely oblivious to my magnificent breasts, a reaction which is frankly all too common, but in this case it was a relief. So began the day.

The meeting went fine. I'll say no more for now. Discretion is my middle name. Well, one of the many middle names. We met at a pretty colorful place on the PCH called Patrick's Roadhouse. I'd been a smidge nervous, and afterwards I was ready to decompress a bit...and the ocean was right there, after all. I drove over to Will Rogers state beach, stripped naked in the back of the Camry and pulled on my swimsuit. (I live in California. There's always a swimsuit in the car.) Grabbed the iPod, threw a towel down on the sand and soaked in the sun. It was an incredibly beautiful day.

I was going to relax in the sun awhile, and just leave it at that. But as I was getting ready to go, I thought--no, this was a big day, and big days demand more. "I'll just get my feet wet," I said to myself. "You know, like 'get your feet wet'. It's a metaphor." Down I went to the water's edge. I took a deep breath and walked in. Baby steps. The water was colder than I expected, but it was fine. I waded in up to my knees, a big grin on my face, and breathed a sigh of relief. Easy! Nothing to it! I'm so very clever!

Ten seconds later a riptide had pulled me about 800 feet out to sea. A white flash of panic. I fought hard against the tide, frantic, but not too frantic to feel embarrassed at my imminent death, or to have a momentary flash of what horrible things would be done to my movie if I drowned, or if everyone would think I was pulling a Norman Maine. I swam as hard as I could but it was useless, I just kept getting further and further out, black waves crashing over my head, Santa Monica slipping away in the seafoam distance. I have to think, have to keep a clear head, I kept telling myself. What do you do? Finally I remembered something--what was it, Baywatch?--about not fighting it, floating until it lets you go, then swimming parallel and back to the shore? And here we are. There's another one I owe you, Hasselhoff.

I stumbled weakly back to shore, a little sick to my stomach, feeling simultaneously stupid, lucky, and darkly amused. "'It's a metaphor'", I muttered snidely. "Sure as hell is."

Comments

[maleadanee.livejournal.com]

Awesome. This sounds like a story to tell future generations...."Remember the day when Dakota Fanning and her dog saw me naked AND I almost drowned?" I have never been in a rip tide situation, but thanks to Baywatch and Cait I know what to do!!!
Think of it as a cleansing in the pacific. Out with the old energies in with the new. I am sure an experience like that would really clear your head.

[mcbrennan.livejournal.com]

I like the "cleansing in the Pacific" idea. Though I know something about the water quality off LA, so...we'll ignore that and keep with the spiritual renewal theme.:) Yes, it was...a moment of clarity, for sure. By no means my first brush with death, but it always sobers you right up.

They say the thing that kills you in a riptide is that you exhaust yourself fighting it, so once you're out of it you don't have the strength to swim back to shore. They are not kidding. Swim parallel to the shore and then back to land once you're out of the rip. So says wikipedia anyway.

I have the most bizarre celebrity "encounters". It's like I simultaneously attract fame and embarrassment. It's a gift.

[maleadanee.livejournal.com]

Your celebrity encounters sound like my everyday encounters. I am constantly doing something embarrassing. Its a curse.

[capsuper.livejournal.com]

The metaphor is: in Hollywood, just lie back, let things happen, and you'll be successful.

Oh, and thanks for trying to kill yourself on our 30th anniversary. I can't help but take that a little personally.

[mcbrennan.livejournal.com]

That would have been a sad ending to your tribute. You know what's sadder, though? I lived through it, my net worth is $107, and I'm up at 5am listening to Martika sing "Toy Soldiers" and missing the dork from high school again. I shoulda drowned, at least I woulda gone out with dignity.

[capsuper.livejournal.com]

The saddest part of that is you're listening to Martika. (But, I did buy the single in '89. Haven't heard it in 18 years.)

Am I reading that right? You're missing your dork from high school?

If you drownded then Paully Shore will make your movie. AND he'll play the part of Kit. I will make sure of that if you go and prematurely die. Think about it...you want to be remembered as Paully Shore...buuuuuuuudy?