How To Meet Women

An open letter to parents with children ages 3 months-12 years.

Road Diary

Hello From Havey April 13, 2004

Hello From Havey October 10, 2004

Hello From Havey December 2, 2004

Johnny Carson 1925 - 2005

Hello From Havey January 11, 2005

Hello From Havey February 25, 2005

Hello From Havey June 21, 2005

The Christmas Vagina

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Hello From Havey
February 25, 2005

Los Angeles has been as wet and soggy as an actress after her first soft porn film. I was feeling blue so I called my buddy Hollywood Jack. His name is Jack and he lives in Hollywood. Hence, the moniker. His wife is an ex showgirl. She's a vegan and a cat freak that lives in Capri pants and halter tops composing "operettas" on the 1958 Hammond organ in their basement. Jack said he was going into Van Nuys to the Bobby Blake trial. That sounded as good a way to kill time as any so I told him I'd meet him by the hot dog stand at the edge of the plaza.

The courtroom had plenty of seats but if you hem and haw the bailiff will get wise and give you the thumb, but Hollywood has the kind of gait and clipboard that nobody questions and in a matter of seconds we were sitting pretty front and center.

There he was, Robert Blake, just eight feet away. He had the same soulful dark eyes as the kid in Treasure of the Sierra Madre, with the complexion of Walter Huston and the frown of Bogie. He was twirling around a Post-it pad in his left hand and holding up his head with the right. A noggin full of guilt can get to a guy. The judge, jury, prosecutor and even the stenographer all had the same vibe. "You are going down". The defense attorney seemed as out of place as a debutante in a Chinese laundry. The jury was made up of the only local residents that Blake hadn't asked to whack his wife. Hell, even I turned him down in May of 2000. I honestly thought it was the strawberry soda and chili talking. The trial had more sidebars than a corporate gig in Tulsa so Jack and I took it on the arches to a local joint called Mr. Yang.

In the middle of my Kung Pao I got a call from Cate Blanchett on my cell. It turns out I'm the only guy in the western hemisphere who can give that special pre-Oscar bikini wax. I try to beg off and Jack is blowing egg foo young all over my seersucker cracking up. I grab a small carp out of the fish tank hit the streets and hail a cab. I toss the fish in the front seat along with a double sawbuck and tell the driver to take it to the aquarium and toss it in tank 3. He hightails it out of there while I appease Cate with the kind of sweet talk that could give Gibraltar a cavity. Across the street Dominick Dunne waits for a bus in the rain. What a hump. What a day.