Los Angeles Part 3 of 3: Daisy

Daisy, fresh off a night of boozing, was awake and ready to seize the day with party planning and event coordinating. I, fresh off a night of boozing, was ready to beat the hang over with a friend at a local bar. I took off for a couple of hours as the girls did their thing.

I usually find that when it comes to doing the party thing, it’s better to stay out of their way, plus I didn’t want to be tasked with the job of hanging balloons or running streamers. Luckily my friend Mark (remember him from New Years?) lived in LA and it was a perfect opportunity to catch up with an old friend.

Mark and I went to high school together and we both managed to leave the tiny town we grew up in for the exciting life of big city. For a while he went to film school in NYU but eventually made his way to work for the truly bizarre people of Hollywood. Seeing him was a great time because he has the best stories as you probably could have imagined. Needless to say I spent a good couple of hours with him while the party was being set up.

I eventually made my way back to Daisy’s place a little tipsy from the beer Mark and I shared. When I arrived I was more than happy to see that the pre-party barbecue had begun. More beer… and now some food.

Los Angeles barbecues are not normal. Not at all. See everyone in LA is a vegetarian. EVERYONE. Even if you aren't you are. Their favorite meat is Tofu. Their favorite vegetable is Soy. Their favorite drink is soy milk or bottled water. I, enthusiastically, pushed all that shit aside and went straight for the beef filet that Daisy had been so thoughtful in supplying. I ate my filet and mesclun greens salad with water and soy chips, burped air, and retreated to my room to grab some clothes and shower up for the night. There was an 80’s theme to the night, but I didn’t play along, partly because I didn’t have any gear, but mostly because I wasn’t gay. I digress…

Freshly showered I find myself in Daisy’s room getting changed when she walks in.

Daisy: “Oh sorry, I didn’t know you were in here.”

This Guy: “Uh huh.”

Daisy: “Don’t flatta yourself dah-ling.”

She likes to talk in old Hollywood glamour accents at time. She is a character in her own mind.

This Guy: “So can I change in peace or what?”

Daisy: “It’s not like I don’t know what you look like naked. Shit you saw me naked this morning.”

This Guy: “True story.” I said with a smile.

Daisy: “Hey maybe you can help me out.”

This Guy: “Ok?”

Daisy: “I don’t know if I should wear the tight jeans with the 80’s top or the white jeans with the black top and my hooker heels.”

This Guy: “I don’t know. Try them on.”

She strips, I pretend to look away, she puts on her first outfit.

This Guy: “That looks hot.”

Daisy: “Ooh, and you have to see it with the wig, hang on…”

She puts on this 80’s punk rocker wig. She looked 80’s punk rocker hot.

This Guy: “Damn Dais, you look fuckin hot.”

Daisy: “Thank you thank you… but now you have to see the other one.”

This Guy: “By all means, please disrobe and show me the other one… I’m patient.”

Daisy: "ha ha."

It’s true, she was so visually appealing in her costume and make up that I almost forgot that there was a psycho jealous mental patient underneath all that.

She changes into her new outfit and surprisingly looks even hotter. I am not a subscriber to the hot white pants common male fantasy, but this time it was pretty fuckin fantastic. These pants were super tight, super white, and well tailored. Her top was a black loose cocktail type thing (forgive me for not knowing the proper terminology for female attire) with sparkles. She had her wig on and her make up in full on hooker mode. This was the definition of 80’s heroin chic.

Daisy: “Ok what do you think of this?”

This Guy: “Um…wow… sexy. I think I like this one better.”

Daisy: “You think so?”

This Guy: “Um, I mean, I suppose if I was approached by you in this outfit I would find it hard to say no. In the other outfit I might be able to, dig?”

That’s a little something we in the male world call “planting the seed.”

Daisy: “Ha, well that’s good to know.”

She settled on that outfit and off she went to continue preparing. I dressed up in some cargo’s, a t-shirt, and a military cap. It was my way of letting them know I was from New York. Trust me, when you are over there, you don’t want them to mistake you for one of them.

I make my way into the living room and sit at a round table. The same table I found myself sitting in the night before at the ever so exciting game of trivial pursuit. Sandra who is not a drinker, sat next to me. There we sat watching the people slowing trickle into this party. As the flow of people increased, she and I spent a great deal of time making fun of the newly arrived. There were all types of weirdo’s there. The more we joked around though, the closer she seemed to sit next to me. I had her crackin up by virtue of ruthless insults thrown at innocent bystanders. Surely I was connecting with the ruthless devil in her.

Before I knew it the place was pretty packed. As I was drinking, I loosened up a bit and began having mini conversations with her.

“So Sandra, these are the types of people you want to surround yourself with?”

“Ugh, ah know right? Whatevs, ah jus waunt to act, ya know?”

Her accent sounded like Southern Belle meets Valley Girl.

“But these people blow.” I said under my breath.

“Ah know. But what kin ya do?”

“I would just feel way out of place in this environment. But what the fuck do I care, I’m never moving to LA. If I was in the biz, I would stay in New York.”

“Ah used to live there, hated it.”

“WHOA! Slow down. It’s impossible to hate New York.”

“It’s just too busy. Ah like the mountains and trees and beaches here. That’s what I love about this place. Ah could do without the people though.”

“I can dig it.”

“So how do you know Daisy?” She asked almost genuinely inquisitively.

“You’re telling me you don’t know the story?”

“Well ah guess ah know you 2 dated, but thats all ah know. You two still…?” She asked with a raised brow and a smirk on her face.

“Nooooo! No no no no. We’re just friends.”

“See ah wish ah could be that way with mah exes, but they’re just too fuckin stupid to be able to handle a relationship like that.”

“Ahhh, well see, I’ve mastered the art of being friends with ex.’s.”

“How do you do it?”

“Respect.”

Yes, I know. That was the obvious answer and I took it. She’s 23 and impressionable and for some reason I found myself trying to say the right things. Trying to attract her if you will. I continue…

“See, I don’t lie, I don’t cheat. When we break up I don’t go psycho. In fact, my ex Angelika (wow, it’s been a long time since we heard that name…) and I broke up almost a year ago and we are becoming good friends. We still talk, we do dinner every now and then, it’s just about being civil, making peace with the situation and acknowledging that she was and is a good person regardless of her current relationship with me.”

“Ah respect that.” She said in an almost holier than though way. Almost as if she was smarter than me and just treated me to the honor of being respected by her. Anyhow, she kept on.

Women are always trying to guage their audience. In this case, Sandra was trying to get a feel for me and see if she could figure out what i thought of her. She tries to set up me up…

“Ah wish there were more guys out there like you, you know? Like, WTF the guys ah meet are like cave men. Guys just don’t know how far maturity goes.”

I'm to smart for that, I strategically respond and set a trap to guage her.

“Listen, they are out there, the mature ones I mean, just keep your eyes peeled. You’re sitting next to one right now.”

She takes the bait and gets snared in her own tongue…

“Yeah but like all good guys, you’re off limits.” She said while laughing.

WHAMMY! She laughed to distract me from the fact that she just admitted that I was someone she wouldn’t mind pursuing. I’m much too smart for young games like that, now she just gave up her position and some could say I have the upper hand. This is where the story can turn ugly, but you guys know full well, that I’m not one to take advantage of situations like this. I took the ego boost for what it was worth, and played it off.

“Hey who told you I was a good guy? I’ll kill him. I got a reputation to uphold.”

She laughed even more and placed her hand on top of mine under the table ever so naturally. I was impressed with how smooth she pulled it off. She just re-wrote the classic stretch-then-put-your-arm-around move we so fondly remember in movie theaters.

Just then, this super tool shows up at the table with 2 of his boys. Buncha dooshbag lookin dudes. Sandra sat upright removing her hand from over mine and I reached for a drink.

Dooshy 1:“You mind if we sit here?” asked the captain of the league of ordinary men.

This guy: “Please do.”

The 3 dooshy’s sat down and immediately begin to banter among themselves. Sandra and I are listening trying to see if we could make conversation with out new table buddies.

Dooshy 1: “Oh man, what a crazy night huh?”

Dooshy 2: “Yeah well, you deal with that kind of thing often.”

Dooshy 1: “Unfortunately yes.”

Dooshy 3: “So they are always like that?”

These guys were clearly trying to suck us into their gay conversation, but I kept quiet, pretending to be uninterested. Sandra just kinda looked past them at the building crowd in the living room.

Dooshy 1: “Yeah, you know how animators are.”

Dooshy 3: “Well, you know the Simpson’s isn’t exactly a low stress environment.”

Dooshy 1: “I know, and that’s why I sympathize with them, but you can’t give them everything they ask for, it’ll just get out of hand. You have to draw the line somewhere.”

When you’re having an industry party, industry people show up. They bring their own little entourages and try to network. The name of the game is to sound better than anyone else in the room. They were begging for us to ask them, I decided it would be more fun to talk about it with them than just listen.

This guy: “So what exactly do you do man? Sorry for interrupting.”

Dooshy 1: “Oh its ok. I work for an animation studio. The studio that produces the Simpson’s among other network cartoon shows.”

This guy: “Oh yeah? The artists being a pain in the ass?’

Dooshy 1: “Yeah, they are just a demanding bunch of people. In some respects I get it, but on the other hand they are asking for a lot and it’s just not supportive of our business model.”

This guy: “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

Dooshy 1: “Dave, yours?”

This guy: “I’m this guy.”

It was almost as if he thought I would never ask his name. These guys have their networking skills sharpened and refined and you could tell by the way he carried the conversation. His 2 other dooshy friends did their job in setting up the communication, they sat quietly while the grown men spoke.

Dave: “So what do you do?”

This Guy: “I’m a director for a start up company out of New York.”

There were clearly more details in there but you're not interested in that... Plus, it would ruin the big reveal at the end of this blog when I finally end up with “the one” [which I’m beginning to think is the wrong way to approach this blog, but anyhow…].

Dave: “Oh awesome, well everyone needs someone like you in their company. Your department is so necessary for business continuity and operations; I take my hat off to you.”

Wow, getting my ass kissed for no reason, this must be standard practice, I think I’m supposed to kiss his ass back.

This guy: “Thanks man. It’s a lot of fun. Lot’s of room to grow and no glass ceiling you know? I am poised for major growth with the company, so that’s exciting. What about you? You where you want to be? You on the path to where you want to end up?”

Dooshy 2: “I don’t think you can go any higher can you?” asked his retarded little minion.

Dave: “Heh, well not really. I am the COO [Chief operating officer] for this company. No where else to go really.”

Here’s where I get to lead him down the road of humiliation.

This guy: “Wow, a young dude like you already at the top of your game. Nothing to aspire to, cause you are there already. How old are you?”

Dave: “32.”

This guy: “And did you live here all your life or you from out of state like everyone else in this room?”

Dave: “Well, I was actually born in New Jersey.”

Oh man, he made this too easy. Jersey! That material writes itstelf. I get his confidence, praise him a little, now I get to make fun of him to his face.

This guy: “No way, seriously? That’s too bad.”

Dave: “Hey now, not all of Jersey’s ghetto you know.”

This guy: “Why do all Jersey people say that?” I asked looking at Sandra.

Dave: “I can probably get into the city quicker than you can from where I lived in Jersey.”

This guy: “They all say that too. Yet I still have no desire to live in Jersey. It’s gross.”

Dave: “Gross?”

This guy: “Yes, Jersey has Aids.”

Just then Sandra spits her drink clear across the table right onto Jersey Dave. She let out a thunderous cackle! I started cracking up.

Sandra: “What do you mean Jersey has Aids?”

This guy: “I mean, it has Aids. Listen, I know it’s a sensitive subject, but you’re playing with fire every time you enter New Jersey without protection.”

Sandra: “You are so wrong.” She said still laughing.

Dave: “Well it can’t be that bad if someone like me can leave Jersey and make it as far as I have.”

This guy: “I know I know. It just sucks cause you strive to be the best you can be, and at age 32 you become a COO for an animation studio, and I think you're cool, but at the end of the day, you’re still from New Jersey. There is no cure for Jersey. It must suck feeling you will always be limited by that factor. By the way, Where is Jersey again?”

Dave: “Hey now… that’s cutting deep.” He said with a nervous laugh.

This guy: “I’m kidding man, have a drink. Jersey isn't that nausiatingly disgusting. It's a state too just like all the rest. I should treat it like the rest of the states."

I deflated his ego rather quickly. His communication and networking skills had no answer to what just happened. He realised that I didn't care to know about his job or what he could do for me, I just wanted to laugh at him. He reacted the only way he knew how. He gave me his business card, and left the table with his 2 monkeys.

Sandra seemed to love how crude I was being to the poor dude. She kept commenting about how she couldn’t believe what I was saying and how funny it was. She had the smile on her face and the look in her eyes. We continue drinking and laughing throughout the night. More hand grabbing, more touching, more closeness. It became evident at that point that the night could have gone in any direction. I had a decision to make. I dug her. Do I pursue Sandra, or take the easy kill. At least in my drunken stupor it felt as if it was a decision that needed to be made, however, my drunkenness would eventually make the decision for me.

A bit later as the night was beginning to thin out, Daisy came over to the table. Plenty of seats available yet my lap was her seat of choice. She was clearly intoxicated.

Daisy: “Where have you been all night?”

This guy: “Talking with my good friend Sandra here.”

Daisy: “Oh yeah, you guys becoming friends?”

This Guy: “She’s been keeping me company. I don’t know anyone here; I’m latching on to her.”

Daisy: “Well you could have gone around and mingled, everyone here is really very nice.”

This Guy: “I know. I met Dave. Nice guy.”

Sandra: “Dave, I’m sure won’t forget you anytime soon.”

Daisy: “Oh lord, what did you do?”

This Guy: “Nuthin, just talking to Mr. COO from Jersey.”

Daisy: “GUY!!! What did you say to him?” she asked with a laugh.

Sandra: “Let’s just say he was takin a couple of shots on the guy.”

This Guy: “I was taking shots WITH him. Yes, drinking shots. We sat, we took shots. We were being men. Well he was trying to be a man, but being from Jersey kinda makes that impossible. He's barely human.”

Sandra starts laughing again. Daisy can’t help but laugh as well.

Daisy: “I can’t believe you. You were making fun of my guests! Oh gawd he’s from Jersey?” She said closing her eyes while turning her head to the side.

She shares my hatred for all things Jersey.

This guy: “Uh huh. I couldn’t believe it either. Poor bastard.”

Daisy: “Well that’s not his fault. Now stop makin fun of my guests. You always do that. You can’t help it. It’s like a disease with you.”

This guy: “Hey now. I was just jokin around. I can’t believe you just called me out like that. I was just trying to make Sandra laugh.”

Daisy: “Anyhow, I’ll let this one go because I don’t really like him, but please stop.”

This guy: “I’m doing it for Sandra.”

Sandra: “Don’t bring me into this lovers quarrel.”

This guy: “But Sandra I thought we had something?”

Sandra: “Oh yeah. Sumthin real special darlin.”

Daisy: “Helloooo? I’m still here.”

Typical. She is starved for attention. Anyhow, it’s at this point that I fuck it all up with Sandra because of my booze fueled mouth.

This guy: “listen, you’ll get all the attention you deserve a little later in the confines of your room…. Hubba hubba… roar…”

Thing is, I did say “hubba hubba,” and I did roar while making a tiger paw with my hand, but in my drunken mind, that was the joke. In real life it was perceived differently.

Daisy: “I’ll be waiting.” She says after biting my nose.

She gets up and leaves. It’s just me and Sandra now. I notice she has moved much further away from me than before, no more touching, no more laughing, and now kinda irritated.

This guy: “So…”

Sandra: “It’s late, I’m going to bed. Night darlin.”

And like that… she gets up to leave.

This guy: “Wait, no more laughing? I was having fun with you… stay and talk with me as I drink some more and undoubtedly make an ass out of myself.”

Sandra: “You already have. Talk to you in the morning.”

Ouch. That sucked, Sandra is a hottie and would have been new strange booty as opposed to old familiar booty. Whatever, fortunately booze makes me get over shit quickly.

I made my way into Daisy’s room and plopped down face first with all my clothes on. The party was still going and Daisy was being social. I was sleepy… I went to sleep.

A few hours later I hear the door open in the room. I am still very much drunk and the person entering, Daisy, is incredibly drunk. This is where God and I battle it out.

Daisy climbs into bed in her full 80’s attire, wig and all. Very hot.

This guy 1; God 0

Daisy cuddles up behind me and immediately grabs my junk.

This guy 2; God 0

Daisy falls asleep.

This guy 2; God 1

I try to roll over and wake her up; she won’t budge and begins to snore.

This guy 2; God 2

I fall back to sleep, she begins to molest me, I suspect while she is sleeping.

This guy 3; God 2

I turn over and wake her; we are starting to get it on. In the heat of the moment she is breathing heavily through her mouth. It smells like turpentine.

This guy 3; God 3

I am no longer turned on, I am sobering up, and I really just want to go back to sleep. She persists.

This guy 3; God 4

Not having fun anymore. Literally fighting her off. She persists.

This guy 3; God 5

I finally tell her to stop. She stops. I fall back to sleep.

This guy 4; God 5

I wake up; she’s been busy trying to get me turned on. I am aroused. I have a splitting headache. Sex is apparently a good way to get rid of head aches. I give in. No point awarded as giving in gets god a point, but getting some, even though I didn’t want any, gives me a point. It’s a wash.

It lasted all of 4 minutes. Not 4 minutes of bliss, but rather, 4 minutes of half asleep, drunken, dry, she’s-on-top-of-me sexing. I didn't even finish. I just think we both just decided to go back to sleep. I honestly barely remember it. It was hardly memorable, but at least the trip was now justified. At least I would be able to tell this story with some shred of dignity. If I’m going on a transcontinental booty call, there better be some booty involved. Anyhow, that’s typical of god. He’ll give you what you want, but he’ll get you if you’re not specific enough. Prankster. Final score…

This guy 4; God 6

The final point awarded to God for giving me the worst booty from someone that used to give me some of the best.

That morning I got up, packed my bags, and made my way to the airport where I got on a Jet Blue flight back home with the worst hang over ever. One of God’s signature moves.

So that was it. Daisy and I, still talk, still friends, still pretend like nothing happened that night. She has since become mortal enemies with Sandra over some money issues. Typical of Daisy. Sandra went on to make it into a popular HBO show as a recurring background character. She and I still talk as well. I mean like WTF? Why wouldn’t I?

Once back in the states, I dive head first into work. Keep your eyes here for the next story. I will reveal what I actually do for a living as it is pertinent to the story of the next girl that I meet. Yes, she works for the same company I do. Yes, I know how it ends already. Yes you will be introduced to one of the most unique (?!?!) individuals I have ever dated. Good thing? Bad Thing? Whatever the case it gets messy. Find out what hapens on the next one… It's the precursor to something HUGE!