Mike has an interview Friday afternoon with NFL Network. It’s for just a production assistant but he would be hired for the entire season, five days a week. Steady work is always good. Oh yea, and it’s the NFL Network. He would be in heaven. Last night we went to Staples to print out resumes – both of us. I pick out parchment paper because it automatically makes your resume look awesome. I’ve added Lilly’s to my list of bars but don’t plan to start looking just yet. It’s pretty much official that Lilly’s will be closing, but I don’t know when. Maybe two months? If I could still work there when the new owners take over I’d probably do really well. One, because it will be new – people always flock to the new spot. Two, I hear they’re going to have an entertainment license, which means live music. Could be really cool. Will they hire me? I have no idea.
Mike gets home from the interview looking, dare I say, a little smug. “If I had to rate that interview 1 to 10, it would be a 10.” He proceeds to tell me how well it went. Mike knows football and he knows the editing program they use. Zig told him to remove the internship from his resume that he had with NFL Films back in college. I’m not sure exactly why but I think because it was a college internship. Mike has so much experience now; I guess a college internship isn’t that important. What’s great is that since it’s not on paper, it becomes a talking piece during the interview. Mike has an answer for every question and more. He doesn’t stumble through his words (as he sometimes does when he’s nervous). He won’t find out until next week. If he gets the job, awesome. If he doesn’t get the job, Auction Hunters was picked up for another season so Mike already has that set up.
We’re hanging out at the apartment when Mike remembers he left something in the car. Is it for me?? Did you get me a present??? I’m not serious; just in one of my silly moods. He laughs at me. “No.” But when Mike walks back in he has a small vase with four red roses in it. My mouth drops. Those are for me? “Yes.” I’m shocked and happy, but then the wheels start turning. Why did you get them for me? “I just did.” Yea, but why? You never get me flowers. “So?” Where did you get them? “Lindsay, can you stop asking me so many questions and just accept it.” Yes. I’m sorry. ….But why did you get them? “Can’t I just get my girlfriend flowers?” Yea, I guess, but you never have before. Seriously, Mike doesn’t ever get me flowers. Once or twice he did for Valentine’s Day or some other holiday, but that’s about it. I’ve never made a big deal about getting flowers because there’s always something more useful we could spend our money on (but what girl doesn’t like to be given flowers?). It was very sweet of him to get them, out of the blue, for no reason. There must be an ulterior motive. I kiss him and squeeze him and laugh as I ask him again why he got them. He’s amused and annoyed at the same time. I finally let it go.
Later I run to CVS for a couple things. When I get back, the scale in the bathroom is gone. Mike hid it because I weigh myself too much. Now he’s 2-for-2, even though I secretly want to find the scale immediately. I’m glad he hid it. I seriously weigh myself every day. It’s better this way. Besides, if I really want to find it I’m sure I can – we live in a studio. There aren’t many hiding places. Although Mike finds one – the closet – when a couple of Jesus kids knock on our door. He sees them walking by our front window and immediately gets up and creeps over to the closet. The MLB Network is on. He’s been jumping back and forth between different games and carries the controller with him to the closet. Kids are still knocking on our door as Mike is changing games and trying to watch TV from the closet.
At work later I tell Adeline about the flowers. Pepe recently bought her some jewelry. “Do you think I question my husband when he buys me gifts? If I did what you did, he would have taken the flowers back.” I laugh. Point taken, Adeline. Work is slow all weekend, but Saturday night a small group of five sit at my bar and drink up. It’s their friend Rob’s birthday. He works at Joe’s, so we’ve met a few times. One of the girls, Brooke, has this thing in her hair called a donut. I’m curious because the girls have been talking about a hair sock on Girl Talk. I learn later that they’re basically the same thing. Another girl, Stefanie, shows me how to use it. Hair goes up in a ponytail, put the donut around it, pull your hair down all around it and twist into a sort of bun. Then just bobby pin it in. Easy and cute. As the night goes on, Brooke get drunker. She wants to put the donut in my hair. OK, sure. I don’t have any other customers anyway, so I’m bored. She gets on top of the bar. Like, is completely sitting on the bar to do my hair. I look over to Tropez to see if he’s going to say something, but he’s done his shift, sitting in a booth sipping on wine and eating dinner, oblivious to the drunkards at the bar. Brooke finishes and I have to say, I like it. I’m so boring with my hair so it’s nice to have something to do with it for a change.
I chat it up with Stefanie and another girl, Sarah, for a while. Sarah is visiting from San Francisco. Tomorrow, Stefanie is having a going away party, because she too, is going to San Fran. It’s a pool party at the W Hotel. “Do you have work tomorrow?” Yea. “What time?” 6. “You should come! It’s going to be really fun. It’s 90’s theme. We’re going to get there early so you could come for a few hours. It’s not far – in Westwood. We’re meeting at Brooke’s and then heading over.” I politely nod and follow along. Stefanie reads me like a book. “You’re not going to come, are you.” I smile. Probably not. We continue talking and she’s persistent in telling me to come. I never do anything, especially when I have work at night. My plan tomorrow is to run and go to the beach before work. That’s it. Mike has work, so it’s not like I’ll have a car to drive there. I make a decision to finally say yes when a person invites me somewhere. I tell Stefanie that if it’s close enough to ride my bike, I’ll come tomorrow.
When I get home, Mike tells me he never got a call time for tomorrow, so he doesn’t have to work. Do you want to go to a pool party with me? “Yea, deffy cakes.” In the morning, Mike doesn’t seem as excited as he was last night. In fact, he doesn’t even really want to go. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t forcing myself, but I really want to make myself do this.
I go for a run and on my way back stop on the boardwalk to pick up a couple 90ish things for us to wear – Mike a black tank top with Venice Beach, California written in neon letters, and for me bright pink and green shades. As I’m getting ready I start to think I’m dressing for the 80’s instead of the 90’s. I post on Girl Talk and ask for help. Kelly chimes in. “Wear a flannel shirt and work boots.” Yes, the perfect getup for a pool party. Jenn has a suggestion. “Definitely a hair scrunchie.” If only I owned one. I finally say I don’t care and tell them what I’m wearing. They ease my insecurity and tell me it’s “perfect.” I wouldn’t go that far, but it will do.
We valet our car for 7 bucks at the hotel. I tell the guy we’re just visiting. “Are you going to the pool?” Yes, we are. I guess are getups aren’t so bad after all. As we near the pool I hear the 90’s music blaring. Yes. I love this! The pool is way too small for all the people here, but the area surrounding it is sweet. Little cabana looking things all the way around, huge couch-type loungers and beds on the perimeter, and of course, an outside bar. That’s where we head first. Two Corona’s please.
We make our way around the pool. I look for Stefanie, Sarah, and Brooke while checking out everyone else. Way too many guys in glittery leopard speedos. One girl has on high-waisted ripped jean shorts with a thin belt and a white T-shirt tucked in, and black ankle boots on her feet. That’s good. One guy has on a black KOOL T-shirt and the old school swim shorts that Dad’s still wear. They’re even mint-colored. I spot Stefanie and yell her name. She immediately comes over and we hug like we’re old friends. Sarah comes over and we talk for a bit. Here comes Brooke – she takes an extra second to recognize me (just a bit drunk last night). Mike and I meander over to the pool’s edge to sit and put our feet in. Mike admits that this isn’t so bad. “I never want to go anywhere but then when I actually do, I have fun.” Yea, I’m glad we came. Thank you for coming with me. (It is a little funny that I finally force myself to go out to a party for a girl I just met who is moving to San Francisco.)
It’s a gorgeous day. The sun is hot and every once in a while there’s a nice breeze. I meet a couple of very nice girls while Mike is at the bar getting his third and last drink (I’m done at two – driving home and have work tonight). When Mike sits back down next to me, I’m still talking to my new friend, Layla, but over hear a guy come up to Mike. He kneels down in front of him. “Hey man, where are you from?” “Uh, South Jersey. Why?” “God damn her. Fuck her in the face (referring to a girl he is with). We had a bet on where you were from. I said Florida, my other friend said Minnesota, and my other friend said Jersey.” The funny part isn’t that these people thought Mike was from Florida or Minnesota, or that the one girl actually said Jersey. The funny part is that these people were looking at him and having a conversation about him and wondering where he was from. That’s funny.
We say our goodbyes to our “friends” and make our way to the valet. We were only here for about two hours, but it was fun. Our first pool party in LA.