she gets too hungry for dinner at 8

I've never been one to judge people, but....

I live in a very uppity area. I used to live at the beach an hour north of Los Angeles where it was acceptable to go to the market in your pajamas and Ugg boots. I was so sick of seeing people wearing Ugg boots that I vowed to never own a pair. I still live at the beach, but this is Los Angeles, where everyone on the street is either an actor or a model. People still where Ugg boots, but they're worn with $500 jeans. People around here dress their dogs in clothes I can't afford. The doggy boutique up the street carries diamond necklaces, leather shoes, pants, t-shirts, dresses, sunglasses, and yes, even satin bedwear for dogs. It appears that everyone walking their dogs on their Gucci leashes is trying to outdo each other. It's so fucking lame.

I fear of becoming one of them. I won't leave the house without putting on some decent clothes and makeup (or at least concealing my puffy eyes with sunglasses) to walk next door to get coffee in fear of running into Robert Downey, Jr. (a regular here).

And then there's my boyfriend. He's a rich doctor who can afford anything. I'm a college professor- in fact, I just was named professor of journalism at a community college- great pay, short hours, and I write and do other freelance on the side which brings in more bucks, but I will never be rich (unless I finally write that bestseller). I see this clash between he and I where money is concerned. He wants to order the good wine- has to smell it, swirl it. For Christ's sake, drink the fucking wine. Give me a liter of Chianti and I'm happy.

I remember sitting in New York at a restaurant with him and my favorite couple-Denice and Lucia. We were going to order a liter of Chianti, but no, he had to see the wine list (Don't get me wrong, he was brought up poor and is very down to earth, but still, he's rich, and that changes you to an extent). I made the statement, "It's not the wine you drink, it's the company you keep." That's pretty much how I feel about life. Sure, it's nice to live the good life, but if I had to choose over a suite at The Plaza, a $200 bottle of wine and a bunch of stuck-up, rich assholes for company, I'll take the Ramada Inn, some interesting people and a bottle of Gallo.

"When I was growing up, if we wanted a Jacuzzi, we had to fart in the tub." -Billy Ray Valentine, "Trading Places"