Matt Potter 7:30 a.m., Sept. 17
Diary of a Diva
Barb and David, telepathic at last...sort of
“Enjoy it. Oh, and don’t be offended if you get lingering glances from some of the leather-clad men here tonight. On the contrary, take it as a compliment if they even notice you in those clothes.”
Barb chooses the wrong hat for the Del Mar racetrack.
Someone else, having overheard our conversation, piped in, “Most of these horses have stylists, massage therapists, and veterinarians constantly catering to their every need.”
Barb growls, snaps, and stands up for good literary porn.
“This is an actual quote from the book: ‘If this guy is over thirty, then I’m a monkey’s uncle.’ And, ‘My inner goddess is dancing.’ I mean, come on... It’s like she’s trying to make readers groan.”
Is the death of opera so terrible?
“When you talk about ‘classical music,’” he said, using air quotes, “you limit yourself to composers of a specific era. Why aren’t you exulting the genius of the ancient Greek composer Limenius?”
“You just bought me lunch,” I responded. “And I told you I could help. If I wasn’t available, I would have said no. And give me a little more credit — you know I don’t do things I don’t want to do.”
I found out later that, when the nominees were being announced, Mom had anxiously dug her nails into my sister Heather’s leg. “Yup, that’s gonna bruise,” Heather said.
Barb passes on the “camping reunion”
“Going to a reunion would be like seeing a stranger on the street and wanting to know what college they went to and how many kids they have. Sure, once upon a time I went to a class with you, but...”
“I don’t want to watch something I’ve never seen and am really excited to see, because with a crowd like this, there’s gonna be talking, and I don’t want to be the bitch who tells everyone to shut up.”
“I could sit and read all day, but then I won’t be able to pay my bills. And it’s not like I dread the work. It’s not like I have to scrub toilets. I enjoy doing all the things on my to-do list.”
David tells Barb that sometimes it hurts to look.
“Weird stuff is entertaining in its own way. I just saw a video of an ox chasing people through a hospital. You have to admit, that’s an extraordinary happening, and that’s what makes it interesting.”
A little advice would have saved Barb’s sister’s lunch.
The first thing we asked for was a round of waters. “None for me, thanks,” Jenny said to our shock, opting instead for a diet soda. “You really should drink some water,” we insisted.
A birthday turtle beheaded.
“There was a huge killer whale, but man, with all the recent press, that wouldn’t be a good thing.”
Barb narrowly avoids being suspected of crack-smoking.
“I wasn’t doing cocaine in the greenroom, I promise,” I said with a somewhat crazed nervous giggle. She smiled, nodded slowly, and then excused herself to go get changed.
What? No parmesan? I want a divorce!
When a friend of mine, who is a few years younger than I am (on the earlier side of her 30s), announced that she was getting a divorce, I was dumbfounded. So soon? I thought ...
Kissed by another man’s wife.
“So? David didn’t get me flowers either,” I said. “Is it at all possible that you’re looking for ways to vilify the guy because that would somehow make kissing his wife an acceptable thing to do?”