I Can Stay, I Can Stay!

No, I did not win the lottery. Or get proposed to. And all my relatives? Still alive and well... kicking and screaming.... thankfully not at me. So what pray tell has saved me from living in a Chinook? I'll bet you saw this one coming... a friend! One of my closest friends is moving in with me. I'm so happy to have her. So thankful to have her. And get this, she says that I saved her....?! But we all know the truth, don't we? (It's like at the end of "Pretty Woman" when Julia Roberts says, "she saved him right back?" No one bought it for a minute. First of all, the looping was bad. Secondly, she was a prostitute). Anyway, my friend... she's always been there for me. And as Hallmark as it might sound, I've always tried to be there for her... That is, of course, when I'm not at one of my three jobs. I'm suddenly a very busy girl. Who knew? So many jobs...(3) So little time...(0). Which would seem to be obvious, but still... I forget that whole chicken with its head cut off thing. Which in a perfect world would make me a rich chicken, but in a perfect world, I'm sure all chickens would keep their heads, too. Although it does give me material. Lots and lots of material. Hopefully to entertain you with. If not that, then maybe this...

This week? An odd one. For one, I learned I've suddenly taken to getting up and approaching random people in restaurants after a drink or so...? Which may not be so bad if they weren't famous. I've been on location with them, gone on cruises with them and NOW I want to talk to them? I really do need to get it together. Anyway, it was Neil Patrick Harris. One of my best friends did his hair on Doogie Howser and had always said good things about him and well, I felt it was important I tell him that. As he was eating with 7 other people. Don't get me wrong, I didn't gush. I didn't ask for an autograph. I merely gushed on Romy's behalf. I said that she had said nice things about him. And I was her friend. And he said to have her call him and other things that now escape me. But I forgot to get his phone number or other pertinent information apparently. And that wasn't all. There was also Ole Henricksen. Of facial fame. He has a skincare line and a spa and my facialist works for him and I felt compelled to tell him the wonderful things she said about him. He was lovely. Told me he needed PR. So if there's anyone out there...? I have no idea why I'm sharing the love in this bizarre way. Maybe it's because people are sharing the love with me. And I like it.

Sunday night at said dinner, I was taken out by one of my best friends from high school and her new man and his good friend. The four of us had fun. Drank good wine. The kind of wine that makes you not want to brush your teeth ever again or deign to buy a bottle from the grocery store. He brought it with him in this leather thing that holds bottles of wine-- I'm sure you've seen them in gift catalogs and always wished you had someone to buy them for because they seemed sophisticated and like if you had one you'd magically have a country house, or at least take a picnic... or maybe that's just me. Anyway, my friend's new man (new to me, since I'd never met him) was incredibly tall, had a radio voice and was incredibly generous. And funny. Funny is rare. But generous, more so. Throughout the course of drinking our way through the leather thing, he shared wine with the restaurant owner and us, and the waiter and us, and it made me happy because I realized my friend had found a guy who gives. A guy who doesn't keep score. Not to mention, he cares about her and enjoys life. The last time I'd been in that situation (without my crazy celebrity approaching thing) was with my friend Mary's husband, Peter, who died in the World Trade Center. And that guy, he was a keeper.

There's something that happens when you see one of your friends with someone like that. It makes you believe. And happy, too. But believe in what's possible. That's the same thing that's happened to me in other areas of my life lately. Like working for MagickLady (one of the three jobs). She has a book coming out, has clients that are so thankful for her help and the best part-- she's so thankful for them... and me!! Yes, lil' ol' me. Who knew that could happen? Now I look forward to work. I don't even mind being called an assistant. With her, I don't even think about it. I could never do what she does. And she's such a good person that I realized today, maybe it's who you're assisting that matters. I also realized when the fedex man showed up at MagickLady's-- the same fedex man who delivered to my old job and remembered my name and said he asked about me and wanted to know where I was and how I was-- that sometimes we all matter more to other people than we think. His name is Maxwell, by the way, very cool. And buff. We're talking weightlifter buff.

I also started working with my friend Diane who is a great designer, equally great friend, has amazing taste, likes scotch and has a rocking house that she both bought and decorated. (Now if she's not a force to be reckoned with, then who is?). This all makes me happy. And my neighbors? They're setting me up! And all I did was watch their cats. Now I have a date next week. At a restaurant. Like a real person. And he doesn't even know me... Uh, oh. But in all fairness, they're the same neighbors that have seen me take out the trash in my slippers with a mud mask on.

The mud mask? You'd need one too if you worked doubles. I haven't done that since high school. Yesterday I went From Magick Lady to Boscia... and in the end, I came home exhausted and not so happy about how my 37 year-old face looked after seeing aging and sun spots in this crazy skin scanner device... but then I saw the nicest email ever from a perfect stranger and a talented one at that. She's a photographer. And now she's going to go to my colorist, Steven Tapp. And I called to tell him and he's excited. And my other friend Diane (different Diane than the designer). Apparently my hook-up with the costume supervisor on Tori Spelling's new show, Notorious, worked out. And the jewelry line she's working with (Charles Winston) is going to get featured on the show and Tori is wearing the pieces out in public and getting photographed and it all bodes well for Diane. And apparently Paris Hilton found Boscia. I learned this on a fluke and called Caren so she could capitalize on it (sadly, people do care what Paris Hilton puts on her face and body)... and I'm thinking maybe I can make things happen. For me and for other people. So I don't care so much that my blog on this particular day is a little all over the place (well, kind of actually...! I hate bad writing. Particularly by me). And that my place has stuff all over the place. And who cares if anyone buys what I have to sell at my ghetto garage sale? Because I'm finally beginning to see that whatever happens, I'm where I'm supposed to be. And the best part of all? Well, it's that I'll be with a friend. And that I can stay.