Friday, July 15, 2005

Jasmine Noir

Ed. note: while jasmine is off studying for the bar, she's rounded up some forces to keep the readers happy while she's gone. enjoy!

Ed. update: the tech boy has a name and that name is chris. i told my friend mike at school about my tech boy crush. i told him i didn't even know tech boy's name, but that the guy in the booth was working with him today. mike turned around, walked into the tech booth and said, "what's the name of that guy who was just working here with you? my friend has a crush on him. does he have a girlfriend?" i'm sitting outside, my jaw is dropped and i'm speechless/mortified/i don't even know what. guy in booth says boy's name is chris, that he doesn't think he has a girlfriend but doesn't really know. i gotta make a move. eek! it's scary...

now, without further ado...guest post by g.lo. also, i'm happy to note that i'm NOT flashing anyone in this one!

It was hot in LA. Muggy. With mostly inverted skies and hint of chemical in the wind. I had left my office after a phone call from one of my famous clients but decided to check the Louis Vuitton knock-offs at Hollywood and Vine before attending to business.

A tourist couple wandered the avenue, reading the quotes along the famous walk of stars. They came upon a cryptic message from Bruce Willis: “Beware the Jasmine in March.”

Little did this couple realize, but my seemingly unrelated argument with an Asian-American woman over a handbag had been precipitated by this statement. The legend of The Jasmine. Just another of the many secrets in this place called Lollywood. Er…Hollywood.

I cruised down the dank streets of Sunset Boulevard. Not a single apartment complex of attractive 20-somethings greeted my drive. Disappointing. At least there were prostitutes; there would always be prostitutes.

When I reached the snazzy hotel housing my client, I let the valet park my Nissan Sentra. He jerked along the drive, unfamiliar with the vehicles of the lower class.

My beautiful client awaited me in the restaurant. Even though I’m a girl, I threw on a jacket and tie because I never know how to behave in swanky establishments. The celebrity waved me over.

“I got here as fast as I could,” I informed Topher before I grabbed some sushi off his plate.

He looked ready to cry. Celebrities today cry a lot. In fact, only Ashton Kutcher cries more than Topher – must be a ‘70s thing.

“She’s here!” Topher stammered. “I saw her. She knows my name!”

“Topher, everyone knows your name.”

“No, not that name – my pretend name,” he whispered.

Then he succumbed to sobbing. I took the opportunity to sample the raspberry and glazed walnut salad. It was delicious.

After savoring the sweet rosemary vinaigrette, I murmured through a full mouth, “She isn’t real, Topher. It’s just a legend. There is no Jasmine.”

“No! Look! There she is by the bar.”

I glanced over and saw firm cleavage attached to the artificially young face of my next door neighbor. “Not her, Topher. You’ve been seeing old ladies again.”

“No! I saw her! That may not be her, but I’m dating her friend! I-I’ve never actually seen her face.” He looked embarrassed. He should be. The breasts are great, but women are people first. Even if this woman is just a legend.

“Not possible. There is no Jasmine. I’ve searched for years. Chased rumors of her in snow-soaked Sundance, followed sightings in sunny Tuscany, and once almost rummaged through garbage but realized it was gross. There is no Jasmine. It’s a legend the older guys have told to make you pass up the good roles.”

“But John Lythgow wouldn’t lie! And Hugh Jackman swears they’re friends! She’s real, I tell you!”

I sighed. There’s no arguing with blind belief. “Okay, here’s a new super-secret identity based on cartoon/children’s characters. If she is real, she’ll never find you now.”

Topher looked relieved as he accepted the package. I slid out the door, still licking my fingers from a stolen swipe of lemon sorbet.

My Sentra arrived. On the passenger side sat a young, attractive law student immersed in preparation for the bar. I handed her a wallet as I started the engine.

“Topher’s stuff. Should make it easier for you to track him. And I gave him Buttercup Blossom as a new identity.”

The Jasmine smiled. Then she silently resumed her study of the law.

Hollywood. It’s a place of stars, of dreams. The land of legends. And no legend is more real than that of…..The Jasmine

16 people who played with me:

Blogger cadiz12 said...

good show, glo. now, when you guys get this stalking business off the ground, i'm expecting VIP passes to the hottest hollywood parties. but first i have to find something to eat. i'm surprisingly hungry after reading this.

7/15/2005 2:00 AM  
Blogger Me said...

That was cute. Jasmine - the legend!

And knowing tech boy's name might make it a little easier. He's bound to be told about Mike asking for you. It kind of breaks the ice in an elementary, he-said, she-said, but was shy to ask kind of way. Great!

7/15/2005 2:48 AM  
Blogger Swipe said...

this is an off topic comment.

I just read this blog http://opinionistas.blogspot.com/ and I thought you might like to read it before you take the bar exam.

7/15/2005 7:03 AM  
Blogger Ale said...

that was great!!!- i love the vivid food snatching and finger licking :)

...and topher crying-- totaly could hear his whiny voice...!

7/15/2005 10:08 AM  
Blogger lucasjackson7 said...

glo: Quote of the Freakin' Day - “No! I saw her! That may not be her, but I’m dating her friend! I-I’ve never actually seen her face.” He looked embarrassed. He should be. The breasts are great, but women are people first. Even if this woman is just a legend.

nice post. made me smile.

7/15/2005 10:39 AM  
Blogger R. U. Serious said...

One of these days people are going to figure out who you really are Jazz.

And then we will be short one balding, middle-aged, action movie star.

7/15/2005 11:00 AM  
Blogger Sarah_A said...

geez, i really get what Jasmine is talking about on the whole interns front - even if their not particularly fit they just seem so... irresistable!

7/15/2005 11:56 AM  
Blogger piranha said...

The breasts are great, but women are people first.

great. whoever wrote that. great.

jasmine is deliciful!!! (delicious and wonderful)

i loved it.

7/15/2005 4:29 PM  
Blogger Popeye said...

More noir! I love that stuff. . .

7/15/2005 5:13 PM  
Blogger 1 said...

that was awesome! Ha!

7/15/2005 5:45 PM  
Blogger omar said...

"Buttercup Blossom" fits Topher so well.

Well done, glo. And like cadiz, I too came away from this post a little hungry.

7/15/2005 8:50 PM  
Blogger Nadia said...

Jazz and Chris, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.

Yes, I am a five-year-old.

Am very glad to know that slightly embarassing things of the boy-related variety don't happen to me alone. Super cool people blush too.

The Jasmine is now officially my role model.

7/15/2005 11:42 PM  
Blogger Syar said...

glo, that was lovely.

i think pakistan actually calls its film industry lollywood. and i probably read that in national geographic.

"The breasts are great, but women are people first."

you rock.

7/16/2005 12:45 PM  
Blogger Larry said...

Bravo! I just hope she never finds out that I changed my fake name from Mr. Bo Jangles to...

7/17/2005 4:17 PM  
Blogger Gloria Glo said...

Ahhh. You guys are making me blush...

7/18/2005 12:21 AM  
Blogger Hermes said...

This was fucking hilarious... and brilliant might I add. Nice.

7/20/2005 12:27 PM  

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