Have you missed me?

Well, I'm back, whether you missed me or not. I was away supervising the filming of a commercial, an endeavor which, while lots of fun, takes up all of my meager concentration, thus preventing me from writing here in a timely fashion. Suffice it to say I had a ball. I worked with a team of people of such incredibly good vibes and professionalism, that everything seemed as if it had been sprinkled with magic dust. It was delightful.
However, I know many of my three fans don't read me to hear me gush about lovely things, but to kvetch, so here goes:

• If you think food in NY is overpriced, you have to go to LA. LA is the capital of chutzpah. You can have very good meals, but you are being charged a glamour or rather a tackiness surcharge. $22 for a plate of perfectly mundane ravioli is a bit de trop, if you ask me. And the cheapest wines in wine lists are over 60 bucks a bottle. Why? Because you are in Hollywood, that's why.
My beautiful director, hailing all the way from Buenos Aires, was a bit shocked that the people lounging at the pool of the Bel Age were of a rather vulgar deportment. I guess he imagined swanky, elegant people wearing Edith Head bathing suits, and all he could find was tacky Russians with bad tans. I had to explain to him that Hollywood is the epicenter of vulgarity, and once you learn to accept it, it can be slightly fascinating, in a mildly grossed out kind of way.

• We had dinner with the production house and the client at Asia de Cuba at the Mondrian. The dinner was quite good and fun. We had a wonderful waiter who was extremely helpful with the wines and the ordering. I bet the production house spent a pretty penny at that meal for about 10 people. Then we want to moose on over to the Skybar for a nightcap and we are not allowed on the premises. Despite the fact that we are already there and somebody just dropped a bundle there for the evening and this being Monday night, the place is a ghosttown. It is explained to us that the restaurant and the bar are not associated. We are made to exit the hotel and then are supposed to grovel at the guy guarding the door, who promptly asks if we are on the list. Rande Gerber asshole, you can kiss my ass.
We went to the Bar Marmont instead.

• I'm proud to say that I was away for a week and did not turn on the TV all week except once, when I caught Bill Maher on HBO. I refused to watch the coverage of 9/11 and I already knew that the evil, despicable, unforgivable Bush administration will continue its shameless use of this event in a most nefarious manner. I don't see why after five years this still surprises people.

• As the plane is about to land at JFK, I think two inches from the ground, the pilot suddenly hits the gas and lifts up again. Excuse me? WTF? The passengers start fidgeting in the cabin. Somebody has seen a fire in the airport. It takes the captain a few good minutes to inform us that there was an error in the traffic handling, that there is no mechanical problem and that we will try to land again shortly. He handles it with cool magnificence and makes a very good turnaround and second landing. I think that the almost touchdown and lift up must have been a tad hair-raising for him. I feel like bursting into applause and rushing into the cabin to cover him with hugs and kisses, and expect my fellow passengers to do the same, but curiously, nobody claps. It is a very subdued, silent landing. (Had we been in one of those flights with lots of Third World people it would be another story).

• I love LA, but I hate the parking.