Pee Jag

As long as I'm on a pee jag, here's a story about Susan. Susan had been a singer in Chicago, a talented and ambitious girl, she decided to move to the Big Show, Los Angeles. There were lots of talented and ambitious singers in LA, so after singing the circuit, Susan became a booker on talk shows. Like a lot of people in LA, a second career was born. I met Susan on a variety show. She was single and lookin'.
During the show, Susan met a guy named Everett. He was a has-been writer in need of a second career but found Susan instead. He moved in to her house. He took. She gave. It's classic.

Susan would say, "Everett's such a talented writer. People won't give him a chance." It was like listening to a mother straining to convince you that it's a blessing to have a difficult child.

Susan couldn't see that she was the prize and this guy was using her. But having a man on her arm seemed enough.

For Everett, things turned out dandy. Susan's talk him up and, with her connections, got him a writing job and he pomptly left her.

One day shortly after the breakup Susan and I were having lunch at Hugo's in West Hollywood. Susan said that she had no regrets and, in fact, Everett had left her with one valuable lesson.

"Everett taught me to pee in the shower."

"What?" I said.

"Men do it all the time," said Susan. "It's a wonderful, freeing feeling."

"I think being free of Everett is the wonderful feeling," I said.

Showering the next morning, I thought about it. It's hard to do because girl muscles are trained to let go only when you're sitting down. But I tried. You know, it is a freeing feeling.

And Susan? She has a tiny dog on her arm now and is living happily ever after...with Hunter.

Walk About

Years ago, my friend, Theresa, and I worked as word processors at a law firm in San Francisco. We always listened to the radio as we worked. One day we had our earphones in listening to Fresh Air. Terry was interviewing a woman who had gone to Australia and ended up in the outback with a group of Aboriginals telling her that they had a dream telling them that she would lead the entire group on a "walk about" to find water.

You can imagine the tut tutting and gasps as our fingers flew on the keyboard typing some boring legal brief as we listened in horror to this story. Days went by in the desert and the woman and the tribe were near death with ants crawling in their noses and thirst making them delirious. The woman's thinking, what on earth is going on? I'm going to kill these people and myself. She begged them to stop trusting her, but they insisted and were willing to die in their belief. She ended up dreaming of an ice cube and found water the next day. Since then, "walk about" has been Theresa and my code for "hell no, we won't go."