Los Angeles, Sad Flower in the Sand

Kristan had the awesome idea today, after I mentioned that Sandow Birk's Inferno wasn't "L.A. enough," that we need to form an official "Los Angeles Appreciation Club." By people who love L.A. - and its quirky this-is-not-New-York-ness - for people who love L.A.

Any joiners?

In other L.A. news, Russ and I joined Christina and Emilio in partying down on the Queen Mary last Saturday night.

We celebrated the marriage of Christina's friend Kate, who because of her work with social justice in L.A., Russ has dubbed "the people's Kate."

Russ and my gift to the people's Kate and her husband, Alexander, who is a Cuban transplant in L.A., were communist revolution hats. Viva Cuba and la revolucion and el amor!

Emilio "the eye" C-G took some beautiful, breath-taking photos of the Queen Mary.

I took some beautiful, breath-taking photos of my face smooshed against the table.

Upon closer review, definitely not in the same league as Emilio's.

Russ and I tried to salsa. Never try to compete with a Cubano and Cubana-by-marriage.

When Christina and I were dancing to Michael Jackson, this old, old man approached us. He'd been dancing with his caretaker, but I'd seen him eyeing Christina and I shaking it. He was hard to hear, but we finally understood that he wanted to dance. Christina kindly offered him her hands and I thought the man was going to pass out from sheer ecstasy.

As they were dancing, he whispered (something along the lines of), "If I had a hotel room tonight, I'd invite you over."