I’d been living in the N. Sierra Bonita Single for just over two years, 1998 and 1999. As the new millennium approached I was ready for more space, new space, and for a parking space. But solo. It turns out I loved living alone and I liked having time to myself, in my space, away from my boyfriend.

I moved into a one bed/one bath second floor apartment at 7915 W. 1st Street, right off of Fairfax Avenue. $650 a month with parking. It was the first building right behind the Music Plus record store. CBS Studios was across the street and so was the original version of the 3rd and Fairfax Farmers Market with all the open space surrounding it at the time.

The ’Price is Right’ game show on CBS would line their audience up on Fairfax at 1st Street and the hype man would start hyping them up at 6am. Fuck! Imagine a ‘Price is Right’ audience in your bedroom at 6am. Um. No.

We all complained to CBS, and they moved the audience and the hype man to the Beverly Boulevard side of CBS. The Farmers Market bell tower would ring each hour to tell you the time, but it was lovely and magical. Other than that, it was a pretty quiet neighborhood until ‘The Grove’ started to go in and then everything changed. Music Plus Records shut down, there were protracted and contentious city hall meetings about traffic, parking, and just how big and tall this mall connected to our beloved Farmers Market was going to be.

We got them down to three stories on the mall in only certain areas, the rest would be one story with a seven story parking structure. There would be zero changes to the original Farmers Market. About halfway through construction the developers started doing really disturbing things like laying concrete and putting in large A/C units into the department stores at two and three am. It was so loud, I couldn’t sleep. It’s illegal to do things like that near residential areas, they’re supposed to do it from 7am-6pm so I called the police.

This went on for a few weeks. I was given the run around by the police until they eventually gave me the number of the contractors building the Grove. The police told me to deal with them directly. I was appalled! It seemed wrong and very odd to me that the police gave me the contractors number and told me it was “best” if I work with them directly. They were vague and suspicious when I asked them why. Well it turns out that the person putting in the mall, the owner, was Rick Caruso. He is a billionaire developer in particular of revamping malls and at the time The Grove was going in he just happened to be the president of the LA Police commission. This is why the police acted shy to enforce the rules, this is why they had me deal with the contractor directly; I was calling the police on the police commissioner!

Once I realized that, I knew I couldn’t win the war of them compensating me financially for the days of work I missed because of them breaking noise laws, but I could win the battle. How? By taking everything they were offering me.

The main contact guy John, made me an offer for my “trouble” and I accepted. He offered me 25 movie tickets with unlimited snacks, and dinner at every restaurant in The Grove with unlimited guest. I came rolling into places like Maggiano’s, Wood Ranch Grill, and Madame Wu’s 25 people deep. The tabs totaled much more than paying my days off would have been and was rightly paid by Rick Caruso. We always tipped VERY well.

The Grove opened and as disgusted as I was and still am with Rick Caruso and his elitist bullshit, they did a good job and the mall was beautiful. However with a big mall/tourist attraction comes more people, more unhoused people, and more opportunities for crime. All of this made the neighborhood much busier and noisier. I lived there for four and a half years, two and a half of those years were before The Grove opened.

In those years, in that apartment, I broke up with my boyfriend and I started dating another amazing man, but he had kids so that was never going to be long term for me. My ex came back around six months after our breakup and I started to date them both. They both knew, I was very honest and open about what I was doing. That’s also when I realized that you can actually be in love with more than one person at the same time. My heart only loves one man now (neither of them!) but that feeling was truly mind and heart boggling!

In those years, in that apartment, came the 2000 Presidential election and the supreme court decision on Bush v. Gore handed Bush and the GOP a win, 5–4. I found it outrageous! The votes should decide not the supreme court! I’m paying for this with my taxes?!

I became an activist. Bush ramped up the push to invade Iraq after the terror of Sept. 11th. I was in the streets at every protest staring down war ready riot cops with hundreds of thousands of other peaceful citizens.

In those years, in that apartment, I broke it off with the new guy and got back into a committed relationship with my original boyfriend, upgrading to ‘Life Partners.’

We had so many fun and happy times bar hopping and dining on Fairfax and the surrounding area and partying on the ‘Farmers Market’ West patio at EB’s, where I was once in the best Conga Line of my life!

But the homeless population grew and nothing replaced Music Plus so the parking lot and the alley were getting bad. One morning I looked out of my bedroom window that looked down onto the parking lot and alley and I saw a completely naked man taking a shit. He wasn’t trying to be discrete or hide in bushes or behind a wall, bless him, he was just full naked and shitting in the open. I turned away from the window and thought, it’s time to move.

It was 2004 and by this time rents in “better” areas were starting to rise. I still didn’t want to cohabitate with my partner, or anyone, so back into a single apartment I went. This time I moved lower on Fairfax to South Fairfax, also known as’ Little Ethiopia,’ just below San Vicente to an area called “Wilshire Vista.’ It had lovely tree-lined streets with beautiful triplexes built in the 1930’s and 40’s. I moved into a 16-unit 1950’s apartment building. 1047 1/2 S. Ogden Dr. $800 a month. Street parking.

The neighbors were delightful and we had fun hanging out.

-Paul: The gay Army vet that loved fashion, especially clothes.

-Ben: The young lawyer that had just joined the California DOJ.

-Weston: The shy and sweet musician.

-Dev: The French yoga instructor.

-Nikki and Mateo: Cool and fun siblings/roommates that lived right next door to me.

-Sherry: The building manager that was a fitness instructor at Richard Simmons exercise studio, ‘Slimmons’.

I went to her class once and Richard co-taught, he was funny, kind, and motivating. His nickname for me was ”Hollywood” because I worked for an entertainment law firm. He really was bigger than life!

We had courtyard BBQ’s and we all gathered at Paul’s for weekly ‘Sex and the City’ viewing parties. We all voted in the 2008 presidential election, held our breath, and rejoiced with the entire neighborhood when President Obama was elected.

Then slowly things started to change. Nikki moved out from living with her brother Mateo and the roommate that replaced her was a complete misogynist. He tried to be rude, condescending, and dismissive to me and I got into it with him. During our verbal altercation it looked like he was about to get physically violent with me so I called the police. When they arrived they arrested him, but not for what I called on, the asshole had a warrant out for his arrest for a hit and run!

I wasn’t shocked when two weeks later one of the tires on my car was slashed. I reported it to the police and told them I thought it was him who did it. A day later a detective called me back and asked a shit ton of questions about this asshole. I was happy to answer their questions. I don’t know what happened after that but he never bothered me again.

Mateo moved out a few months after his misogynistic criminal roommate left and a girl named Olivia moved in. She was lovely makeup consultant at Saks Fifth Ave. About a month after she moved in I started noticing she had a few different men coming around but hey, that’s normal to me, I’m the girl who was in love with multiple men at the same time!

The walls were very thin so making love was always a quiet vibe in my apartment but Olivia didn’t realize this at first. One night I heard her giving very sexually explicit “orders.” I turned on my white noise. A few nights later, more of the same, “get on your knees,” “beg for it,” “crawl to me, NOW!.”

Oh my! I better tell her I thought. The next day as I was leaving for the law firm and she was headed to Sax Fifth Ave I stopped her, “Good morning, Olivia!” She greeted me with a smile. “Hey girl just so you know, these walls are super thin, and zero judgement, but I can hear you like you’re in the room with me.” She wasn’t put out at all, “Oh sorry girl! I’m a dominatrix on the side. I’ll turn on my white noise and keep it down.” We wished each other a good day and off we went like it was a totally normal conversation. But wasn’t it?

Then Paul moved. Weston moved. Ben moved.

In 2011 my job started to sour. The partners were in-fighting and in an ego competition. Some of them tried to flex power by asserting “control” over the staff and were harassing us over various petty things. I tried to reason with them via the office manager, but they were a pack of narcissists and there was no satisfying one partner in particular no matter what. Why? He was jealous of me because Jon Hamm of the show ‘Mad Men’ commented to him that I was “wonderful” and “beautiful.” I know because he said it to the partner in front of me as he was smiling at me.

This gay multimillionaire name partner, who could have anything his heart desired, was after me! I guess because what his money couldn’t buy was compliments from Jon Hamm? So, he targeted me and made-up petty gripes.

I looked around my apartment. I looked at my 17-year relationship with a man I loved so much but who refused to acknowledge or accept that we were headed rapidly from our 20’s to our 50’s. I looked at my 16-year job now steeped in in-fighting, harassment, and jealousy. I wanted more. More space. More peace and quiet. I wanted less traffic. I wanted parking. So, I formulated a plan. My partner did not approve but had no alternative plan of his own to offer, so I moved forward.

-I went manufactured house hunting in Orange County (I knew I couldn’t afford a standard house even if we were buying the house together).

- I quit my job after 17 years.

-I took out my 401K money.

- I bought a little manufactured home near the ocean in Huntington Beach.

-In April 2012 I moved!

My partner adjusted to it; he came down every weekend from LA and sometimes during the week. Seven years later in the Fall of 2019 we ended our partnership over having children. Imagine that! He wanted me to have a baby with him at 54! The breakup was amicable, and I still wish him well. But me? I made bold choices, smart choices.

I loved living in the Fairfax area of LA for 25 years so much, it was magical. I learned so much about the Jewish community. I partied like a rock star. I made love on the billboard on top of the Hollywood Plaza Hotel on Vine and Hollywood Blvd. I went to premieres and openings, parties and performances. I made so many friends. I had an abundance of romance and love.

I grew from a young woman into an adult. But things were changing both in LA and in me, so this was my Fairfax finale. My new home was my little beach house in Huntington Beach, in Orange County. Lots of space. Lots of parking. I exhaled.

Unreal & Wild Tales of Roommates & Neighbors

~Life in The Fairfax District Continued~

It was the start of 1996 when I moved out of the Gardner Street apartment and I was 100% done with having roommates.

So done. I was done living with people that I had to remind to pay their share of the gas bill or rent. Done with sharing common space. That can go sideways real quick. I decided if I’m not sleeping with you, I don’t want to live with you.

I wasn’t ready to move in with my boyfriend of one year, I had never ever lived alone in my life and now that I had just turned 30 I wanted to try it and see how it felt.

It felt fucking great.

If I left a towel on the bathroom sink when I left for work in the morning, that towel was still on the sink when I got home. No one ate my food and I no longer had to compromise on anything. All mine.

I moved into 314 North Sierra Bonita #201. It was a second floor single apartment in a two story 20 unit building. $550 a month, street parking. It was two blocks over and one block down from my Gardner Street apartment.

I lived there for almost three years and it was mostly peaceful, but when it did have disruptions they were very disruptive in a “my neighbor is an asshole” way.

Let me share a few of those disruptions with you.

Old Smoking Man

My apartment was above the apartment of a really old man that had lived there for decades. He watched ‘Mayberry RFD’ every morning at 9am and without fail I’d hear the music and the whistling start. It became an alarm clock for me since I had to be at work at 10am. He chain smoked. He never came out of his apartment. Once when I was walking by his apartment his door was open because someone was bringing him groceries. What I saw freaked me out! Newspapers, magazines, and boxes lined every inch of his apartment about four feet high, with just a narrow path to walk. I really tried not to be freaked out but this old man was a chain smoker! If this dude falls asleep or dies smoking, because he’s constantly smoking, we’re going up in flames.

Back at my place I triple checked the smoke detectors and planned my escape routes and procedures. This doesn’t really make him an asshole, just a hoarding, smoking old man, but UGH!

Ranchero Man

Next door to Old Smoking Man a young Latino man moved in. He was friendly, nice, and wore a Ranchero style of clothes, hats, and boots. He worked nights. I don’t know where but most likely a club or restaurant because when he got home after 2am he started partying.

That’s fine for Old Smoking Man who only has to watch ‘Mayberry RFD’ and smoke the next day, but I had to work. At first the music and noise started out low enough that I could white noise it out but after a few months he started to get loose with the volume level. One night when my white noise could no longer drown out the Ranchero music I got up, went downstairs and asked him to be quiet. He apologized and went quiet. This happened three different times with me getting more agitated with each trip down the stairs. He was always very sorry.

When it happened a fourth time, I was completely done. I went downstairs but this time I didn’t knock on his door, I banged so hard I almost broke it down. I was pissed. “Miguel!! It’s 2:45! You said you’d stop doing this shit!!” He was drunk. He smiled at me casually and said “Oh, did I wake you up?” I shot back, “I sure as fuck didn’t come down here to party with you and I won’t be down again! Next time, I’m sending the cops! Be considerate!” Everything went pin drop quiet after that and I never heard a peep from him again. He got the message LOUD and clear.

Evil Ya-Ya

Once Ranchero Man realized it’s better to be considerate than be an asshole in trouble with the cops, a whole new asshole neighbor popped up. This one was a little different. This nuisance didn’t even live in my building and she was 88 years old!

Out of the blue one morning well into my second year living on Sierra Bonita, I woke up at 5:30am because someone was talking really loud. I mean like shout talking. WTF? I was groggy and I went around the tiny apartment trying to figure out where the loud voice was coming from. I opened a window that bordered the building next door and realized the obnoxious voice was coming from the triplex nextdoor, lower floor.

I raised my voice “Hey! Be quiet please! It’s 5:30 and we’re sleeping!” The voice immediately went silent and I went back to sleep. Two days later it happened again. 5:30am again. I opened my window “Hey! I told you, we’re sleeping over here! It’s too early ma’am! Stop please!” She goes quiet. Two fucking days later, she’s at it again! Same time. This time I get dressed, go downstairs, outside, and right up to her window where she is sitting, on the phone.

The Window is wide open and she’s shout talking away. I can literally see her as I step up to the screen. She’s an old Russian Jewish lady. They are notoriously mean, real badasses, in the Fairfax area of LA. I usually wouldn’t dream of messing with a Ya-Ya but I was so fucking mad.

“MA’AM!! I’ve told you already, we’re sleeping, I have to work, BE QUIET!!” There was a brief silence and then she said “I don’t caaaaare”. The A in care rolling real long. “What??!” I was shocked. This time she raised her voice at me and repeated “I don’t caaaaare!!” Oh. My. God.

“How rude you are!! Well I bet the police will care!!” I turned, went back upstairs and called the cops. When they arrived I met them downstairs and told them what happened. They listened and said “ok, we’re going to talk to her”. I waited. About 15 minutes later they came out of her apartment and told me this bullshit. That she can’t help it, it’s where her phone jack is and she has to be on the phone that early to call her family in Israel because that’s when she gets the lowest rate.

Oh hell no!! I let them know that none of that was mine or any other neighbor’s problem. She’s disturbing the peace. She’s intruding on my right to have “quiet enjoyment”. In California what she was doing is against the law; “California law guarantees tenants the right to quiet enjoyment, which is the right to use and occupy a property without disturbance. This right is implied in all California leases, and it protects tenants from landlords and neighbors”. Hell, she won’t even shut her window. She doesn’t caaaaare. Evil.

They were sympathetic to her side because she’s old, but I wasn’t budging. “So she can just make noise and disturb her neighbors, wake them up at 5:30am because of phone rates? No officers, she can’t. But what she can do is go to K-Mart on Fairfax and buy a phone extension cord for her phone jack, shut her window, move away from her window, and be respectful to her neighbors”. I was pissed but calm. “Well what do you want us to do?” “Fine her, cite her, this is the third time and with her I don’t care attitude she’s not stopping without incentive to do so”. “Well that’s an option but we’d rather not. There is another option, you could conduct a citizen’s arrest”.

I had them break that down for me and when they were done I said “Oh really? Then that’s what I want to do. I will make a citizen’s arrest. Get her out here please, let’s go”. They looked at each other then back at me. They know I’m right. “Ok ma’am, but it’s a lot of paperwork” “That’s fine, I’ll take the day off work, so now I’ve got plenty of time”

They looked unhappy with my answer. “Well let’s see if we can talk to her again”. “Ok, but let her know I’m very serious and that I better not ever have her wake me up again ever. She doesn’t care?! How incredibly rude! If she can’t agree to be a decent and respectful neighbor then she can come outside and I will arrest her.” I meant business. Do not fuck with my sleep.

About 10 minutes later they came out without the Ya-Ya. “Ok, we spoke to her about how serious this is and it got through to her. She said to tell you that she cares now and she’ll never bother you again” I had won my battle against the feared, old, Russian Jewish Ya-Ya. She never did bother me again, but she did earn herself the nickname ‘Evil Ya-Ya” and to this day in my mind I can still hear that drawn out A. “I don’t caaaaare”. What a defiant asshole.

There were really fun things about living in that apartment. You could hang out on the roof New York style because it was flat. You could cut through the CBS lot to walk to Farmers Market to go to EB’s on a Friday night for free live music and cheap pitchers of beer. I’ve never been in a better conga line than on that west patio at EB’s. You could walk to El Coyote for great drinks and meh food, and so many other fun things.

I grew out of the space and got sick of the cigarette smoke from Old Smoking Man so I moved, but that apartment will always be the inspiration for this series of stories.

We all have to live together. Be kind and caaaaare.

❤

Unreal & Wild Tales of Roommates & Neighbors

~Life in the Fairfax District~

Sheila & I left Dunsmuir Dr and moved to the Fairfax district of L.A. Then it was a predominantly Jewish neighborhood with a sprinkle of hipsters and young artist. We rented a large two bed, one bath with a hallway as long as a bowling alley, near the intersection of Fairfax Ave and Beverly Blvd on Gardner St at Oakwood Ave, for $850. That’s unheard of now in the gentrified neighborhood. Some classic establishments like El Coyote and Canters Deli still stand, while many if not all of the local Jewish Ma & Pa shops have been pushed out for boutique sneaker shops and Trader Joes.

I could write a book on the eight years I lived there but this is a short(ish) story so I’m going to touch on a few of the most memorable times. Hnah! (enjoy in Yiddish).

Neighbors-

Ian Lawes — Our upstairs neighbor was Ian Lawes, an English man in his 50’s that looked like Sean Connery in 1992’s ‘Medicine Man’. Ian was a great neighbor, always there to help, fun to party with, and he could tell a story in his big booming voice like no one else. He only dated black women and was very much a confirmed bachelor. However, he carried on a decades long love affair with Mary Wilson of The Supremes. I was always completely starstruck when I saw her.

His bedroom was above mine but the walls were thick so I never heard him carrying on. The only time I saw him date a woman that wasn’t a black woman, was Priscilla Coolidge, sister of singer Rita Coolidge and a singer in her own right. The sisters were of Cherokee descent. At the time I was dating a man named Ian, but then I ended it due to his commitment issues and I was sad. One night I was woken up by Priscilla and Ian going at it, but not because they were going at it, remember the walls were thick, but because Priscilla was screaming “Ian! Oh Iaaannnn!” over and over at the top of her lungs. I sat there awake in my bed and thought really? Karma was a bitch to me that night. When I later told Ian that she/they woke me he laughed and asked “was that the first time I woke you?” “yes” I replied, “Well good for me! I thought it would have happened much sooner!” You just couldn’t be mad at Ian. He remains my friend to this day. Good times!

Lisa — Lisa lived across from us on the bottom floor. She was a bubbly, sweet, fun girl to hang out with . When I got to know her more I found out that she was heavy into bondage and she proudly showed me her collection of ties, chains, tethers, masks and ball gags. Hey to each their own! She only lived there for about a year, but we went to the very first ever Lollapalooza together and took mushrooms! Good times!

Tate Donovan — Tate was/is an actor that lived across the street. He’s been in a million things and if you googled his name you would be like “oh yeah, him!” He was a handsome and nice guy. He would practice tai-chi on the sidewalk in front of his building and he was always friendly. Initially he was dating Sandra Bullock (just after ‘Speed’ came out) and she got him the cutest little dog that he named Luigi. All the girls on the block would pet Luigi so they could talk to Tate and Sandra was bitchy about that. We all wondered, so if you don’t want other girls talking to him why did you get him a dog that’s like a magnet? They broke up. Then he started dating Jennifer Aniston (she just got the role on Friends). She was lovely and nice to everyone. Yes, we were all up in his business. Shortly after he started dating Jennifer, he moved. Good times!

Flea from the Red Hot Chili Peppers — he moved in with his wife and baby daughter directly across the street. They had three albums out by then so they were already big locally and we were fans from before they even had an album out. We knew of them from the music scene and ran in the same circles, so we were excited about him living across from us. Turns out Flea and his friends were kind of snobs and didn’t talk to any of the neighbors. It was off putting, but their music was great so whatever! The baby was cute and wasn't a snob, she would wave and say hello to everyone walking by her window. Also they would bring her by on Halloween to trick or treat, so cute! Good Times!

Parties-

I loved to throw big dinner parties and parties in general. We had many. On my 27th birthday I threw a party with about 30 people. I didn’t know it but my sister Linda and her friend, punk musician and cultural preservationist, Tequila Mockingbird hired a stripper for me. Linda called all the ladies into my bedroom and Lucas began to strip to Al B. Sure’s ‘Night and Day’. By the time the song ended he was in his speedo, but then he kept going for two more Uncle Al songs, grinding and grabbing! It was hilarious and fun. After the show was over we rejoined the men and the party resumed. I heard later that Tequila fucked him on my vanity’s chair. Good times!

Visitors-

We had many visitors stay with us over those eight years, again, too many to write about them all so I’ll go with a favorite story. I mentioned in the second story of this series ‘Just Above Delancy Street’ that my NYC neighbor, friend, and favorite bartender was Steve Buscemi. I was dating his fellow bartender from the B/7 (Vazacs), Kai Eric. Kai Eric was playing bass and touring with ‘Tav Falco’s Panther Burns’ and they were doing a show or two in L.A. Steve was in L.A. promoting his first movie ‘Reservoir Dogs’ and his best friend, comedy partner, and fellow B7 bartender, also my friend, Mark Boone Jr. (Bobby Munson/Sons of Anarchy) was rolling with them. We had people sleeping everywhere, beds, futons , and cushions on the ground.

One night we all went to have drinks at The Burgundy Room on Cahuenga Blvd. My sister Linda and our friend Tina met up with us as well as their friend actor Seymour Cassel. We were having a great time, hanging out, drinking, having great conversations, and laughing. Later in the evening Linda and Tina stepped out for a cigarette. Suddenly Tina burst back into the bar and screams “they’re beating Linda up!” We all run outside. Sure enough a girl has Linda pinned down punching her and a guy is standing over her hitting her with his belt! Before the guys can even react I jumped on the girl. Linda was known for getting drunk, running her mouth, and talking shit, but at that moment I couldn’t be sure of what happend, I just had to help her, she’s my sister. The guys jumped all over the guy with the belt and the bar fight came to an end in mere minutes. They ran off because they were outnumbered now and we picked Linda up off the curb. She was bleeding right over her eye pretty bad so we all went back to our place to clean her up and continue having cocktails and partying. Linda told the story of how the bar fight started and yes, she was running her mouth. Steve played doctor, cleaned the cut, and put a butterfly bandage on her battle wound. They were all so kind and didn’t judge her, Steve was especially kind and tender. Like I said in my other story, he’s the nicest guy ever.

A few days later we all went to the ‘Reservoir Dogs’ premiere party. It was great! As Linda, Tina, Sheila, and I left the party and were walking back to our car on Sunset Blvd, Steve and Mark rolled up on us in the yellow Pinto that Steve liked to rent from Ugly Duckling Car Rentals every time he came to L.A. and he yelled out the window “Hey girls! Let’s go fight!” We all died laughing. Over the years, when we see each other we always laugh about that night. Good times!

Sheila moved out and I had a few different roommates-

Dawn Barrymore- Drew Barrymore's cousin. That girl was sweet but extra wild, I mean she was a Barrymore after all. I asked her, with love, to move out.

Emory Jones- He was a referral from another friend and he was nice enough but he was always home and constantly ironing. He ironed everything obsessively, even his sheets. I told him we weren’t a roommate match.

Shortly after that I turned 30 and decided ‘no more roommates’. I moved to a single apartment a couple of blocks over and down. I will never forget all of the wonderful and wild things that happened on Gardner St. Good times!

Until next time, enjoy the good times and when you’re done, make more good times! ❤

Unreal & Wild Tales of Roommates & Neighbors

After our friend Keith died, Sheila and I moved to Dunsmuir Dr. just below San Vicente and West of La Brea. We rented a lower two bedroom, one bathroom unit from a doctor, Dr. Carey. The neighborhood was slightly ghetto but the place was large and the price was right at $600 a month. Besides, I grew up in much rougher neighborhoods in Lennox/Inglewood and Long Beach.

The top two units were empty, but Dr. Carey said he just bought the building and was renting out all units. The neighbors that lived in the ground unit across from us told us that was bullshit, they’d lived there for a year and all the other units were empty until we came along. They thought it was strange but just like us, they liked the rent.

They were a really nice family, the Williams’. Virginia was the mom and she had three kids, Gail her daughter in her early 20’s, DJ her son was 11, and her son in his late 20’s, that we all called 40 ounce or just 40. We never did know his birth name. 40 was a member of the Playboy Crips (also known as the Playboy Gangster Crips- PBGC). He was also one of the sweetest, kindest, gentle people I have ever met.

They were great neighbors and Virginia ran a tight ship, 40 ounce never brought any PBGC business anywhere near the house and he protected us all like security. We’d all hang out. I’ll never forget one night we all had cocktails and a lip-sync battle. Gail and 40 lip-synced to Gladys Knight and the Pips ‘Neither One of Us’. Adorable.

One time, after living there about six months, I went on a weekend trip to San Francisco. While I was away Sheila trashed the apartment. She got really wasted by herself and freaked out about Keith dying. She took a hammer to the walls in a few places, broke apart furniture, turned over plants, tore down the shower curtain, and then finally threw a chair through the large front room window, completely shattering it.

When I arrived home that Sunday afternoon she was cleaning up, but there was no hiding the damage and no quick fix to the front window besides a huge piece of wood. She cried and apologized. I cried and empathized. I suggested counseling might be helpful. She agreed and continued to piece the house back together. I helped. I was sad for her, sad for us, sad for the loss of Keith, I wasn’t mad, she wasn’t trying to do bad things, she was hurting. She had showed me who she was way before this happened.

The next day when I got home from working my lunch shift as a server, 40 approached me. Sheila was still at work so he spoke freely to me, “Heather, is Sheila ok?” “Oh 40 I’m so sorry if you guys heard all that & if it scared DJ, she’s ok, she’s busted up from our friend Keith dying on his motorcycle, remember we told you about him? But she’s ok.” “Listen girl, don’t worry about what we heard, I was worried about her! I thought some mother fucker was in there with her trying to hit her or some shit, so I went to the window & peeked in to see who the fuck I was about to fight, and then I thought, is this girl alone? I couldn’t believe that shit, so when she moved to a different room I went to a different window & peeked in, & mother fucker, I realized, she IS alone! She’s fucking alone! This girl in here fighting with her own self! Ok so then I’m just worried as fuck she gonna hurt herself, so for, shit, about three fucking hours, I followed this girl room to room, peeking through the windows, back and forth, while she raging & then she picked up that fucking chair & threw it through the goddamned front window!! I thought ok, that’s it, I gotta fucking go in there, but then she sat on the couch, got real quiet, laid down & went to fucking sleep! This girl fucking wore both of us out…Heather I was so worried about her..I’m glad she’s ok”

“Oh my god 40!!” I hugged him really tight and start to cry, “Thank you so so so much for watching over her, for helping her. I know when she finds out she’ll be so grateful, she’ll…” He interrupts me, “No! No please don’t tell her! She’s going through a lot of shit, she alright, she don’t need more. It’s cool Heather, this just between us ok?” “You’re so kind & sweet, thank you 40, truly.” We hug and he left. Imagine that, a PBGC babysitting a wasted, sadness crazed, destructive white girl, hour after hour, up and down the driveway, trying to keep his eyes on her through the windows so she won’t hurt herself and then showing her even more love by not wanting to embarrass her or cause her more shame. He showed us what a good person he was. Not judging a book by it’s cover is always the way to go, even for gang members.

We often had friends hang out, sometimes we’d all be at a show and come back to party afterwards. One time the band I sometimes sang a little backup vocal with played a show and we came back to our place to keep partying. I ended up having sex with and sleeping in the hallway walk-in closet with this cute roadie guy named Hector. We had sex a few other times after that too but we were just hooking up. However we did casually talk about it and neither of us were hooking up with anyone else at the time. Cool.

About a month into the hookup my friend Tina and I were going to a show we had tickets for, but stopped by a girls house that she knew, Jennifer, to pick up some pot. I didn’t know the girl. We got to talking about men as we smoked a joint and I mentioned I was hooking up with a guy named Hector. She said “that’s funny my roommate Sally is hooking up with a guy named Hector” we laughed because it’s a common name, but then she asked what he looked like and as I described him she got a funny look on her face and said “oh my god, is his last name Martinez and does he work in a furniture store?” “Yes!” Tina and I screamed.

What the fuck? I never met this girl, her friends and mine didn’t run in the same circles, but I was hooking up with the same guy her roommate was! Then she said “He’s literally coming over here in an hour! My roomie will get here about 15 minutes later, you guys should stay and you should answer the door Heather!” YES! Tina and I agreed, but then as time went on we realized, nah, we’ll miss the show if we wait. Then Jennifer says “you know what I’ll do? I’ll take Polaroids of you guys and show them to him like, oh you just missed my friends, aren’t their outfits cute?” With that we left for the show.

The next day we called Jennifer, she said that when she showed him the pictures his eyes got big, but his mouth stayed shut. She also showed the pictures to Sally and told her what happened. Sally dumped him. I let his calls go to the answering machine for about a week and at the next show I walked up to him, “Hi Heather!” he went to hug and kiss me but I held out an arm and said, “Oh hi Hector, how is Sally?” He stumbled over his words but I interrupted his bullshit by telling him there’d be no more hooking up with a liar that didn’t even need to lie! He showed me who he was.

About 10 months into living on Dunsmuir Dr. the heater broke & Dr. Carey refused to fix it. After some back and forth we told him; no repairs, no rent. We never heard from him again. Ever. He showed us exactly who he was, a slumlord. The remainder of our time there we squatted.

About a month before we moved out, someone got murdered across the street. The LAPD, typical not to respond with any urgency to a lower income, predominantly African American neighborhood, just weren’t coming. It had already been about 45 minutes since Virginia called 911. 40 said “Hey Heather, could you call the cops? They’ll come if you call.” I knew he was right. I called 911 and through my white woman tears, which were authentic, someone had just been murdered, I pleaded, “Please come right away! Someone was murdered across the street! I’m scared & I think I saw a gun!” I didn’t see a gun, but I knew this would bring them out even quicker than just my white woman in distress voice. Within minutes cops were swarming, helicopters flying above. I stepped outside to talk to the cops, “I’m sorry, maybe I didn’t see a gun, I don’t know, I’m scared…” They told me it was fine, to go back inside and even thanked me for calling. Unbelievable. But not. When I went back inside we all just looked at each other, like what a bunch a racist bullshit. Of course the cops showed who they are. RIP to whoever was murdered.

A week later the Williams family moved out and a few weeks later, Sheila and I left too. We weren’t getting our $200 security deposit back, so we took red paint & on the walls of the very long hallway we painted the words of a Waterboys song of the same name ‘That was the River, This is the Sea’

Until next time, try not to judge others until they show you who they are❤

Unreal & Wild Tales of Roommates &Neighbors

It was Thanksgiving evening 1987. I was at the Hyatt on Sunset hanging out with my friend Mary who was visiting from Pennsylvania. We were enjoying a plate of strawberries and kiwis with champagne when the phone rang. It was for me. For me? I’m not a guest here. Who even knows that I’m here? I grab the receiver, it’s one of my friend’s Steven, who is also a neighbor in the same apartment building. “Heath, Keith is dead.” Wait. What? “Steven, what?” Panic started to hit me like a slow motion punch to the face. “Keith is dead, he had an accident on his motorcycle.” “Whhhattt???” I shrieked as I started to sob. “How do you know this? Were you with him? No!!” “Sheila was with him, she just called me.” I couldn’t ask anything or talk any more, I was completely choked with sobs and pain. “Please, just come home Heath” he said through his crying. I managed to get out the words “I’m coming”.

Keith and Sheila had gone to Kenneth Hahn park in Baldwin Hills to have a Thanksgiving picnic since their families were in New York. They also dropped a half hit of acid each. They stayed for hours eating, listening to music and enjoying the warm Southern California sun. They rode their motorcycles there, so even though the park officially closed they stayed until dusk. As they were leaving Keith accelerated ahead of Sheila. She saw the gray bars that “close” the parking lot and thought she’d catch up to him there because he had to slow down to go around them. He didn’t slow down, he didn’t see the gray bars in the gray dusk, and he hit the bars at a high speed. It crushed his chest, he flipped off the bike and died instantly. Sheila was left with the dead body of her best friend since childhood. We didn’t have cell phones then, finally a city bus came by and the kind driver called for help and tried to shelter and comfort Sheila.

Before this devastating, life changing, tragedy, me and a bunch of my friends were living happy, fun, young lives in an apartment building on Robertson and Cadillac in L.A., where one side of Robertson Blvd. and Cadillac Ave. was a Beverly Hills adjacent neighborhood called BeverlyWood and the other side of these cross streets was the neighborhood and territory of the Playboy Crips. It always reminded me of a lyric from a Prince song called ‘The Cross’, “Ghettos to the left of us, flowers to the right.”

Shortly after I moved home from NYC, some of my NYC friends moved to L.A. and through the same connection we all ended up living at the same apartment building. My friend Keith was first, he moved out to be with his new girlfriend Hillary (the connection), who had recently broken up with country music artist Dwight Yoakam. Her sister Tasha had a single apartment and was looking for a roommate, so I moved in. Soon our friends Dorothy and Steven moved to L.A. and took the single below Tasha and me. A few months later Keith’s childhood bestie Sheila moved to L.A. and took the extra bedroom in Keith and Hillary’s two bedroom apartment.

Hillary and Tasha were new friends so I was getting to know them. Tasha told me that they grew up in a cult but they escaped and now they were free. I listened as she told me things that happened but I didn’t ask any questions because I. don’t. fuck. with. cults. Not even to ask questions. Tasha was at her boyfriends most of the time and soon she moved out. She was a lovely girl.

In April we had a big party for my Birthday. My sister worked at Triple X Records and knew Pat Smear from the Germs (he went on to Nirvana and now he’s in a band called the Foo Fighters). He had a new band called ‘Celebrity Skin’. She asked him to play my party and they did! There was an empty lot next to the building and we just took it over. We set up the equipment and food and beverage tables. We even dug pits and roasted chickens and turkey’s. It was a wild and super fun birthday party where we did shots of tequila from a soup ladle and some of the boys did shots from our high heels. So fun. So wild.

I managed a tiny Italian restaurant on Robertson and Wilshire called Boscos. Actor Mickey Rourke had a little motorcycle gang then with musician Charlie Sexton and they always rode up and down Robertson. I would see them from Boscos, run to the phone and call Sheila to tell her a pack of babes was headed her way. Being a rider herself it was a delightful two-fer for her.

Sheila worked as a camera operator at ‘Movietime’ which is now ‘E Television’, Keith and Steven were motorcycle messengers, but had creative interest, Steven was a great musician with quite a following in NYC, and Keith was a budding artist, his sketches were fantastic. Many times before I went to work Keith would come have tea with me, I’d ask “aren’t you going to work today?” and he’s say “nah, the sun is shining Heath!” I would say laughing “Keith, you live in California now, the sun is always shining”. He’d smile real bright and say “Yeah, I know, isn’t it great?!” I’m so happy he took those sunshine days.

In the Fall, Keith and Hillary broke up, she got back with Dwight Yoakam and moved out. Then Dorothy and Steven had a motorcycle accident and Dorothy broke her leg so she went back to N.Y. Steven moved in with Keith and Sheila, but Sheila didn't really like living with the boys so she moved in with me. Then Thanksgiving happened and our world was shattered.

Steven moved back to N.Y. and Sheila and I moved out of that apartment building to a new place near San Vincente and La Brea and tried to pick up the pieces and move on. Even though it’s been 36 years it hurts so much to write about Keith. I still can’t listen to Pink Floyd's ‘Wish you were here’ without instantly dissolving into sobs, I can’t. That’s the song he was listening to on his boom box on the motorcycle when he died. I guess the pain will always be raw.

About a month before Keith died, Sheila took a second job at a new restaurant on La Brea. She invited Keith and I to come to the test run before the grand opening. It was beautifully designed with pastel colors and clouds painted on the ceiling with gold trim. During dinner Keith looked at me and said “Fuck, it’s pretty in here Heath, I think this is what heaven looks like.” I hope that for him. ❤

Until next time remember, Life Is Now~

After my very whirlwind,romantic, & dream like 1985 Summer in the loft on Clinton Street in the Lower East Side of New York City, my best friend, Tina, moved back to LA & I needed a new roomie. It just so happened my friend, an amazing poet, brilliant anti-folk Rockstar, a hilarious & kind man, Lach, needed a roomie too. He had a connection for a six month sublet, a one bedroom ground level apartment at 100 Suffolk St for $500 a month. All I had to do was pay my $250 and move in.

It was a cute little apartment with nice neighbors. One of my favorite bartenders Steve from the B7/Vasac Bar lived next door, he was just Steve then but now he’s usually known by his whole name, Steve Buscemi aka the nicest guy ever. It was a magical ghetto, little restaurants, bars, & clubs on every block that were almost always open, it was like a roughed up Disneyland for adults.

Being a gentleman, Lach gave me the bedroom and the living room became his bedroom. He subleted from a woman named Edena. That was all I knew about her at first until the phone started ringing. Men would call at all hours looking for her but no problem, I didn’t have to pickup the phone, she had an answering machine!

After a few weeks of calls I mentioned to Lach over breakfast at Lillian’s Polish Diner “Edena gets a shit ton of calls from guys”. He casually replied “Oh yeah, she’s a trumpet player, she’s out on tour, & when she’s in town, she’s a stripper”. Wait, what!? I have exactly zero judgement over either of these occupations I had just never heard of a trumpet player/stripper! In fact the only slash career I’d heard of was actress/waitress but I thought how cool & good for her & went about my business, after all this was New York City & anything goes!

After a couple of months I noticed the some of her calls took a different tone, they were hinting at “services”. When I told Lach his response was “sometimes the stripper lines get blurred”. Ok whatever. One caller in particular was very insistent and kept leaving messages. One night (or actually morning) he called at 4am, I forgot to turn the ringer off so I picked up & said “Hey listen, Edena isn’t here, she’s on tour & won’t be back for about four months so call back then” He replied “ok but are you available?” “No”. I hung up . The calls kept coming but it was no biggie, we just had to remember to turn the ringer off & let it go to the answering machine.

It was the fifth month of the sublease & one afternoon I was expecting a call so I had the ringer on. The phone rang, this was 1986 so there was no caller ID, I picked up, “Hello?” ‘Hi, Edena?” “No, I’m sorry Edena’s on tour, she’ll be back in about five weeks, you can call back then”. I had that answer memorized. “Five weeks? That’s a long time, I clean her bathroom”. WTF? I was confused & trying to quickly decipher what this man was saying to me “Oh! well, I’m subletting & I clean the bathroom, but like I said, she’ll be back in about five weeks” he replied “You clean the bathroom? Well I could clean it for you, I like to do it, it’s free of charge. You sound hot, really confident & I like to be bossed around so I’ll clean the bathroom”. It clicked, he’s Edena’s maid, her houseboy, her sex servant! “Thanks for the offer but I clean my own bathroom, call back in five weeks”. I hung up. Lach said I should have let him clean it.

At the six month mark we moved out to another one bedroom at 98 Norfolk Street, the connection was mine this time and we signed an actual lease. I never did meet the unique & intriguing Edena but just for a moment her choices in occupations had me wondering, was I cheating myself out of money & servants by being a model/waitress?

Until next time, live your life the way you want! ❤

Unreal & Wild Tales of Roommates & Neighbors

In July 1985, three months after my 20th birthday my best friend Tina and I moved to New York City.

To be exact, to the Lower East Side.

To the locals it was Loisaida. The hipsters, students, artist, and musician that were moving in, called it Alphabet City.

It was a ghetto. A beautiful Hispanic/Puerto Rican neighborhood.

I grew up in the ghetto’s of Los Angeles (Inglewood/Lennox/Long Beach) so it felt like home to me.

But this was the East coast, New York City, it crackled with newness and excitement.

We subleted a single, a loft on the 5th floor of a five story building on Clinton and Rivington. No elevator.

I got the connection from a high school friend. The place belonged to her boyfriend, a German artist, Ingo Gunther. He would be in Europe all summer so he rented it to us for $500 a month.

It had a small bathroom with a tub that had a hose for a shower, a medium sized kitchen and a huge main room with a swing hanging from the ceiling. I loved it, it was beyond awesome.

We moved in and cleaned it from top to bottom, then made dinner and had drinks. As we were finally going to bed drunk around 3 am, we heard a sound in the kitchen. When we walked in to the kitchen, there was a big fucking rat with mange eating potato rinds out of the trash can! Fuck!

We ran screaming into the main room and jumped up on chairs. What the fuck to do now?? Ingo was an Industrial artist and had blocks of wood just lying on the desk, so I picked one up and I threw it at the rat. It didn’t flinch, it stopped eating for just a moment and looked at me like “bitch”, and I swear I thought he was going to pick that block up and throw it back at me, but he just went back to eating. Fuck! Finally we got the nerve to approach the kitchen and shut the french doors that divided it from the main room. We didn’t sleep much and we couldn’t go pee, the restroom was on the other side of the kitchen. Again, fuck!

We finally fell asleep and when I woke up in the morning, there was Ingo, sitting naked at the desk having coffee. Um, what the fuck? Good morning?

It wasn’t anything sexual at all, he was just a German man, a European, completely unbothered by naked bodies like Americans tend to be, so we just rolled with it, poured some coffee and told him about the rat with mange.

It was a wild time. We had so much fun in Loisaida.

• We hosted friends from out of town
• A very hot girlfriend of mine kissed me/made passes at me, I kissed her back and felt nothing and this is how I learned that I’m super straight
• We had Sunday spaghetti dinners with our amazing circle of friends
• I had an affair with a sexy, hot, handsome movie star. We mostly hung out at his fancy place near Wall Street though, he had an elevator.

What a loft!

What a Summer!

Until next time! ❤

I wrote this Poem at a very low point in My life.

It flowed from Me like lava.

I worked at a top Entertainment law firm and I was being harassed and bullied by a filthy rich partner who was in a mid-life crisis and his evil, old, comptroller woman friend.

But I won.

I left the firm on My terms and just a few short years later the entire firm went out of business and these mean old people are still, in fact, NOT ME.

Yay Me!

~H~

I burn bright My heat is hot, People wish & They dream To have what I’ve got

I’m strong I’m vocal, I’m something to see, Very Striking So amazing Even I’m jealous of Me

I’m brazen & blessed Sitting high above the rest, I stumble I fall But I’m still standing tall

So step it back & let’s be clear, I’m the winner every year

You’re disgusted Filled with hate, But you can’t help it Cause I’m so great

You wish you were me You try but you’re not, You see all the guys looking Saying “Damn that girl’s hot!”

Say I’m conceited Say what you will, But I know when you see Me It gives you a thrill

Talk shit for days Call Me a whore, But I know you’ll be staring When I walk through the door

I’m hella sexy With a smile so sweet, I’m rocking hot body From My head to My feet

Glamorous & elegant Refined & so classy, But I’m playful & Joyful & just downright sassy

Fabulous, fantastic I blow your mind everyday, You’d give all that you have If you could be this way

Talk about Me Trash Me Pull My name over the rack, But I know why you do it Let’s face it I’m stacked

You never stop looking Like you’re in love with Me, With no life of your own It’s pathetic to see

You can’t stop dissing Like it’s a disease, Get your own life for god’s sake Honey child please

You have everything in life All that money can buy, But your focus is Me What the hell? Why

Cause My sparkle will blind you I smolder & sizzle, While you continue to be drab nothing a fizzle

You’re clouded with jealousy so that you just can’t see, That your problem’s unsolvable You’ll never be Me

September 2011

Hanging By A Hinge~ My Sexy & Insane Journey To Love On The Dating App ❤

Yes, I have found Him.

It’s been five months, we are starting our sixth month of dating.

We spend almost every weekend together.

We live about an hour apart, we are in a LA/OC Bi-County Love affair.

We both work long and hard weeks, so the weekend is the reward.

What a joyful reward it is!

It’s been so great getting to know each other.

It’s the most adult and well functioning relationship I’ve ever had.

I’m so grateful.

I’m starting to have feelings of Love.

We have so much in common, but so many differences that we are exploring and learning from each other.

Where I stand today, I see a beautiful future, the second half of life spent with this wonderful, kind, talented, smart, interesting, funny, sweet, sexy AF, loving, grown man.

But only time will tell if that’s to be.

You can’t push the river to make it flow faster.

You can’t pull on the newly sprung shoot to make it grow quicker.

You have to let life take it’s course while trying to manifest your hearts desire.

He is mine ❤

Thank you for reading and being apart of my journey to Love~

On to the next series:

The Single Apartment- Unreal & Wild Tales of The Neighbors!

Hanging By A Hinge ~ My Sexy & Insane Journey To Love On The Dating App ❤

When I started my online dating journey a year ago I was shocked & horrified at some of the profiles. If you’ve dated online, & most people have these days, then you know what I mean.

Or you may have read a story about the absurd, obscene & unreal shit people put out there. The fish. The multiple people in one picture. The obsession with travel (who doesn’t want to travel?). The ridiculous faces they make. The unrealistic demands on their potential new partner. And for me, the massive neck tattoos. Oh & holding a cat or gently having the cat paw touch their face is a new & often used one. I guess to show that they are sensitive & that they like pussy/cats?

I decided right away not to let this make it a negative journey for me but to instead see it as comedy. Pure comedy gold. And it is.

Thank goodness for the “normals”. Men who have well thought out, interesting profiles with appropriate, appealing pictures. If they didn’t exist, there would be no hope. But they do exist & they are wonderful, fun, exciting, caring men, who can make great partners. I know, I met one ❤

Here are just a few hilarious & shockingly repelling examples. Have a laugh, enjoy, but also remember, beauty is in the eye of the beholder!

• Andrew

Very good looking but wants to clean your bathroom. Is this like a sex slave thing? Ok.

• Luardo

Very handsome, like the “sexy convict” from a few years ago that went viral, but I just can’t imagine bringing him to a work function or to see my family, like, hi here’s my new man with many many neck tattoos. No.

• Nathan

Here’s just one of the many ‘kitty paws on the face’ guys, AND I have to “enjoy stupid jokes? Oh gawd.

• Lorne

This was an actual choice he made, an adult man, to make this photo his first impression. Also letting you know that he’s into Marvel, Star Wars, & Disney as an opener screams ‘I am a man child’. Hard pass.

• Josh

Which one are you, & what the hell is happening here? Sir?

• Jon

Nothing says I’m datable like a forehead tattoo that says “damaged”. Nothing. There is a lot wrong here for me but hey, maybe he’s just perfect for someone else!

And there you have it! Or at least a few examples. My story is just one of the many. I believe people write about/share their insane online dating experiences out of disbelief, like, this couldn’t be real life & maybe if I tell others, someone will no doubt tell me that this is a rarity & I just got unlucky. No. It’s real life.

Don’t be discouraged! Love is a needle in a haystack & it’s a lot of work to find it. There is a lot of hay. The needle is there. Keep going. Keep scrolling. Your person is out there. Love is everywhere. I’m living proof! ❤

Until next time, keep digging through the hay because here comes ‘Hot Girl Spring 2023’!