I took a cab to get a friend's first grandchild a couple of my favorite baby gifts: the little duck for him to play with in the tub, I had one, and a satin blanket with cherry blossom motif. This was the first time I was out by myself since the hospitalizations I went thru in July/August.
The cabbie, Leon, left home in bermudas and a tank top to cater to my needs. My favorite cabbie passed away nearly two years ago -- now light one more cig.
Leon and I got lost in a chic-chic area in town. I asked him to stop so I could ask a Sylvan center for help. His cell. my cell. were dead.
Leon was shunned away. Dangling on my crutch, I go to the manager's desk. Both she and her secretary were new to the Westside. No, they couldn't call 411 to help me, no, they didn't have a phone book, but I spotted one.
Alas! The store wasn't listed under any of possible categories. Finally, I let them know I am a CTY SDB Johns Hopkins scholar, class of 1999. I could write a good recommendation or a bad one.
The secretary decided to "turn on the Internet." I guided her on her Google search -- practice makes perfect. They'd been on the job for two days or weeks. No finesse necessary to deal with Westside Los Angeles folks. We found I had switched the digits in my head, 901 instead of 109. ;-P
I got to the boutique for the li'l ones. Oh, they're nice, Kit and Nazarene. I mean nice and bodacious, both fluent in Valspeak.
I am obese now. I am freaked out by the lack of skills the service sector displays in catering to the disabled. Who is beautiful? Everyone can make an effort. We, the handicapped, are protected by law. In a lawless country -Ha!
Moral: Get yourself beautiful now!
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