I don't know what possessed me, but I decided to come out of hiding. Perhaps because I'm sitting in the business center at the Beverly Hills Hilton in Los Angeles, and the concierge just told me that he wasn't going to charge me for my computer time. The computer time that costs $25.00. AN HOUR.

It's funny, I had this vision that everything from caviar to internet access would be free at the Beverly Hills Hilton - it's supposed to be a luxury hotel, after all. The secret to the rich people hotel? They charge you to breathe. And water is $9.50. Thank God I'm not footing the bill.

So, the good news - I'm not dead! Woo! In fact, I'm sleeping tonight on the best bed I've ever slept on, using the best towels I've ever used, watching the plasma TV in my room. The only similarity to my real life is that I'm still watching reality crap, and I'm heartbroken that the girl with the angel voice was kicked of American Idol last night.

By the way - whatever I said about Scott Savol before? The man is off my list. I crossed him off when the producers of AI turned him into the white prime time lounge singer version of Fat Joe. Lean back.

I'll be home soon, and things will be changing, soon. I'm sure I'll have lots to talk about. And you know, I've missed this - this whole writing thing. I think I just needed a break. You understand, right?

Will, if you're reading, I'm jealous of your life in San Diego. Tonight we ate dinner at a restaurant with an ocean view, and even though driving through L.A. feels like driving through a movie set - Universal Studios, maybe, but with insane traffic and more insane drivers - and even though the restaurant "ocean view" meant, hey, do you see the ocean over there, across that busy street? - I thought of you, and the picture of your big toe with the beach framing it. Sweet.

Love, kisses, and white wine in L.A.,

Lucy

Lucy loves you |