what happened

Last night we took a ride around Hollywood in the Ron Paul stretch limo. I don't think I could make this up if I tried. Obviously it was the last place I expected to find myself after dinner at Greenblatt's and wine at Stella, and how this happened I don't know if I could possibly relate. Suddenly there we were, walking back to the car, when Dre starts running down Sunset for no apparent reason. When he came back to us, out of breath, all he could manage through furious grinning is "it's the ron paul limo! we're gonna go party with them!"

And in the limo: A man gave me a shirt that he'd made and afterwards I found out he was an anti-semite. The cops turned a flood light on us and told every one to lay off the megaphone. A hospital technician named George told me stories over champagne of girls who don't seem interested anymore when he admits to them he's not in "the business."

I guess, all around it was a night of the unexpected. Jon Brion sat facing me all through dinner, sometimes staring but mostly writing. This man (whose real name is James) and his screenwriting pal chatted up Laura and I at the bar. At times I didn't know who I was.