I went down to Southern California for the Fourth of July to meet my girlfriend for her holiday break. She’s studying and tracking coyote populations in the field for summer. We spent most of the first day in bed. Breakfast in bed, sex in bed, lunch in bed, more sex, dinner and dessert in bed, and yes, more sex, only that was in the shower. What can I say? We missed each other. And the room service was surprisingly good. But the next day we made the mistake of leaving our hotel hide-away. She wanted to see the fireworks.
Before that she took me to see the worst places ever, it was like a endurance test not to say something to a stranger that they would never forget. I’m not made for Beverly Hills and Rodeo Boulevard, or The Promenade and Pier out in Santa Monica, maybe I wouldn’t get arrested on one those cool streets in Venice, and hell, I almost blend in certain parts of Hollywood – but then she wanted to go shopping for a dress for when she meets my family. She wanted my opinion. I knew I was stuck. It was a brilliant move on her part. We went to The Grove. I ate anything and everything anyone offered me.
Despite all the driving and the walking and the gawking at the locals, I have to say one thing: Rich people in L.A., what the hell are you doing to your faces?! WTF? Plastic surgery is everywhere! It scared the shit out of me. One lady saw me cringe so badly when I turned and saw her that she knew – she fucking knew I thought she looked like real horror show. What?! You would’ve cringed, too. She’s lucky I didn’t throw my hot chai latte at her. Yeeuk! It was so traumatic for me that I scribbled down some of my thoughts about all the faces I saw in Los Angeles. Luckily, I did get to see the fireworks. They were nice. Los Angeles doesn’t play when it comes to fireworks. It was like a real war. But we came to talk plastic surgery.
1. I keep worrying that if you sneeze or cough, your face might fall off.
2. The age of your neck versus the age of your face looks like amateur sci-fi special fx.
3. Why do you keep smacking your lips? Oh, you can’t feel that they’re still on your face? (I wonder if there’s an internet porn fetish for Botox lips, there has to be! :: need to look that up when I get home.)
4. You look like you stole a dead person’s face and stitched it onto your head while you were drunk.
5. I guess you can’t trust a prison nurse when she tells you she’ll steal Botox™ from the prison lab, then in the privacy of her own kitchenette, she’ll inject it in your face. DIY Botox looks like a bad idea.
6. So do you walk into the plastic surgeon’s office and say, “Doc, I’d like to give you thousands of dollars if you’ll give me lips like mismatched balloon animals. I really want to scare small children.”
7. Wait, is that Bruce Jenner? Bruce, man. Whoa! You just made the milk go sour in my coffee.
8. If there were a dating app for people looking to meet serial killers, you look like the person they would put in the advertisements.
9. You have the body of a seventy-year old, the arms of an eighty-year old, and the face of a forty-year old Cher. And you’re Asian. I don’t even know what to think anymore.
10. I’m worried your ass implants are deflating and leaking. Your butt shouldn’t droop like that, right?
11. Woman permanently tattooed makeup on her face … that’s a strong choice. I’ll give her that. It really says, “I see your ironic mustache, hipster, and I raise you a face tattoo.”
12. Getting coffee. This guy looks just like Mickey Rourke. Nope. Not him. This is making me sad. Mostly, because I love The Pope of Greenwich Village. But I just thought of Iron Man 2 and now I’m sad because … Mickey Rourke looks like Gary Busey’s little brother. It’s making me wonder if there is a kind and loving God in Heaven. Thinking about Mickey Rourke’s face might make me an atheist.
13. Why are your nipples looking in opposite directions? Can you sue your plastic surgeon for misaligned nipples? Why would you get a boob job? You’re a man.
14. You don’t have a single wrinkle on your face but you have grey chest hair poking out of your neon lime green tank-top. Clearly you killed a much older man, stole his identity, but how did you attach your much younger head to his body?
15. At the table, behind us, guy is telling his enthralled date all about how the doctors folded his face back like a peeled orange. I’m picturing this as I enjoy my over-priced fruit salad. I get to imagine a stranger without his face. It’s brunch, you shithead! Talk about your pets, your personal trainer, or your spirit animal, not your skinless face! STFU!
16. Man in the yellow Lambo, you make being a rich asshole look like no fun. You’re a slave to the opinion of others. That sucks, man. Come on, we need you to make being rich look like total fun. That’s all we have left anymore — the dream of being rich. Your terrible plastic surgery is pissing in the punch bowl of all our dreams.
One thing I noticed, all this unnecessary, excessive plastic surgery is a walking advertisement for our not-so secret fascist tendencies. It’s like their faces are saying, “Look! I will do insane, drastic things to myself as long as you will like me.” Basically, I don’t recommend walking around the Westside if you’re on strong acid.