A Girl...

Garden Gnome

On Saturday night we went to a thirtieth birthday party at a club in the city and met a girl who looked just like Natalie Portman, only with way bigger boobs. Simon says she merely "resembles" Natalie Portman, that they have a similar look, but no, this girl looked exactly like her (only with way bigger boobs), and I wish I weren't opposed to putting pictures of casual acquaintances on my website because I would like to show you just how much this girl looks like Natalie Portman (avec boobs) so I can hear you all agree with me that yes, it's more than a resemblance, it's Natalie all right, but Natalie 2.0, if you get my drift.

Speaking of people looking like other people, at the party this weekend I was treated to a warm embrace and asked, loudly, over booming "Fergilicious," how life has been treating me lo these many years—all this from a woman I've never met. She thought I was someone else (let's call this someone else Henrietta because I don't remember her name), and for the next half hour I kept glancing at the door waiting for Henrietta to arrive so I could see what kind of supermodel/goblin I had been mistaken for. Happily, Henrietta was acceptably cute, and even though Simon insists that there was a resemblance between Henrietta and me*, I don't see how anyone could have confused us, what with me being on the arm of the cutest guy in the place and her, well, not.

Nevertheless, it was nice to be mistaken for some random, cute semi-blonde girl instead of the other person Simon's friends usually think I am, which would be his ex. You can imagine what fun that is. When we hook up with someone Simon hasn't seen in ages and who hasn't been apprised of his relationship situation, they usually greet me with a look of equal parts warmth, surprise, and confusion, and then venture forth an awkward hug while commencing with the "It's good to see you again"s and "How've you been?"s before I've had a chance to say, "Actually, we've never met. I'm not who you think I am."

Sometimes, apparently, I'm not who I think I am either, and so, after a week holed up in a dark cave being pelted by February rains, we finally got out of the house this weekend and took (both of us) some goddamned pictures, hallelujah etc. We got to the Japanese Tea Garden a little later than we should have (and we sat on the steps eating quesedillas to the tune of a roaming gypsy guitarist a little longer than we should have), so by the time we got into the garden itself all the trees were backlit and not very photogenic at all. Also, the big pond was drained for cleaning and despite evidence that the plums might be blossoming--which would make this my favorite two weeks of the year--most of the trees were still nothing more than nubby sticks against the gray sky. Ho hum. Not that that ever stopped my manic shuttering.

And so here are some photographs, many of which have been de-drearified by, paradoxically, converting full color to black and white. The color ones aren't bad either, mostly thanks to a little thing called flowers in winter courtesy of SF's Mediterranean climate.

*Yes, "Henrietta and me," not "Henrietta and I." Objective case!