Nothing says “America” like going to an Italian salon and getting your hair washed by a Mexican woman, your hair cut by an Irish chick, your credit card run by a Spanish receptionist and parking slip taken by a Pakistani man.
At Ralph's Supermarket: food poisoning, the way our forefathers planned it. The tourney ended April 4th.
I spent the 4th at a barbecue, and now the 5th namedropping – the party was at former Yankee and Dodger manager Joe Torre’s Beverly Hills mansion. I’m friends with his nephew.
Joe is currently in a sling, recovering from rotator cuff surgery. I’m guessing the cause was his dog Maia, who forced me to throw her this tennis ball for an hour and a half.
Like I always say, feature a woman shitting in the street, and you’ll gross a cool $200 million. I finally saw Bridesmaids. It’s great.