So, I have finally decided to take up blogging again after the year from hell known as 2007…
Tonight, my friend…no, friend is not even a description for it because she’s like family…like my little dyke sistah…Jennifer (or JENNEPAIR as I like to call her in my best Filipino accent) came out to visit me in Tracy before I leave for Los Angeles. Jennifer and I spent the best part of our early 20s together and, as such, we’ve had many of an adventure together. We’re both storytellers and weavers of the tall tales, so, whenever we get together, it’s just a laugh riot.
I decided to record some of my favorite stories with Jennifer here. So, once in awhile, I’ll spin one of these yarns. But, I’ll start with what is perhaps my favorite story — the Northridge quake of 1994!
It was January 17, 1994 and I awoke to my bed shaking. In my haze, I watched all my CDs being knocked off the wall and things falling down. I must have been in shock, but all my survival skills went out the window at that moment. I remember thinking, “This building is probably about 14 years old, so I wonder when the ceiling is going to fall on top of me.”
After the shaking stopped, I hear Jennifer screaming, “Loren! Are you okay?!?!? Where are you? Why aren’t you under a door frame?!?!?!”
I simply replied, “Oh, yeah…I need to find some clothes to put on.” Which was funny because I was wearing clothes at the time. I got out of bed and I see Jennifer pacing around the apartment putting things in her backpack and checking off things on her mental checklist. I remember her mumbling, “I got my granola and cereal and we can just go to the middle of the desert until this is all over.”
“Oh, hi, Jennifer,” I said.
“I have a flashlight in the car! Come with me to get it,” she said, racing around the room.
And, suddenly, I became the gayest person ever and replied in shock, “Dressed in this?!?!?!”
Now, you have to understand that Jennifer was parked in the garage and nobody would have seen me even if I was dressed in a chicken costume. But, I refused to go out dressed in what I had on. The lights had been knocked out by the quake and I couldn’t see anything, so I handed Jennifer a lighter and instructed her, “Flick this on and off while I find an outfit to wear.”
While she was frustrated, she did it. And, at one point, I remember her flicking the lighter on and me asking her, “Does this hat match this outfit?”
That’s when she stopped flicking the lighter and exclaimed, “Oh, my god! You are such a fag.”
As we headed to the car, our neighbor across the way, who was, by the way, a Cher impersonator, peered into our apartment and said, “Oh, my god! You’re place was destroyed!”
To which Jen replied, “Actually, this is the way it normally looks.” Jen and I both agree that it was even probably an improvement.
How I look back and laugh at this.
Good times, good times…