Had coffee with Paul this morning at this place on Main Street in Santa Monica and as usual Paul was running late.
“Where are you from?” I asked.
“Santa Monica,” she replied.
I laughed. “No, I mean, originally.”
“Florida,” she changed her answer to.
Now you have to understand that this chick was clearly from Europe. Not only was her accent French or Swiss or something, she just looked foreign. I mean it in a good way. She looked different. Two-tone hair like that singer from that band. And a nose stud, like that fashion was still big where she was from.
So I challenged her, “You’re not from Florida. Where did you grow up? France?”
“Fuck you, I’m from Belgium!” She said it with a smile so I guess she wasn’t that offended.
So I said, “Hey, if you don’t want people to insult you by calling you French, don’t tell them you’re from Florida.”
We talked for ten minutes till Paul got there. Apparently, the reason people from Belgium don’t say they’re from Belgium right away (at least in L.A.) is because they always get asked about Jean Claude van Damme and they’re sick of it.