New Newspaper Guy

Woke up early enough this morning to see the newspaper guy dropping off my Times.

But it wasn’t Hector, it was some new guy. So I said, “Hey, what happened to Hector?”

The guy said, “Hector quit, man. He won the lottery.”

I was more than a little confused. Did he win the actual lottery? Or some metaphorical lottery, like marrying a supermodel? So I said, “The real lottery? Like Powerball?”

The new guy said that California doesn’t have Powerball, it has Mega Millions. And yes, that’s the one Hector won. But he didn’t win the grand prize. He got five numbers without the mega number, so it was “only” worth $200,000 or so. Still, Hector used the money to move the rest of his family up here from Mexico and now he’s opening a bodega in East L.A.

I said, “Wow. Good for him.” I’ve never met anyone who really won the lottery before. Now that he’s gone, I wish I’d talked to him more.

I asked the new guy his name and he said it was “Pedro.” I said, “Tell Hector I said hi.”


We are having a party this Saturday night. Officially, it’s to welcome Scott to the neighborhood but unofficially it’s to invite Michelle.

Plus, I have met a lot of people in the past few months and I thought it would be fun to invite every stranger I’ve met. Well, the ones where I got their name and contact info.

Gunther is a given. I’m going to invite Monica as well because I think she’s cool and I don’t care if Gunther gets pissed off. Who knows, maybe the party will make them realize they should get back together.

I’m going to track down Polly, the girl with the three-legged dog. Plus Mario, I’ll text him. I will leave a note today for Hung (wonder what he looks like).

At work, I need to invite Kyle even though he’s a dick. If I don’t invite him and he finds out about it I’ll get a lot of shit. Neil obviously. Also have to remember to invite Janet, the receptionist. And Daphne. And Maria, the cleaning lady? She’s a bit out of the age range for this party, but it’d be nice to drop an invite anyway.

There’s a few others that might be weird to invite like Hector the newspaper guy and Ramon the dry cleaner but if I see them I’ll mention it.

Of course, Scott is inviting people, too, otherwise this party might be pretty pathetic. Maybe his director friend will bring a new girl for me to date after I break up with Marny and before I marry Michelle.

Speaking of Marny and Michelle, assuming Michelle comes, I wonder if Marny will sense that something is up. On the other hand, Michelle will probably bring her boyfriend Kal-El, so maybe I won’t even have a chance to talk to her.

Anyone else out there in L.A. who feels like dropping by a little shindig in Brentwood, drop me an email.

Flurry of Strangers

  • Newspaper guy said hi to me this morning. I asked him why the L.A. Times combined the real estate section with the business section. He said he didn’t know.
  • Talked to another waitress yesterday. She wasn’t as hostile as all the others. She said she was an actress but she was thinking of moving back to Minnesota. I told her it was probably a good idea.
  • I left a note for the mailman. I never see him because I’m at work, so I wrote him (or her) a note to introduce myself. No idea if he’ll write back.
  • I met the check-out girl with a nose ring at Whole Foods. She thinks people who eat meat are assholes but she tries not to say anything all day long.

P.S. Scott is moving in tomorrow.

Newspaper Guy

I woke up really early this morning because I have a conference call with a Managing Director in the New York office. So when I stepped outside of my apartment, I bumped right into the guy delivering my newspaper. He was startled, and even more so when I said, “Hey, what’s your name?”

He said, “Is there a problem with the paper?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“You missing a paper some day?”


“You call the paper?”

“No! Look. It’s just, well, you deliver my newspaper every morning and I don’t know your name. I don’t want us to be strangers.”

He looked at me leery. “Hector.”

I shook his hand. “Fletcher.”

“Okay. Have a good day.”

And then he took off, probably to tell all the other newspaper delivery people to avoid my apartment because I work for the I.N.S.

It’s too early to talk to strangers.