It’s probably a bit naughty of me to post this, but I’m still giggling over a dinner I attended the other night. It could be just my own warped sense of humor, or maybe I just don’t get out enough lately – I’ll let you decide. Let me set the scene for you…
The table: cast by my old partner in crime from the London days - Amanda Kyme, consisted of a famous English football star turned commentator and his stunning actress wife from Wales, the hilarious Scottish writer/producer husband and his equally witty mogul talent manager/producer wife, the charming celebrity photographer, a 6 foot tall dose of chic aristocracy in the form of Lady V.H., and moi – the only non-Brit among us.
The location: Soho House in West Hollywood – an English owned private club where expats and Hollywood A-Listers broker power deals over cocktails while devouring breakfast, lunch, and dinner overlooking jaw-dropping views of the city and the uber hip beautiful people. Among them a DJ d’jour whose mother used to be an acquaintance I was thrilled to pass my regards along to.
The topic of conversation (and source of my amusement): Dogs. So what was so funny? In a club full high profile people, it was none other than Duane Chapman, better known as A&E’s Dog the Bounty Hunter that caught one half of the tables’ eyes, and unwittingly proceeded to dominate the conversation for the majority of the evening. Not being a reality show aficionado I was initially uninterested in the discussion, but the fact that the show (so blatantly American) was even known my my British pals, let alone gossip worthy enough fodder to keep them engrossed for so long eventually piqued my curiosity – plus sighting (yes, I admit it – I did make the obligatory trip to the loo to confirm it was in fact him) that unmistakable bleach blond mullet, George Hamilton worthy tan, bikers-regalia-clad beefy man amidst a sea of waif thin, painfully pale English fashion victims amused me greatly – it’s just that it was about the last place on earth I would have expected to clap eyes on him.
Meanwhile, the conversation on the other side of the table had turned to the untimely demise of Lady V.H’s dog. Apparently, the pooch had a heart attack, and passed in his sleep while Lady V.H. was away on holiday in St. Barts. The dog sitter who’d taken it upon himself to bury the dog before she returned, coincidentally happened to be at the club. He came to pay his respects, then scampered away as quickly as he’d appeared once she’d grilled him intensely over the details.
Now being a dog lover myself, I did feel sad for Lady V.H – what a shocking way to begin the New Year, and how lonely coming home to an empty house must have been when you’re used to your pup excitedly greeting you at the door. However, her insisting the dog be exhumed from his final resting place, and cremated was a bit too eccentric for the Scot (seated between us) to deal with. Not fond of discussing death over dinner,or dogs for that matter, his reaction sent me into inappropriate fits of laughter that just wouldn’t stop – tears and mascara flowing down my cheeks, gasping for air between giggles, and all. Thankfully, Lady V.H. had excused herself from the table to get a peek at the other Dog before the fits of laughter consumed me.
On the way out, some of our party stopped to say hello to some friends, and I stopped to wait for them not realizing until I glanced up that I was now practically sitting in Dog the Bounty Hunter’s lap. In fact, I was face to face with the entire family, and caught off guard as my gaze was met by a blaze of sparkling white smiles, and a nod hello. I felt uncomfortably guilty for judging a book by it’s cover – expecting them to be a bit scary when in reality they seemed like very nice people, and yes a little ashamed of myself for having had a laugh at their expense.
The Hollywood Ending: (and return of the fits of laughter) came when we piled into my car as the celebrity photographer drove off in front of us with Lady V.H. The license plate, and I swear I am NOT making this up, read “123DOG.”
What mischief have you been up to lately? Tatjana and her boyfriend have just arrived, so I will no doubt have plenty more to report soon, but in the meantime – a few of my friends – including the fabulous Alison Hay (otherwise known as my twin sister who was once married to the keyboard player from that other band, and continues to live a parallel life to mine on another continent) has kindly offered to entertain you with a few guest blog posts while I enjoy my daughter’s visit, so be sure to come back!