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November 2001
Fellow Lotus-Eaters: Well, after eleven years of living in Los Angeles, I finally experienced my final, belated Tinseltown right of passage: an Angelyne sighting. I had long ago been through the rest of the prescribed series of culture shock treatments. Meeting people who said "dude!" and "jaaaah!" without the slightest trace of irony. Watching someone eat a pizza with pineapple and sprouts on it. Earthquakes. Sitting in traffic on the 405. Finding out that route 405 was called "The 405." Finding out that "I'll call you," when translated, actually means: "Go fuck yourself." Personalized license plates. Watching people play beach volleyball in bathing suits. In January. All very exotic and strange back when I was fresh off the boat from New Jersey. Now just a taken-for-granted part of my day to day. However, in all this time, I had never seen Angelyne in the flesh (and, lets face it, she's all about flesh). Only on billboards.For those of you that don't live in Los Angeles, I suppose a short explanation is in order. For years, Angelyne billboards have been an integral part of the Los Angeles landscape, every bit as important to the firmament as other local cultural/architectural icons such as strip malls, tract housing, and parking lots. Angelyne herself is a surgically-enhanced parody of womanhood: enormous plastic breasts and tiny liposuctioned waist scantily and eternally clad in garish hot pink. All of this heaving flesh and pink rayon is topped off with a platinum blonde wig that adds at least five or six inches to her height. Small animals have accidentally wandered into this wig without a flashlight and have never been seen again. Angelyne is famous for, well...being famous. She doesn't really do anything, she's just on a lot of billboards, and is occasionally seen driving around Hollywood in a hot-pink Corvette. Depending on your view of this city, she is either a living embodiment of why the rest of America loathes Southern California with such fervid intensity, or an inspiring personification of our entrepreneurial spirit. So there I was. It was around 10:30 on an otherwise routine Tuesday night. I had just pulled into the parking lot of my local Rexall drugstore on the corner of La Cienega and Beverly, in search of Tom's Of Maine toothpaste, double-A batteries, contact lens solution, and manila envelopes (life in the fast lane. Everything. All the time). Just as I was about to pull into my slot amongst the teeming hordes of SUVs, I saw the car. Hot pink Corvette Stingray. Personalized license plate: ANGELYNE. Parked shamelessly at the red curb right in front of the drugstore entrance – parking tickets and tow trucks be damned! There was no mistaking who owned this particular hunk of Detroit rolling-fiberglass. My curiosity raging, but initial goals still firmly in sight, I entered the Rexall and began foraging for the various items on my list, all the while keeping an eye peeled for Her Pinkness. Then I saw her, standing in the cold-remedies aisle. Age and fast living had taken its toll, she barely resembled the young nymphet I knew from all those billboards, yet it was Angelyne, all right. The 5-inch pink spiked come-hither pumps. The little pink dress trimmed with white fur. The removable flowing blonde tresses. Angelyne. At that moment I felt somehow more, I don't know...complete. As if a chapter in my life had finally come to its long awaited end. I felt I could now continue on to whatever destiny lay before me. I continued on to the next aisle to get the toothpaste. Amused as I was to have finally had this long awaited experience, I was also annoyed and angered on a deep primal level about Angelyne's blatant disregard for parking regulations. The handicapped spot was further from the door than her car was, for God's sake. Stuff like that pisses me off. I don't care who you are – if you ain't got the shekels to afford a driver to drop you off and deal with the limo while you shop, find a parking spot like everyone else! So when the voice came over the speakers, saying: "will the owner of the pink Corvette please move your car immediately. You will be towed!" my heart leapt with joy as I stood transfixed in the office supplies aisle. I felt in that moment that our democracy was still alive and well. There would be no kings and queens on our American soil! You would park legally, or, by God, you would be going down to the impound lot to pay your fine and pick up your vehicle like everyone else. By the time I had paid for my items and made my way back out to the parking lot, Angelyne and her hot pink 'Vette had slipped back into the night. I jumped into my green minivan and did the same. Love, Bob
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