I AM MATTHEW MODINE'S HERO

Not exactly, but "MATTHEW MODINE WAS ACCIDENTALLY KIND OF A DICK TO US, BUT HE STILL SEEMS LIKE A PRETTY NICE GUY" doesn't work well as a blog title.

And you know how high my literary standards can be. Yea, verily they soar like great eagles above the clouds.

But more importantly, my dear dear auntie got married this weekend in LA, hence my absence from public life, and I could not have had a better time. I would be remiss if I did not list the lessons learned in earnest from the wedding experience, so:

1. "Open Martini Bar" is a phrase I will heed as a warning from this moment forward.
2. HBO has perfected the art of softcore pornography well beyond any artistic achievement in the history of mankind.*
3. My skills as a salsa dancer exceed the average for my ethnic group (based on outside accounts and not my own "shaken-not-stirred" perceptions. For this, I thank my lucky stars).
4. "Can You Feel the Love Tonight" is at least as inappropriate in Italian as it is in English for serious social events at which I am not supposed to laugh.
5. My family is so awesome it is a wonder my parents didn't expose me to the elements at birth to appease Roman gods. My survival into adulthood mocks their awesome-itutde. Seriously, they rule.

Which brings us to My Quiche with Matthew Modine. Two of my dear friends, who I'm confident will point out any and all inconsistencies in my story, played tourguides for me in the big city. They rock. The Dr. even sacrificed her unusually dainty feet for me. Awwww...

The story begins thusly: we were having Quiche with Matthew Modine at The Figaro Cafe (actually it's more of a boulangerie), a charming sidewalk bodega in north Hollywood. More or less. History will be my judge. I have tremendous respect for Matthew Modine as an actor, so I was pleased to have the opportunity to speak with him. Interestingly, the first thing I noticed was that he was wearing really cool pants (he's tall, I'm tall, and I have trouble finding cool pants). I nearly admitted as much to him, but I felt this would not promote healthy dialogue between us.

But I digress.

Matthew Modine started asking us what we each do for a living and we, in turn, listed our socially commendable, yet fiscally unimpressive jobs. He asked me specifically if my job paid well; we all had a good chuckle at my response. I'm poor, ha ha. But the word 'Hero' was used, most likely to make me feel better about my poverty, and it did! Little victories make for charming conversations and warm relationships.

The big question of the morning became, "But how can you three even afford to live here?" which, at the time seemed innocuous enough.

However, during later discussion we would all agree that it sounded a bit like, "What are you poor people doing in my neighborhood?" But none of us felt he or she had been patronized to any great extent, rather Modine et al had merely wondered how a young person in this day and age (who is not famous) could live in the city. It was decided that Matthew Modine was, in fact, a pretty cool guy if only a little "Hollywood." I hope we meet again, Matt, even if only to talk about pants.

Thanks so much to... hell, everybody who made this such a kick-ass weekend.

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*Plotline: "A dead stripper turns up in a man's bed on the day of his wedding, prompting a murder investigation that uncovers lies, treachery and steamy bedroom activities."