Proof that I can think about other things than boys!

Those in the know - know that many times I live my life by the seat of my sequined pants. Always up for an adventure, I walk into situations that are ripe for observation -something that helps me to get through the less glamorous choices I make. This Saturday I woke up - blankly confused. If I was back in Buffalo I would have gone to kickboxing class at the BAC, but this is LA and I felt so closed in that I stayed in bed out of spite to the work week and gabbed on the phone to my girlfriends to give the big fuck you to Verizon, who somehow lures me into spending all of my monthly minutes weeks before the month is out. For me, there is nothing more anxiety causing and depressing than a Saturday with no plans - day or night. Somehow, because this is my life, I found myself a few hours later in the shower planning my fabulous outfit for a charity event at Hollywood Park - my first horse race. I pulled out my big floppy hat and put together a rag-tag east side version of the Kentucky Derby and headed out the door.


Of course I was the only asshole wearing a hat at the park except for a few older women who have been making regular visits there since the Roosevelt administration. I didn't care - I was up for the adventure - and the free food (I am broke you know.) The little gambler that lives inside my tummy came to the surface and the girls and I put money down on our first race. I usually make it a point not to bet on sports...I would always bet on the Bills and well, that is just an invitation for someone to take your money. Bet with your brain, not your heart my ex used to tell me. How am I supposed to bet with my brain in a sport I've just discovered and know nothing about? I breezed through the pamphlet we received on our way in and looked at the horses names - I figured the best name would get my money. Then I noticed that they list the names of the jockeys in small print on the right hand side of the page. I looked down and saw it - David Cohen - how many of these do I know? It was decided - I would bet on the Jew - plus the horse's name was smokey something so it was a win, win situation. I put two dollars on the horse to place, which meant that if he got 1-3rd place I would at least get my $ back...a safe bet. We scrambled for a good place among the reserved seats and the race began. I kept my eyes out for the white blanket and there he was - little David Cohen in his army green hat and little legs tucked into the stirrups in second place! I screamed and yelled - "Go David, Go Smokey" They were kicking ass and then 1/2 ay through the race, they disappeared from the head of the pack and from the viewing screen. Where was my little jewish jockey? After the winners crossed the finish line - or whatever they call it I saw him struggling with Smokey to finish the race like that Brittish runner in the olympics - only it wasn't Smokey's father that came down to help him out - it was the horsey ambulance and a trailer. David jumped off the horse and walked Smokey over the finish line. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry because we all know what happens to race horses when they go lame on the track.