Does growing Paperwhites Narcissus necessarily make me a narcissist?

No. Say that 3 times fast.

December 16, 2010. This is one of my favorite flowers. It's in the daffodil family. First became exposed to the paperwhite while living on the bitch's(?) property in Bel Air. Extremely fragrant (don't overdose). These particular bulbs were started for me (it's referred to as "forced"), so we'll see how they fare and I may try to grow them from bulbs myself. I've only had them a few days and they've already begun sprouting. For inquisitive minds, I'll keep you posted.

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The worst about California = my last two years in Bel Air.

I'm moving back to Wisconsin next Wednesday the 9th. And I've been reflecting on my 11 1/4 years here in Los Angeles. Thought I'd dish the bad news first.

For seven years I lived a surreal life in a gorgeous two-story guest house on 10 acres high above Sunset. A life only a few people can relate to. The first five years were great. It's the last two years that were shit.

2004 was when I got whacked in the eye by the gardener. Whacked bad. My boss and property owner, Barbara Bollenbach did nothing. I forgave the guy who injured me - it was a stupid act but he didn't mean to hurt me. Barbara, however, did nothing at a time when I needed her the most. She didn't give me a WC claim form to fill out. She never confirmed with me that she had WC and she never reported it. I gave her the benefit of the doubt for two years (under CA law) and she did nothing. I sucked it up for TWO YEARS - waiting...and she made no offer to rectify the situation (there are more details but I'm giving you the watered down version). Only after I moved out in 2006 and sued her did she THEN report my injury to her insurance company. She even had the balls to say to me when I told her I had an eye doctor visit on a day I was to be working on her property, "You had a doctor visit on my day last week...I feel like I'm getting the short end of the stick."

I've been fighting with her insurance company since 2006. And the cheap bitch millionaire who didn't report my injury to her insurance company (for what I assume to be many reasons) has now purchased and razed two multi-million dollar properties adjacent to her own so she can expand her own acreage in order to construct a compound in order to allow her children to live close by (each of whom owes me $10 by the way).

So, as I reflect about those last two years in Bel Air and think about Barbara, I'm reminded of the words Marlon Brando spoke in a scene from Last Tango in Paris:

"You cheap, goddamn, fucking, godforsaken whore. I hope you rot in hell. You're worse than the dirtiest street pig anybody could find, and you know why? You know why? Because you lied. You lied to me and I trusted you. You lied. You knew you were lying! Go on, tell me you didn't lie. Haven't you got anything to say about that? You can think up something, can't you? Go on, tell me something! Smile, you cunt! Go on, tell me...tell me something sweet. Smile at me and say I just misunderstood. Go on, tell me. You pig-fucker! You goddamn, fucking, pig-fucking liar."

I pray you or someone you know reads this, Barb. All that money you give to charity? All those honors bestowed on you by charities - for being charitable. Bullshit. Where I come from charity begins at home. And you failed miserably at it. (Go ahead - tell me I need to "let go". Yeh...when I settle with her insurance company. Until then, go back and read the quote above.)

NOTE: If you're curious to see a virtual map shot of the property where I lived in Bel Air, click on READ MORE!


The red denotes Barbara's property line when I lived there. The blue denotes property she added while I was there but razed after I had left. The yellow is where a famous singer lived (can't tell you who) and last time I checked, that house had been razed as well - for Barbara's compound. Yet she couldn't report my WC injury to insurance company.

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It's not easy...to let go sometimes.

"Well all the time ya spend trying to get back what's been took from ya, more is goin' out the door. After a while you just have to try to get a tourniquet on it."

- Ellis, "No Country for Old Men"


I can see the truth in that quote. There's shit in life that'll eat you from the inside out and leave you a mighty lonesome person. Not good. Since my eye injury in 2004, I've barely thought about the guy who actually injured me. It wasn't malicious - he was just doing something he shouldn't have and I was in the wrong place and wrong time. It's done. There's nothing anyone can do about it.

The person I'm most resentful toward is my boss, Barbara B. - the woman whose property in Bel Air I was living on at the time. I was there for 7 years.

The boss who never reported my injury to her insurance company. The boss who never gave me the WC report to fill out. And because of her arrogance and the idea that she can do whatever she likes because she is a millionaire, I'm still fighting with her insurance company and my claims adjuster for a WC claim I filed back in 2004. What year is it now???? Honored for her charity work...charity that doesn't necessarily begin at home.

The one who chastised me once because my eye doctor appointment fell on a day I was working for her (2nd time in two weeks) and not on a day I was working at my other part-time job. She said she felt like she was getting the short end of the stick. Really. The one who sent me to the doctor and paid for it out of her pocket (while not reporting it)...which is against the law. The one who couldn't understand why I was suing her because of everything she'd done for me while I was living in Bel Air (except report my injury to her insurance company as the law states). The one who wouldn't let me have overnight guests because she needed privacy (on her 10 acres) and overnight guests meant more toilet flushing and more showers and more money down the drain. And I told her that reasoning is stupid and then she said if I didn't like her rules I could go somewhere else. And the one who bitches about overnight guests using more water but has now purchased two additional properties adjacent to her's in Bel Air, razed the homes, and is building a compound so her two sons can live on the property as well (who each owe me $10 from a bet they lost). Or how she didn't like my Christmas tree up 12 months out of the year and she thought I was nuts. The one who, when she asked me one day if I was working for her on Thanksgiving and I said I hadn't planned to ('cause it is a holiday and I'm not Mexican...Mexicans in Cali work every day) but I could work a half day, said to me, "you'll either work all day or not at all". I told her "then not at all".

That bitch. It's hard to let all that go. She's no better than Bernard Madoff. I so want that cunt to rot in hell. And, oddly enough, that makes me feel good.

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My former Bel Air residence.

Ok - that's somewhat misleading. Guest house - wait, I'm getting ahead of myself.

I'm sure you're aware of this, but if you look up Live Search on the Internet you have access to a birdseye view of any address. It's fun - when you have too much time on your hands. For those of you who know me but never ventured out to California to visit when I lived in Bel Air, thought this might be of interest.

My most immediate neighbors were Mac Davis, President Ronald Reagan, Elizabeth Taylor, and Cheryl Tiegs. Met Mac three in 7 years. Saw Tiegs from a distance once. Saw the hearse take away Reagan's body the day he died (that would be his pool in the bottom left corner).

This is the estate where I lived for 7 years through April 2006. I worked for the lady of the house (running errands, working parties, etc.). When I wasn't working for her directly, I helped the gardeners - weeding, hauling trash, cutting roses, trimming bushes and trees, cleaning the pool, etc. I worked on the property Thursday-Saturday and then worked at PorchLight Entertainment Monday - Wednesday (where I work full-time now). The red line designates the boundary lines of the property. See where it says "new property" in black ink? The owners purchased that property about a year or so before I left there in April 2006.

Lots of stories to tell. Things only I know. I met a number of famous folk while living on the estate - among them Rob Reiner, Merv Griffin, actor Richard Roxburgh (Van Helsing, Moulin Rouge, Mission Impossible II), former Paramount studio head Sherry Lansing, producer Martin Ransohoff, former LA mayor Richard Riordan, David Niven, Jr., former Warner Bros. studio head Terry Semel, the couple who own POM drinks and interestingly, a female relative of William Mulholland, from which the famous street, Mulholland Drive, derives its name. Saw alot of really good facelifts. Most were nice (I'm referring to the people). Arianna Huffington was bitchy. I don't relish name-dropping. And if I had to do it over again I would pass. It just wasn't worth it (again, if you know me, you know why).

For my services, I received the use of the guest house (see black circle) and use of the pool when the owners were gone. I was allowed to have guests over but I had to notify the owners so they were aware there were strangers on the property (which I had no problem with). I WAS NOT allowed to have overnight guests, save my brother and parents. No friends overnight. No women overnight. No other family members overnight. No one. It "cost too much" for the extra toilet flushing and showers and my landlord/boss felt it was too much of an intrusion on her and her husband's privacy - which really was limited to just Sundays as she had staff working 6 days a week.

I have pictures I should scan and put up - I believe they're in storage. I miss the guest house...and that's it. I had fresh eggs every day (chicken coop) so that was nice. The fruit trees. It was quiet and private and I had my own place. It was quite a surreal period in my life and at least the first 5 years (of 7) were pleasant. I won't get into the reason why I left the property (I've talked about it elsewhere on this blog). Anything I would say would sully the fine reputation of the lady of the house. It's safe to assume that I am right and I hope I never see her again - it's better for her that way.

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