Ick Day in L.A.

Sometimes I get the "ick" living in L.A. Perhaps because it is not my first home that I still see all it's fabulousness along with it's faults so vividly. Or maybe it's just because in the short span of a few hours, my husband dealt with a threatening punk on a skanky street in Hollywood where I had an audition, we were in a four car accident on Melrose and my supposedly relaxing lunch at Whole Foods was interrupted by a barrage of crazies in the parking lot. Ick. We are okay. The accident was the fault of a driver who happened to be looking down instead of ahead and therefore didn't brake, but drove straight into the car behind us, which hit us, and we hit the one ahead. The cop said it was clearly her fault, and thankfully no one was seriously hurt, although the guy behind us went to the hospital after his leg rammed into the dashboard. I am stiff and sore, and a little shaken up, but my match box medical degree tells me that a little advil, some wine and chocolate, will go a long way to helping my maladies. And to really make this a weird L.A. day, when the accident happened, we were in the middle of one of those big life/career conversations, in front of a psychics house...and the driver who caused the accident? A casting director. I kid you not.