First Word

2 Buy your copy ( click here ) Later that week, I met Maya at a small café up the street from the office. It was a Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf with patio furniture sitting on the terrace outside of the main street. I was sitting in the cool morning sunshine, sipping my hazelnut-flavored coffee when a shadow passed over my table. I looked up to find Curtis standing there. I had not seen him much that week after our initial encounter, but every time I passed him in the hallway, he winked and grinned. He seemed like an affable, flirtatious guy, and he was really cute. Despite our mutual attraction, I had no desire to start up with him. I kept holding out hope for some kind of peace treaty with Kale, and I knew a liaison with his executive producer would err on the side of bad taste and ill-advised company behavior. Yet here he was, acting all cheerful and smiling. “Hey, how’s it going?” he asked with that familiar grin. “Good,” I replied, taking another ...

1 I arrived at the pristine offices where, as usual, Erin the receptionist, greeted me with a warm smile. Every time I saw Erin, I intended to ask her out to drinks. She was so sweet and charming. I knew she would make a great girlfriend. She offered the requisite Perrier and brought it out and placed it on a coaster in front of me. I was nervous. I had not seen Kale in weeks. He had been in Arizona on the set of his new movie. I missed him even though I had no right to miss him. I had thought about calling him several times, but realized he needed time and distance away from me. As I sipped my Perrier, Erin smiled at me. “You look so pretty,” she offered. I looked down at my collared, white blouse and silver-colored skirt. I had dressed conservatively but sexy enough to remind Kale of what he was missing. I was a screenwriter now, after all, and I ought to dress the part. I had long since ditched my bikini shop dresses with the awful, suggestive slogans...

My name is Brea Harper, and I am the quintessential California girl. I am blond, fabulously tall, pretty and smart. I’m a screenwriter, but often get mistaken for an actress since I live in Los Angeles among the other pretty people. My desire to write screenplays has nothing to do with fame or glamor. I love to write. Period. It’s how I express my creativity and fulfill my artistic impulses. I live in a small apartment near Hollywood with my best friend Denise, who as you might know already, is quite a live wire and loads of fun. Last I told you, she was having an affair with her boss at the software company where she works. They’re still screwing all over the building, but they see other people. Another dear and new friend is Maya, my feisty and fierce Latina friend, who works for my former lover Kale. Ah, Kale – now you are probably wondering what happened after I betrayed my blond Adonis producer-boyfriend Kale with that loser Drew. Well, the night in quest...

My son Cole has become a First Word fan. He reads my blog during his "boring" classes. He loves my "musings" so I thought today would be "Ode to Cole". First, you have to appreciate that Cole, 16, is about 6'5". What you have to know about tall people is that TALL doesn't spring over night through some adolescent growth spurt. It is obvious someone is going to be super tall early on. Cole when he was age 2 looked age 5, which was difficult for a nonverbal two-year-old who got judged by Kindergarten standards. "What? Is he 'special'?" "Um no! He's two!" I am not nearly as tall as my son, but I was always the tallest in the class or at various times, close to the tallest. I'm 5'9" but I'm a girl so that's pretty tall for a woman. The only downside is I was often taller than some of the guys, too. Being tall has its perks. You can see (generally) over people's heads. They almost always pu...

I always notice little marketing ploys or things in business that I find absurd. I was out last weekend at Northstar and among the snack shacks (that were closed incidentally) was this little glass-enclosed structure called the Euro Snack. Hmm ... what might the "Euro" Snack sell? Maybe some unique European snack foods (hence the name). I laughed. They offered "French" hotdogs. I thought, where did the hotdog come from? Germany maybe ... but France? I didn't know hotdogs were a French specialty, but to further my amusement they were "frog" dogs. Now I don't know about you, but frog isn't really a common snack food. And it's not necessarily something I want in my hotdog. Well, honestly I don't eat hotdogs unless I'm desperately hungry for non-sugary snacks at the theater (and we'll call that true desperation). It's scary when the ingredients add the word "filler" as in filled with unknown substances. Well, back to...

I can't think of anything meaningful to share this morning, so I'll just amuse and entertain you. Here is a list of things I find hard not to do... Touch my face : are you smiling. You know they say to avoid spreading germs try not to touch your face. Don't rub your eyes if you're on an airplane (for example) to avoid spreading germs. Of course, the minute I think, "Don't touch it," I just can't seem to stop myself. I feel an itch. Oh, it's my nose. My eye is bothering me ... and on and on it goes. Avoid being the first to text my man . I said in the last blog not to be the chaser. Sometimes though the urge to hit the text first just can't be quelled. I am pretty good, though. I would say out of seven days, I usually score about five out of seven ... well maybe more like four out of seven ... no, five ... LOL. Depends on the week. Girls keep him on his toes. Make and try not to break the first-text rule. Remember what I said, "Guys l...

Over the years, I've seen some pretty funny stuff. I am a road-preneur and travel quite a bit. I recently saw a company name that reminded me of all of the other funny businesses I've seen. I thought I would take this opportunity to make you laugh about them. Here we go ... Areola's -- Yes, while driving home from a business meeting I drove behind a truck that had a big sign that read: Areola's ... huh? Is that spelled right , I thought. Upon a closer inspection, yep! Spelled perfectly and rightly. With the realization that this person named their company after a private area on the body, I burst out laughing. How does one position that tagline? Right on target ... see the target ... it's under the bra? LOL ... and then I wondered, What does Areola's sell ? No idea. My guess was Areola covers ... you know for those cold days. The Infamous Burrito Truck -- I once drove behind a beat-up old Toyota pick-up that had a bed cover made of slat board. On the back ...