Living in Hollywood: It Never Rains in Southern California — Yeah, Right

As exciting as it sounds to be “Living in Hollywood,” only those of us who live here really know what it’s like. One day the neighborhood is blocked off to have every famous star alive dressed up to battle for a gold man with no genitals, and the next day we have to move our cars for street-sweeping. Whether it’s conversations at the dog park, characters walking down Hollywood Boulevard, or reminiscing of life here since 1985, I’ll take a look at our neighborhood in a somewhat different way.

Drip, drip, drip.

As the storm rages outside and the honking continues on Highland, the drip, drip, drip is coming from inside. Internally.

It’s dripping on my dachshund Charly, and I reach over to pet her, trying to figure out why she’s sopping wet.

There’s a drip, drip, drip, seeping through the roof. And so it is, living in a flat-roofed Mediterranean-style house in historic Whitley Heights. My house turned 100 a couple of years ago, and now it’s feeling its creaky age — as am I.

The roof has turned into a mini-pool of sorts, perhaps not unlike the rooftop pool at the new Dream Hotel on Selma that all my neighbors are complaining about because they can hear the partying going on all the way over here on the hill. I shed no tears…