I met up with a couple of old colleagues today at Friscos Diner for lunch. I haven't been there in years. Actually, not since I was last working at my last job with these same two ex-colleagues. Friscos is a 50's Style Diner with loud colors in turquoise and pinks and their menu spans from Americana to Greek to Mexican. Eclectic really considering I don't think diners in the 50's have gyros on their menus nor taquitos. But then again, 50 years ago, there probably weren't any Mexican workers standing outside of the diner (in the parking lot of Home Depot) waiting someone to choose them for work either.

The real main attraction however at Friscos are the Car Hops that roll around in rollerskates while garbed in short ballerina-like tutus and tshirts twisted into a knot at their waists. All of them are young - I say, no older than 25 and all of them free of cellulite or excess body rolls. Their longer than long legs are given an added 'oomph' due to the height of their skates.

So it doesn't cease to surprise me that the lunch time crowd is comprised mainly of men. Men who are not young men mind you but men who have a beer gut, love handles, coarse Brawny-like unshaven faces. There are of course other men there like the ones who work nearby in the many computer companies - dressed in their button down denim shirts with khakis or jeans. Yes, all there to fill their stomachs as well their eyes.

I admire these girls for their skating abilities. It's not easy carrying trays of food and drinks on your skates and trying to pretend that no one's staring at your butt cheeks. It's even harder I think to stand in front of a gang of salivating men who rather look at your ass more than the menu. Don't you know you're the one they want on their plates?

Yes, it's hard to make a living these days. I mean, would the Diner have the same type of business if the staff were wearing long pants and a turtleneck? It doesn't bother me - in fact, it's interesting seeing that the man's thinking hasn't changed from its most primitive form of urgency. And that the marketing for it is still the same. But I wonder how these girls feel - do they like being ogled? Do they enjoy the rapturous attention of men old enough to be their fathers? Do they enjoy standing amidst their longing gazes as they are perused over like a diamond at Tiffanys? Or are they young single mothers who have no choice but to?

You can never tell a book by its cover. Especially in Los Angeles, where facades are deceiving and packaging is undisputedly....trickery.

I'm out.