I met the first love of my life at a dinner party in my house. This was back when the center of the universe revolved around me.

    I owned a flat in San Francisco. Always 'own' your home on the surveys. Never rent. In reality, I struggled to raise rent each month and had to stiff the landlord regularly to get by. It's a lie that you have to pay the full amount every month.

But I did have great martini parties. Mainly because I was the only one -- of all the people I knew -- who had martini glasses and a variety of martini mixers and shakers.

    My favorite mixer was a pitcher of cylindrical glass, with a two foot long stirring rod. When you stirred the thing, you could bang the rod against the insides of the pitcher and make the most god awful glass ringing sound.

    Sort of a wake up call for the recently stupored.