Long Long Long ago

I thought I was dreaming. I opened my eyes and saw my step-mother sitting at the foot of my bed. I closed my eyes and reopened them, only to see her still sitting there, but this time she reached out and touched me. It was still dark, probably about six in the morning. I was in my bedroom that I shared with Ike. He was still sound asleep.

How did she get in without waking my other three roommates and the dog?

I knew something was either terribly wrong or I was hallucinating. I had a few drinks the night before but nothing too crazy. Just the typical summer night in a college town. School was about to start up again and everyone was getting in the last few nights of debauchery before fall.

"Are you awake?" she said as I sat up in bed.

"What are you doing here?" I whispered as my mind raced. Did she drive? Fly? Why hadn't she called first? Is she on drugs again?

This wasn't my step-mom's first time visiting me in Santa Barbara, but it was her first time to this house. I'd never even told her the address. The summer of 95' I shared a house with four guys. A first (and last) for me.

Ike and I each had a twin bed that was separated by a constant pile of dirty laundry. Our other housemates were not exactly tidy either. One was a skater with a mohawk who let his pit bull pee all over the house. (He also happened to be my Statistics 101 tutor.) The other two were surfers who subsisted on nothing but Top Ramen, Pabst Blue Ribbon beer and the occasional burrito. I loved them all but the house was in a constant state of chaos. The dishes were never done unless I broke down and put on the hazmat suit, only to have another sink full three days later. The house was vacuumed once in three months, and that was also done by yours truly, while the dog growled and barked at me because she was frightened of the noise.

This was not the house to bring parents to. This was the house where we had kegs all summer long, drinking what was left over from a party in the morning. This was the house my roommates made it their goal to drink enough "twelvers" of Pabst to cover the entire front lawn in cans. A sort of punk rock 90s art installation. This was the house with an upside down canoe in the front yard that was used for extra seating to watch the daily horseshoe tournament. This was the house that had an American Flag waving in front and Black Flag blasting from within. This house was 21 and under.

"What are you doing here?" I said again, looking over to make sure Ike was still asleep.

"Your father is dead" she said followed by a long pause. It was as if she knew what I was thinking so she said it again.

"Your father passed away. He's dead." And then she started to cry.

Even though she had said the words, I still wasn't sure I heard her right. So I said the next thing that came to mind.

"How???"

"He killed himself..." she said and I waited for further explanation. Those words just hung in the dark room for a while. I couldn't say how long. Long enough for them to rattle my ears and jolt me awake but not long enough for them to make a bit of sense. Then I said the most ridiculous thing anyone could say in a situation such as this.

"Are you serious?"

When you're twenty years old and you're woken up at dawn by your crazy step-mother who doesn't even live in the same state as you, I suppose it's any one's guess as to what would have been the appropriate thing to say. I really did mean what I said though.

Killed himself? My dad killed himself? My dad who I just talked to the week before, killed himself?!?!

"How?" I said again and realized Ike was starting to stir.

"He shot himself.." she said and stopped crying. I just remember her looking at me in the dark, waiting for my response. I had no idea what to say or how to react. I was confused and still somehow convinced she wasn't serious. Or this was some sort of mistake.

He. Shot. Himself.

It sounded so foreign. It sounded absurd. It sounded unthinkable.

Ike woke up and must have overheard what was going on. He just left the room without a word. The dialogue gets a little fuzzy here but I do remember asking her when they found him, (the day before) how she got here, (drove) how she found me, (called my friend Lisa) and who else knew, (only a few people.)

I only started to cry after she had told me every last detail. It was as if I was quizzing her to make sure this was really happening.

When I did start to cry, she said "just take your time," and hugged me. She began to cry again and all I could feel was discomfort. Just general malaise coupled with the awkwardness of seeing her. We had a very tenuous relationship, (at best) and I felt like I had to give her the show she was looking for.

She wanted to be the arms to hold me and comfort me. She wanted to be the star of this twisted show. She wanted me to need her. She wanted to be the adult in a situation for once.

I got up and went over to the stereo. I put on Long Long Long from the Beatles White Album, not knowing I would never be able to hear that song again without thinking of this moment. As it played I thought about my dad, who was a huge Beatles fan, and wondered if he loved this song as much as I did.

Then I cried. And cried. And cried.

The rest of the day is spotty. I know I called my best friend and she came over through the alley that divided our houses. I remember us hugging in the front yard and feeling safe that she was there with me. I didn't want to be alone with my step-mom any longer and needed a friend who I could trust. She stayed all morning while I sorted through things.

I remember trying act cool in front of my four roommates while I was packing, so as not to make them feel uncomfortable. I didn't want them to think I was the girl with the crazy father who would now be a loose cannon. That's pretty typical ME stuff. I worry about what other people think when I'm in the midst of a crisis. God forbid I should show an ounce of weakness. God forbid I should look vulnerable. God forbid I should let myself feel frightened.

It was a dark, dark day.

Paso Wine Fest 07

Spent last weekend with the Moneys & a few of their Texan friends at the Paso Robles Wine Festival. We rolled into town about 8:00 pm Friday night and the fun didn't stop til the Hubby and I fell into bed last night at 10:30.

I believe Saturday was the longest drinking day I've had in a very long while. (Maybe since our big Hollywood Blvd. outing? Eeek. Gotta slow down on the marathon hooching.) We started out having a lovely lunch at Artisan accompanied by lots and lots of water. Made sure to carbo load so we'd have a nice base for the day. The food there was lovely. I had lobster bisque to start and Cal and I shared fish n chips. They make their own ketchup, yum!

From there we made our way to the park where over one hundred wineries were happily handing out samples of their finest. I remember really enjoying the Sauvignon Blanc from Graveyard and something white (?) from Rotta. The rest of the wines kind of blur.

After tasting for a three hours we wandered over to the Crooked Kilt, past the bagpipers and into the bar to have a few cocktails. Cal's mom was gracious enough to be our taxi the whole weekend and came to pick us up from the bar and take us home. It wouldn't be the last time that day.

We went home with just enough time to put on a fresh coat of deoderant and non-wine-stained clothes and headed back out to dinner at Villa Creek. Pitchers of margaritas started us off and we finished with dessert wine. I had the spare ribs and I sampled the tuna and buffalo but I don't have any pictures to show you because MY CAMERA IS BROKEN which leaves me PHOTO-LESS. No pictures of food! No pictures of friends! I hate this.

Sorry for the tangent. Back on track. So, before I knew it we were having dessert wine and splitting the bill. And that's the last time I saw my cell phone.

Oh yeah! That's right! Yes, now I am digital camera-less AND cell phone-less. Kind of like living in the 80s! Maybe I should embrace this? Throw out the computer too! (Oh wait, that's where I write this. Rats!)

After dinner, instead of going home and digesting our meal on the couch, (like regular folk,) we went BACK to the Crooked Kilt. And this valley girl who hardly ever DRANK when she lived in the valley, ends up ordering not one, BUT TWO shots of Jameson. On top of the wine during the day. On top of the two vanilla vodka - diet cokes. On top of the margarita at dinner. On top of the dessert wine. Good night moon.

We put some tunes on the jukebox, (Mr. Money and I had to duke it out about some musical preferences,) and we spent a great evening with the whole gang. The mom-taxi came to pick us up around midnight and we stumbled home and had a nice chat around the fire before turning in.

To our twin beds separated by a nightstand. Not that I was in any shape to do anything but fall asleep still wearing my hoop earrings.

Sunday morning we woke up bright and early and headed to Hearst Castle. I took a tour I'd never been on before and learned that ole' Randy was an animal lover too! He particularly loved Datsuns and always had one by his side. There was only one room in the whole complex that had air conditioning, and that was the kennel that held his dogs. Awwww! My kinda guy.

Afterwards the Moneys, the Texans and little old us headed up Hwy 1 to see the elephant seals. Then back down to Morro Bay for more fish n chips and saltwater taffy. We poured ourselves in the car about 6:30 and had a pretty uneventful drive home.

Thanks to the Moneys and Cal's mom for a wonderful weekend. We had an amazing time and can't wait to see pictures!!!

SO FUNNY

As most of you know I have a little Betta fish named Feesh. (Or Foosh, Poosh, P-Fishy, Feesher and countless other names depending on the day.)

Here he is:


I spoil him rotten because I love him so much and he truly is the highlight of my work day. I thought I'd lost my mind the day I came into my office and actually hugged his tank because I'd missed him over the weekend.

This woman puts me to shame. Apparently she rescued a fish who could no longer swim. He is also recovering from mouth rot so she has to HAND FEED HIM. This woman is my hero. It's so heartwarming to see people who treat their animals with such love and compassion.

Hope you enjoy! Oh, and by the way, his name is "Dash". I mean, could you just die???

Peter and Twiggyman

Favorite Peter Murphy song + Twiggy (whiskeyandspeed) Ramirez on guitar=
ONE VERY HAPPY VALLEY GIRL.

If I ever saw these two in a room together I'd probably faint on the spot.

Enjoy.

Grass Is Greener Preview!

Hi kids,
My friend wrote and directed this fabulous new pilot. Take a minute to watch. You won't be sorry.



Going to see BRMC tonight- will post about it tomorrow. I can't wait!

Why I love Dusty's

1. It's good karma to support the little guys. I feel like I'm giving back to my neighborhood to eat a block from my house.

2. They left up the "TAMALES" sign from the previous occupant even though they don't serve them and have nothing to do with Mexican cuisine.

3. The decor reminds me of my trip to Paris. And that's reason enough.

4. The food is outstanding. From their frequent fish specials to their long list of sides, including mac n' cheese and potatoes au gratin. Yum!

5. Service is always great and they never rush you through your meal. I don't consider myself a picky diner at all, but nothing infuriates me more than taking a bite of a starter salad and having my entree brought to the table two seconds later.

Or, when eating sushi, ordering a few dishes and having them all brought out at once. (Hello Pazazz on Hyperion!!!) It's not an eating competition folks. I'm out to eat because I'd like enjoy myself for a minute and savor the experience. (Unless, due to unforeseen circumstances I'm forced to eat at a Chili's or the like and in that case, please,PUH-LEASE just bring the food out as fast as you can..... and bring the check with my entree. And don't tell ANYONE you saw me here!)

6. One of the waiters is a Sommelier and always has great recommendations. AND doesn't make you feel inferior when you ask if the Chianti he suggested is dry as gasoline. (It wasn't. It was delicious.)

Some pics from lovely DUSTY'S BISTRO in Silver Lake.

Hooray For Hollywood

All too often I take for granted that I live in one of the coolest cities in the world. When I travel, (abroad especially,) I get such a kick out of saying I live in Hollywood. But when I'm home it's just another east/west street that's congested at five. (And filled with tourists and transvestite hookers.)

However, to break up the monotony of having a ladies lunch in Silver Lake, AS USUAL, we decided to go to Musso and Franks for some steaks and a cocktail. (Which turned into lamb chops & THREE cocktails but that's between you, me and the lampost.)

After a delicious meal the four of us stumbled out with the best of intentions, only to mosey into a tattoo/piercing parlor and consider doing something painful or permanent.

OR BOTH!

The cashier, who looked like something out of National Geographic, tried to convince my friend that piercing back through her scar tissue on her stomach would actually hurt LESS than the first time.

The thought of that pretty much sobered us up and we left with no additional holes in our bodies. The rest of the day played out like a montage scene in an eighties chick flick. Kind of a cross between Can't Buy Me Love meets Valley Girl meets Absolutely Fabulous. =)

In between bar-hopping we bought trashy lingerie at Frederick's of Hollywood, took a tour of the Hollywood Wax Museum and had our Tarot cards read. Cindy Lauper might as well have been singing Girls Just Wanna Have Fun while dancing behind us the whole day.

The beauty of the entire day was the fact that there was no plan. For me to say that really means something since I plan when I'm going the bathroom next. I love these girls and have such a good time with them. Here are a few screencaps from the day.


BEFORE THE WAX MUSEUM


AT THE WAX MUSEUM


AFTER THE WAX MUSEUM


AFTER ONE TOO MANY MARGARITAS AT THE CAT N' FIDDLE


"DRY OATMEAL." ME ON GEORGE TAKEI'S STAR.

I learned a new word today

Boss asked me to find the social security number of a girl who worked on our most recent AMEX spot so we could pay her properly. When I found her timecard there was no phone number filled in.

So I checked the callsheet.

Blank.

No phone number, just a call time.


I called the Production Manager and Coordinator and both were
unsuccessful in tracking her down. (So far.)

Doesn't she want to be paid? More importantly, doesn't she want to be called again for future work?

(Not that we're inundated with openings for Japanese translators
but you get the gist.)

I asked the coordinator what he thought her deal was and he said, "YAKUZA." Then burst into giggles.


Ummmm, what's so funny?

OH, I GET IT. ha ha.

Damnit I hate when I don't get jokes.

Buenos Tardes

Just when I thought I had fewer readers than South Carolina's Mensa
membership,
I stumble across THIS!
href="http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/bottleneck/2007/03/my_husband_aver.html">THIS!
I'm stunned!

It's a tiny mention but still, there are more of you out there than my husband and two friends. Gosh, golly gee schucks!

Yesterday I booked our tickets to Argentina. Yes, that's right folks. Packin' up and heading to South America for a little vacation in October. I'm going to have to pack enough zanax to take down a small country since in addition to our 16 hour flight there, we have three domestic flights booked to take us down to Patagonia and back.

Being the nut-job organizing freak that I am, I've
already sent out a "temporary itinerary" to the three friends we'll be
traveling with. Even though the trip is six months from now,
well.....it's never too early to have a plan! (No wonder I ended up
working in production.)

In other travel news, the Hubbie and I are headin'
to the desert this weekend. Palm Springs bound! We've rented a house
and plan on spending some QT in my favorite weekend destination.

Growing up we didn't have much money to go on extravagant
vacations. So we'd all hop in the car, (my grandma, grandpa and
parents,) and make the short drive east. (Well, now the two hours seems
short. As an eight year old in the back of my grandma's 1978 brown
Cadillac, the trip was eternal.)

We'd pull out of the driveway, out on to Pico Blvd., and I'd say, "How much longer??? Are we there yet? Ok, how about now? How much longer????"

I couldn't wait to get to the hotel, tear off my clothes and jump into
the pool. I'd swim until I pruned. Doing underwater somersaults and
asking anyone within earshot to "wait, watch me do THIS!"

I remember looking over the water to my Papa and seeing him
smile every time I'd do something ridiculously simple; like cannonball
into the shallow end. And he would clap and smile like I was Greg Louganis
doing a two and a half pike. When I think about these times, I can only
remember snippets. Bits and pieces of film on the cutting room floor.

But these memories, they stay with me and feed me to this day. My Papa's smile. The
way it felt to come out of the pool freezing and teeth chattering while
my Bubbie wrapped a towel, warmed by the sun around me. The most
delicious french toast breakfasts at Bill n' Shel's & eating with the whole
family. The frustration I felt when my mom would make me wear a T-shirt
over my swimsuit, (on top of the 45 Bullfrog greasy sunblock,) as extra
insurance so I wouldn't get sunburned. (Thanks mom. I REALLY do
appreciate that now.)

So many of my friends look back on
family trips with disdain. Not me.

Those trips are some of my best memories and Palm Springs will always be a magical place for me. I can't wait to pack up the car.

Except now it'll be Hubbie who will have to field the "how much further, are we there yet, ok now how much further???" questions.

And maybe I just might make him WATCH ME AGAIN when I do a summersault in the water.

More Uplifting News From Lovely South Carolina...

From Foxnews.com:

Monday , April 16, 2007

COLUMBIA, S.C. —
Potential jurors were questioned Monday in the trial for a man accused of kidnapping and raping two teenagers and confining them to an underground room hidden behind his home.

Kenneth Glenn Hinson, 48, was arrested in March 2006 and is charged with criminal sexual assault, kidnapping and assault and battery with intent to kill.

The trial will be held in Darlington County, but because of pretrial publicity the jury was being selected at the Georgetown County Courthouse, about 70 miles away.

A pool of about 250 people reported to the Georgetown County Courthouse, said Cynthia Wragg of the clerk's office.

The case attracted national attention when South Carolina Attorney General Henry McMaster said during a four-day manhunt that Hinson — convicted in 1991 for the rape of a 12-year-old girl — could have been indefinitely committed to a state program for sexually violent predators after serving a nine-year prison sentence. Two review committees had recommended that Hinson be placed in the program, warning he could commit a future sex crime.

But Judge Edward Cottingham rejected the plan and set Hinson free. After Hinson's arrest, McMaster argued it was that crucial mistake on Cottingham's part that paved the way for Hinson to assault the teens in the dungeon-like space beneath his home.

Cottingham, a retired but active judge, has said he does not remember the 2000 case. Last year, Hinson appeared before Cottingham as McMaster presented his notice to seek a sentence of life without parole in the new charges.

The girls were sexually assaulted and were bound inside the underground room, but managed to free themselves and escape, authorities have said.

The room was just 4 1/2 feet deep and roughly the length and width of a midsize car. Its floor and walls were lined with two-by-fours. A single 75-watt bulb illuminated the space.





Let me get this straight. A South Carolina judge sets free a convicted child rapist so he can commit the crime again, yet all South Carolina's constituents can think about is banning gay marriage and showing scans of fetuses the size of m&ms to women seeking abortions. (Run on sentence anyone? I do that when I'm angry and can't wait to get the words out. Sorry. But this is just.... F'ED.)

More steam pouring from my ears. ARGH!

Friday the 13th Eve

Yesterday was one of the windiest days in LA. When I finally made it home, dodging the fallen trees and sitting through the dead stop lights, I found the power out at home... and most of my neighborhood. I called our local restaurants and they were all closed as well- struck by the same power outage.

I decided this was the omen to finally try Asia- the restaurant we keep passing on Los Feliz; the restaurant I heard was really expensive and just so so. I'm so glad we finally made it. Yes it's expensive but so is Edendale and the food is just a bore. (Although the patio is fantastic for drinks.) We arrived to a somewhat empty restaurant that slowly filled as neighborhood kids realized the power wasn't coming back on.

Our server guided us through the menu and was friendly and honest with his suggestions. He suggested the seared tuna as an appetizer but said to get the sauce on the side. We ordered it and it was amazing. The tuna was some of the freshest I've had and seared perfectly.

Seared Tuna with Mustard Yuzu Sauce


For entrees Hubbie had the special of the night- a filet mignon with lobster in a pinot noir sauce, and I had the garlic salmon. Both were unbelievably tasty and with beautiful presentation. The pinot noir sauce was tart- not the usual sweet I'm used to. The salmon was delicious but it was swimming in sauce. The waiter warned us they were heavy-handed with the sauces so I expected it. However, my salmon was cooked perfectly and the haricot verts that accompanied it were crisp and yummy.

Filet with Lobster and Pinot Noir Sauce



Garlic Salmon


Our waiter was more than knowledgeable about the wine list and suggested a great Pinot. He was friendly and helpful to us first-timers. Prompt service and didn't rush to ask us if we wanted dessert. All in all a great experience.

When we got home at 10pm we saw we still had no power. In a cleaning frenzy I threw out all our half burnt candles so we were left with a flashlight, one scented candle and my Menorah with Channukah candles.

I did what any Jew would do. I had Hubbie light the Menorah and we had Channukah in April. Thanks Bubbie!

Our trusty Menorah


Kitty is still in his cast so all he wanted was to cuddle. Hubbie, our neighbor Cranky John and I had a lovely evening just chatting. No TV, no computer, no clocks, no lights. Just the glow of the Menorah and the comfort of friends. Maybe the blackout wasn't so bad. Maybe it's the city's way of bringing us together?

Hubbie & Kitty, relaxing in candlelight.

Mi Abuelita

To celebrate Easter, Bubbie took us out to eat to El Coyote. You know,
Christ's last supper was the typical Seder fare. Brisket, matzo ball
soup, veggies with horseradish dip, dried out sponge cake etc. Pretty
dull considering it was his LAST MEAL ON EARTH. I bet if given the
choice he would have asked for tacos and margaritas!

Well, that's what I would have asked for anyway.

Not to brag or anything, but how many of you out there have had margaritas
with your 85 year old grandmother recently? (chirp chirp...) Well I have!

There are so many days when I'm frustrated with her because I have to
stop mid-story and explain what the world wide web is, or scream, "AMEX! AMEX!! WE'RE SHOOTING AN AMEX COMMERCIAL! NO, NOT FEDEX, AMEX
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!!" because she refuses to wear her hearing aid.
But truth be told, she is still pretty feisty for her age and I get a
kick out of knocking back the sauce with her. (And she picks up the tab!)

Unfortunately the rest of my weekend wasn't as fun as cocktails with Bubbie. Tragedy struck Kitty and he ended up spending the night at the animal hospital. He had a dovetail stuck in his paw which resulted in an abscess. The vet removed the dovetail but inserted a device to drain the abscess, leaving poor Kitty in a cast all the way up to his shoulder. To make matters worse, the padding and gauze on the cast make his front leg about two and a half inches longer than it should be, causing him to walk on the three good legs and drag the bum front-right paw BEHIND HIM. You can just see the embarrassment on his face as he hobbles around like a pirate with a wooden leg. Not exactly the graceful Mr. Mistoffelees-like cat that he usually is.

Anyhow, we're taking good care of him and making sure he gets the R&R he needs. Now, if I could just get some for myself!

Men in Black

"I wear the black for the poor and the beaten down/Livin’ in the hopeless, hungry side of town/I wear it for the prisoner who has long paid for his crime/But is there because he’s a victim of the times." -Johnny Cash

Hubbie came home last night, lookin pretty beaten down himself. He's been working really long hours lately and by the time he gets home it's almost my bedtime. But when he came home last night, dressed all in black with just the white of his t-shirt sticking out and picked up our black and white cat; well.... I just about died from an overdose of cuteness. I had to take a picture of my two men in black.

Something's Fishy

Saturday night The Marrieds had plans for dinner followed by a birthday party at the Short Stop. We haven't been too adventurous cuisine-wise lately, keeping our date nights to places places like Ca' Del Sole and Morton's. However, desperate for a change, FBP and I thought it'd be fun to try Sushi Go 55 in Little Tokyo.

We had heard a rumor that they fly in their fish daily from Japan so we were determined to find out what all the hype was about. It's in a mini mall and the restaurant couldn't be less romantic if it had pinball games and sawdust on the floor. However, when our waitress came over to take our order and we realized she didn't speak a word of English, and we were literally the only non-Asians in the place, I knew the food had to be good. Right?

Hubbie ordered the seaweed salad to start and FBP ordered the vinaigered shrimp. What came was a dinner salad with a piece of seaweed on top and sliced octopus. Hmmmm? This language barrier thing might prove to be a problem. From then on we just pointed to the menu and nodded once for each order we wanted. Giggles engulfed the table from that point on- whether it was the sake and Sapporo or just the challenge of making sure we didn't order the monk fish liver; we were simply giddy. The salmon was some of the best I've ever had and the yellow tail was like butter. I was forced to try a bite of soft shell crab and really wish I hadn't. I'll never understand the desire to eat something that is still in its shell.

From there we headed to the short stop for Rachel's birthday party. Here's some pictures from the evening. We were having a blast and ended up dancing the night away with a lovely lady named Erica, also seen below. By the time we stumbled out of the bar and made it home I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. As I drifted off to sleep I couldn't help but smile a little, as another random "only in L.A." night came to a close.

Kabbullshit

I've been wanting to check out a class, (or series of classes) on Kabbalah for years now. I finally have some time in my schedule and could actually commit to a one night a week class. The Kabbalah Centre offers free introductory lectures for beginners Tuesday and Thursday nights, so last night I decided to go.

When I walked in I was greeted by two handsome young guys sitting at a table. They gave me a Hello My Name Is tag and asked me to fill out a form with my name, address, email, work profession (RED FLAG NUMBER ONE,) contact number and the usual how'd you hear about us box. (Let's see. I heard about Kabbalah since I'm Jewish and anyone who's awake while driving down Robertson can see the behemoth poster tauting the "free" lectures.)

I wrote my name on the sticker and was led to a small conference room with two round tables and a podium. I was the first to arrive so I picked a good spot, threw my stuff down and texted Hubbie. Two seconds later a gentleman comes in and sits RIGHT NEXT TO ME, even though there were seventeen other seats open. He introduces himself and he has a really thick Israeli accent so I couldn't quite make out what else he said.

That is until he said, "What brings you here?" (None of your business!)

"Well, I've always had an interest in Kabbalah and I am Jewish but don't go to temple much and I guess I'm looking for a little spirituality...in a nutshell" I say. I make it a point to look back down at my phone and continue texting because I don't want this guy hitting on me. Next thing i know he says, "so, you clean for Passover?"

"What?"

"YOU. You clean for passover, eh?" (Well, I plan on showering Monday, yes. WTF do you mean?)

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" as I raise an eyebrow. Then people start to file in. One woman was carrying a bottle of water so I asked her if there was a vending machine nearby. I had left mine in the car and was parched! She points over to the bookstore/giftshop. (RED FLAG NUMBER TWO) I run over and grab a bottle of water from the shelf and bring it to the register. It was then that I realized I was buying Kabbalah water. The label on the bottle literally read KABBALAH WATER and had a disclaimer at the bottom saying something like "although drinking water is good for your health, Kabbalah water makes no claims to be any better for you than regular old tap water but we're going to charge you $2.50 anyway because isn't the label cute with the clouds and red string?"

While I'm waiting to be rung up another woman comes up to me and says, "Samantha?"

"Yes???" I say.

"Come with me. Hurry up the class is starting!" she says with an almost shrill tone.

I run back to the conference room and still two more people wander in a few minutes after me, in no rush at all. Who was that woman and why did she single me out? (RED FLAG NUMBER THREE)

The lecture began by the teacher going around the room and asking what brought us there. There were only seven of us so that went by quickly. Especially since three of the seven didn't give an answer, one being Indecipherable Israeli dude.

After the forty-five minute lecture which was like listening to one big long teaser, the teacher asked if anyone had any questions. The guy to my right raises his hand and says, "I’m a personal life coach and I’m not making enough money. And I need to make a LOT more money than I do now. That is my biggest concern and I just want to know, will I learn how to make more money in this course? What class teaches about how to become rich? Does Madonna come to this center? On what nights? Any other celebrities come here? They do? OH that’s a bonus! So tell me, how much money can I expect to make after taking this course? As we all know you can never have enough money. And I just don't have enough money and I need to know what Kabbalah will do for me so I can make more money. And what if I miss a class, can I make it up? Can Madonna tutor me?"

I could not believe my ears. I was stunned. Was he kidding? Instead of the teacher saying something along the lines of this course isn't about making more money and if you're looking for that maybe you should take Donald Trump's Learning Annex class or better yet, hit up a Tony Robbins seminar.

Know what he said? "Kabbalah will make you a better businessman and bring wealth to you if you take these classes. Kabbalah can do amazing things in your life, you just need to know how to channel it."

Psycho says, "Ok great. When? When will I start making money? First class? Second class? If I take the class twice will I make twice as much money???"

The teacher says, "Why don't you ask one of our mentors here. Introduce yourselves. They are here to answer questions and assist you in the enrollment process." I look around and realize three of the seven people in the lecture are "mentors" there to get you to sign up for a ten week series. As soon as the teacher said that, the guy to my left says, "So, whaddaya think? Are you interested?" (NOT ANYMORE!!!!)

IndecipherableIsraeliDude...a mentor! There to chat me up I suppose. As soon as the teacher walked out it became very apparent that they were going for the hard sell on us. I wasn't gonna stick around for it either. I gathered my things and fished my keys out of my bag while I listened to INeedALotMoreMoneyMan tell a "mentor" that he had to check his calendar at home because HE TRAVELS A LOT FOR BUSINESS!!!!!

He said it so loud and so deliberate to make sure all seven of us heard him......in the 10 by 15 foot room. What a schmuck.

I high-tailed it out of there disappointed that I'd wasted an hour and a half, and sitting next to that shmegegge no less! I guess it's back to the drawing board for me as far as spirituality goes. In the meantime I'll go back to my old standby; drinking a bottle of wine while watching the Food Network. No doubt it's still when I feel the most peaceful.

Shalom!

What's next South Carolina??

Well well South Carolina, aren't we busy these days. Apparently your state has no other pressing issues, (pesky education, poverty, health care, employment rates, LITERACY etc.,) so you have all this time on your hands to handle some really important issues.

Like passing a bill to REQUIRE women to have ultrasounds before an abortion. Makes perfect sense don't it? A woman desperate enough to have to go through a procedure that is traumatic in and of itself, but YOU South Carolina, YOU want to REQUIRE the woman to see the fetus she's aborting. Maybe the woman will change her mind and keep the unwanted baby and you are fully prepared to support her mentally and financially.

Oh, what's that? You aren't? Ooooh, I see. You're prepared to give her a used crib and some diapers. Hmm. Ok then.

Well I did a little research and by golly! South Carolina has 38% of it's children living in Single Parent households. 3rd highest below Mississipi (highest) and Louisiana, (second highest.) SHOCKING! For a state that's so moral and God-fearing.

Moving right along. Today I stumble across this headline.

South Carolina officially bans gay marriage; New Hampshire takes step toward civil unions.
Ahhhh I see. We can't let those evil homosexuals be equal with us you say. "Nearly four out of five South Carolina voters approved the amendment, which reads, "A marriage between one man and one woman is the only lawful domestic union that shall be valid or recognized in this state.""

Wait wait, let me guess! You guys passed this amendment because you had to make sure the institution of marriage is kept sacred, correct? Hmm, I think I'll do a little more internet research.

From Foxnews.com on March 2nd, 2007
"CLINTON, S.C. — A 23-year-old former teacher accused of having sex with five teenage boys was released from jail Friday after her father posted her bail.

Allena Williams Ward will be confined to her home, able to leave only for church and lawyer visits, and must wear an electronic monitor. She also must have no contact with the boys with whom she was accused of having sex.

According to arrest warrants, Ward, who is married, had sexual encounters in the past three months with the 14- and 15-year-old boys at Bell Street Middle School, at a motel, in a park and behind a restaurant. She is charged with sexual misconduct."

Seems to me you folks in good ole' South Carolina have some problems that have nothing to do with a woman's right to chose OR homosexuals and their right to get married.

As I said in my email to friends and family, I hope people stop going there on vacation, ESPECIALLY homosexual DINKS,(double income no kids folks,) and I hope the film community, (which is filled with homosexuals,) stop dumping money into that state to film there.

And that's my two cents.

Nevermind!!!

At 4:00pm today my boss informed me that we had to get 4 specific cheerleader uniforms to London by tomorrow. Was that possible?

Ummm, let me see. NO. Why do you ask?

The thing about production is, why ask if it's possible or not? If it needs to happen, it needs to happen. If I had to sew those uniforms together myself and ride with them in the cargo bin of a FedEx plane, they were gonna get to London by tomorrow.

Of course our director had very specific ideas about which ones he wanted, and the costume house that owns them had already rented 2 of the 4 uniforms to some unknown TV show called Scrubs or something. Did that deter his plans? Nope. Before I could say, "ain't gonna happen bud," I was in the car trying to get from Santa Monica to Glendale in one hour. In 5:00 LA traffic.

To add insult to injury, (LITERALLY,) two exits into my death race was an accident that warranted 15 police cars to STOP TRAFFIC COMPLETELY on the most traveled freeway in Los Angeles. As I sat there at a dead stop wondering if this person's careless driving would cost me my job, I remembered that Hubbie works just minutes from said costume house, and could get there in a jiffy.

God bless Hubbie. He was there within minutes, (dropping everything at his own job to spare me mine,) and up on a ladder pulling cheer skirts and asking the difference between piping and pleats. Because nothing is ever easy in this business, he could only find a royal blue skirt and navy blue top. Or a burnt orange top and "reddish" skirt without stripes. Exactly the opposite of what we needed.

Traffic finally cleared and I was cruising at a swift 90 down the freeway, running through all the things I'd have to pack. Toothbrush, pajamas, sweater, ZANAX! Holy crap, I'm going to be on a plane longer than on the ground! I hate flying! I hate flying alone even more! Will they book me in business class? Will it matter when we're plummeting to the ground from 30,000 feet? SON OF A!

Usually I have weeks, if not months to prepare myself for a flight. Here I am with hours and it started to sink in. Was this the universe's little way of making me get over my fear of flying?

As I turned off the freeway ramp (on two wheels) and headed for the home stretch, Hubbie had found 2 of the 4 outfits needed. I had 10 minutes to find something comparable to replace the other two and pay for them before closing. Then I'd go home and pack, find my passport, talk to the travel agent, get a hotel, book a car service and forage for ZANAX!

Then, amidst the four voices talking all at once on my cell, I hear, "forget it."

Forget it? What?

"What????" I say.

"Forget it. It's off..." I hear my PA say, clear as a bell.

We all hung up just as I pulled in the driveway to the costume house. I see my Hubbie walking out of the warehouse with his hands in the air just shaking his head, smiling.

"Welcome to my world!!!" I say and go to give him a hug. He lit a cigarette and we had a giggle. I knew it was no use to get mad or pout. It's just another day in production. I'm not surprised. I've been doing this 8 years and episodes like this are as common as traffic in L.A.

What does continue to surprise me is my AWESOME Hubbie's devotion and the amount of support he's able to give. He truly is my knight in shining armor and I love him dearly.

Nobody Told Me There'd Be Days Like These

Buying a house really is the most stressful event in the world. Well, maybe being a P.O.W or something is, but buying a house is probably second. I had no idea what we were getting into and if we make it through this with our limbs and sanity intact I'll be shocked.
While I search sites like West Elm looking for the perfect bedroom set, Christian looks for the closest homeless shelter to Woodland Hills because that's where he's convinced we'll end up after completing all the necessary repairs.
Meanwhile, he still has no idea what's in store for him in the next week. I'm afraid to write anything about it for fear that he may check this site so I'll just keep my mouth shut. Last night he gave me a dozen roses and a heart box o' chocolates for Valentine's Day. The card was the best part- said something like "I'd give you all the love I have but it's in escrow." CUTE. And below that he drew a picture of a guy with glasses (him) drooling. It was exactly something my dad would have done.
Of course I burst into tears but was laughing at the same time. What a mess. I explained and he understood completely. I love that man so much.
Keep you posted on the home.

Douchebag Of The Year

From JMG:
This far right activist was convicted of incitement and sentenced to the maximum five years in prison Thursday for anti-Semitic activities, including contributing to a Web site dedicated to Holocaust denial.

Ernst Zundel was deported to his native Germany from Canada in 2005 and has also lived in Tennessee. He and his supporters have argued that he is a peaceful campaigner denied his right to free speech.


Unbelievable.

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