honeymoon tales: the toast of hong kong

One Saturday night in Hong Kong, Jim and I visited Jumbo, the world's largest floating restaurant. It's so big, we went there twice. The restaurant is three stories tall and holds 2,600 diners comfortably.

The first time, Jim and I didn't actually go inside and it wasn't Saturday night. We were taking a daytime sampan ride in Aberdeen Harbour and the captain of our sampan, Thomas, wanted to stop for pictures.



After fifty HK dollars and much pleading, he was persuaded to step aside to take a picture of me and Jim.



Our second visit to Jumbo was on Saturday night, for a nine-course meal with our "Splendid Night of Delights" tour group. Earlier, we picked up part of our group at Queen's Pier, fresh from a booze cruise, and then proceeded to the Temple Street Night Market. After loading up on Hello Kitty items at 7-11 as well as from a street vendor, we returned to Jumbo.

We sat in the middle of this huge dining room, sharing a table with a British guy in HK on business, a Venezuelan textiles guy currently living in Austria also there on business, two older British women on holiday, and a couple and their teenage daughter from Australia. I was surprised to hear that the Brits at our table had never tried Chinese food before this trip, and, at a restaurant renowned for seafood, the teenage daughter was a strict vegetarian. Earlier the Venezuelan guy claimed to have eaten an eagle the night before. I told him that he probably ate chicken, but they told him it was an eagle. That got a big laugh.

As was my custom on this trip, I informed our tour guide and one of the British ladies sitting next to me (I think her name was Madge) that Jim and I were on our honeymoon. Soon there were toasts all around, people were buying us drinks from other tables, it was nuts! People from across the room were coming over, taking our picture, buying us more drinks, sending over special dishes to try, etc. It was getting embarrassing, but we didn't know how to make it stop.

As if that weren't enough, the management of the restaurant came over and asked us if we would grace them with a picture, taken at the massive throne situated at the end of the room. And would we please change into more formal attire, please?



So there we were, drunk and dressed up like Chinese royalty, the entire room toasting and clapping.

(Just kidding - we paid something like HK$150 for them to dress us up as the Emperor and Empress of China and take some Polaroids. The whole room turned around and laughed and cheered once they realized the new Emperor was a tall white guy from Minnesota.)

don's new girlfriend is a cow

Last night Jim and I attended the DLANC Residents Committee's ad-hoc downtown filming issues meeting. During the 5-minute mid-meeting break, I admitted to Jim that it would probably be apropos for me to wear a t-shirt that reads, "Angry is my baseline", you know, to warn people. I wonder if he's ordered one for me yet.

After the meeting, Jim and I decided to walk to Blossom for dinner. Jim went to the restroom while I perused the menu. I don't know why I bothered, I always order the shaking beef (I'm a creature of habit). I looked up and Los Angeles' very own Town Crier and fellow downtown blogger, Don Garza, was sitting across from me. Don sat next to me during the meeting and questioned me about my anger issues, but thankfully he was done talking about me and was now talking about him, his new girlfriend, and his efforts at vlogging. BTW, I'm not being cruel by referring to her as a cow, those were his exact words. Just watch the video on Don's blog - he poses with his girlfriend at 1:16 on the video and she gives him some cheese at 1:30. She really is a cow.

honeymoon tales: running aground

It was our last day at Ko Yao Noi and I fell on my ass trying to carry my pink suitcase out to the boat. Jim made fun of me because I liked to wave at all the passing boats. About 200 yards before hitting Bang Rong Pier, I waved to passing fishermen in a long-tail. One hundred yards from the pier, our ship ran aground. It was low tide. Our captain tried to loosen the ship, but nothing was happening.

It seemed like all was lost. We wouldn't make it to the pier and our driver would probably leave. We'd miss our flight to Hong Kong. Then the passing fishermen who I waved to earlier came floating up. Our captain exchanged a few words with them, then he was gesturing for us to get out of his boat, and onto their boat. Did I mention that their long-tail was still full of the morning's catch?

No matter, the pier was just in sight, only 100 yards away. Jim and I squatted on a board, inches above a pile of prawn and still-flopping fish. My Hello Kitty suitcase sat up front, a big pink beacon that yelled, "Silly tourist approaching!" Jim didn't seem to be enjoying the rescue, I didn't know until after our adventure that he was worried about me freaking out. Did I mention that I get creeped out by live fish?

Minutes later as we approached the pier, I heard the sound of a long-tail motor roaring to life. I turned to see the captain had managed to work his boat free. We waved goodbye as he headed back towards Ko Yao Noi. I turned to face the pier and my face connected with the bow of a docked long-tail boat. I tried to keep my balance, keep my footing on the bench I had been squatting on, but I fell back and avoided stepping on their catch by inches. I stood up, fighting through the dizzyness, eager to get off the boat.

Hands were offered and with my free hand, I grabbed on for dear life and hoisted myself off the boat. In front of me was a foot-wide expanse between the pier and whatever rickety wood thing I had been standing on. Holding on to my pink luggage, hoping to not lose a shoe, I closed my eyes and jumped. I made it to the other side, where a crowd of bored locals sat drinking and watching the two tourists who had to be fished out of their long-tail.

Within minutes, our driver arrived. "Have you been waiting long?"

"No, we just got here."

We sat in the back of the car, relieved to be underway, glad that we had a little adventure and not one that disrupted our itinerary. Then I saw it - a monkey, perched on a car parked at the entrance to the pier. No, two monkeys, wait, three. And they were posing, like the "see no evil, hear no evil and speak no evil" monkeys. I can't wait to return to Thailand.

solving downtown's public transit issues

I realize it's just a first step, but this monorail looks like it could be a good solution.

heeding the call, looking for signs

Today, LA City Nerd issued a call to action - for bloggers in Los Angeles to take pictures of their community name signs in the city and post them to this Flickr group. Here's a list of all the community names.

I came back from a visit with my art dealer and snapped this Old Bank District sign. But what's that in the distance? A billboard for a downtown strip club? No, look closer, in front of the billboard.


It's the Toy District and Historic Downtown signs.


More signs from the Historic Core, Fashion District, and Gallery Row:






It was a nice day and I ran into Ginny, Bert and Ben at Lost Souls Cafe. Have you tried their ube shake? So yummy.

honeymoon tales: sord and the captain

One of the many reasons Jim and I loved our secluded resort on Ko Yao Noi is because of the lack of activities. The resort is small, only fifteen villas, and apart from breakfast and dinner, we never saw more than three or four people at a time.



The pace is spectacularly slow. I watched a gardener trim back a few flowering branches, then stop to feed the koi in the pond. He went back to trimming the garden, then sat down under a tree. An hour later, a palm frond fell from a tree in front of our beach villa. The gardener quickly dragged the palm frond away, disposed of it, then spent the rest of the afternoon under the tree, waiting for another to fall. I, of course, had the time to watch him, the shimmering ocean, the limestone karsts just off-shore, and the occasional sailboat and long-tail boats as they floated and chugged in and out of view.



I was reluctant to leave the resort, but felt that we should at least try to see more than just our island. So Jim and I signed up for an island shopping and sightseeing tour, the only one offered that didn't involve diving, kayaking, or snorkeling.

Shortly after breakfast, Sord and the Captain pulled up to our beach in a long-tail boat, ready to take us to Krabi, about an hour away across the bay.



Sord spoke English very well and managed to answer all our questions about our island as we chugged past the limestone karsts.

"My veelage, is in de middle of de island. We have seven veelages on de island, two on de east side, two on de west side and three in de middle. My wife and I live wid my fadder and modder. My wife, she work in anodder resort, also as tour guide. Most of de people in de island are fishermen or work in de rubber plant. De Captain, he is also from my veelage."

Then I saw it in the distance. I pointed and asked Sord, "Who lives there?"




"Dat is de palace of de King of Thailand. He has a palace in Bangkok also. Tree times a year, de palace is open to de public - de King's birtday, de Queen's birtday, and Songkran. De forest around de palace is a national reserve. Dere are many monkeys all around. De roof of de palace, is solid gold."

Twenty minutes later, were were at Ao Nang, a touristy strip along a tiny beach. It was hot, humid, and lousy with shops and European tourists. We did our souvenir shopping quickly, broke for lunch in an open-air restaurant and watched the parade of locals and sunburned tourists zip by on foot, tuk-tuks and mopeds.

We wolfed down lunch. "Let's get out of here," I suggested. Minutes later, Sord was leading us past pack after pack of tourists, back to the boat.



After a few minutes of me splashing around, trying to climb back into the boat, we were off, on our way to Ko Hong (literally translated, island with lagoon). We passed Ko Hong on the way to Krabi, but we had to return at high tide so that we could enter the lagoon.



Once inside the lagoon, the Captain turned off the motor. There was one other boat in the lagoon, another couple with their guide. Quietly, we floated around the edges of the lagoon.



It was so beautiful inside the lagoon, so peaceful and quiet. We found ourselves whispering, pointing out the high cliffs surrounding the lagoon. Sord pointed out the ropes going into the caves and explained how people would go inside the caves to collect birds' nests, and that it was very dangerous. I asked Sord if he ever tried it.



"Yes, I try once. I went wif my friend, I go inside de cave and I see a python. I don't go inside de cave anymore."



Our boat bumped up against a mangrove tree. I heard a splashing in the water, but didn't see anything in the shallow, clear water.



"What was that?" I asked.

Sord replied nonchalantly, "Crocodile."

I suppressed a scream, but jumped away from the mangrove trees and tried to put Jim between me and the sound of the crocodile. Then I realized that Jim, Sord and the Captain were all laughing at me.



Sord laughingly apologized, "Sorry, sorry. I'm only joking. No crocodile."

25% off candles

If you're in the market for candles, Illuminations is having a friends and family promotion - 25% off your entire purchase, starting yesterday until March 25th. Click here for the coupon which you can use in their stores or online.

honeymoon tales: snakes, crabs and the lizard i didn't know about

I was in the bedroom, unpacking my Hello Kitty suitcase. Bathing suit on, I was ready to hit the water. If only I could find my beach cover-up.

"Are you afraid of snakes?" Jim yelled from our Thai sala-style living room next door.

I thought about that for a second, walked past the mosquito netting draped around the bed and to Jim, who stood with his back to me in the sala of our Thai-style beach villa.

"Yeah. Why do you ask?" I asked, eyes searching the thatched-roof ceiling, where Jim's eyes were trained.

On hearing my voice, and in much closer proximity than he probably anticipated, Jim turned quickly to face me. He shrugged with a forced casualness.

"No reason."

I stood there, trying to decipher the look on his face, the source of that unfamiliar look in his eye. Jim moved towards me and my eyes wandered up higher, above his head - where a green snake slithered along the bamboo framework of our Thai-style beach villa.


Photo courtesy of Jim

I suppressed a scream, badly. My body went into convulsions and I involuntarily jumped as I turned to run back into the relative safety of the bedroom. I was pretty sure I had peed myself a little bit, too. I found my cover-up and reached for my sunglasses.

"I'm going to the pool." I rinsed off in the outdoor shower, carefuly examining every tree branch on my way to the pool.

Ten minutes later, I was frolicking in the infinity pool. It was a warm, humid day and I leaned against the edge of the pool, sighing as I stared at the islands in the distance. Jim can't take as much sun, so he sat back in the shade at the corner of the pool.



"Are you afraid of crabs?"

"Yes, why?"

"There's one right by your foot, on the wall of the pool."


Photo courtesy of Jim

Without a word, I paddled to the far side of the pool. Jim didn't do anything about the crab. So I stayed at the far end until I was able to convince the two teenage Australian girls who were vacationing with their parents to fish the crab out of the pool using the Italian boy's red pail and return it to the beach.

I told Jim right before I started to hit the "publish" button on this blog post what I was blogging about.

He laughed and asked, "Did I ever tell you about the big lizard?"

I thought about that for a second. "Do you mean the lizard you pointed out to me on the wall of the villa? The one in the sala?"

He considered this and gestured, "The ones on the wall of our villa that were about this big?" indicating six inches with his forefingers.

"Yeah."

"No. I meant the one that I saw outside our villa, by the spa. That one was about the size of my forearm. I think it was a Komodo dragon."

"So whenever there was a lot of thrashing in the bushes outside our villa and you said it was probably a gardener working, you really meant it was a Komodo dragon?"

"Yeah."

"No, you didn't tell me about the big lizard."

my love of famima makes national news

I was interviewed by my cousin Angel for the CSP Daily News (that's Convenience Store Petroleum, a trade magazine) re the wonderful thing that is Famima!! Here's the article itself and my Q&A with the writer. BTW, I did not proclaim myself a hipster, that's so obviously a mistake.

tomorrow is mySQL sports day

My husband works for mySQL and tomorrow is their Global Sports Day, where all 360 employees in 29 countries are supposed to step away from the keyboard, engage in some sporting activity and to document it. They are reimbursed for expenses and the most creative activity, picture, and/or story receives an additional reward.

When Jim first mentioned it to me a week or so ago, I thought, "Sweet! I'll get my cue, let's go shoot some pool!" Then Jim suggested bowling at Lucky Strike. Or finding a used ping-pong table on eBay. Then I suggested we get some roller skates and lay down some duct tape in our living room in an oval shape, make ourselves a roller-skating rink. After all, we have the space and a disco ball.

Now I'm completely paralyzed by indecision. Do we go for something simple and just take the free day of company-sponsored activity? Or does my competitive nature take over and we have to come up with something that will garner an additional reward? And where did I put my roller skates?

a taste of dance

Every year around my birthday, the Music Center hosts A Taste of Dance, a day full of dance classes ($1 each lesson!) on the Music Center Plaza. So even though I may be in denial about getting older, the classes remind my body that it's been a long time since I was a theater arts/dance major in college. This year, A Taste of Dance takes place this Saturday, March 24th, from 10:30am to 4pm. Who wants to join me in a few dance classes this Saturday?

It all starts with a free 60's warm up at 11am, then 20-minute classes will be offered in:

Clogging
Dance Team
Hustle
Modern Jazz
Ragtime Dances

Then from 1:30-3:30pm, these 20-minute classes open up:

Jitterbug
Native American Dance
Steppin'
Tap
Texas Two-Step

At 3:30pm, they wind it up with free line dancing classes for all. I can't promise I'll participate in the line dancing. I'm very line dancing-averse. I can't explain why, but sometimes at my family gatherings, they line dance. I try to break it up with karaoke, but sometimes it doesn't work and they continue to line dance.

Truthfully, I'm not that excited about the choices in dance classes this year. One year I was able to take hula, capoeira, bhangra, african, and ballet folklorico classes. I loved the bhangra and the african dance classes, they were energizing and fun. I tried, but I felt like a clodhopper during the ballet folklorico class and probably looked worse. The capeoeira class was my least favorite. I almost kicked myself in the head during one maneuver. And no, I wasn't trying to kick my head.

I'll probably feel like I was hit by a truck the next morning, but I'm going to do it. Seriously, if anyone wants to join me, email me or leave a comment. If we get enough people maybe we should get t-shirts.

WHEN: Saturday, March 24, 2007
11:00 AM - 4:00 PM
WHERE: Music Center Plaza
ADMISSION: $1 per 20-minute lesson
First come, first served.
Tickets available for purchase starting at 10:30AM (cash only).

Limited class sizes,
Dress in comfortable clothes/shoes, some classes are danced barefoot.
No prior dance experience necessary.

honeymoon tales: ko yao noi

Jim and I flew into Phuket for the first half of our honeymoon. Our driver picked us up at the airport and drove us through the jungle and past rubber tree plantations. Within thirty minutes we were at Bang Rong Pier (picture below), boarding a long-tail boat for an hour ride to the resort.


Bang Rong Pier, photo courtesy of Jim

On our island resort of Ko Yao Noi, there wasn't much to do once the sun went down. And by that I mean nothing I want to blog about in any detail. Satellite television was available upon request, but I didn't realize that until I read the brochure when we returned home. I just thought there weren't any, by choice, in the 15 villas that comprised this resort. A choice I agreed with completely. There was a phone, but no directory and I assumed, nothing else on this island but another resort on the other side.

Every night, we'd watch the sun set over the limestone karsts just offshore. The lights from nearby Krabi (an hour away by boat) would twinkle in the distance and that's when we'd put down the books we were reading and head to the restaurant for dinner. Jim and I methodically went through the menu, having tried a good variety of dishes by the time we left. Desserts were wonderfully tropical items and my favorite was the bananas in coconut milk. Afterwards, we'd walk thirty feet back to our villa, a gazillion bright stars above, illuminating the way. We fell asleep every night listening to the sounds of frogs and the ocean at our doorstep.


Sunrise through the trees.

Just before sunrise, we'd hear the sounds of birds chirping and whistling and much to my surprise, we would wake up to watch the sunrise. The coconut palms scattered around the resort and at the edge of the grass helped to shade our villa from the brilliant morning light, filtering it, and framing our view of the limestone karsts in the water.


Low tide sunrise.

Other early risers would take the kayaks out for a early morning trek around our little, long island. Thanks to the karsts, the water is incredibly calm around our island and perfect for kayakers without experience or ability. I was almost tempted to try it, but decided to float in the pool instead. I repeated that choice about three times a day, almost every day. Not a bad start to a honeymoon.


Me, not kayaking. Photo courtesy of Jim

fed up with filmLA

Last night Jim and I attended DLANC's filming issues ad-hoc meeting. It seems that after suffering through many abusive film crews, downtown residents have finally had enough. Many of the residents have been complaining via their blogs (here and here) and websites, within their email groups, and you can't swing a dead cat over your head at any of the downtown eateries and bars without hitting someone with a legitimate complaint or a filming horror story.

This wasn't the first meeting - last week's was attended by a community relations guy from FilmLA, the organization that's supposed to facilitate film permits and is responsible for notifications of filming in the City of Los Angeles. After hearing him drop lie after lie, I couldn't take it anymore. He said that FilmLA was acting on a "mandate from the City". I asked him (when I was finally allowed to speak) if FilmLA was under a contract rather than a mandate, which he verified it was, and then I asked him when FilmLA's contract with the City was up for renewal.

He turned about three different colors before he answered, "June."

I could detail every lie told at that meeting, but it's not really necessary to embarrass the guy. Not here and not now, there'll be plenty of time for that later. The point is, the residents of downtown are pissed and they're not going to take it anymore. For me, pissed off is my baseline. And I'm glad that everybody else seems to have had it as well. Don't get me wrong, I make my living in this industry and want filming to continue in downtown Los Angeles. But someone has to be accountable for lack of notifications, permit violations and non-compliance, lax permitting, rampant street closures, abusive behavior from film crews, explosions and simulated gunfire without warning, aircraft flying lower than permitted, and general disregard for the safety and comfort of the residents of the 90013 zip code (the most filmed location outside of studios).

If you live downtown, you have to know that you have every right to view a production's film permit. Ask anyone with a walkie - just identify yourself as a resident that is being impacted by their production. Ask for the location manager and a copy of their film permit. If you're not sure what they're doing that's wrong - check out the Filmmaker's Code of Conduct, which is on my sidebar to the right. Arm yourself with knowledge of your rights as a resident, educate yourself on what film crews can and cannot do, and don't let anyone intimidate you.

This August I will have lived in downtown Los Angeles for sixteen years, ten of them in the Historic Core, ground zero for downtown film locations. I've developed some strategies for dealing with film crews. If you have questions on filming and lessening its impact on you as a resident, worker, or patron of downtown please feel free to ask questions of me in the comments below or by emailing me (my email is on the sidebar). I will try to answer them in future posts titled, "Ask A Curmudgeon".

UPDATE: The Filmmaker's Code of Conduct is supposed to be distributed by FilmLA with every film permit that they issue. From their website:

"FilmL.A. encourages all production companies to abide by the terms of the Filmmakers’ Code of Professional Responsibility, which we distribute with every permit we release. The Code outlines generally accepted standards of courtesy for film crew members working out on-location.

If you are a resident or business owner in a neighborhood being used for filming, the Code describes the level of professionalism you should expect from the production company."

BTW, I have never worked on a production where the cast or crew has ever seen or even knows about the Code.

back to blogging

You know how after your workout routine has been disrupted, say by planning a wedding or writing a screenplay under tight deadlines, it is extremely difficult to get motivated to go back to the gym and your workout? And how week after week, the more you put it off, you know it'll be that much more difficult to get back into the swing of things but still you procrastinate? Yeah, it's kind of like that for me with this whole blogging thing.

Thankfully my new husband hasn't asked me when I'm going to head back to the gym, just when I'm going to blog again. Isn't that nice? Even after he doesn't have to read my blog to know my activities and whereabouts so he can stalk me, he still reads my blog. There you have it boys and girls, true love.

I found out that my mom reads my blog. In the nine years that I lived in the penthouse of the Alexandria Hotel, my mom only came to visit me once. It scared her so much that I lived there, and I couldn't say anything because it wasn't completely baseless. Being the considerate daughter that I am, I made her promise not to read the blog because I thought it would just upset or embarrass her to read about asspig, Puppet, or my Hello Kitty vibrator. Now I am afraid that she'll leave comments like, "Never mind about asspig, why aren't you pregnant yet?", or, "Puppet, shmuppet - where are my grandchildren?"

I know I have a lot of catching up to do - I have a great story and picture of the ice-skating chicken from back in December that I have to document and share. And I will get to it because people need to know about that shit. But I'm going to the opera tonight and I need a few more nights of watching movies and eating A Whole Lot of Banana on the sofa with my husband before I get back into the swing of things.

back in los angeles

My husband Jim and I got back from Thailand and Hong Kong on Monday. But the honeymoon ain't over. We are, however, jetlagged.

Thailand was exactly what we needed to decompress from the stress of planning our wedding. We flew into Phuket and arrived via long-tail boat at at the fabulous Ko Yao Island Resort, on the northeastern end of Ko Yao Noi (which means long little island), just north of Ko Yao Yai (which means long big island). It is in Phang Nga Bay on the Andaman Sea, an hour's boat ride in-between Phuket and Krabi and, as their brochure states, it is "hidden, quiet and private". The scenery is amazing - huge limestone karsts (limestone monolithic islands topped with jungle vegetation) dot the seascape, jutting out dramatically from the water. Most people know of it from the Leonardo DiCaprio movie, The Beach (although they filmed in nearby Ko Phi Phi), or from The Man With The Golden Gun, which features the aptly-named James Bond Island.

I'm still going through all my honeymoon pictures, but here's a picture of the sunrise over the limestone karsts from our beach, just steps away from our beach villa.





After a relaxing week on Ko Yao Noi, we continued our honeymoon in Hong Kong. We arrived arrived in Hong Kong right before sunset, with a blazing red sun setting behind us. We checked into the Ritz-Carlton, located in Central (the financial district) on Hong Kong Island and were gifted with a room overlooking Victoria Harbour. I took a ton of pictures, but here's one of me and Jim riding a sampan in front of Jumbo, the world's largest floating restaurant.





I can't seem to go anywhere without finding myself in the middle of a ruckus, so yes, there are hilarious stories to tell. I'll be posting more pictures and accompanying stories once I get out from under this horrible jetlag.

If you can't wait, Jim managed to get all his pictures up.

not a lazy blogger, just on my honeymoon

Jim and I were married this weekend at Union Station. So it's not that I've been a lazy blogger, there was just too much to do in preparation for the wedding and not enough time to blog about it.

Thanks to all our friends and family who attended the fittings, showers, rehearsal dinner, the wedding, and the post-wedding brunch. We had an amazing time and can never thank everyone enough for their love, support, and good wishes. I don't even know what to say to or about the people who crashed (and tried to crash) our wedding. Seriously, who does that? Whatevs.

We leave tonight for our honeymoon, so I'll be back in a few weeks with pictures and stories from the days leading up to and from the wedding weekend. You guys be good, and if you can't, take pictures.

dance lessons

I'm starting to get a little anxious about our wedding. It's less than three weeks away and we still have a pile of things we need to take care of. My big concern right now is - our first dance. We have the song picked out, but Jim can't dance and refuses to take lessons. So I bought him a book (that's how he swears he learns best, by reading, absorbing, processing and then doing) on ballroom dancing. We've only had one "rehearsal", but we videotaped it so that we could watch and critique ourselves, and hopefully we'll be ready for the big dance on the big day. Here's the video, it takes a while for it to load, but please let us know what you think.

happy holidays

I cut across the parking lot to Los Angeles Street. I waited for a man carrying a bottle wrapped up in a paper bag to lurch and stumble past me, then made a left onto my street. I hear him behind me, greeting another man, offering him a drink out of his bottle.

"Hey my brother, how you doing? Want some of this?"

I keep walking, but slow down to hear the exchange. The other man refuses.

"I don't know you and you're crazy if you think I'm going to drink that shit."

I keep walking without looking behind me. I can hear the other man's footsteps behind me and to my left. I'm almost at my front door, so I slow down and look behind me for charging pedestrians before I veer left. The man is walking beside me now, and he comments on their exchange to me.

"Crazy fool. Like I'm going to-- hey!

I looked at him and we both recognize each other. I was just wondering about him, too. I met him when I first moved into the Alexandria Hotel nine years ago. He was a nice enough guy, a thirty-something black man living at the Alexandria. But he always hit on me (which got tiring after a while) and he hung out with some questionable characters in front of Charlie O's, but that was years ago.

"So when are you going out with me?" he'd ask.

I had an easy out, "My boyfriend wouldn't like that."

Then all of a sudden, he wasn't there anymore. I ran into him a few years later, he was hanging out with a small group of black men, drinking and shooting the breeze on the streets, on 5th between Spring and Los Angeles. He didn't look too good back then, but today was a different day.

"Hey! How are you?" I asked. I remembered thinking about him just the week before, hoping that he found his way out of the streets.

"I'm doing good. Are you still living over there at the Alexandria?"

"No, I got out a little while ago. I live here now," I said, pointing to my building.

He looked at the building, then his head whipped around, his big 'fro following a second later.

"No shit?! Ed hired me to do some work on the 5th floor." He nodded his approval, his 'fro seconding his words. Ed was the general contractor for our building. This past summer, we watched as Ed supervised some workers from Chrysalis as they waterproofed the roof on the building next door. He pointed across the street. "Yeah, I work over there at [name withheld] and live over at [name withheld] now. I get a couple odd jobs here and there to stay busy and out of trouble."

"Good for you! You know, I was thinking about you the other day, wondering if you were around, if you were okay."

He smiled and nodded knowingly. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Glad to see you're out of that place, too."

"Yeah, me too. I guess if Ed has you working on five, I'll be seeing you around."

We shook hands, genuinely happy to see the other - even if we didn't know each other's name.

"Take care of yourself, and Happy Holidays," I yelled at him, over the blaring sirens of the passing firetruck and emergency medical vehicles. He yelled something, but I couldn't hear it over the din of the streets. We parted ways and I walked into my building. I went out onto my patio and looked at the city below. The sidewalks were crowded with last-minute shoppers. I couldn't see him, but I like to think he felt much like I did - glad to see someone else get their life together and get out of there. Next time I see him, I'll have to remember to ask him his name.

media whore

Did anybody see my five minutes on yourLA on NBC last week? You can watch the clip on Shopper Shuttle's website.

5 things you didn't know about me

Dave tagged me with a "5 Things You Didn't Know About Me" meme, so here's my list:

1. I'm a mezzo-soprano.
2. I used to be a mime.
3. I played the leader of a Chinese gang in a prison film.
4. My brother shot me in the ass with a BB gun one Christmas morning, just as soon as he could unwrap and load it.
5. I learned how to swim at the age of 16 in a YMCA class populated by five-year-olds.

I tag Mack, Mike, Mondo Rick-o, Nanette, and my favorite corn-fed Asian-American Hoosier Queer in suburban Los Angeles.

navajo for va-jay-jay

My cell phone rang, it was Kitty. Why does she always call when I'm in the car?

"What are you doing tonight?"

"I'm in the car, on my way to Pechanga," I replied.

I had to pull the phone away from my ear, she was laughing so hard. After what seemed like an eternity, she stopped laughing and wheezed, "Isn't that Navajo for vagina?"

"They have a great buffet."

silversun pickups

My cousin Chris is the drummer for the Silversun Pickups. I've been going to see him play for years in various bands before SP, so I was really happy to see him hit the big time with this band. They had their national television debut on Letterman a week or so ago, and they rocked! It was great to hear David Letterman say such wonderful things about them and enjoy their performance so much. Here's the clip. They were also on KCRW yesterday morning, here's that clip.

His parents, Emma and Boy, asked me and Jim to come see the Silversun Pickups at the Troubadour this Sunday and I wasted no time in screaming, "Yes!" So, anybody else going to the show?

yourLA

Last week I taped a segment for local television show, yourLA, featuring Shopper Shuttle. The show claims to be "the ultimate insider's guide to Los Angeles" and (contrary to what their MySpace page says) airs at 11:30am weekdays on NBC4.

My friends Camille and Sandra are the brains behind Shopper Shuttle, the company that Manolo calls "this business of genius", and they called me to help out with the taping. Last year(?) I taped a segment for an Australian TV show called "The Great Outdoors" for Shopper Shuttle, which turned out well (according to them, but I cringed when I saw the clip) and so they wanted me to do the same thing - take the segment producer and host to the best shopping in Los Angeles with Shopper Shuttle.

I'm not used to getting up early, so it was a challenge to get me to the NBC studios in Burbank by 9am. Then they wanted me to drive the shuttle and talk to the host and camera about why Shopper Shuttle serves up the best shopping experience. The producer and cameraman asked me to wear my blinged-out sunglasses during the segment, which was fine except that I wear glasses and my sunglasses weren't prescription. So I kept driving into the curb and slamming on the brakes to avoid hitting the cars in front of me. The poor host, who sat behind me in the shuttle, kept slamming into the back of my seat (he was the only one not wearing a seat belt) whenever I saw red tail lights. The segment producer seemed a little nervous every time the wheels hit the curb, but no one said anything, although they all seemed a little tense.

On-camera, the host asked me about where the best shopping in Los Angeles could be found and although downtown's Fashion District wasn't on the day's itinerary (but I covered it extensively for the Australian show), I said, "I love shopping in downtown LA, it's hands-down the best area to shop", or something like that. Then the cameraman stopped shooting and told me that he just moved to downtown Los Angeles two days ago. He lives a few blocks away from me and seemed like a really nice guy so I gave him many hints on how to best navigate his new 'hood.

I was jacked up on caffeine, so I'm probably going to come off like the biggest spaz, but it airs this Wednesday at 11:30am on NBC4. I hope they don't edit out all the instances where I ran into the curb. Oh yeah, if anyone books a shopping excursion on Shopper Shuttle to shop downtown, I can be convinced to share my downtown shopping secrets - gratis. Just let them know you want the "5th and Spring "downtown shopping experience.

very be careful

Thursday night, the phone rings. It was Kitty. "You have to drop what you're doing. I need you to come down to Pershing Square right now."

I was already in the car, on my way to dinner with Jim and my brother. "Why, what's going on?"

"It's a scene, and I need you to come down here right now."

My brother was at the wheel, the car sat at the corner of 5th and Los Angeles Street. "So where are we going?" he asked.

"Pershing Square. It's a scene."

We found parking in front of Cicada and walked over to Pershing Square. We heard music and people on the skating rink. We dodged the rats scurrying from lit tree to lit tree, passed the vendors selling funnel cake and chinese food, and made our way to the front, by the band.

There she was, sitting with a friend in front of the band, behind the dancers and in front of the ice rink.

"Who's the band?"

"Very Be Careful. They have a huge bike messenger following."

I looked around. Yeah, that was evident. I liked them, they rocked the Square. I think half of all the off-duty security guards in downtown were also in attendance. I looked at the rink - lots of action there, too. Jim remembered that he read something about Spaceland in Pershing Square on Thursdays.

"How did you come to know about these guys?"

"They've played Cole's before."

"So this is a scene, huh?"

Kitty yelled, "It is too a scene, and don't you say anything different!"

"No, I'm not questioning that, I just wanted to get an idea of what your baseline is for 'scene'."

Kitty then mentioned that the "rodeo clown" that she was crushing on was out on the rink and that he had rejected her advances. I didn't take her seriously at first and made fun of him. Actually, he's not a rodeo clown, but she did keep referring to him by his profession, rather than by his name. Which made me less inclined to take her seriously. So as not to give it away in case he reads this, he's a rodeo clown. Then Kitty whined, "Celia, I really liked him."

"Okay, I'm sorry. I won't make fun of the rodeo clown."

Things were winding down after a while and Jim didn't want to dance. So we left for dinner. We drove past the square and spotted the rodeo clown crossing the street, on the way back to the ice rink. And he was holding hands with some chick. I called Kitty, "Hand the phone to your friend, K," I ordered.

K got on the phone, "Yeah, we're still here but it's breaking up."

"Get Kitty out of there, I just spotted the rodeo clown on the way back, and he's holding hands with some chick."

After I hung up, Jim reminded me that I couldn't blog about it or Kitty would know about the rodeo clown.

"Nah, it's one thing to read about it a few days later, it's another thing to see it for yourself." But yeah, it was a scene.

serenity now

My nerves are shot. I sent off my screenplay to the Development Exec this past Thursday. It's going out for this weekend's read. So far, three studios are interested. Bigshot Producer doesn't want to go wide. The third one had requested the screenplay twice. It's perfect for them, "Exactly what they're looking for," I'm told.

I sat there decompressing after I sent it off. I didn't know what to do with myself, I was still pretty wound up, kind of like right now. Is it really two days later? I really can't relax, not until I hear what they think about the script. Will there be more rewrites? Will I be hired to rewrite them or will they hire the director's best friend to rewrite me?

I looked at the list that Jim compiled, the list of all the things we need to do for the wedding. I think this is when I start panicking, there's still so much left to do. But all I can think is, "I wonder if they're reading it right now. I wonder what they think about the second act midpoint? Or the third act." So I start outlining my next script, I go over my notes from film school, I silently freak out.

Friday I checked a bunch of things off the wedding to-do list. Bought the fur, check. Bought the flower girls' dresses and jacket, the junior bridesmaid's dress and jacket, check, check. I fired our florist last week (that's a whole other story), so I made appointments with other florists, check. Now if I can only find my passport I'll have one less thing to stress out about. I am a raw bundle of nerves.

light a candle

Today, Bristol-Myers Squibb, the pharmaceutical monolith that charges nearly $1,000 for a 30 day supply of one of its HIV/AIDS medications, is donating $1 to the National AIDS Fund for each person who simply visits their website and "virtually lights a candle." The tally is over 900,000 now.

Please take a minute to "light a candle":

www.lighttounite.org

This really will take just a second; please forward this on to other friends, ask everyone you can to help.

Thanks!

my bachelorette party

My fiance Jim doesn't want strippers at his bachelor party, nor does he want to hit a strip club. I know, I don't understand it either. But I'm getting ahead of the story, let me back up. Let's talk about the groomsmen.

Jim's best man is his younger brother, Jeff. They're both on the shy, quiet side. My brother Angel is also a groomsman. He's not shy, very outgoing, actually. But he's a Bible-thumper and completely guileless. Rounding out the group is my brother-in-law, James. He's a very quiet, talented, and sensitive artist. He's got books like I got tunes, shoes and issues - plenty. Do you see where I'm getting at here? If I let these guys walk into a strip club without me, they're gonna get fleeced.

So I suggested, that we combine the bachelor and bachelorette parties and together, we'd all hit Sam's Hofbrau, the best strip club in Los Angeles. Yes, better than Jumbo's Clown Room, even better than The Gold Room in Atlanta (damn I miss making Internet-boom-era cash) - though there is considerable talent to be found in those other places as well. I wish I could compare it to The Great Alaskan Bush Company, but I just remembered that Jim's mom reads my blog. Hi Janice, please skip to the next paragraph. I think I've said it before, if Cole's had strippers, you'd be at Sam's. I saw this chick, who, during a table dance, used her hoo-hoo to part her customer's hair. I sat in the booth across from him and it looked like her ass was gonna swallow his head. So you can understand why I heartily recommend Sam's.

Jim went along with that plan for a while. But during my bridal shower weekend a while back, he admitted that he had no desire to hit a strip club, whether the parties were combined or not. So now the parties have been separated and Jim's party will be a stripper-free zone. Do you see how I did that, how we're back to Jim not wanting strippers at his bachelor part? So now I wrap it up.

I'm trying to figure out what I want to do for my bachelorette party, besides having both genders represented. Strip club? Drunkfest at a local watering hole or private venue? Group colon hydrotherapy? Spa weekend? Feel free to leave suggestions in the comments. A couple of you have already emailed me (I'm looking at you, generalurko, drugbuddy and burtbaccarat) with party questions, but suggest something here again and anyways. Love ya, mean it.

non-drowsy formula my ass

We had something like 30 people over for Thanksgiving dinner, I'm coming down with something (didn't know what back then but it looks like the flu and feels like black death), and in the middle of cutting up potatoes, I managed to slice my finger from knuckle to fingertip. Game over. I'm screaming, "Jesus God that's a lot of blood!" while standing over the kitchen sink and scare the shit out of Jim. He performs first aid and the rest of the dinner went by in a blur. Then someone picks up the microphone and before I know it, it's karaoke time. Am I supposed to be drinking alcohol when I have an open wound? Never mind, Walk On By is on and I'm grabbing the mike from our 2-year-old flower girl. The score on the monitor afterwards tells me "You need more effort." Like I need a karaoke machine to tell me that.

The next few days are, again, a blur. Why? Because I don't care what they say on the package, it is not a non-drowsy formula. I've got deadlines looming over my phlegm-clogged head and I can barely hold it up to look at the mess I've made of my screenplay. Development Executive calls me every day from Boston to see how it's coming along and damn she's good - I can feel her trying to will me into completing the damn thing and emailing her pages so she can read it on the plane ride back home. "This week is crucial," she declared ominously. But her voodoo isn't that strong. She probably read the in-flight magazine instead, cursing me the entire way.

Somehow the refrigerator full of leftovers from Thursday night has been cleared. Somewhat. We still have pie. It doesn't taste as good, eaten through the residue of cherry-flavored expectorant/cough syrup. Everyone, please send good ju-ju my way, I need it.

how i lost and got kitty back

Earlier this year, Jim gifted me with a Hello Kitty personal massager for Valentine's Day. Yes, you read that correctly, there is such a thing as a Hello Kitty vibrator.




A few weeks ago I attended a screenwriting conference and brought "Kitty" along. Jim threw her and a few other items into the nightstand drawer. At conference's end, I packed hurriedly and forgot "Kitty" and other items in the nightstand drawer. When we got home and started to unpack, Jim realized that we left "Kitty" behind. Screaming, I lunged for the phone and called the hotel. They connected me to housekeeping, but when no one answered, the operator came back and said to call back at 9am the next morning when they opened.

After a sleepless night, I got hold of housekeeping at 9:01am the next morning. The woman who answered said that no Hello Kitty vibrator had been turned in. I asked to be re-connected with the hotel operator, but was hung up on instead. I dialed back and spoke to a different person, but explained again that I had just checked out the day before, had called as soon as I realized my Hello Kitty vibrator was missing, and suggested that perhaps "Kitty" was still in the room, lying undiscovered in the nightstand drawer. The operator was going to transfer me to Security, where I could tell my story to yet another hotel employee, the fifth one to hear how I had left behind my Hello Kitty vibrator in the nightstand drawer. Mercifully, she asked Security to go to the room and rescue "Kitty", but she said that a man had already checked into the room Jim and I were in and they could only go inside if the guest was there.

After what seemed like an eternity on hold, the operator came back on the line and said that no one answered and Security wasn't able to go in the room to check. She did, however, talk to Housekeeping and verified that they threw "Kitty" away.

"Is that your company policy," I asked, "to throw away items that guests inadvertently leave behind?"

"No, ma'am, it is not," she replied.

"I would like to speak to whoever is in charge of guest services."

The operator tried to connect me to his office, but he was "unavailable." She asked if I wanted to leave a message. I said, "No, I don't want to leave a message. Who are you trying to connect me with? She gave his name and title. I then asked, "Who is his supervisor and could you please connect me with him or her?"

She gave me the supervisor's name and title, then tried to connect me. He was unavailable, but his assistant would talk to me. I took a deep breath and explained to this woman what had happened and how horrifying it was for me to tell the story several times about my lost Hello Kitty vibrator. I recited a litany of complaints re my time spent at their hotel and how this was the final straw. I realize how ridiculous I must have sounded, a woman coming undone because of a missing Hello Kitty vibrator. She assured me that they would resolve the situation to my satisfaction and that she would confer with her boss to come up with a solution.

I got off the phone and Jim said, "You realize that you'll be the talk of the hotel staff for quite some time." I screamed at the heavens, "I don't care, I want my Kitty!"

An hour later the man in charge of guest services called to apologize and that he would be more than happy to replace "Kitty". I wonder if he heard Jim laughing at me in the background. I gave him my address and the URL where he could purchase another Hello Kitty vibrator, then hung up, still despondent over the loss of "Kitty".

Jim then reminded me, "You know, your Hello Kitty suitcase got a lot of attention from the hotel staff when we were checking in and out. I'm sure once this story circulates around the hotel, they'll say, 'Oh, I bet it was that chick with the Hello Kitty luggage!'" Great, just what I wanted to be known for.

There is a happy ending to this story, though. A week or so later, while Jim's mom and Aunt Suzanne were visiting, a DHL package arrived addressed to "Celia Assguerra". It was my new Hello Kitty vibrator.

why am i wearing a hat made out of corn husks?

Jim and I went to Aardvark Letterpress this past Saturday to pick up our wedding invitations. They're beautiful and I'm so jazzed!

Then we walked down the street to the Tamale Festival and ran into Don Garza, Dave and his wife Penelope. Somehow, I found myself sitting onstage next to Don, as one of the judges for the Best Tamale Contest.

When I woke up Saturday morning, I had no plans to judge a gourmet tamale contest. I just wanted to pick up the invitations, eat a few tamales, then head back home to spend several more hours writing. Dave and Penelope couldn't stay, they took off. Jim reminded me that we were having dinner with my parents and my Aunt Beth and Uncle Danny from Florida at 6pm. But I couldn't turn down the opportunity to sample all those tamales. So Don handed his camera to Jim to take pictures, then he and I took our seats onstage, forks at the ready.

There were five judges in all, including me and Don. The tamales were rated 1 to 5, 5 being the highest score, on presentation, texture, flavor, originality and overall. We tasted chicken, pork, beef, vegetarian and dessert tamales. The first category we tasted were the chicken tamales and there were seven entries in that category alone. It took forever for all the judges to sample all the entries. I noticed the time and said to my fellow judges, "Can we make this snappy? I have a dinner thing I can't be late for."

The beef and pork categories went by a lot faster, despite the chit-chat between the judges. The judge to my right whispered to me that she was just giving a score of 2 across the board for presentation and originality. She stopped talking to me when I told her that was just plain lazy. Jeez, I was kidding. We're sitting at a folding table on a stage in the middle of 7th Street in MacArthur Park, not on a Food Network sound stage.

Then it was time to judge the vegetarian category. The judge to my left suggested we judge the vegetarian ones on presentation alone since no one really wanted to eat a vegetarian tamale. It was tempting, considering that by this time we had tasted about 21 tamales. But I tasted and rated all the vegetarian ones, it was only fair. Surprisingly, one of my favorite tamales won in the vegetarian tamale category (Gourmet Tamales).

I had a blast eating tamales and watching the audience from the stage. The entire time we were onstage, there were two drunks in front, dancing and screaming at the MC in Spanish. I didn't understand what they were saying, but they'd punctuate their rants with a shimmy and a booty shake so it was all highly entertaining. Finally, trophies were handed out in all categories and I got out of there in time to make dinner. But not before I was made to wear a hat made out of corn husks. Pictures of that can be found here. I still can't believe no booze was involved.

corruption in the wga?

I attended the Screenwriter's Conference & Expo last week and took Jim with me. In addition to the panels that were free with registration, they scheduled a Day of Pixar, which Jim attended, so he had plenty to see and do. I was able to test my iPod voice recorder on a couple classes and seminars, but the battery died after an hour of recording, so all my lecture/seminar recordings are incomplete. Sigh.

On Thursday, there was a special all-day session focused on pitching. The comedic highlight of the day was Dave Johnson's cautionary tale of what not to do on a pitch - specifically, he advised that you go to the bathroom before going into a pitch so that you won't have to pee into an empty Evian bottle while sitting in your MiniCooper in the parking structure. Refraining from doing that means you won't look like a perv holding your penis in your car and you won't accidentally spill urine on your jeans like he did. Yeah, pretty basic stuff, but helpful just the same.

Finally, don't sit/lie on the hood of your car so that the sun will dry the wet spot on your jeans, and certainly don't try to rub it vigorously to dry it, like he did. You never know if the producer you're pitching with will pull up at that exact moment. But if that does happen to you, like it did to Dave, try to wash your hands before the meeting. And if you don't get a chance to wash before your meeting, don't tell the room. But if you do decide to tell the room that you peed into a water bottle in the parking lot and spilled it onto your jeans and didn't wash your hands, tell them after you shake hands, like he did. I'm so glad I was there to get all that down. I'll never pee into an empty water bottle in my car right before a pitch, not anymore.

JF Lawton spoke later that afternoon and got all the paranoid writers in the room riled up. He spoke of the different ways he got ripped off, how other writers he knows got ripped off, and how those in the audience could get ripped off in Hollywood. For those not familiar with his work, this is the guy who wrote Pretty Woman, Under Siege (1 & 2), and the Pamela Anderson TV show, VIP (hey, my sister was a producer on that show!). Lawton was bitter and angry, practically spitting out the incendiary words. The crowd was eating it up.

Then Lawton mentioned that he and eleven (?) other writers are cooperating with the Justice Department and the FBI, testifying against the Writer's Guild on a corruption case. He said that the New York Times is working on a story that tells how elections at the WGA are rigged and that the entire executive board has been stealing from writers, taking bribes in arbitration cases, and dirty dealing with every studio in town. The crowd was working itself into a frenzy. Behind me I heard grumblings, everything from "I knew it, I knew those people would steal my ideas," to "They're out to screw us writers!" He went on to answer questions but kept repeating, "Just wait, the story will be in the New York Times any day now."

Then, just as the crowd was at a fever pitch, it was over. He was gone and the crew scrambled to get the stage ready for the next speaker. The hotel ballroom buzzed with a negative energy. I didn't know how anyone was going to follow that act. Then the next speaker, Robert Kosberg, took the mike and said, shaking his head, "Boy, I thought I was jaded and cynical."

I'm dying to read all about it.

birthday monkey

Today is my fiance's birthday and I'm taking him to Disneyland for the day, then for a Thai massage. He's so hard to shop for, you know what I mean?

sunday, dwp fountain

On the way home from Griffith Observatory, I noticed that the fountains at the DWP Building were on. I pointed them out to Jim in the car and he said, "Wow." So I pointed my car at the Temple Street exit and before Jim knew it, we were parked in front, I grabbed my camera and was in front of the building, taking a few photos.








Then I crossed the street to the Music Center. The fountains were going off.





What a great way to end a very full Sunday.

sunday, griffith observatory

After leaving Club 33, Jim and I zoomed up to the Griffith Observatory. As Jim mentioned on his blog post, Mack Reed of LA Voice posted some great shots of the newly-renovated Observatory. But Mack took daytime pics and we were there at night. I got up on the roof to check out the telescope and the view took my breath away.





Our friends Helena and Garen came with us and we were the only ones on the shuttle from Hollywood & Highland. I was concerned that the place would be swarmed, but having the entire shuttle to ourselves was only a harbinger of things to come. There were very few people, I guess everyone wanted to see the Observatory by the light of day.





After taking a gazillion photos, I looked for the telescope.





Found it. They moved the dome around while we were in there and I chatted up one of the staffers. He seemed kind of bitter, griping here and there about the current management of the Observatory, but he answered all my dumb questions and was really passionate about his work. Then I checked out the pendulum, but mostly I eavesdropped on the staffers.








Hey look! Saturn and Uranus! (I know, I'm a child.)




Make your reservations asap, they did a nice job on the place. I know I'll be back.

sunday, club 33

Jim already posted something on his blog about our busy Sunday, hopping from the exclusive, members-only Club 33 in Disneyland to the Griffith Observatory, to catching the fountains at the DWP Building on our way home. These are my Club 33 pics:











It was pretty crowded because of Disney's Halloween Time and their Haunted Mansion Holiday, but my friend Berda was celebrating her 25th anniversary of working for SBC and I had never been to Club 33 before, so I was really excited to check it out, crowds be damned.





We were in the dining room at the top of the landing, right next to the elevator.




The waiter was nice enough to keep my champagne glass filled. The buffet was chill, they had all-you-can-eat lobster, crab and shrimp, which came in handy because we were surrounded by members of the Lemon-Butter Club, and a great dessert buffet, too. Balconies lined one side of our dining room and we could look out over New Orleans Square, the other walls had framed photographs and memorabilia.








The toilet was weird. I was told it was shaped like a throne. Not so much.





Thanks again to Berda for the invitation to a great lunch at Club 33 and congratulations on your anniversary!

slacker bride

I've got two months and 27 days before my wedding and I'm running a little behind in the planning department. I'm not panicked and I'm not turning into bridezilla (but I received two emails asking if I'd be interested in appearing on the show anyway), I just can't get all worked up about planning it. Mostly, I wish I could just show up and eat cake.

Since my wedding planner decided to quit his job and travel around the world for a year, we had to get a new one. And the new one is great, don't get me wrong, but I just don't think she understands what she's dealing with here. She said something during a meeting about Jim's and my "spiritual path" and I almost did a spit take. I started to laugh, so Jim poked me in the ribs so I'd behave but it had the opposite effect. Wait, which one am I again, Beavis or Butthead?

We're not going to elope, but sometimes I wish I could just snap my fingers and it's January 14, 2007 and it's all over except for the honeymoon. That's another thing. We were considering Thailand because we wanted to stay at this resort where we can learn to train elephants and another where monkeys bring us coconuts and beverages. Then they had this military coup and Jim didn't care about monkeys so much. We were over at my mom and dad's the next week and my mom told us she was going to school to be a travel agent.

"Great," I said, eager to get the travel arrangements off my list, "we'll be your first clients. We want to honeymoon in the Maldives, probably at Kuda Huraa for a week, on the luxury catamaran, The Explorer, for a few days, then that new resort that opens in November, I forget the name."

My mom turned to my dad, beaming, "Great! I've got my first clients already!" Then she turns to me and with a straight face, asks, "Where are the Maldives?" Sufficeth to say, we're looking for a new travel agent.

I think cake tastings are the only good thing about planning your wedding. It certainly isn't the budgeting. Jim and I ate cake all last week. We finally picked a cake designer/baker and that has me excited. Sometimes I wake up in the morning thinking of cake. Not the wedding cake, just cake. Jim's been laughing at me because he'll look over and catch me with this beatific smile on my face. He'll ask, "What are you smiling about?" and I laugh when I realize the answer is, "Cake!" Happened at least three times a day, every day last week.

There's still so much to do besides cake. Jim hasn't picked out what he's wearing yet and although I picked out my dress weeks ago and it's now hanging in my closet, I have grown to hate it. I must have been in the throes of temporary insanity, because I picked up a tiara while I was at it. Me, in a tiara. In an un-ironic way.

Jim and bridesmaids reassure me that everything's going to be fine, we've got plenty of time. Then we received a card from my cousin Maria, who is getting married in April 2007. It was a "Save The Date" card. Did I mention that we just managed to get our "Save The Date" cards in the mail a day or so before we received hers? In addition to the reminder, Maria secured special airfare and hotel rates and included that information with the card. Yeah, we suck.

Maybe I'm somewhat in denial and I'll start to really panic about a month before and work up to a nice buildup by the wedding day. And I was really hoping to avoid being one of those sedated brides.

shopper shuttle excursion

My friend Camille, who owns and operates a great shopping service called Shopper Shuttle, called me, "There's a winery near the Camarillo Outlet that we want to check out. Would you and Jim like to help us evaluate their winery tour and tasting, make sure it's something we can recommend to our customers?" Hmm, let me think, wine and shopping, and someone else drives. Without hesitation (and without asking Jim), I jumped up and down, yelling, "Yes! Yes! Count us in!"

Jim made a face when I told him about the shopping part. "Don't worry, there's a Nike outlet, a Levi's outlet," I took a deep breath and lied, "And I'm sure there's a Mac store there, too."

As it turned out, Jim was sick that day and stayed home in bed. The winery tour sucked, the people that worked in the restaurant there were rude, and the woman who gave the tour looked and acted like the witch who tried to eat Hansel and Gretel. No lie, she bitched out a woman because she left her stroller at the bottom of the stairs and let her kid wander more than six feet away from her. I thought she was going to drop-kick the kid on her way back to our group. We were really taken back by her outburst, but grew extremely uncomfortable when she stage whispered nasty things about "those people" to our tour group. Once out of earshot, Matt (the only guy in our tour thanks to Jim being "sick") impersonated her voice, saying, "How did you get out of the oven, little girl? Get back in there!" Highlight of the tour. Needless to say, that winery didn't make the cut.

At least the drive up there and back was beautiful. We took the coastal route, here's the group, looking at the seascape on the way back.


Looking back where we came from, then south towards Los Angeles.







Shopper Shuttle is taking reservations for Thanksgiving weekend shopping excursions. I'll probably take their Shuttle to the Camarillo Outlet for their Day After Thanksgiving Sales, since their stores open at midnight. I went last year, got there around 2am and didn't come back until 7:30am. However, I went shopping at South Coast Plaza with my mom right after breakfast, from about 8:30am until midnight. That's what, almost twenty hours of shopping? And probably about nineteen more hours than Jim is willing to do. So I guess I'm going shopping with the Shopping Sherpas again that weekend.

mail bag

We get email:

Dear Vagina Monologue:

I realize you're in the throes of wedding planning bliss, but could you maybe update your blog already? Tell me about the trannies, hookers, drug dealers, corpulent security guards, lofties, their dogs, increased police presence, and kooky behavior on the piss-soaked streets of rapidly-gentrifying downtown. Where's your astrologer? Are you still hanging out with your drug buddy? Where is your supersecrelatenighthangout? Where should I go to get the best burger/sushi/thai/chinese/bbq/mexican/armenian/pizza after 2am downtown, and do you think Fiore's is better than Pinkberry, location aside?

best,

Chunks

Yeah, sorry about that. I blame it on work. But now the television project that I was working on is over. They wanted to extend my contract, but I wasn't feeling it. Feels good to turn down work I can't get excited about. Most importantly, I finally turned in the screenplay to Bigshot Producer and they like it. She called me the other day to get my input on casting. The next few weeks could be very exciting.