the new cw

This morning, I went to the DMV to get my name changed on my driver's license. It seemed like I was the only one in the joint who made an appointment. I walked in, strolled past the long-ass, no-appointment line, and went to the head of the appointments line. The clerk helped me immediately, annoying everyone standing in line next to me. I sat down with my numbered slip, looking at the monitor for my number to be called. There was a couple sitting behind me and I asked them, "Have you guys been waiting a long time?"

The woman let out a loud sigh, "Yes, forever."

"Did you make an appointment or did you walk in?"

The man shook his head, "No, we should've made one. We've been here all morning."

She asked, "What number do you have?"

I showed her my slip, she showed me hers. I seemed to be quite a ways behind them. So I fired up my iPod, inserted the earbuds and watched the drama unfold around me. Even with the earbuds in I could hear this woman screaming at a clerk, her head full of pink rollers shaking violently. I don't know how the people working there do it, I would go from zero to batshit in record time. Then the woman sitting behind me tapped my shoulder, "Isn't that your number on the screen?"

I looked up. Yeah, that's me. Damn, that was quick. I thanked her and made my way across the room. The clerk shuffled a few papers, tapped something into a computer, and then directed me to yet another window to take my picture. The woman in pink curlers was standing ahead of me in line, pulling her curlers out, complaining that she wouldn't look good in her picture because she didn't know she had to retake her picture. She finally yanked them all out and patted her hair down, yelling the whole time about trying to look good. The clerks behind the desk were poker-faced, but as soon as she left, the one taking pictures turned to her co-worker and said, "She crazy." The co-worker just shook her head and said, "That's my people."

They snapped my picture and I asked, "Does it look okay? Because I think I left a curler in." Stonefaced and ignoring a perfectly good joke, she turned the monitor around so I could see. I made a face.

"You don't like it? It looks cute."

I shrugged, figuring they weren't going to do a reshoot "Eh."

I turned and walked away, but I was only ten feet away when I heard them laughing and they called me back.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

"No, we just got your joke," they laughed. "Do you want to take your picture again?"

So they took another picture and I asked, "How does it look?"

She didn't even bother to turn it around. "Exactly the same."

Right after lunch I dealt with getting my name changed on my passport. Since my old one was issued less than a year ago, there's no charge for changing my name. But for whatever reason, it took three employees to get my re-application together. So helpful. Then I was asked to sign the application, raise my right hand, and swear everything on the application was true. I picked up the pen to write, but then I hesitated, "Sign using which name? The new one or the old one?"

"The new one, baby. That's your only name now."

weekend full of jim

I can't believe it's already Tuesday and I still haven't told you about my weekend. Jim has been telling me for ages (ok, a little over a year) about this donut place near Harvey Mudd (his alma mater) that has amazing donuts filled with fresh strawberry goodness. So after sitting on this information for too long, I got it in my mind that we had to go this past Saturday. Jim agreed. So I call Angel and tell him we're all going to Glendora for strawberry donuts.



It took us an hour, but Jim the Donut Man was worth leaving downtown for. Those strawberry donuts? It was like strawberry and glazed donut sex in my mouth. I also tried the bavarian cream, which was like creamy filling and chocolate-glazed donut sex in my mouth. The tiger tails were good, too. I don't remember what happened after that.



Then on Sunday night, we had Jim (fresh from the FOB to promote his book, LA Noir) and Gabrielle over for dinner, to thank them once again for guest-blogging and loft-sitting for us while we were in Hawaii. My Jim made margaritas using our new blender (thanks Jeff!), we caught up on each other's lives, barbecued some Hawaiian chicken and sesame salmon, they watched Sopranos, and Reverend Jim schooled me on graphic novels and comic books. Thanks again Jim and Gabrielle, for keeping the loft and the blog safe.

I don't think we can allow anymore people named Jim, James, or Angel into our lives, not unless they have a nickname, like Tastypants. Then it's okay. Otherwise, it's getting too confusing.

we're #1

The American Lung Association just released their list of the most polluted cities in the country and Los Angeles is number one on the list of Metropolitan Areas Most Polluted by Short-term Particle Pollution, number one on the list of Metropolitan Areas Most Polluted by Year-Round Particle Pollution, and lastly, number one on the list of 25 Most Ozone-Polluted Cities.

Downtown Los Angeles may be the third bloggiest neighborhood in the country, but we're number one in breathing air that sucks. Whooo! I love LA! From the American Lung Association's website:

The American Lung Association State of the Air 2007 report grades communities across the nation based on the number of days they have unhealthful levels of air pollution. The grades come from the color-coded alert system called the Air Quality Index, which may be familiar from newspaper, radio, television and on-line weather forecasts.

march through downtown

It's so noisy downtown, what with all the news helicopters flying around trying to get a good shot of the May 1st rally for workers and immigrants' rights. There's all sorts of info online where you can find which streets are closed and how to avoid being inconvenienced, but if you haven't figured things out by now...

I feel a little guilty about not marching this year. You see, I'm a naturalized citizen, an immigrant, a 1.5-er. I'm in-between the first generation, those born in another country who immigrated to the U.S. as adults, and the second generation, those born in the U.S. of immigrant parents. I was born in the Philippines and my parents emigrated legally to the U.S. when I was a child. I understand how difficult it was for my parents to emigrate and what a difference it's made in my world, but I still feel a little disconnected. I don't speak with an accent and most of my pop culture references are American. I understand my native language of Tagalog, but don't speak it fluently. I'm thoroughly westernized, but as I get older I realize how much I am influenced by my Asian roots and less by American mores.

I marched last year, does that count? Adam isn't around to march with us this year, he's still traveling around the world. I know that's not an excuse. And I miss Lucas, too.

I don't think this march is going to make as much of an impact (positive or negative), or be as effective as last year's marches. You know what, never mind. Don't look back. Jeez, I just re-read what I was blogging about two years ago. Sometimes, it's better to look forward.

the bitch is back

My second favorite dive bar, Shinsho Tei, is in Honolulu, at the intersection of Nuuanu and School. And every time I go there, it's Tranny Night. Now that I think about it, Cole's, which was my favorite dive bar, has been sold and is currently closed for renovation, so I guess Shinsho Tei is now my favorite dive bar.

Cousin Angel and I remembered that the last time we were there, my sister Laura was with us. The regulars at the bar were hard to win over, but we did, and we closed down the place doing it. That night's tranny was a masculine 6'1 with broad shoulders and barrel-chested, wearing a pink mini-dress and a red hibiscus tucked into his long dark hair.

As soon as my cousin G, Lisa and Teegan showed up, we all toasted Laura, then did shots and flipped through the books to see what we'd sing that night. I guess I can forget singing the Pussycat Dolls' hit, Don't Cha - the tranny in the booth next to us is already singing it, and putting a new spin to it, "Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me... don't cha,", and in case you missed his/her viewpoint, it came complete with illuminating dance moves.

Cousin Angel is in rare form, jeez, he's on fire. I don't remember what his first few numbers were, but our group and the regulars are loving it. Thanks to him, we won over the tough crowd early. I think I sang Carole King's I Feel The Earth Move, but then it was Cousin Angel's turn again and he sang The Bitch Is Back. He tore the place apart. One of the trannies in the house got up and started dancing and singing with him, "I'm the bitch, I'm the bitch!"Angel uploaded the video, the most hilarious being us singing along on certain parts and laughing our asses off.



After his triumphant performance, Cousin Angel started talking to everyone, people at the bar and from other tables and booths, but mostly to the tranny and company in the booth next to us. Then the moment happened - they asked for our names. Cousin Angel and I forgot to have that conversation in the car beforehand - after all, what happens in Honolulu stays in Honolulu, right? We couldn't tell them our real names, but we didn't come up with our aliases beforehand. So Cousin Angel did his best, telling them, "I'm Angel FuckMeInTheButt and this is my cousin, Celia EatMyAssOut." Did I mention that he still had the mic in his hand?

Shinsho Tei
1613 Nuuanu Ave
Honolulu, HI 96817
(808) 528-1007

it's not dolores, but it rhymes with another female body part

I recently read on Ed's blog that Pastagina will be opening up in the retail space at the Hikari Apartments in Little Tokyo. Are you kidding me? Pastagina? Mama mia, that's hilarious. Yeah, that just puts me in the mood to eat pasta. How's the putanesca? I hear the marinara is so good, you want to be ears deep in it. Jeez, that's even better than going to Angelique and ordering an Orangina (especially since they switched to Arranciata), or eating at the Pink Taco.

I know, I'm a child.

Pastagina opens in Little Tokyo in May 2007, with both their Third & Grand and Hope and 9th stores opening Summer 2007.

rolling through downtown

Check out this trailer for 1st and Hope, a film about an afternoon spent skateboarding through downtown Los Angeles, from 1st and Hope to the Staples Center. Yes, I'm procrastinating. Okay, I'll go back to rewriting my screenplay now.

downtown dog owners beware!

I read the craziest thing over at newdowntown - first there was this:

"Dear New Downtowners,

Please keep an eye on your dog when walking him/her in the downtown area. Apparently, there are a couple guys who are making accusations towards dog owners saying they "stole" their dog and are demanding that the dog be returned to them. They say their dog jumped out of the window of their car and then say you are taking the dog. They even go so far as to call the police. Please be very careful when leaving your dog - even for a minute - while you pop into a store or run in for a
coffee."

Kind regards,
Nancy-Jean Carlson, Owner
Pet Project,
Downtown's Exclusive Pet Food Home Delivery Service

Then, from Joe (you know Joe, he's always walking his beautiful dog Ruby around 4th and Main) comes this horrifying story:

"Thank you for posting the warning, Nancy-Jean.

Unfortunately, I was a victim of the two Hispanic guys yesterday (4-25). I was returning home from a dog walk around 4:30 pm with my bull terrier Ruby when they confronted me on the street at 6th and Main and tried to take Ruby away from me.

A police car stopped and the men told the police I took Ruby from their car. The police believed the men! One cop asked me how old Ruby is. I told him 9 years old. He told me that Ruby is two years old. "That is not your dog," one cop told me. "You have to return their dog."

I was pushed against the parking lot fence and handcuffed. Then I was placed in a police car while Ruby remained with the two men.

The officers were abusive. They asked me if I was under the influence of medication and if I wanted a white dog just like one I had when I was little.

I finally convinced them (after much begging) to take me to the San Fernando Building to establish the fact that Ruby is mine. Another cop car arrived and stayed with the men and my dog. One cop said "coo coo" the whole two block trip home. They also referred to the cardboard box they thought I lived in.

Things changed when I reached home. The building security guard, neighbors, the management crew, business owners (including Nancy-Jean) and Tom Gilmore and Trish Keefer all vouched for me and Ruby. The other cops brought the two men and Ruby to the building and everyone identified her. A third cop car later arrived. The handcuffs were finally removed and Ruby was returned to me.

Despite all of that, though, I still had to take the two cops to my unit to show them proof that I live with a dog. Then later they returned to take pictures of Ruby and me together.

I have filed a complaint against the two cops and I am going to meet with them and the head of Central Division on Monday afternoon. I was abused by those two cops and I will do my best to make them accountable for their bad behavior.

...and the two men? They were turned loose and could still possibly be around the area. Other dog walkers should wisely take Nancy-Jean's warning to heart."

Joe

As a former dog owner (Flagg passed away in 2004 after 13+ wonderful years) and fan of Ruby (we ran into them often when Jim lived at the San Fernando), I was sick when I read of Joe's encounter with the police and wish him the best of luck on Monday when he meets with the head of Central Division. I shudder to think that the two men were left free to prey on other dog-owners. Be careful out there!

downtown filming, downtown blogs

I read Ed and Eric's posts re new rules for downtown filming available on the FilmLA website. I love that I can get my essential info on downtown living from downtown blogs rather than the Downtown News or any other traditional media source. But there is still a lot of helpful information that I don't see covered and I know I'm guilty of not posting the most useful stuff or the most hilarious gossip anymore. I promise, more good stuff to come and less of my Hello Kitty obsession. Jeez, I did it again. Where was I? Oh yeah, back to filming downtown. Damn, that simulated gunfire from the film crew down the street is loud.

Eric states on blogdowntown (and I heartily agree), "Aside from the PDF making it sound like Film LA is making these changes of their own free will, the rules are a good start toward making filming a better neighbor. "

It is a very good start and I'm so appreciative of DLANC's Residential Committee for all they've done to make this happen and for their continued efforts. Special thanks to Benjamin Pezzillo, Bert Green and Ginny Marie Case.

But I have to laugh at Ed's theory, "I think it has something to do with Downtown being the '3rd "bloggiest' neighborhood." Hey, weren't we just talking about that after that residential meeting? Ed suggested that we have a picnic or barbecue for all downtown bloggers. I think we should have a meet-up at Lost Souls for all downtown bloggers and the people who read them. Anybody interested in going to that?

Here's an interesting viewpoint- I read this blog post re the ACLU, the cleaning up of Skid Row and downtown development. This woman's take on things is titled, " How the Supreme Court killed downtown Los Angeles". Why can't the Downtown News run articles like this instead of the same old rah-rah real estate stories?

then christ spoke to us

The plan was to drive around Oahu, stopping at all the yummy places to eat and maybe burn off some calories at a few of the beaches along the way. We had already gorged ourselves on malasadas from Leonard's the day before - original sugar as well as the pineapple custard-filled, haupia-filled, chocolate-filled, and sugar and cinnamon malasadas. I don't remember what we did after that.


Jim's first malasada

Jim and I waited outside the Waikiki Banyan for my brother Angel and Cousin Angel. I was surprised to see my mom sitting in the minivan as it pulled up. She wanted to go on the culinary tour of the island as well. I guess we had to watch our language and couldn't get too raunchy. Then Cousin Angel pointed out "The Semen Tree" where he lost his virginity, a bush where he made out with a cute Portuguese guy and other familiar-looking flora. I looked back at my mom - no reaction. She might be used to tuning us out by now.

It was a little cloudy when we left Waikiki and headed for Hawaii Kai for our first stop - Zippy's, "Hawaii's favorite foods". By the time we pulled into the parking lot, it was raining steadily. No worries, this is Hawaii after all - it rains, but it will soon pass.

I felt a little twinge when I ordered the same thing I always get - Loco Moco. It was really good, but I was eyeing Angel's Chili Moco - Zippy's has good chili and rice, what was I thinking? The skies cleared and I posited, "Every time we stop to eat, the rain stops. We should stop more." I pledged to get something new at the next culinary stop to make up for my early mistake. We drove up Kamehameha Highway towards Hanauma Bay.

We noticed the traffic cones blocking the entrance before we saw the sign, "Hanauma Bay closed on Tuesdays." Oh well, on to Sandy Beach. It was raining pretty steadily now. It didn't look like we'd be burning off any calories today. We drove past Sea Life Park and up the windward coast.

"Hey, didn't Cousin Minnie work at Sea Life Park when she was in college?"

"Yeah, she was a dolphin trainer."

"Didn't she quit because a dolphin went crazy and attacked her?"

"I thought it tried to have sex with her."

Then Angel, Cousin Angel, and I tried to outdo each other for the next few miles of amazing scenery with gross jokes about "Flipper del Banco", our cousin's half-dolphin love-child. I snuck a look at my mom sitting behind us in the mini-van. Still no reaction.

We passed by the Polynesian Cultural Center and had exhausted all dolphin jokes and tired of dolphin impressions. The beaches were rained out and we were almost to our next culinary stop, the shrimp trucks on the northwest side of the island. I could almost taste the garlic butter shrimp. We would have forged ahead, but my mom finally spoke up, "I need the restroom." Cousin Angel spotted the Mormon Temple on the opposite side of the road and suggested we turn around, use their facilities, and check out their Visitor's Center. I felt Angel resisting. He had to turn the van around on this two-lane stretch of Kamehameha Highway to go back. To the Mormon Temple. I should've heeded his instincts.

We got out of the mini-van and walked around the fountains, towering fan palms and lush gardens surrounding the Temple.

I looked around, then behind me at Cousin Angel, Jim and my mom. Someone was missing. "Where's Angel?"

Jim volunteered, "He's still back at the car."

"He said he didn't need to use the restrooms," added Cousin Angel.

"I need the restroom," my mom reminded me.

We made our way to the Visitor's Center. It was bright outside and I couldn't see inside. Cousin Angel opened the door for me and I led everyone inside. It took a split-second for me to realize, but I froze in my tracks the second I saw the ginormous statue of Jesus in the lobby. I tried to back up, but everyone else piled in behind me. Too late, we were sighted. A cute/creepy Asian girl in a blue muumuu approached us, "Aloha. Welcome to the Visitor's Center. Would you like to watch a short presentation on Jesus Christ? I love him so much."

I stammered and looked to my mom for help. The tour guide saw our hesitation, "It's very short, just a few minutes." Then my mom spoke up again, "I need the restroom."

Hallelujah! "I need to go too," I added and we all broke for the restrooms. Except for Angel, who was still at the car. There was no one in the ladies' room except for me and my mom, but we still didn't dare to speak freely. I wanted to ask her how we could get the hell out of there, but then another tour guide in a blue muumuu followed us into the restroom. We made it out to the Jesus statue and saw that Jim was on his feet, ready to bolt, but Cousin Angel was holding literature and sitting with creepy Asian chick. She got up, motioned for us to sit, and hit a button behind the Jesus statue. The lights dimmed slightly and Jesus spoke, "Hello, I am Jesus... "

Have you ever been to the Hall of Presidents on Main Street at Disneyland? The one where an animatronic Abraham Lincoln sits and talks with the audience? It was kind of like that except creepier and Jesus didn't move and he was something like 20 feet tall. Mercifully, the creepy Asian chick didn't lie about the length of time. As soon as Jesus stopped talking, we lept to our feet. Creepy Asian chick asked if we wanted to take the rest of the tour. Cousin Angel, quick thinker that he is, offered, "We have to hurry up and catch up with the rest of our group."

Just then, Angel walks into the Visitor's Center. I almost laughed out loud when I saw he had the same reaction I did, that recognizable "Oh shit," look and a small backward step towards the door to escape. I hoped he didn't need to use the restroom and added, "Oh there's our driver. Sorry, we have to go."

We all walked out rather quickly and I waited until what I thought was a safe distance before I asked Cousin Angel, "How creepy was that?" Cousin Angel stiffened and whispered, "She's right behind us."

I turned to see the creepy Asian chick had followed us out and was walking with us across the grounds to our car. I stopped and she thrust a piece of paper and pen in my hand, asking for my contact information. I shook my head, "No, thank you," and walked away. She stood there, waving goodbye to us as I we piled into the car. If Angel had been in there with us, I suspect the mini-van would've pealed out of the parking lot.

We tried to laugh the creepiness off of us, so we made all sorts of bad religion jokes as we sped away. It was raining slightly, but we saw it in the distance, the first shrimp truck. We weren't that hungry, but we figured we'd split a few plates and Angel could use the facilities. Warily, he asked, "Do I have to listen to Jesus to use this restroom?"

I joked, "No, it's a Buddhist bathroom."

Two garlic butter shrimp plates later, the rain subsided and we were on our way to the North shore and shave ice at Matsumoto's. Or was it Ted's Pies? I forget which came first, just that we were on an insane sugar high. We ended things with a late visit to the Dole Plantation on the way back. We planned on hitting that Chinese-style shave ice place in Aeia, but we were late for dinner at my aunt's house.

On our way back to Waikiki, we noticed a sign at all the bus stops along Kuhio, "Hanauma Bay is closed on Tuesdays." The signs were there all along, we just had to notice them.

left behind

I had a great time in Hawaii, but I am so glad to be back home in Los Angeles. Jim and I arrived yesterday morning and I've already had a conversation with the manager of the resort we stayed at in Poipu, Kauai. First, I identified myself. Then I quickly got to the point of my call.

"...I was a guest last weekend and I inadvertently left some items in our room."

The friendly woman in the other end cheerily replied, "I can check with housekeeping. Which room were you in?"

"Room 2303."

I heard her tapping on a keyboard. "Okay, what did you leave behind?"

"I left a Hawaiian-print dress on top of the hamper in the bedroom facing the ocean."

"What color?"

"It had a black background, with ivory and red hibiscus flowers."

More tapping.

"Okay. What else?"

I hesitated.

"Pink and black Hello Kitty panties. I left both the dress and the panties on top of the hamper in the closet."

She was quiet on the other end, no tapping on the keyboard.

Carefully, she asked, "Hello Kitty panties?"

"Yes," I laughed, "Pink and black, Hello Kitty."

I heard her laugh, then tap something out. "Okay, I'll check with housekeeping and call you right back."

Minutes later, she calls me back.

"I talked to housekeeping. They found the dress and sent it out to be dry-cleaned. I can mail it out to you as soon as it comes back from the cleaners."

"Great!" I exclaimed.

"Unfortunately, they didn't find your Hello Kitty panties."


Picture of the missing dress. I'm wearing the missing panties in this picture. Photo taken by Angel

Ten Illegal Things I Found on Jim's Computer

OK, I cannot tell a lie. I didn't find anything illegal. But not for lack of trying!

Then again, I'm not 100 percent sure this is Jim's and not Celia's computer I'm on. All I know is that I'm a bit of an interloper here, not having asked permission to use this Mac before our dynamic duo fled the nest.

Guys? Do ya mind?

Anyway -- The week has wizzed by and we have already eased on down to Saturday. Wish I had a camera to capture Poppy, crashed out under this spectacular city view. Hate to tear her away from it, but alas, our sojourn in this urban paradise is winding to a close. Tomorrow, this trio will be making its way to the Jewel of Hollywood.

Jim, Celia, do you know how good you have it here?

I think you do.

watch me hula

Hello from Hawaii! Jim and I are having a great time, wish you were here. No, really, we do. Especially if you've got something that will help me recover from our drunken karaoke experience last night.

Anyway, there's a live web cam trained on the Duke Kahanamoku statue on Waikiki Beach. I was thinking of posting a time when I would go there and wave hello to whoever reads this blog, maybe even play the ukelele or do the hula. But then I realized, I can't play the ukelele and I don't know how to hula. Ah screw it, I'll just send out postcards like normal people do.

Ten Illegal Items I Found in Celia's Medicine Cabinet

OK -- so I wrote that subject line just to scare her a little bit, in case she's checking in from Paradise.

Truth is, I haven't found anything illicit so far, but people seem to think I will. Take my friend Soo. I told her about Celia & Jim's hospitable invitation, and the conversation went a little like this:

Soo: So, what's the place like?

Me: [Description this, description that, huge, cavernous space, deck size of a football field, spectacular city view, etc., etc.]

Soo: Yeah, but are there, like, a bunch of Hello Kitty vibrators hanging from the ceiling? I'd imagine there would be.

Me: Ahhhhh! I thought they were cigar holders.

So ... well ... maybe the vice is there -- I'm just not hip to it.

Anyway, I'll check in again when I've managed to sneak some snaps with Jim's camera. Then YOU can tell ME what's what among the Jimelia apothecary.

Hello Kitty

I was thinking that there's enough Hello Kitty stuff in this loft to choke a horse, but I was wrong because GOD DAMMIT THE HORSE WON'T DIE.

Zombie

Hello! Guest Blogger Jim Pascoe here.

I'm not new to blogging, but most of the time on my site, jimpascoe.com, I'm either promoting my writing or declaring that I'm the prime minister of Iraq ... sadly, a post I have vacated. I'll try to capture the Celianess of this site.

I know! I'll use code names!

So Gab and I are moving our stuff from the Flophouse (first code name) to the Loft, carrying suitcases and boxes of baby clothes from the car down Los Angeles Street. When who comes a' walkin' down the sidewalk?

Not Keanu Reeves (not a code name). No, it was Melvin (code name).

Melvin is a zombie. As in un-fucking-dead.

No. I'm serious. This guy -- I mean Melvin -- was slowly making his way down the pavement, but everything about him: his bandaged calf, his awkward gait, his cloudy eyes, his open mouth ... dude, this was a for-real, 100%, just-like-they-used-to-make-them-in-the-movies ZOMBIE.

It was actually Gabrielle who first pointed out his true zombie nature. She was like, "that guy, Melvin, is a zombie."

Yeah.

It was just like the zombie apocolypse but with hundreds less zombies and no cool quarentine signs wildposted everywhere.

I thought about shooting Melvin in the head. Then I thought, Melvin, I don't know you. And you're a freakin' zombie. Let's make a deal. You don't eat my brains, and I won't splatter you head open in the middle of the street. Just keep stumbling away from me, and you'll be okay in my book.

Tonight, there was no sign of Melvin. Was I hallucinating last night? Or is he still out there somewhere, a couple broken steps farther into oblivion?

pinch hitters

Jim and I are leaving for Hawaii in a few hours and I still haven't finished packing. I have plenty to do, but I wanted to let you know that I've been thinking of you. Yes, you. I don't want you to do without blog posts while we're in a tropical paradise. So I've asked my good friends, the very cool, always fun, and incredibly talented husband and wife team of Jim and Gabrielle to fill in for me while we're gone.

Jim and Gabrielle are filling in for me in more ways than one - they're also housesitting our loft while their house is being renovated or something. It'll be interesting to see how they negotiate downtown Los Angeles and interact with our friendly neighbors and film crews. You might recognize Jim, he was the officiant at our wedding, and you might remember Gabrielle as the person responsible for Single Shot. Be nice to them while I'm gone, they've got a lot going on and if you ask nicely, maybe they'll tell post a list of the "10 illegal things found in Celia's bathroom", or any one of the potentially embarrassing things they unearth while loftsitting.

Personally, I think you should ask Jim about his story in the soon-to-be-released book, LOS ANGELES NOIR. You've read about it, haven't you? No? Sure you have.

homemade

It was the day before my birthday and I still didn't know what was in those packages that Jim hid from me. Those were my birthday presents and I was determined to find out what they were - before my birthday.

I had a pretty good idea of where they were hidden. Most likely, he'd hide my presents up high, where he thinks I can't reach. But we have chairs and ladders, I just needed to get him out of the loft so I could search in peace.

"Don't brownies sound good right now? Don't they have brownies at JJ Sandwich Shop, across from Cole's?" I whined to Jim.

He shrugged and continued to stare at his computer screen.

Undaunted, I figured I should describe a brownie. After all, he's the one with the sweet tooth. He'll want a brownie, run down the street to get some for the both of us and while he's out, I would ransack the storage closet and the bedroom closet.

"I hope they have those double fudge brownies, or ones with chocolate chips in them. Or how about those brownies with the chocolate icing. Doesn't that sound good? I wonder if they have any left."

Jim continued to ignore me, so I went back to my computer and tried to figure out another way to get him out of the loft. He printed something out and when I looked up again, he was gone. I looked around, but heard him in the kitchen, moving pots and pans around.

Things looked good. I could see what he was doing in there, estimate how long he'd be in there, and figure out how to get the ladder out of the kitchen and into the bedroom without him noticing.

"What are you doing?" I asked nonchalantly.

"Making brownies."

"From scratch?" I asked, incredulous. I mean, who does that? Brownies from scratch?

Jim handed me a printout. He had downloaded a recipe off the Internet. "Yeah. We've got all the ingredients and you said you wanted brownies."

Damn. Forty minutes later, homemade brownies. And he still hadn't left the loft.

"Those look great! You know what would be perfect with those? Ice cream. You could go and get some from Ray at the Old Bank Deli. Wouldn't this be so much better with Dulce de Leche ice cream?"

eye of the tiger

Jim and I leave for Hawaii on Thursday, but tomorrow I'm meeting with Bigshot Producer. I'm trying hard not to faint again.

I wrote the majority of my screenplay last year at Jim's old pad, six floors above Pete's Cafe. I was on the sofa, already stressing out about getting my first draft out to Bigshot Producer. Jim was in the kitchen, making rice krispy treats with pink marshmallows so that they would look like mealworms. No, it wasn't for Halloween and yes, I did worry. But back to me, me, me.

Development Exec called, "Not to put more pressure on you, but (media giant whose name I cannot divulge but she's black, has a talk show, magazine, empire, etc.) wants to read your screenplay as soon as possible."

My bullshit-meter didn't make a peep. Bigshot Producer is very tight with her attorney. "Yeah, okay. I'll send you pages when I'm done." I hung up, took a deep breath and started to freak out a little. I got off the sofa to tell Jim, who had his back to me in the kitchen.

"Guess who wants to read my screenplay," I said. Then, my knees buckled, the room spun and I fainted. Jim said he heard what sounded like a body hitting concrete. I'm guessing he spun around and saw me lying on the floor, down for the count.

When I came to, Jim was on the floor next to me, with a scared look on his face. Situation reversed, I guess I would be scared too. I started to laugh once I realized what happened. I am so ridiculous sometimes, I mean, who the hell faints from work-related stress? Jim got me back onto the sofa and I think he offered me mealworms/rice krispy treats.

I wasn't that worried because that wasn't the first time I've fainted from work-related stress. Once, I took off to get away from everyone and everything. I checked myself into The Phoenician for some ultra-relaxing spa treatments. On my second day, I was in the gift shop purchasing a book to read. The cashier asked where I was from.

"Los Angeles," I replied.

"What do you do there in Los Angeles?"

At the time I was in the music industry, so I said, "I'm in the music industry." Then I started thinking about work. My knees buckled, the room started to spin and I fainted. The manager of the resort and the cashier were standing over me when I came to. The doctor was on his way, he was stuck treating members of Steely Dan for food poisoning. So they put me on a golf cart and drove me to my room.

To make sure I didn't faint for the remainder of my stay, every morning the manager sent a basket of fresh fruit to my room and every night, a hot fudge banana split brownie sundae - gratis. Did you read that Jim? No mealworms.

I haven't fainted since that last time, thankfully. I think this is the home stretch. Eye of the tiger.

slow-moving traffic

Last night Jim and I attended another DLANC Residents' Issues Meeting. As we left the Little Tokyo Library, we stopped to chat with Dave and Ed from View From A Loft. We were talking about downtown filming, blogging, and organizing a downtown bloggers barbecue or picnic when a funny thing happened. A motorcycle cop with his lights flashing escorted a crane as it slowly trawled down Los Angeles Street on its way to some film crew's base camp. We all scrambled for our cameras, but I had pulled mine out of my purse before leaving the loft. Damn.

Ed managed to snap a picture, I hope he posts it soon. I'm guessing it was for the MONK shoot scheduled for today on Spring Street. They're using the parking lot behind us and another lot at 6th and Main, but we received plenty of notification and they've been pretty cool so far. Let's see what happens at 10pm tonight when they're supposed to be gone, but I have a feeling it'll be a non-issue.

I thought it was cute that instead of "MONK" on the cast/crew directional signs, it read "O.C.D."

wild about wings

I spent this morning looking at butterflies. The Pavilion of Wings at the Los Angeles Natural History Museum opens for its ninth popular season on April 15, but I had a chance to preview the pavilion and get my questions answered by the Museums's resident "Bug Guy", entomologist Brent Karner.



After a dismal, overcast week, it was nice to see the sun. And good timing, too. Butterflies need the sun to aid in their digestion, so they tend to come out when it's sunny, hide when it's not.





There were a few kids in the pavilion, listening to the Bug Guy talk about the 30 different species of butterflies, their lifecycles, defense mechanisms, environments, etc. Mostly, they let the butterflies land on their heads, shoulders, and fingers. It was pretty cool, being in the middle of all these live, free-flying butterflies. If I had a drink in my hand, I could've watched it for hours.





I really only had one question for the Bug Guy. It makes perfect sense that you're supposed to wear bright clothing to attract butterflies, and that wearing a light floral scent also helps. But I heard that butterflies are attracted to smoke and wanted to know why. He gave me the short answer at first and after looking at my scrunched-up face (I was concentrating), he gave me the long answer. It made perfect sense. Trouble is, I have a hard time retaining information and I forgot his explanation. Guess I'll have to go back. But that's okay. They had these really cute bug and butterfly collecting kits in the gift shop, some venus flytraps, and all sorts of butterfly-themed things. I think I'll be a hero and take my cousin's kids here. I just have to pack a flask and smoke something beforehand.

Pavilion of Wings (on the South Lawn)
Natural History Museum of Los Angeles
900 Exposition Blvd.
Los Angeles
April 15 - September 3, 2007, 10am - 5pm
Special ticketed admission: Adults $3; Students & Seniors $2, Museum members and children under 5 are FREE.
Member Preview Days: April 13th (9:30am-5pm) and April 14th (10am-5pm)

more downtown filming

Yet another shoot downtown. We didn't get any notifications that this would be shooting in the parking lot next door or that their lights would be bleeding into our loft.



Those lights are really bright.

We didn't get any notifications about this shoot either.





This was a production titled THEM and many of my neighbors had problems with this shoot for the past week. They started moving their trucks after 10pm and started blasting air horns around 1am. Nice. I don't think anyone puts up with this, or is expected to, in any other neighborhood.

san francisco treats

Jim, my brother, and I are going to be in San Francisco this weekend to see our friend Jessica, who was our restaurant guide when we were in Vancouver last year. I have my favorites in the Bay area, but I want to try something new. Any suggestions?

"i am an F... B... I... agent!"

This is absolutely brilliant - the Milagro Theater in New York is extending the run of their stage adaption of the 1991 Keanu Reeves/Patrick Swayze extreme-sports blockbuster movie, Point Break. As if that weren't hilarious enough:

"...the starring role of Keanu will be selected at random from the audience each night, and will read their entire script off of cue-cards. This method manages to capture the rawness of a Keanu Reeves performance even from those who generally think themselves incapable of acting."

The show has already had sold-out extended runs in Minneapolis, Seattle and Brooklyn. Why, oh why, can't this be staged in Los Angeles?

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!