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.