Friday, July 31, 2009
A few months ago I decided I did know a lot of tricks of the funny trade and wanted to share them. (lie) But then realized BlogHer 09 was having a panel on the same subject and I didn't want to usurp anything they were doing. Translation: Let someone else do the work.
But after it was over I'm still getting the same requests. What did they talk about during this panel? Anything I can steal and call my own? I do accept anonymous emails you know.
My advice has nothing to do with writing jokes, becoming a standup comic or how to survive living in condos with meth addicts and free-farters or as I like to refer to them, men.
My tips should be printed out and then immediately shredded lest David Sedaris is spending the night at your house, reads my advice and pukes all over them before he dies laughing. And not of natural causes. And if you don't know who he is, I can't help you.
So my Comedy Series will begin next week. GOD I hope I've come up with something by Monday. What's really depressing is that I'm actually funnier in person. Ask my mother, Crabby Appleton the Dream Crusher.
I've ordered t-shirts and already forgotten what sizes I asked for. I did stick a few XXL in there but if I may be so bold, put the cookies down before you die or I have to come to your house and eat them for you.
End of chat.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
I have an issue with pillows. I’ve tried every one available for sale and they never seem to fit my neck, my shoulder or are unable to smother me in my sleep, which is often what I wish for when I get off the phone with my mother.
It may have started in my third year of college. I had two roommates.
Nice girls. Polite. Sweet. Pretty. One blond and one brunette. The first day we met we spent the day chatting and then when one of them decided to turn in early, she made up her bed and got a pillow out from a closet and put it on her bed. The other girl did the same.
“Where do you get the pillows?” I asked. The two girls looked at me.
I hadn’t thought to bring a pillow because I thought the university handed them out, like in PRISONS. Last year, in a nationwide survey of all universities my alma mater was voted the most expensive. All that money and they couldn't afford a pillow.
“Where’s your pillow?” one of the evil bitches asked.
“Oh I never use a pillow.” (lie)
“You don’t?” One of the hideous slugs said.
“But how do you sleep?” The horrifying face of death asked me.
That night as the two spawns of Satan slept contently in their beds with their FUCKING PILLOWS, I put my head down on my mattress, stretching my neck to infinity so as to be able to reach it. I woke up looking like a giraffe and boy, how easy is it to get a boyfriend then, huh?
I spent the entire first semester without a pillow rather than admit I was a moron.
There are days I think I see brown spots on my longish neck and then I remember I’m a thousand years old.
End of chat.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Although I have a serious case of the hiccups, which leaves certain bedroom activities really challenging. Keep your hand cream handy. H A N D Y.
Anyway, I've ordered some tee shirts which I know will turn out beautifully. I'm using my guy Tom Haines at Standup Stuff, who has done tees for me before. He's got a great eye and will share with you details you never thought of. Like adding sleeves.
They're black with my logo on the front. Here's what I need from you. I've ordered S, M, L and XL. Will that cover your needs? If not and you want bigger, let me know.
They're Hanes pre-shrunk so they won't shrink in the washer or the river where your RV is parked.
I'll let you know when they arrive and I'm trying to price them as low as I can without losing my apartment. I'm so grateful that you follow me and have pumped up my votes to 110 I could kiss you all with tongue. If I had one.
End of chat.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
I spoke to my mother yesterday and told her I met a cute Frenchman at the screening of Funny People. He was eating a box of Junior Mints and remarked to another man two seats over that he'd never had a Junior Mint. WHAT?
I turned around in my seat and said, "How is that even possible?"
"I'm from Europe."
"Where in Europe?"
And then he and I lapsed into French, he gave me some Junior Mints and the other man said, "Wow, it must be nice to just bust out another language like that."
Not to mention get free Junior Mints without begging.
So now my mother tells me she and Lindy read an article that says that you should speak a foreign language to your baby NO LATER than at 7 months. By 11 months, it's harder for them to learn. At 11 months aren't they just spitting up food and mocking you? Christ, I JUST LEARNED ENGLISH LAST YEAR.
So I reminded her that I try to practise my Spanish as much as possible but I really don't get that much opportunity. I told her our handyman, Humberto, learned English by watching American TV. I also mentioned he was in my apartment one day when I had to translate the Spanish word for Birds of Paradise. My mother asked me what the Spanish word was and I said I didn't remember because I doubted that the plant, Birds of Paradise, was going to come up in a lot of conversations.
"Zen what ARRRE you learrrrning?"
"Currently I'm concentrating on 'Please don't kill me' in case I run into one of the Crips."
"Well just rrememberrrr you 'ave to say a word 300 times before you really get eet."
"300? I thought it was 3?"
"Mais non, 300."
"Maybe I should since there are crips all over L.A."
"Zere arrrrr crips everywhere."
"Well, not everywhere, but mainly in L.A."
"We 'ave crips in France too."
"Mais bien sur, zey spray paint walls, arrre rude in zee subway and are good for nossing."
"Those are CREEPS Mom, not Crips."
"Oh you and your Engleesh."
Now Humberto is going to be afraid of me when I keep asking him not to kill me because he's the only Spanish speaking person I know.
End of chat.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Starring Adam Sandler, Seth Rogen, Jason Schwartzman and the gloriously hilarious Leslie Mann, I was expecting a wonderfully funny movie.
I love Adam, we started together in NY and then were both rejected in L.A. by that Comedy Store cow Mitzi-I-have-a head-wound-Shore and must wear a turban even when I shower.
Adam stars as famous comic George Simmons who is dying of some disease no one has ever heard of, like Horseradish Mashed Potato Disease, only it's not that because I would have gotten it by now. AND
Adam can do comedy and drama and his vulnerability in both is remarkable. Apatow's irl wife, Leslie Mann, plays Laura, the long lost love of Sandler. Seth Rogen plays Ira/Schmira, another standup who helps Sandler on the road to emotional recovery. He too does a great job crossing the divide from funny into drama, as comedians can always do drama but serious actors falter with comedy (cough)
Leslie Mann is the great undiscovered comedian of the United States, like Isla Fisher is in England. Actually I don't know if Isla is English but for this review she is. Aubrey Plaza, as Daisy, is another comedic all star and Apatow really has an eye for finding funny women and bringing the best out of them.
Eric Bana, playing Leslie's husband, is good in his role but seriously, who cares? Put Jane Lynch in drag and make her play the husband. (the floor manager in Virgin and now on Glee)
The movie is too long, by at least 8 minutes. The opening is funny but repetitive. It sets up the SNL juvenile comedy of Sandler, and does, brilliantly, but the rule of threes is seriously misplayed, which I don't think is a word but is for this review. Another sequence with disaster written all over it is when actual standups gather to make Sandler laugh. Charles Fleisher, Sarah Silverman and the usually funny George Wallace have close-up cameos that are so not funny one could only believe they needed the gig to qualify for an extra year of SAG insurance. What surprise cameos there are I will leave for you to discover.
That entire scene does not move the plot forward and should have been left out or done in analog because HD does not like certain people's faces 10 feet tall and spilling onto their sweater vests with food chunks popping out of their nasolabial lines. labiaL, guys, with an L.
There are 4,670 swear words, mostly concerning man's best friend, his cock and balls. Why don't they just marry them and get it over with? I put in this caveat for those of you who are squeamish and would rather watch lolcats.
And I want to thank Apatow for forgetting to ask me to be in his movie. The fact that I don't know him or he me should not make a difference. If I'm good enough for Seinfeld, Michael Patrick King and Larry David, I should be good enough for you, Judd. If I sound like Max Alexander begging for a kidney, then start the Propofol drip.
So I guess Mitzi Shore made the right choice. Adam has to get up early, spend 15 hours on a set each day of a shoot, make lots of money and I get to sit at my computer naked and spew venom day and night. Tough luck, Adam.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
To my recent followers, Blogger is fritzing out on the list so I can't turn around and follow you but I will as soon as Blogger has fixed this. Apparently lots of people are having this problem.
And now onto this:
This award was given to me by the talented Patty Mooney, a videographer and filmmaker from San Diego. Her award winning documentary The Invisible Ones about homeless veterans should be seen by every American. Please go to their website and request a free copy for your school or church.
To honor her, I'd like to honor others like her, who pour out their art through the magic of a lens or a canvas.
It's all the sugar. It only leaves so much room in my brain to read and think and connect the dots. DOTS. The candy!
I truly kill me. That's so you won't.
End of chat.
Friday, July 24, 2009
I went to a free screening of Funny People thanks to BlogHer. I still walk down the darkened stairs of the Arclight movie theater as if I'm on a tightrope, reaching out and waving my arms until I land on something solid, like a seat back or a woman's chest, then tentatively put my foot out and pray there's no 20 foot drop-off. If someone filmed me doing this we could all laugh about it on Youtube. What bothers me the most is that I must still be harboring some fear and I hate that. I try and remember that fear is the opposite of faith but seriously, that just makes me more depressed. Did I mention there are lights on the stairs?
I spoke to Gladys Tells All because she and I were supposed to do lunch today but her interview at KTLA (channel 5 here in L.A.) is happening at the God forsaken hour of 8:45 AM and I can't bring myself to get out of bed that early to go drink a cup of coffee. She said she wouldn't have done it either so we spoke on the phone and I totally loved her. Mainly because she said my blog didn't offend her. GLADYS, PARTY OF ONE.
Our building is quiet, for once. I think everyone's on vacation. No McPoundersons, no chronic dog barking, no people screaming in the courtyard. But soon I'll be back Living Next To Hell.
End of chat.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
For example, there's always a cop asking a heartbroken, beat-up, devastated divorced woman if she would like a glass of water. Have you EVER in your life craved a glass of water after getting dumped? Or after catching your husband cheating in your own bed and you've collapsed on the floor, would you want to awaken to a nice glass of Evian with a lemon slice?
How come a woman is never offered a vodka rocks? When my neighbor in D.C. had to tell me my father had just gotten married out of state TO A WOMAN WE DIDN'T KNOW AND HE WAS NO LONGER LIVING IN OUR HOUSE, this neighbor told me to sit down and poured me a scotch. I swallowed it in one gulp and I hate scotch but I was very, very grateful for that drink.
Now they'll give men an alcoholic beverage, no questions asked. In various scenes men repair to bar stools and crack open a cold one, or a 150 year-old cognac if they're at the Mafioso's house and one of them has just shot the other's brother. Are women such delicate flowers that after we kill someone we can only handle a Crystal Light?
Fuckers. Let me write a script and everyone will be drunk from beginning to The End.
"Honey, where have you been?"
"I had to get a mammogram today."
"Sit down, I'll make you an herbal tea."
"GET ME A HEROIN SPRITZER YOU TWIT, it fucking HURT."
The other completely retarded thing in scripts is when a man is close to a woman and he says "You smell wonderful; what are you wearing?" and she replies:
"Nothing. It's just me."
Say WHAT? Yes, we may put on perfume or body lotion after a shower and before we see you. Then we both go to dinner and let the smells of garlic and sea bass engulf us. Then we hit the streets where the humidity pounds it all into one emulsion that envelops us like a cape of old sardine tins a cat wouldn't touch. Then we kiss and start to sweat knowing the clothes are coming off soon. By the time we hit the sheets WITH THE LIGHTS ON we need to repair to the bathroom to spray ourselves with Febreze. THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE SMELLING when you tell us we smell good. And no I won't lie down on the floor and freshen up your area rug. I mean she won't lie down.
End of chat.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
When I gave up smoking I gained 20 pounds. If I had known that I never would have quit. Of course now I'd be dead. Thin but dead.
I gave up smoking pot 7 years ago because I know everyone gets their 15 minutes of fame and I didn't want to be high during mine. I was never a big fan of weed; it just makes you stupid. One night 4 of us were so stoned we came up with the cure for cancer. Of course, we also forgot how we did it but were convinced it had made us famous and watched as the clock ticked off 15 minutes. Or was it just 9?
It's amazing how the warnings on the side of cigarette packages don't bother people after all this time. They should change them. If the packages read SMOKING WILL MAKE YOUR DICK LIMP and SMOKING WILL MAKE WOMEN UNABLE TO SHOP it would be the total end of smoking.
I love shopping and I don't even have to buy something to feel good. I just have to GO and I get a high. Unfortunately I have no sales resistance and don't make wise decisions. Especially if someone flatters me. Years ago, a salesman said to me, "You would look good in that." So I bought it and turned that coffin into a planter. Ironically, all the plants died.
Because L.A. apartments often don't come with refrigerators, I had to buy a used one. But it didn't get that cold. It didn't even make ice. Actually it might have been a fireplace.
The recession has killed my shopping issues and now I'm just addicted to sugar. It doesn't come with any warnings, vile odors or big price tag. Of course if you need your teeth it could be a problem. But even without them I'm pretty sure I could gum a donut to death.
End of chat.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
It's also the biggest award in square footage.
I got it from Kyddryn and who the hell is Dardos?
Anyway, I'm giving it to Bee's Musings for kicking everybody in Chicago's ass, Frau, for kicking cultural German ass, Jovanka for kicking Belgium comedy ass, MereCat for kicking Georgia's literary ass, The Dyer Boys who kick each other's ass, The More, the Messier for kicking her refrigerator's ass and Deb on the Rocks for kicking some lesbian ass.
Can you tell I've run out of things to talk about? That's a rhetorical question.
Mrs. Art Linkalotter
Saturday, July 18, 2009
But this first one I wanted to give to people who have really helped me along the way and made me want to start drinking again.
I got it from laughingwolf, who is certifiable, so he probably meant to give it to someone else.
I think we all know how I have used and abused the good name of Smith, Oregon in vain. If not for her I wonder if I would have any followers at all. She generously and drunkenly did shout outs for me and now I'm living on the street with my laptop.
The Rat Squeaks
Ron used to work for Blogger Help and I started writing him privately to help me when I got stuck. He always did.
Dar has already received this award and I'm not surprised. It takes a lot of courage to step in and defend someone from a crazy person and that's what she did for me, with no prompting and no pleading. She's just one of those people you always want on your side.
A new friend.
And old friend and by old I mean 23.
A new friend.
An old friend and my old I mean 23.
A new friend.
An old friend and by old I mean 24. Orange you glad I didn't say 23?
A new friend.
God this is a lot of linking. There are more awards coming just don't ask me when.
Thanks to all of you for being great friends now please return the money you borrowed.
End of chat.
Friday, July 17, 2009
I should stop writing altogether and just photograph vintage ashtrays. I can hear you thinking that would be a much better idea than me complaining each week about the long list of annoying events that exist in my personal space.
I might even agree with you. I may be turning into a kinder, gentler, more compassionate person. But God I'd be SO boring if I turned into everyone else, wouldn't I? Admit it, you come here on Fridays to see who I currently dislike and if you're on the list.
Here. Go crazy. I should have a contest to see who can guess how many items are in this ashtray but that would mean I'd actually have to go count them.
Quote of the week from my mother:
"You know what eez wrrrrong wis yourrrr back seat in zees carrrr? Eet doesn't line up with zee doorrrr."
I had no idea what she meant so without saying a word I looked over at my sister who said, "I don't know either."
Meanest quote of the week from my sister:
"Sugar tells your body to store fat."
End of chat.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
On any given day theses various groups of men are talking show business. One day I collected my soy non-fat latte and then headed for the door. A gentleman jumped ahead of me and quickly opened it. I thanked him and he replied, "Gotta take care of all the Screen Actor's Guild people." I asked him how he knew I was in SAG and he said he saw it in my wallet while I was paying. Obsessed much?
See the man with a blue polyester suit and sky blue tie? When I walked past him he was saying, "My distributors in New York are working on back end deals for my 13 films."
I hope they're working on getting him a better hairpiece too.
End of chat.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
They did not accept credit cards. The Thais in my neighborhood don't accept them either. They save and don't reward VISA, Mastercard or AMEX with their hard-earned 2 or 3%. They are unfailingly polite and kind in a country that tried to wipe them out, a war their families remember well. End of Nancy.
Monday, July 13, 2009
I don't smoke.
But I am a bitch and will sit on your head if you get on my nerves.
I'm a delight, aren't I?
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Sidebar: Alan Smithee is an official pseudonym used by film directors who wish to disown a project, coined in 1968. Until its use was formally discontinued in 2000, it was the sole pseudonym used by members of the Director's Guild of America when a director dissatisfied with the final product proved to the satisfaction of a guild panel that he or she had not been able to exercise creative control over a film. The director was also required by guild rules not to discuss the circumstances leading to the move or even to acknowledge being the actual director.
Drop Dead Diva stars Brooke Elliott (Broadway's Taboo, Wicked) and is the first show aimed at the 18 -49 demographic that drops the "F" word.
Their list of guest stars includes Rosie O'Donnell, who famously won't allow her children to use that word. I can't tell if they padded Brooke's body because I've seen fat and this doesn't look fat to me. It also stars Margaret Cho, who is wasted in her small role and should have been asked to help with the comedy writing, if you want to call it comedy. Contrived circumstances, lucky coincidences and only one person in a guest starring role who is over 30. I haven't seen many law firms where the head lawyer is 29 and hot.(ish) The second half is not as cloying and Holy Mother Of Sarah Jessica Parker, doesn't try to fit square pegs into round holes and sticks to more grown-up writing.
The premise is ripped off from 1941's Here Comes Mr. Jordan which then was redone in 1978 by Warren Beatty as Heaven Can Wait. Here it is in it's newest incarnation. Two women die on the same day. One is blonde, skinny, shallow and engaged and the other is fat, brunette, a lawyer and single.
They trade bodies because AS USUAL someone in Heaven made a mistake. Man, what is UP with those people? Cause if that's a regular theme up there, I'd like to put in a request to switch with Cindy Crawford. Soon, before Randy Gerber loses his looks and his money.
So skinny blonde bimbo in fat brunette's body and miraculously, and even though everyone has got amnesia or is just blind, skinny bimbo knows a LOT about the law because she's in the wrong body! Yikes.
The thing that pissed me off the most about this show is that with all the 3 dimensional characters on shows past, Men in Trees, Pushing Daisies, Dirty Sexy Money, The Wire, Lipstick Jungle, instead of putting them on cable, they cancel them. Because the rule in Hollywood is pay the actors the least amount of money, hope they have a modicum of talent and a decent Q rating and you have another Army Wives. In the meantime find a new set of suckers to appear on a network reality show where they don't get paid at ALL. Wipeout anyone? (Tim Gunn did the first season of Project Runway, which is now on Lifetime, BTW, for free. The second year he got $1,000 a show.)
Drop Dead Diva premieres tomorrow, Sunday July 12, at 9 pm (ET/PT) on Lifetime and I'd love to hear what you thought of it. If you don't want to reveal your name, sign in as anonymous and just say head's up or down or that you didn't watch it. I did like the title though, if that helps.
Just remember that I'm never wrong (lie) but it could happen, (lie).
Rating C- (I really want to say D+ so I will)
Friday, July 10, 2009
It's totally possible that I was held back in school and my parents didn't tell me. Or my mother told me but I couldn't understand her because of her accent.
"You rrrrrrrr being eld back."
"I'm part of an elk pack?"
"Mais non, imbecile."
"No? I look like a seal?
Yesterday I lost my wallet and was pretty pissed. Credit cards, license and all the usual crap. I had Ofelia the manager helping me and she told me the same thing my mom always tells me about lost objects. Wrap a string in a knot (Ofelia said I could use a scarf) and tie it around a chair leg or throw it on the floor. Pray to San Dimas (if you're Cuban) or St. Anthony if you're Catholic or your bartender if you were out drinking the night before. I tossed and turned all night planning my lose-45 pounds-in-2 days-next-DMV photo.
I found the wallet the next morning but was afraid to tell my mother because they're about 46 minutes from sending me to a home already. She claims I take too many pills. What are her morphine pills made of? Kittens?
I found a Xanax on the bathroom floor yesterday. Sometimes my fingers slip with pills but rarely have I had the good fortune to find a Xanax. Even though it was next to the toilet I still picked it up because I have a 5 month rule as to anything that falls on any part of my floors. I once found a perfectly delicious peanut M and M that way.
I want to thank BlogHer for linking my Michael Jackson Memorial post, which I admit was not what the mainstream was reporting and was me ranting and raving against it. I also want to thank Bitten & Bound because in two days I received over 600 hits on that one post from that link and that website. This is the second time in a month BlogHer and Bitten & Bound have come together and linked me and yet I only got 35.51 from BlogHer. FOR FOUR MONTHS.
Sidebar: Can they fire you for having a big mouth? Love you Jenny 1 & 2. Mean it.
End of chat.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
This is not a happy peppy review because I don't do happy peppy. This is wonderment how addicts like Elvis, Heath Ledger, Chris Farley, John Belushi and Michael Jackson get deified in the face of all the people who loved them and turned a blind eye to their addictions. But as an addict myself I know one thing, the only person who could stop me was me.
I have no idea how they pulled this memorial off. It was a testament to the Jackson Family's attention to detail and perfection that created the Jackson 5 in the first place. This family was driven and disciplined and it accounts for their enormous fame. And pain.
But the event was over-staged to clearly allow Michael's memory to resonate in a positive way. LA shut down FREEWAYS and we usually only do that for white Ford Broncos. We are, after all, the second largest city in the United States.
There was a plea couched in a speech from one of America's most loved athletes, Magic Johnson, who told a very funny story about having dinner with Michael. But then he went on to mention the aunts, uncles and cousins the 3 Jackson children will now have to play with, the subtext telegraphing that Michael's children belong with Jackson's mother. They know full well that California law will likely give the children to their bio Mom unless they can prove Debbie Rowe is unfit.
The only thing Reverend Al I'mAlwaysScreamingAtSomeone Sharpton did was screech about Michael changing the rules for black people on MTV. Fine, but dude, dial it back an octave. And Lionel Richie, pack it in. I can't look at that mustache for one more minute. And John Token White Guy Mayer, your 15 minutes was up 2 years ago. Mariah, stop already with the hand gestures and the boobs falling out at a memorial. We're seen them. Many many many many many times.
A Democrat from the House of Representatives was called to the podium and emphasized that in the U.S., you are innocent until proven guilty. Talk about out of left field. Brooke Shield's speech was lovely and touching but highlighted that the PRESS GOT IT WRONG about her and Michael's relationship. As in, "everything you've ever heard about Michael has been wrong."
I tend to be cynical about things that don't seem to originate directly from the heart but come with an agenda. I know they miss their brother and son and I'm not saying they didn't love him, but this was a commercial. A positive spin on what the future should hold for these 3 children. No one knows who Blanket's mother is. Are you fucking kidding me? AND STOP CALLING HIM BLANKET.
The last vision of Michael's daughter Paris crying, saying her Daddy was the best Daddy in the world and that we had no idea how great he was as a parent was a questionable decision and Janet Jackson hustled her off stage immediately afterwards. People blasted Sarah Palin for parading her Down Syndrome child before the RNC and only time and reviews will decide if allowing Paris Jackson to speak had the same effect on people. I've been watching TV all day and they've repeated this little girl crying over and over and over. The exploitation is ironic in that Michael never allowed them to be used by the media. We didn't even know what they looked like.
I watched the NBC special on Dateline and one of the saddest things was Martin Bashir saying as Michael was growing up and realizing he was starting to resemble his father, the father who beat him constantly, that's when he started the skin bleaching and excessive plastic surgery. If you look like your abuser, you don't need to see That Man in The Mirror every day. Michael once said, in an interview years ago, that it's not IF a parent loves a child, it's how that child remembers that love. That seems to sum up what happened to Michael. He didn't remember his childhood with a lot of love.
This is what I will take from his life and leave the rest to karma. In a one hour interview on a radio program, Michael said, "If you're surrounded by negative people, get rid of them. You can never succeed with them around. What you think is what you become."
That is good advice, no matter who he really was. R.I.P. Michael.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
I was getting these last week. I deleted them all and these people were NOT happy with my sanity saving tactic. Yesterday morning I had 53 emails. Half of them were the person above, copies of comments they left. They come in the night like a cheap whore or a guy whose wife won't have sex with him.
SO, I am very sorry that I have to put the word verification up until this douchebag goes away. In almost 3 years of blogging, this is only the second time this has happened. If you don't want to comment because it's IRRITATING to have to type that stupid, unreadable word in, I totally understand and please put me on your shit list. Like usual.
I've been busy lately and ate a bad salad last night and have food poisoning that worsened throughout the day BECAUSE I CAN'T GO FIVE FUCKING MINUTES WITHOUT A BODY ISSUE. I'm pre-posting this so don't think I stayed up until midnight to put this up. So now I'm really REALLY way behind reading and commenting. See? I'm definitely shit list material.
End of comments?
Monday, July 06, 2009
C+J have the most interesting group of friends. A journalist from Sky News was filling us in on the Michael Jackson developments, Louis Metoyer, world renowned guitarist showed up to play one song and split. He's the only guitarist in the world who can replicate Jimi Hendrix's Star Spangled Banner and he shows up every year to play that ONE song. I was sitting next to a 23 year old girl and when he started to play I whispered to her, OH MY GOD, he sounds JUST LIKE JIMI and she gave me a blank stare. I felt sorry for her. Lord kids, you really missed the greatest musicians of all times. This was one of the games at the party. The goal was to get Green Shorts drunk enough to lose. In years past he always got naked after he got really drunk. This year he didn't get naked but he did get massively drunk. At one point we thought he had drowned. Good times.
All in all, a great Hollywood party. As usual. I have to hand it to artists, they really go crazy trying to out do normal people. Meaning no children, lots of swearing and tons of booze.
End of chat.
Friday, July 03, 2009
It's possible we all need to move to France.
My mother is in the beginning stages of macular degeneration and had to have a shot in her eyeball before she left Paris. Co-pay 15 Euros, $20 bucks. She went to a doctor here and the visit and shot? $1900. She will not move here because our healthcare system is so poor. Socialized medicine, the entire world has it but us. And YES she can choose the doctors she wants.
Did I mention Mom is staying for 2 more months? So my commenting has slowed down since I spend more time screening my calls and trying to find compassion, which I've hidden somewhere in my house.
I saw the family the other day and forgot to bring my best friend, Advil, along. Lindy was out so my mother generously offered me her pain pills. I take 2 and quiz her on how strong they are.
"Zey are not strong."
"Are you sure?"
"I take 6 a day and zey only provide an hour of relief each time."
I took 2. If mom could handle 6, I should be taking 37. She even told me I probably wouldn't feel them after all my surgeries and pain pills.
"Advil takes an hour to work."
"Zese do too."
15 minutes later I'm stoned out of my mind sitting in a chair wondering how people on TV make their mouths move.
"Mom, what's in these pills?"
"Ohhhh I don't know, morpheene I sink."
TWO MORE MONTHS.
End of chat.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Did anyone recognize Brooke Shields in the picture I posted with Michael Jackson this morning?
Remember, they dated. Very realistic.
A motorcade to Neverland? Two and a half hours away? I wouldn't travel that far to have sex with George Clooney.
I'm back at my keyboard. I black out when I lie.
I have no idea where I got this picture. Either from one of those grungy old Hollywood Blvd. souvenir shops while I was tripping on E or someone gave it to me as a joke while they were tripping on E.
Either way, it's a picture you rarely see.