And Then

The model was the blonde. I can't believe how up on models you all were. I kept calling them The Trees and going, "Trees, over to the left." Or "Trees, give me your best model smiles." They are 16 years old. Then I said, "Trees, give me your money." Can Crystal Meth be far behind?

Teri Hatcher was there but I didn't see her. I was told she is magnificently tall and of course, fat free. Bitch.

I was wearing The Shroud Of Turin and the sister pictures go up tomorrow.

The next photos were taken poorly and I only have my fingers to blame for that. Seriously, if you can name all the items on this plate we are NEVER going out to eat together. And they may want to look into lemon wedges next time, and Tabasco, or Worcestershire or fucking pepper or killing the cooks. Hey, I just thought of something. SEA SALT!

Believe it or not, the pile of little brown things was delicious as was the chocolate dessert. We left early and ate again at Lindy's.

The infamous Ben Stein, one of the presenters, sat next to us and I still fucked up the picture.And of course, the Stars of the evening, Ellen and Portia. They looked so happy together that all I could think about is why the U.S. has such a problem with other people's sex lives. Not to mention other people's joy.
Ellen was on TelePrompter for their acceptance speeches but in the next picture she waved the Tele guy to stop because she told him she was going off script. At one point she was imploring people to take a chance on all these animals and said, "Look at me. I came out and got no grief..." and the crowd roared their acceptance. It really was a sweet moment and now I think I'm gay.

As the old joke goes, "Let gays get married; why should only straight people be miserable?"

I had turkey for lunch yesterday and prime rib for dinner. If you believe The Blood Type Diet I'm O Neg and so is everyone in my family. All O types are carnivores and crave meat. Thank GOD.

More to come.

Next. Some Fashion And A Weird Quiz

We arrive at the Beverly Hills Hilton fresh from my sister's elegant white BMW and as she rushes ahead of me I manage to fall off my right shoe, stumble backward, tumble off the curb, lose the shoe ENTIRELY, start yelling for help, try to turn my shoe over with my toe - fail -and watch as the tourists lined up to see the stars START TAKING PICTURES OF ME. Finally Lindy retrieved me from the gutter and I gimped over to the group of picture takers and hissed, that better NOT end up on You Tube.

We signed in and were directed to the V.I.P. section where there was an open bar and once inside we were close to the stage. And YES my ex was there but I didn't see him. His name was all over the program as he was doing some rather big things for the event.

Sidebar: I've already posted pics of him on this blog, during the Christmas era 2 years ago? When we lived in New York and dressed my dog as Santa Claus. Have I EVER had a life? The ubiquitous one-armed sleeve in neon, and I do mean NEON, which hardly shows in this photo of artist Kait Matthews. Of course I nearly knocked her over so I had to explain why I was a Wonk Walker. She proffered her card and said, "E-mail me, my fiance is a doctor with a big heart. I want you to talk to him for FREE. " I would marry her if I didn't already have VodkaMom as my albatross wife and you know, if Kait wasn't all engaged to a man and shit.

It might be hard to tell but these girls, best friends, are both over 6 feet and one of them is a top model here in L.A. Which one? The Blonde or The Brunette?

Lindy won the table flower setting and gave it to this woman, Auntie V, part of our late friend Janet's family.

Yeah, now you're thinking my sister is all nice and shit and have already forgotten she trampled me and then pushed me into the gutter.

More to come.

First. Some Of The Celebrities

It was a long day into night but I thought I'd throw up some photos I took to gear up for the rest.

Below is Jorja Fox from CSI.

James Cromwell, who has been Hollywood's best character actor for decades.

Emily Deschanel from Bones.

And for the love of God it was a vegan meal!!!

End of chat.

NOW what?

Lindy and I have to go to the Genesis Awards tonight. One of our friends who died of ovarian cancer left a 10 person table for ten years. My sister has gotten out of it in years past because she was busy. So this year we have to go. (she has to, why drag me into it?) It's hosted by Leeza Gibbons (or has been in the past) and the gruesome, torturous images are so grotesque that Lindy and our friend Janet could never look at the screens while the images played. The rest of the audience watched while Lindy and Janet stared at their tableware. YES THERE'S A DINNER and gee I hope it's served before the slide show.

Lindy hurt her back and can't sit and we all know what a marathon runner I am so I tried to get Lindy to cancel and she said "Janet's mother is showing up in a wheelchair so how can I not go?"

Great, someone worse off than me and probably in a better mood.

So as we discussed whether we should even shower for this event I mentioned my brand new patch of grey hair that I got from this last surgery. I never had patches and now I have a patch. I can't really dye it myself since one of my arms refuses to cooperate with my stenographer's neck and Jill is in Cabo St. Lucas with Mike The I Heart Cock guy so Lindy says, just wear a hat.

Done.

Now she starts mentioning some of our friends who will be there and I realize I wouldn't mind seeing them until I remember an awful comedian who is really the biggest bitch I (and many other comics) have ever known AND the last man I almost married will probably both be there as they're in PETA land with all the other quacks. The Queen Bitch once told me in an email that she was trying to get pate de foie gras banned in Chicago. That will be her legacy. Of course Mayor Daly thought it might be better to concentrate on CRIME AND DRUGS. The ex-bf is just straight up loony. I don't allow PETA ads on my blog. Fanaticism drives me crazy. Can't we all just get along?

What will they serve for dinner? God let it not be vegetarian or worse, vegan, but it might be because Janet was a vegetarian. If I have to go to the Hilton and eat riceberries over toast points or lettuce on a branch, I will not be a happy camper. Like I've ever camped.

End of chat.

It's Everybody Can Bite Me Friday!

I randomly was blog hopping the followers I have and came across one who was trying to stop smoking.

For some reason, the way I stopped smoking popped into my head and thought I'd lay it out here because, what a surprise, IT WAS NOT NORMAL.

I was smoking a pack a day and slowing creeping up to a pack and a half. I would try and quit but I worked in a bar/restaurant and we'd all hang out afterwards and snort coke till about 5 a.m. Then we had to ask if anyone was holding quaaludes so we could go to sleep. There is nothing creepier than going to bed when the birds are waking up. I would always feel like I had wasted time, which of course, I had.

After 2 years of trying to quit only to pick it up again, I couldn't stand it anymore. So I asked God for help.

Please make something happen to me that will make me stop smoking. I don't know what, but just something physical to scare me. BUT DON'T KILL ME.

About a week later I was talking to a friend in North Carolina and of course, smoking. Suddenly I got a huge stabbing pain in my chest and couldn't breathe or talk. I was gasping and heard David through the phone.

D: Are you smoking?
ME: gasp
D: Listen carefully, put the cigarette out and lay down on the floor and count to 30.
ME: gasp
D: It it doesn't go away after 30 and you don't get back on the phone and talk normally, I'm calling 911 because you're having a heart attack.
ME: GASP!!!!!

1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8, 9, 10, 11...

ME: David, I'm okay. How did you know I was smoking?
D: Cause I've had that.
ME: Had what?
D: Lung congestion.
ME: But you still smoke.
D: Yeah, I've had it 4 times and I'm clean for a while then I start again.
ME: Well you couldn't have had THIS because it feels like a knife in the heart.
D: I know. 4 times.

I was still scared shitless but I had asked for it. I thanked God and two nights later I went to the Improv and bummed a cigarette off someone. Half way through the Marlboro I thought, "God is going to kill you and it's probably going to hurt."

I never smoked again and I just want to say this to God: ALL RIGHT ALREADY. YOU CAN STOP NOW. And could you bring back Quaaludes?

End of cigarettes.

Who Else Could Get Away With This?

I have this huge postcard collection. When I hauled it out here to LA, I found a rack for them all. My place is eclectic to say the least. There's nothing traditional about me except I wear clothes when I leave the house. At least I hope I do.

One of my favorite cards is of President Nixon and Elvis Presley. This card was printed in 1988 but this event happened on December 21, 1970. Elvis Presley arrived at The White House carrying a commemorative World War II Colt 45. Being a badge collector, he wanted to trade the gun to President Nixon for a Narcotics Bureau Badge. Elvis received the badge and the gun is now on display at the Richard Nixon Library at Yorba Linda, California.

The irony that Elvis died of a drug overdose was not lost on one person, except maybe Nixon.

I still love Elvis, not one singer has come close to having that lasting fame and talent after almost 40 years except the Beatles. Out of today's crop of entertainerers, who do you think **Oprahbama's Presidency would allow that kind of trade?

**I TOTALLY stole that name from her.

End of chat.

Eve Behar

If you're in the Boston area this time of year or hey, maybe you live there? Then go check out Eve's work. Tell her I sent you. She's talented and her work is one of a kind and really glorious. I own two pieces, including the one that was replaced for the stolen one by he who shall remain gay and nameless and in the movie Sex and the City. Did I mention he was short?

Photo by Caryn Leigh


CRAFT BOSTON
A show of contemporary art, craft & design presented by The Society of Arts and Crafts at:

Seaport World Trade Center
200 Seaport Blvd., Boston, MA

March 27 to 29, 2009:
Friday 10 am to 7 pm
Saturday 10 am to 6 pm
Sunday 11 am to 5 pm

craftboston

evebeharceramics

Mailbag # 9

For new readers, I randomly post unedited lines from emails I get. They're all anonymous but you can out yourself if you want. I have strange, funny and demented friends. See the first 8 Mailbags under the label at the bottom of this post if you don't believe me.


-OH MY GOD!!!! I am so happy to hear from you that I would pee in my pants, were it not for the fact that I died of boredom 6 months ago!

-Here's an invite for you to be my friend on the site icanhascheezburger.com. This is where I keep my favorite funny pictures and other fun stuff. It'd be great if you could check it out and rate it or leave a comment.

-I sent you a ginuwine (sic) email and ginuwine (sic) interest in your site and its content. It's mind blowing that you would talk to someone who's a fan of your site the way you talked to me.

-My night was bordering on ruined.

-He quit blogging but nobody knows why.

-I had a psychic experience this morning. I had a dream last night that I made out with Harry Connick Jr., someone I would never think of, and when I turned on the TV he was on The Today Show!!!

-I do have a cousin that used to work for a record company and she "discovered" Barry Manilow!

-there used to be a hideous expression my mother and aunt would throw around with abandon at a point in my life when all I cared about was sex and drugs and how absolutely fabulous I thought I was...similar to the one you sent " getting older is not for sissys".....

-The best Thanksgiving I think I ever had was when I fed the homeless at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium

-At that point I realized that the friendly stranger was Beth, Mrs. Dog-the-Bounty-Hunter. And then to confirm my identification of her, her cell phone rang, she answered it and said, "Oh hi Dwayne."

-Y tu mama tambien.

-I was in a rental car place the other day. A guy in a military haircut was wearing a t-shirt that said, “I may not be Mr. Right but I’ll fuck you until he gets here.”

-XXXXX has requested a recommendation as Atheist Grief Counselor at Godless Grief.

-Am I happy here? I'm a miserable fuck anywhere I go.

-Okay Suzy sorry to bother you. I won't email you bout group issues ever again.

I'm Donating My Eyes (and breasts) To Science

I drove to Dr. K's yesterday and ONCE AGAIN parked in the wrong lot. Yes, it's finally occurred to me there's nothing wrong with me at all, I just need new glasses. The lot was empty but I needed to go into the one next door to it, L.A.'s notorious alleys the only connector. I backed out and there was suddenly a car to the left of me and one to the right. So without gaging the distance of pi divided by an algorithm multiplied by 3 cars, I continued to back up and eventually hit the wall. The alleys are half the size of a street in Gulliver's Travels' Lilliput and I'm being kind.

One of the men in the cars said, "OH MY GOD, you can't drive like that, your bumper is going to fall off."

I got out of my car and there was no hanging chad bumper, just a big patch of scratches. I asked him where EXACTLY the bumper was hanging? He told me he just happened to have a body shop down the street (in Canada) and he could show me when we got there and then I would also be sold into white slavery for a slight fee. HOW STUPID DO PEOPLE THINK YOU ARE? Although in my case it's an on-the-fence question.

I asked him if he thought it was bad. He nodded. I said, "Then you're really not going to like this" and showed him the other side of the car, which I've scraped twice trying to back into my thimble-sized home parking spot.

I finally made it into Dr. K's office. Remember how I mentioned I blacked out during visits because I really don't want to know anything? Here's what I remember:

"You look like Kate Winslet, you know Titanic?" He also said it the first time I saw him.

So either I look like Kate or the Titanic. You choose.

During the x-rays portion he asked me if I was wearing a bra with metal. I said I was. I had to lower the top of my dress, turn the FUCKING bra around to unhook it because I'm still in puberty and he was waving a sheet in front of me like I was a bull and he the toreador. He was making me very nervous with all the sheet action. No wonder people were always afraid of Batman. Finally I said, "Look, if you haven't seen a pair of tits by now, you might look into homosexuality."

I don't think he heard me because he was concentrating so hard on not looking.

So I have this neck issue that begins with a 'sten.' Maybe I have stenographer's neck. I can't remember because by then he was putting needles into the sides of my hands and Holy Japanese Jesus, that really fucking hurts. LIKE KILLING HURTS. He was very careful with me because of all my scars and gingerly moved my arms, legs etc. I was on the table for almost 30 minutes and after it was over he said he couldn't believe I could lie on my back that long.

Oh sweetie, if you only knew.

End of chat.

Seriously, Can I Just Have ONE Normal Day?

My car hit a wall.
A man tried to scam me.
My acupuncturist saw my breasts.

Does anyone have any heroin I could borrow?

Cereal Killer

I was never an emotional eater. But before I went to India in 2006, I started. I was in extreme pain, could barely walk, scared to death and did I mention I went alone? While I was there I dropped 5 pounds in 2 weeks. As I prepared to leave, I put on the dress I came in with and another American who had been there as long as me remarked that I had lost weight then said, 'Yeah, when you came in wearing that dress I thought you must have had no friends to tell you that dress was too tight." I came in at 140, left at 135. I actually thanked her for telling me because she was right; no one had told me to just stop eating and I was pretending I had a fun house mirror in my place, the one that makes you look thin and tall. Remember my neighbor Ken who had said to me "I remember when you had a flat stomach." And the janitor of the Best Western at the end of my street who asked me when I was due? Due for what, to kick his ass?

Over last summer I got down to 123. Now I've started the late eating because Natasha Richardson died and a blogger wrote me and said her mother fell and died a week later and I've fallen 209 times and I have 2 more doctors to deal with and I'm not clear that a subdural hematona isn't growing somewhere BECAUSE I PEED ON MYSELF THROUGH A THONG. If that doesn't scream subdural hematoma growing slowing and working its way up my body then I don't know what does.

I've gone to doctors since I was 13 and there was always something wrong with me. Once I told that to a friend and she said STOP SAYING THERE'S ALWAYS SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOU. And I replied, I can't because there IS always something wrong with me.

Apparently some parts of The Secret I haven't quite mastered yet.

This week I'm weaning myself off Froot Loops, Multigrain Cheerios, Special K Red Berries and Corn Pops.

I'm now at 125 lbs and dangerously close to breaking the weight laws of L.A. so I had orange Metamucil for dinner. It would have tasted better with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. A Metamucicle! My weak calf has filled back to regular size so I'm thinking my right calf weights two pounds. IT COULD HAPPEN.

I never thought I'd ever say this in my life but I miss working out. Then you can eat whatever you want. Maybe today I'll ask the acupuncturist to put some needles in my carb section, which is all over my body.

End of chat.

Books, Blogs And Agents

I've had some comments about my book, All the Bad Sex I've Had, a very, very very long book.

Scrivel.com was hosting it and they recently let the website dangle. As you'll see, there was a lot of work that went into the site and the owner wanted to concentrate more on his computer business. There's a widget on the front page of my blog. If you click on it, it will take you to the website and then click on my name. It starts with part 1 and ends on part 11, but that's just the beginning. The book is finished, just not posted or published. The owner of Scrivel did a great job putting up everyone's pieces as other bloggers were asked to participate and I was happy to do so. And speaking of widgets, Uproar Entertainment has shut down so my blog for them is no longer available. Is this a test to see if I'll kill myself?

Nothing on the Scrivel site has ever appeared on my blog and I saved copies of Uproar. I provided 58% of their traffic and when I left, their traffic went down to nothing. I also raised their technorati.com numbers. From 21 million down to 4 million in 8 weeks. And WOW, I'm still sitting here staring into space.

Remember the literary agent I had? I fired them. Seriously, there must be a gun around here somewhere. What was the last thing the captain said to the cops on Hill Street Blues?

Be careful out there.

End of chat.

It's Everybody Can Bite me Friday!

Thanks to the 8 people who put me over 100. I wish I had door prizes. The first 200 people who follow me, I follow back. So if you've followed me and I haven't done it back due to TOO MANY DOCTOR'S APPOINTMENTS, send me an email (in my profile) and I'll do it. That's all you're allowed to follow, 200. Makes no sense to me. 5000 can follow you and you get to follow 200. Is everyone still awake?

I'm still shocked over the death of Natasha Richardson. 45 years old and from three generations of esteemed British actors. Especially since it was a head trauma and she appeared okay. Almost 2 years ago I was hit by a car while I was walking across the street. The guy who hit me insisted I go to the hospital and I said I was fine, mainly just in shock. I was talking but had a slight headache. I've since fallen twice inside my place and one outside by the pool, where I flashed the gardener. Accidentally.

The man who hit with me with his car said his insurance would pay but from all my experience, hospitals find things that insurance doesn't cover, like toilet paper, and you get billed for an extra $10, 000.

So how come Natasha hit her head and then died? Icy slope? Is that harder than concrete? It's like survivor's syndrome, which I've never believed in. I always just thought, "Their time to go, not mine." According to all my metaphysical books and especially the ones on reincarnation, we choose when we are born and when we die. Which family we choose to be born into, which is for some, the most incomprehensible of all. Would you knowingly pick a drunk, a pedophile or an abuser? But reincarnation is something that we won't understand until it's too late. It's all about the growth of the soul. The body just serves as the way to get you through a particular lifetime.

I 'picked' a father who was distant and not affectionate and I used to pick men like that, until I fucking GOT it and that all ended. Would I have made that choice without picking my Dad? Obviously I needed a few lessons in self worth.

Religious people, as opposed to spiritual people, will tell you there is free will so man has all the control but reincarnation says the exact opposite. Braja had planned a trip to New Zealand from India, with a stop over in Bangkok. Instead she ended up in a hospital in India. Where is the free will? That she made a plan and packed her bags?

Sidebar: If you're currently giving money to a church, STOP. They just use it for themselves and won't get you into what you refer to as 'heaven.' Instead spend it on a neighbor who needs help. Like Bernie Madoff. The Vatican is the richest 'country' in the world followed by the UK's Royal family. Either of them helped you out recently?

Back in 1994, the last major earthquake we had in L.A. there was a picture taken of 7 or 8 houses all on a ridge overlooking the Valley of Los Angeles. They were all built by the same builder in the same year. They all survived the earthquake intact. All but one towards the middle. It slid down the mountain and killed the two occupants inside. Not one other house on that ridge moved.

Most studies say that you know when you're going to die (subconsciously) and you're not afraid and you realize that all you were supposed to learn in this lifetime, you've learned. So you go. Without fear. Gary Zukav once told a couple who had lost a child that birth can't be determined by you, some souls don't even go into bodies until right before the birth, or in some cases, after the birth. So he said to them, "If you can't control birth, why do humans think we can control death? If God sent someone to give birth to you, you have to believe God sent someone to bring you home." So forgiveness for murderers and rapists is essential for your growth because uh, there's no malls or houses or money where we're going. Even Dr. Brian Weiss says all there is in life is love and forgiveness.

My book is all about the paranormal activities (and distant and unaffectionate men) that follow me around. It's been quiet for a while, usually when it starts up it's pretty creepy. I will say that this last 5 years has been a period of patience, something I never had. So as much as I loathe the position I'm in now, maybe I should be grateful instead.

End of chat.

100

See that box with 99 followers on the upper right of my blog that's been there since the 1760's? That 99 is like a loose button to me. You fiddle with it until you rip it off in frustration because now you're afraid you're going to lose it because you've messed it with so much. SOMEONE GIVE ME THE FUCKING 100.

The Wedding Of The Year

Vodka Mom and I were married over the weekend while she claimed publicly that she was going to Florida for some Nudist Camp Convention.

Yes, there were some issues we had to work out:


1. She lives on the East Coast and I live on the West Coast so hogging the covers won't be a problem.

2. I'll have to convert to her religion, alcoholism.

3. We're not lesbians so sex will be awkward.

4. She has kids and I've seen examples of them in stores and on the streets.

5. She has a husband and I'd recognize him if I ACCIDENTALLY slept with him.


Where are we registered?


1. Every bar in the United States and Canada.

2. Rosie O'Donnell's family cruises.

3. Ellen's online store. We're both an extra small.


Where are we going on our honeymoon?

We're thinking a golf resort. Golf is pretty easy to play, isnt it?''


Why did we do this now?

Because Braja was KEEPING US APART.

I Should Have Become A Doctor And Saved Myself The Office Fee Visits

Yesterday, the MRI. As soon as I was ready to go, I went on autopilot, which is what I do when I go to a doctor. Any doctor. I usually have to take someone with me because I block out what they talk about unless it's "nice matching underwear" which dentists tend not to say.

So I parked in the doctors' lot. Boy people get mad when you do that.

Then I walked into Suite 205 AND SAW THE NAME OF DR. WHORE FOR MONEY, otherwise known as Dr. Bob, on the list of doctors that worked there. The doctor who did my foot surgery just HAPPENED to work in the same office? I did not want to see him. So I asked one of the front desk people if I could have a private conversation BEHIND CLOSED DOORS. Turns out that creeps the hell out of people because all talking ended and glances were exchanged. Glances that said "I've heard she can't figure out peeing. RUN."

My new doctor was an avuncular man with a wry sense of humor. And quite brilliant. The word 'surgery' didn't come up once; that's my definition of brilliant. He said I didn't need an MRI yet. (Good, because the valet was ONLY $10.50 that way. Fucking Beverly Bite Me Hills) He said I needed 2 x-rays and when I told him Dr. K. had offered to do them for only $40., he said I should go back and get them there. He was not after my money, like Dr. Bob.

Dr. S. made me walk, did touch tests on my hands and basically said it was all going to go away. He said I was walking like I was on a boat and trying to keep my balance. I actually have some feeling in certain fingers and this whole thing started when I was 13 and got scoliosis. There was nothing I could do about it. I should be grateful this is ALL I got because so many people get worse. I used to say that if I got famous the only disease left for me to shill for would be prickly heat.

This was the first doctor I've seen that didn't have me dissolve in tears. I came home and laid down and fell into a 3 hour nap. It was just a relief from the last 5 stressful years.

Dear Suzy, Hope you read Braja's doctor's orders in my general mail! NO LAUGHING!!! Promise?

I've been banned from making Braja laugh. Whenever I get to meet Rama, who wrote me that, I'm going to make Boss O Everything beat her up. I'm pretty sure that's how Hindus settle disagreements and Boss O needs to start converting now. Her new Hindu name will be Hare Krishna Red Chair.

End of chat.

The Princess And The Pee

I stopped wearing underwear about a year ago. With that cast on my leg and foot, it would have taken 2 hours to put on a thong, which I usually wear. When the cast finally came off and I was transferred to moon boot status, there was no way I could get a thong over that either as it was doubling as my coffee table. So, still no underwear.


But yesterday was my acupuncture appointment so I remembered that although men prefer to look at commando, they're usually boyfriends and hopefully not doctors. So I searched for the pretty black thong that matches my strapless black bra and for a minute thought I should just go like that because me look so sexy and after all, isn't that what doctors are really expecting from women, matching underwear? I may have that axiom confused with mothers and ER's.

I wandered around my apartment in a good mood. This would be the LAST doctor and he was from Japan and I'm sure their country is closer to heaven than ours so I was convinced The Japanese Jesus was going to restore me to normal. (Yes, I know that's virtually impossible but let's all just jump on that bus anyway, ok?)

Right before I left I had to pee.

As I was sitting there I thought the pee was a little warmish, more warm than other pee I've peed and I thought, is that my pee edging toward my butt crack? Good grief, why is this peeing taking so long? Is my pee canal somehow hooked up to a faucet and it's just now that I'm noticing?

Eventually the peeing ended and I went to wipe and thought, "Where is the pee exit gone to? Is it like one of those garden hoses that has just rewound itself back into my abdomen?" OH MY GOD, AM I DYING?

I had peed into and through the formerly black and now inky black thong. And now I had no time to shower again because I had wasted so much time staring at myself in the mirror. After a quick clean up, I threw on a pair of panties that were black and leopard. They ought to keep the doctor occupied for a while. God, I just used the worst word in the world, "panties." Oh I'm dying alright.

I wish this was the end of the story but it's not. Because not only did Dr. K do nothing to me, he called TWO MORE DOCTORS, one of whom I'm going to see tomorrow to get an MRI of my neck to make sure I have no BRAIN BLEEDING. Man, you can't hear that enough. Where do these people think my money comes from, Mrs. Ruth Madoff? The acupuncturist had right off the bat guessed my exact weight which made me think I got lost on the way over and ended up in a carnival.

His little dog Chippy kept circling me and the doctor said, "He no like strangers, rescue dog." So I didn't bother to be friendly. Then the dog came up and let me pet him and the acupuncturist said, "Oh myyyy, he never do that. He like you." Then the dog jumped up on me and begged for ear scratches and Dr. K said, "I can't believe this, he NEVER do this to anyone. EVER!"

Yeah, but maybe Dr. K had never had a patient who smelled vaguely like a fire hydrant before.

End of chat.

Update On Braja And Yes That's The Car

http://news.iskcon.com/node/1825/2009-03-14/mayapur_residents_recovering_after_car_crash

Hey, The Tide's In

P&G has asked BlogHer to help them get the word out about their efforts to raise money via T-Shirt sales to support families that are affected by disaster.

The shirts are vintage-looking and support a great cause. Shirts can be purchased through this link: http://rs6.net/tn.jsp?et=1102501489124&e=001GzzDufMyAceHxH-K7v_0dRx_jKbblWdu24N8dPUbzs7ivmD_pdCUAGjCY9n3zB3HJfVXsuKGuZNWYDikT9JnI0x2MwTKVBUDS6cJlvaryMaZji1PaAxAihRSBPkJCaknG2NfYXYlUDHkvkgYM4FG177eJmk_66JWZuMcslt_KxQgyy7-UEt08A

Please use this link (this helps distinguish the source, as we are having a good-natured contest between several social media companies - but of course, the goal is to get the word out about this great charity!) (BlogHer will OBVIOUSLY win. I'm like Monica on Friends: "My team always wins!)

So, here's what we're asking: Please post a short blurb on your blog (Do they REALLY know me? The only thing short about me is my patience)about the program, (Oh I get it, BlogHer doesn't even read me) and share the T-shirt link with your readers. If you DO post about it, or tweet about it, will you drop by this form and leave me the links? You can also share on Facebook or Twitter. (Again with the not reading me) BlogTalkRadio hosts? Podcasters? We want to show P&G the power of social media! The form is here.

I USE IT because my mom used it before me and I'm a robot child.

From Tide's Loads of Hope Website: Tide Loads of Hope helps in the aftermath of a natural disaster by providing clean clothes and a sense of comfort to families in need. Partnering with Feeding America, we travel to disaster affected neighborhoods with the Tide Loads of Hope truck or vans and offer our free mobile laundry service. (Please start with my house because the disaster that hit my place was called Hurricane Laziness)

They use 32 high-efficiency washers and dryers stationed on the truck and can do 300 wash and dry cycles a day -equal to one year's worth of laundry for a single family which means they wash about 9,000 loads of laundry over a four-week period.

In partnership with a local laundromat, the Tide Loads of Hope vans provide free laundry service at the same load rate as the trucks leveraged during disasters where neighboring communities still have a source of electricity.

To date, Tide Loads of Hope has washed more than 35,000 loads of laundry for over 20,000 families. Most importantly, the Tide Loads of Hope program means we're equipped to take action whenever and wherever there is a need in our country. In the wake of Hurricane Katrina, the need for clean clothing became critical, and Tide found a way to help. So in November 2005, the Tide Loads of Hope truck headed to Camp Hope in the Metairie, LA area and cleaned over 10,000 loads of laundry. The spirit of this first venture informs and inspires everything Tide Loads of Hope program does.

Thanks a million! We appreciate any help you can give us to get the word out.

Sincerely,

Jenny Lauck for the rest of the BlogHerAds team. (Please come to my house first. I'll let them use my Tide if they bring pie. If you have to cheat to win I have NO problem with that).

Old Friends

My comedian friend Jane is in town from NY and we made those sorta kinda plans, you know, the ones you can't remember? Between us we managed to figure out today was Saturday; and that only took five minutesish. Every time I talk to her she makes me laugh until my cough starts up and then I have to hang up and consult WebMD to make sure I don't have throat cancer.

Last time she was in LA we went to LACMA (Art Museum) and had lunch there.
This is from their exhibition "What The Fuck Is This?~ 2007" I'm eating peanut butter straight from the jar since I'm out of food and this picture made me hungry. If only I could remember what it was.

I DO know it's Saturday if that comes up on a pop quiz.

I'm going to the acupuncturist on Monday. A Japanese man recommended by my Vietnamese pedicurist. And really? Acupuncture is Chinese.

End of chat.

Now EVERYONE Can Bite Me Friday

Our very dear blog friend Braja, from Lost and Found in India has been in a serious car crash on her way to the airport in India to go to Bangkok and then on to New Zealand.

I feel more than just horrible because she was supposed to call me from the airport so I kept my phone on a leash and dragged it around all day and night, not knowing when the call would come through since India is next to Saturn in the Solar system.

When I didn't hear from her I thought, "She must have been running late." and "She'd better not have forgotten me!" I've never met her but I instinctively knew she's the type of person who keeps her word.

I've been to India and THEY ARE THE WORST DRIVERS. They make South Korean, French and Italian drivers look handicapped.

Please check here for links to the updates as she and her husband were both injured and he is in critical condition and the driver might lose his leg.

Please send prayers and light. She would do it for you.

Chris + Rihanna = M + Suzy

I'm not going to jump down Rihanna's throat because I've been there, done that. When I was her age. M was in his 30's and and used to rough me up. He would grab me by the arm and yank me. And then he'd do what he always did: apologize. Said he'd never do it again and give me flowers or jewelry, which he stole from his mother, usually things from the 1940's that I still have.

It was my roommate who noticed the marks. I didn't even see them. Young love can be so stupid when you're 22 and the man is insecure and controlling. I was planning on marrying this man. Thank God that never happened. Statistics say getting married in your 20's is now no longer recommended by psychiatrists, marriage counselors or even the clergy. People in their 20's just don't have a lot of street smarts. And I was one of them when I was 22. GOD did I have a lot to learn.

So when my roommate asked if M was beating me, I said, "Of course not." To me, beating involved blood and weapons.

But it soon escalated. M was jealous. Ridiculously jealous. A glance from another man would set him off. It was always about men. I was in a theater company and got a lot of attention. He had no job at the time and I guess felt ashamed. He was a master manipulator and charming to everyone. Even me. Until we were alone.

The year we met we drove across country so that I could have a surgery that would eventually save my life. In Amarillo, Texas we checked into a motel and then went to a local bar. We had a few beers and left. On the way out, a cowboy asked me what time it was. I looked at my watch, turned around and answered him. When we got back to the motel, all hell broke loose.
"Is that your new boyfriend?"
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
"He asked me what time it was."
"A whore, a lying fucking whore, that's what you are."
"HE ASKED ME WHAT TIME IT WAS."
"He wrote something down on his hand, what was it, your PHONE number?"
"I don't HAVE a phone; we left San Francisco, remember?"

People pounded on the wall next door and yelled SHUT THE FUCK UP. M pounded right back and told them to shut the fuck up. They didn't pound again. I don't remember what I said next but he pushed me backwards and then when he got close enough, he threw me across a bed and I landed on a bedpost and got a black eye. He said he was going to kill me.

I cried. He apologized. There was no flower shop in the motel and his mother's jewelry box was mercifully hundreds of miles away. So I took the apology, the kisses, his tears and just sat on the edge of the bed feeling like a rerun.

He said we should go back to the bar so HE could cool down. So, like the ever faithful afraid I was going to lose him girl, I acquiesced. The bar finally closed and we walked out all smoochy and holding hands. We were soon surrounded by 5 men. They asked us if we wanted to go party.
"No, we've got an early ride out of here tomorrow."
"Oh come on; it's good stuff."

They surrounded us and made one guy go in our car while the other 3 went in their car and told us to follow them. My black eye started to pound but that was nothing compared to the kind of trouble I knew we were in now. The 3 of us sat in the front seat, me in the middle, the rape seat. I suddenly got real calm and told the stranger next to me that I hoped there was a gas station along the way since we'd been experiencing car trouble. Then I told him M had just beat me up so he'd know he was a fighter. The stranger didn't even look at me and grunted.

After about 10 silent minutes I turned to M and said, 'There goes that front tire again."
"What tire?"
"The right front tire.' I elbowed him hard. M finally got it. Stretched out in front of us was miles and miles of dark highway and the tail lights of the other car were far in the distance. M and I were not going to get out of this alive.

M slowed the car and I asked the stranger to get out and check the tire and to leave the door open so when he told us what was wrong we could hear him. He yelled from the dark, "Looks good from here."
"Are you sure, check the ghdysgsh."
"The WHAT?"
"Floor it," I whispered to M, "and do a 180."

He did. The open door knocked the stranger flat and M's Dodge Charger turned, burned serious rubber and took off at about 90 mph.

I guess I had SOME street smarts. And M never hit me again. But when we got to my parents' house, my dad didn't talk to me for 7 months because of that black eye.

When I went back to California, M and I got back together. WOMEN ALWAYS GO BACK. People never understand this but it happens over and over and over in this kind of dyad. Don't judge unless you've been there. I don't approve of Rihanna going back to Chris but it's her path to walk in life, their karma that does not concern you or me so I don't judge. I've learned one thing, I've NEVER met ONE person who wasn't fucked up in some way. Some, obviously, more than others. My dad used to hit me when I was a kid. Is that why I allowed it from M? I thought I deserved it? Or was it just part of what I had to go through to get from Point F to Point G in life?

I never got hit again by anyone again.

M died of a heroin overdose.

More (And Almost) Less Of Hollywood

The Chrysler Building in NYC was my favorite building in that city. The Capitol Records Building is my favorite one in LA. and not just because it's a few blocks from my house. Read below for the Internet's description, things I didn't even know and I KNOW EVERYTHING.

Opened in 1956, this 13-story tower, just north of the legendary intersection of Hollywood and Vine, is one of the city's most recognizable buildings. The world's first circular office building is often, but incorrectly, said to have been made to resemble a stack of 45s under a turntable stylus (it kinda does, though). Nat "King" Cole, songwriter Johnny Mercer, and other 1950s Capitol artists populate a giant exterior mural. Look down and you'll see the sidewalk stars of Capitol's recording artists (including John Lennon). In the lobby, numerous gold albums are on display.

A few years ago they wanted to turn the building into CONDOS. Thankfully the Landmarks Commissions stepped in and the idea was permanently scrapped. CONDOS?

What is WRONG with people?

End of chat.

A Daily Occurence

When this is in your backyard:

You see this from your second story window every day:

And can hear them talking about the weirdo in the second floor window who only has on a black bra and edible panties:

And then I take a picture of them taking a picture of the Hollywood sign and throw my underwear out the window.

Just to keep the United States's stellar image up.

End of chat.

Australians And Howling Dogs

This is the Australian band Kistone at my place Saturday night. Why do they look retarded and why are they holding my sister Lindy's dog?

Number One: Someone didn't understand the concept of a flash camera and it wasn't me, for once.

Number Two: Yoshi, the dog, HOWLS like a wolf. When my sister and I are alone with him, we have to rush to his side to shut him up because he thinks we, as his pack, are LOST. So he howls. LOUDLY. Never give Australians this information because they decided to see how long it would take them to get the dog to flip out and me evicted. Eventually my sister joined in the howling AND I LOST MY WILL TO LIVE and decided to just stand outside and wait for the cops to show up.

Then I started howling.

And the phone rang.

"Hello?"
"What's going on other there?"
"The Australians are giving my sister's dog a Brazilian."
"Well, in case you didn't know, it's VERY, VERY, VERY loud."
"You've clearly never had a Brazilian, have you?"
"I'M A GUY."
"Then I'll jump you to the front of the line."

CLICK.

Here someone put the flash to better use and Simon is consoling Yoshi while Lindsay and Mike make fun of the video they took of him. I thought I had no life. And I don't.

I want to thank Vodka Mom for letting me blog chez elle and for the support of all her terrific fans. I still have numb hands and don't always respond the way I used to in the comments section but I was so moved by Vodka's readers that I'm going to start commenting back again because my horrific, debilitating pain is inconsequential in the face of such kindness and of course I'm lying.

End of chat.

I've Been Kidnapped.

I'm being held hostage over at Vodka Mom. The ransom is $6.98 and no one will pay it.

NO SURPRISE THERE.

It's Everybody Can Bite Me Friday!

Apparently this Southwest plane was so offensive to some fliers that they called it 'soft porn.' Comics have been saying this for millenia; people just don't have a sense of humor. That's why I love every single person who reads me because you get me. Oddly enough, I don't read my own blog because there's not enough soft porn in it.

This post is the 50th Bite Me Friday. That's a LOT of bitching and moaning. People who've known me for a long time are saying, "Don't you mean 5,000th?"

Rude.

This week I had lunch with a super popular blogger. Can you guess who she is? (check the bottom of this post for the answer). My camera totally sucks because her turtleneck was the most beautiful shade of lavenderishpurple. With a coat to match. We had talked on the phone a while back and finally got to meet. She's so super nice and funny and I'm so super evil that it was amazing we could converse. Thanks to her, I went C R A Z Y and put on two inch heels. I was so over my flats and Doctor Whore For Money said I could wear them starting last AUGUST. I'm really on top of my recovery, huh? But I couldn't get my black leggings on and dear GOD I am so pale I could play Snow White at Disneyland.

This was our waiter Matt. You can't see it but his eyes are so blue. All of this happened at Buddha's Belly, on Beverly Blvd. If you love great Pan-Asian food, go check this restaurant out, it's worth it.

I like that TV show Lie to Me. I memorize all the tics and clues and then immediately forget them. Probably just as well since if I actually KNEW who was lying to me, I'd have to kill them. And then I'd be friendless. And in Sing-Sing.

This Saturday I'm going to be guest hosting at another popular blog. I'll link it tomorrow.

End of chat.

ANSWER: Margaret. (Now click on her name to discover her blog if you haven't already)

Step Away From The Celebrities #3

I saw a movie star on Monday. He has a house in our neighborhood and was driving his black Benz, wearing a cap and sunglasses. He cut though traffic out of an Arco gas station and I thought, what an asshole, he's going to kill someone.

Oh wait, it's Brad Pitt. He can kill anyone he wants.

I always go out of my way to talk to actors who have impressed me over the years. Poor Mark Ruffalo was trapped with me at Mayfair Market until the paramedics came and put him on a stretcher and gave him pain pills.

Yesterday I saw another celebrity. We were in the same manicurist's shop and the minute she walked in I heard all the manipedipeople yell Hi Ann Marie!

After two seconds I said, "Ann Marie, aren't you the girl from...." and she said "Yes." I proceeded to tell her what a great actor she is and what was she doing now and where did she live and did she know our mani/pedi place was closing and was she going to call the paramedics? I asked if I could take a picture of her with my camera phone and she told me to google her and take a picture off her website. Clearly she's friends with Mark Ruffalo. So I googled Ann Marie Bergl. Nothing.

I finally googled this show and realized her name was EMILY. But pronounced by Vietnamese it came out Ann Marie. Or I've only got one ear left. She was so gracious she didn't even tell me I was mispronouncing her first name whereas I once yelled at someone who called me SUE and not SUZY. She's coming back on the air in the fall in a new John Well's show and is just finishing up a Broadway run. She's busy.

I'm not. Is that a surprise?

End of chat.

Oprah Is Scaring Me To Death

If you happened to see her show yesterday, talking to families that hoard and families that spend too much, then you learned two things about her:

1. She packs her own lunch. When Stedman pointed out that she packed her lunch every day she replied, "Well I'm saving $7.00; you're not."

2. As if this wasn't frightening enough, she went on to say that if she finds a penny on the street she picks it up. If you point out a penny to the homeless out here they'll say, "You must need it more than me."

Oprah is worth 2.7 billion dollars.

Then I heard about the guy who started kids collecting pennies to help other children in need. Over time he turned their pennies into 7 million dollars.

If anyone is looking for me, I'll be outside for a few weeks, months, years, the rest of my life.

End of chat.

How Low Can We Go?

I don't know where this street is. Maybe in hell?

The problem seems to be that these people in the picture below refuse to get a job. You cannot go in for an interview if all you have to show is genitalia. Seriously, put on a suit.

I remember when I was working every week. This picture was taken at The Improv, yet another club that threw me out after 3 years and a hundred Amstel Lights.
Shaq was in the club one night when Joy Behar and Mario Cantone were in town. You know Cantone from Sex and the City and the fact that he did THIS to me at Eve Behar's wedding. Rude.

End of chat.