Christmas With A Crank

I've been so exhausted. I thought it was allergies but now I'm convinced someone from the McDonald's drive-thu replaced my blood with ketchup. I have four alert hours each day and then I want to curl up in the sink and sleep.

If only someone would do the dishes. And by someone I mean not me.

So on Christmas Day I was supposed to pick up Izzy's famous homemade Christmas dinner in Santa Monica and then drive it over to my sister's, about 5 minutes away.

I got in my car and realized I needed gas. Fuck.

I said Fuck on Christmas Day. You know, like I do every day. I drove to the gas station 2 blocks from my house and ran into my friend Kenny and his dog Sandy Blue. Kenny's the guy who told me he remembered me when I had a flat stomach.

Boy, you really can't unhear that.

He cleaned my windshield as I propped myself up against the gas pump and prayed for an oxygen IV. Then a drunk approached.

"Been drinking a little, Pat?" I asked.
"How did you know my name?"
"It's written on the cooler holding your beer."

Then a guy with an 110 pound RottyPit came by. His name was Claus. His dog's name was Snoop because Claus used to work for Snoop Dogg. Claus said he was a celebrity broker. I'd never heard of a celebrity broker so I asked him what that meant.
"Just Google 'Claus Britney Spears' and you can read all about it."

I drove 2 blocks before I thought, why go to Santa Monica? The party is RIGHT HERE in the Hollywood Hills with Pat the Drunk, Kenny the Sax Player, Claus the Celebrity Broker and Suzy the Sink Sleeper.

When I got to Lindy's I Googled Claus:

Feb 7 2008 3:14 PM EST
Britney Spears' Friend Denies Requesting Money For Rolling Stone Interview

'They contacted me with the offer,' Danish businessman Claus xxxxxxx insists...

Claus was a friend of Britney's. He allegedly requested 2 million for an interview with her. Rolling Stone denied offering it.

I COULD TOTALLY DO HIS JOB because apparently it does not require leaving the house.

Sidebar: How funny do those dogs look?

After dinner my sister and I watched screeners of It's Complicated and Up in the Air, both very average movies so I'm not sure what the hype is all about. We then watched 10 minutes each of Creation, Star Trek, and Coraline. Boring, Who Cares, and Who Cares, Jr.

By the end of the evening Lindy was explaining to me what a vaginaplasty was. So all in all? A typical Christmas.

End of chat.

The Lord Of The Flies

I'm making progress and am now on the Summer issue.

In the last two days my house became fly infested. I would usher 7 out the front door only to come back in and find 4 more. This went on for two days. No excess garbage, no dirty dishes in the sink so I'm thinking the cricket isn't dead and is instead giving birth to flies.

Not bragging.

King Of The Hill

A serene, tranquil place to gather your thoughts and if you're lucky, some of Elvis's expired prescription drugs.

All The President's Men

Mommie Dearest

Have you ever had an argument with a loved one and started to cry? And then the other person asks you what's wrong and you superglue your lips shut and grunt like the other person is the stupidest person on the planet because any psychic can FIGURE OUT WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU. The male version of this scenario is you ask him what's wrong and he goes outside and mows the lawn. Even though you live in a New York high-rise surrounded by concrete. So he has to mow the balcony. Another thing you don't have.

Which brings me to my Mother's meltdown.

Due to her macular degeneration, she's convinced she's going to go blind in the next 15 minutes. And in her own passive-aggressive way, she found a way to stick the guilt stake right through our hearts.

"But I LOVE to rrrrread."

"How will I get arrrround?"

''My friends cannot believe I have 2 daughters who neverrrr come to visit me."

In 2001, when my dad died in Florida, it took me 3 years to settle his estate, sell 2 apartments, write twenty zillion letters and notarize everything but my ass. The money we spent on lawyers alone was outrageous. It was the only time I wished my dad had been poor. I told my mother that I was not going to fly 6,000 miles to Paris and that she needed to move here.

She did not.

So the other night at Lindy's she started to cry. And wouldn't stop. Or talk when Lindy asked her if she wanted to tell her what's wrong. Crying is a manipulative game and is about the worst thing you can do to yourself. You never get out of your system what is bothering you. I don't play this game. I did it in my dating years and it NEVER worked. Men just shrug and walk away.

For those of you have lost your mothers at an early age and think that I'm being mean or selfish, let me fill you in on the aging parent syndrome. Angry, bitter, nasty liars. My mother told me she never went ANYWHERE while she was at Lindy's. I chose to out my mother to my sister and while Lindy rolled out about 200 things they had done and how hurt she was that mom would say that, my mother turned to me and said "YOU HAVE A BIG MOUTH." I think we'd all agree that is true.

I know so many sons and daughters who have gone through this nightmare with their aging parents. Oh and P.S., they will NEVER move to assisted living, even though Mom isn't there yet. I'm sure some of your older parents are lovely but eventually they'll do a quid pro quo on you because they gave birth to you and were in labor for 3 months. They will fight you to move out of their own domicile.

Mom threatened to sell off all her assets and hire someone to live with her. I told her that sounded like a good idea. I spent half my life in France and I choose not to do it again. If she dies in Paris we'd have to hire French Notaires, American lawyers, sell her considerable amount of antiques, a garage, a maid's room and her 2 bedroom apartment. Did I mention she has a sister who lives 5 minutes away?

Did I mention Paris is 6,000 miles away from Los Angeles?

What would you do?

Julie & Julia

I was going to review this movie but Women in Hollywood did a good job and I'll just link it for you. I also agreed with the comments that I wish the movie had been UNIQUELY about Julia Child. I love Amy Adams but feel she was woefully miscast. To act that wimpy across a strong figure like Julia Child is going to make a lopsided film. We needed to see someone who had a little, a LITTLE, breath of life. I kept waiting for Meryl to come back on screen. I would have liked more Stanley Tucci and the brilliant Jane Lynch too. But do people call me and ask my opinion?

And FINALLY Americans will learn how to say Bon Appetit correctly. It's not 'appeteete.' The final T is not pronounced. It's pronounced Bon Appetee. And Paris looks, as usual. GORGEOUS. God, Los Angeles is a hole.

Eat a big meal before you go. Really. Not after. Before. Trust me on this.

Grade: B

Pillow Talk

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.
“Our house.”

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.
“Nahhhhhhh.”
“But how do you sleep?” The horrifying face of death asked me.
“Easy.” (lie)

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.

I Wonder Who's Kissing You Now

I love you guys and am totally prepared to sleep with all of you.

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.

Spanglish

My new url is now http://www.wherehotcomestodie.com/. Ann's Rants bullied me into it becoming a dot com because apparently she is the boss of me. Adjust yourselves because the blogspot one goes to a very strange page the last time I looked.

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?"
"France."

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."
"You do?"
"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.

Funny People

Judd Apatow appears to be the King of the Comedy Genre with a Capital G. 40 Year Old Virgin, Knocked Up and now Funny People.

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

B(EATEN) IT to death with my spoon.

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) Jeff (cough) Goldblum. Rogen starts out fat in the film and then loses weight, which no one notices or mentions except me, who kept mumbling that to myself much to the chagrin of the chubby woman sitting next to me.

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.

Grade: B+

True Lies

I would like to address the people who write TV and movie scripts. What the hell are you thinking?

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.

Thank You For Smoking

I just read in the New York Times that soon all-smoking flights will be available. I wish they'd do the same thing with babies. An all-baby flight, where do I sign up for that slice of heaven? I had a one year-old sitting in front of me on the last flight I took and he emitted such a piercing scream that it echoed into the depths of the universe, traversed the time-space continuum and returned back in time to make us lose cabin pressure. That kid made me miss the smokers. At least a cigarette goes out in 3 minutes.

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.

Raiders Of The Lost Auditions

I snapped this photo in front of my Starbucks. It's directly across from Gower Studios and is always filled with people waiting to be discovered.

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.

The Departed

This is Nancy, sitting in the middle. She's been giving me pedicures for as long as I can remember. She and her 3 sisters have been working in Hollywood for 23 years. Their small salon's rent in a strip mall went from $3,000 a month to $5,000 a month. These hard working sisters came from Vietnam many, many years ago and put in 16 hour days. Their children are all A students and do not have cell phones. They also do not watch a lot of TV and speak flawless English, even though their parents don't. Nancy's nephew, in back of her, was mad that there is no summer school because Arnold S. canceled it all.

They always had their shrine up with different fruits for different seasons and good fortune but even that couldn't protect them from the recession. Everyone is sad to see them go.

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.

Chinatown

XXX said...
さあ、今夏も新たな出会いを経験してみませんか？当サイトは円助交際の逆、つまり女性が男性を円助する『逆円助交際』を提供します。逆円交際を未経験の方でも気軽に遊べる大人のマッチングシステムです。年齢上限・容姿・経験一切問いません。男性の方は無料で登録して頂けます。貴方も新たな出会いを経験してみませんか

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?

Dog Day Afternoon

I stayed at Carson and Johnny's annual Fourth party for 8 hours. When you have guests that bring homemade ice cream AND rice crispie treats, not to mention the smoker goodies like tri-tip and chicken, and you have to wait in LINE because the stuff was so good, now that's a party. And no boring vegetables. SCORE!

The divine Carson.

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.

Someone brought their rubber girlfriend. And no it wasn't me although we looked alike but I had more scars.
Fireworks!
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.