It's Everybody Can Bite Me Friday!

Right before I board The Titanic, I always reread Many Lives, Many Masters. Chapter 6 always set me straight and takes the burden of bill paying, illness and other worries out of my head and into the trash, where they belong. If you don't own this book by Yale Med School and Columbia University trained Dr. Brian Weiss, buy it on Amazon. You can get it for less than a dollar. It's his most famous book and it's about reincarnation. For anyone struggling with an issue, Chapter 6 will set you straight.

Hollywood is full of legendary stories. A lot of people have made mistakes in their career choices. Kylie Minogue passed on the song Toxic and it went to Britney Spears. Kanye West wrote Golddigger for someone else, who passed on it. The famous lines uttered about Fred Astaire, "Can't sing, can dance a little" were the result of his screen test. The note also made mention of his big ears and the fact that he was balding. Nobody thought he would make it. This alone is why you need to read Chapter 6.

Warner Brothers is among the people who passed on something big.

Slumdog Millionaire.

It was made for $14 million dollars. Then it was shopped to them for distribution. WB's final answer on the film was that it would surely go straight to DVD so they passed and sent the producers to Fox Searchlight, who took the distribution deal. This is how films eventually show up at your local movie theaters. You have to find someone who will distribute it. So when Danny Boyle accepted the Oscar for directing Slumdog, he THANKED WB for "graciously giving the deal to Fox." HA! He had to do that because here in LA, you can't piss anyone off and I've learned that the hard way. Has ANYBODY ever learned anything the easy way?

To date the movie has made $130 million.

When I was in Mumbai my guide took me to Bollywood. It looked like a grey cement bunker, like a lot of Mumbai, which is undergoing massive infrastructural growth. And yet their people are colorful, joyous and kind. Now come to Hollywood and check out our studios. Overwrought exteriors, colorful interiors and nasty multimillionaires running the places. And one of those studios wasn't intelligent enough to go with such a brilliant movie as Slumdog. But for God's sakes, MAKE MORE BATMAN MOVIES with different Batmans and so much CGI that our eyes glaze over from your ability to take our money and laugh in front of our backs. (They want to make a total of 7 Batman movies, I guess they think we haven't quite figured out the story yet because it's sooooooooooo complicated).

Three of the nicest guys I met in Mumbai. To see the rest of the pictures I took, go here. Or click on the label India at the end of this post.

This is what 100 rupees looks like. When I was in India it was worth $1.25. Today it's worth $2.00. This is the amount I tipped everyone and was told was too much to give away. And I gave this amount to children and adults alike. TWO DOLLARS. I'd kill for 2 dollars today for God's sakes. And of course that is Sir Ben Kingsley on the bill. (please don't comment about this or I will fail you this semester)
I thought it was hilarious that I have a Best Western at the corner of my street and ended up in one 8700 miles away. (14,000 kilometers).

Two of the kids in Slumdog have been given permanent housing along with money set aside for their education, which their parents can't touch. And they're little tiny heroes in a big, big land. They would understand Chapter 6.

The Druggertons have been evicted so naturally we've all been going in to the vacated premises to steal stuff look around. And by all I mean me. I copped three black angels that were refrigerator magnets. I passed on the hypodermic needle and condom that were in the kitchen. I hope I don't live to regret that.

End of chat.

Lent

Mrs. K is observing Lent this year. I did when I was a kid but don't celebrate it anymore. The point is to give up something that you really, really like for 40 days. Martha Jane used to give up drinking when she lived here in Hollywood. Mrs. K is giving up Facebook and breads.

So this year I decided to see if I could think of things that I liked well enough to give up. Sadly, I came up empty (lie) so instead I'm giving up these torturous items:

1. Patience
2. Listening
3. Compassion

So basically, nothing will change around here.

End of chat.

Where Did Everybody Go?

Over the weekend we bloggers lost some of our 'followers.' For those of you who don't have blogs or know what the followers thing means, go read Vodka Mom. She was thisclose to getting her book looked at by someone uber famous and critical to her literary career but she lost some of her followers and it affected her relationship with this person. It's insane because she's mega popular, kind of like I am on the walls of men's bathroom stalls.

We need you to follow our blogs. If you don't know how to do it, just click on Follow This Blog, where all the tiny thumbnails are, and it takes two seconds to figure it out. You can be anonymous. You don't even need a picture to upload. You can be naked, like I am right now, but for the love of all that is shitty and cruel, please do it.

If you follow me, I automatically return the favor. I may not get around to commenting as much but I still read you all. If I follow someone and they never follow me, I will eventually drop them. It's totally quid pro quo with me because I want us all to succeed. Especially me because, well, it's always about me, isn't it? Really? Are you in tears yet?

This is a new age and we need to make the blogosphere work for us. If you're too jealous of those ahead of you, drop out now, you'll never succeed.

'Followers' help us with publishers and agents, as you can tell from Vodka Mom's post, Who Did I Piss Off? If you intend to get a deal or a gig, use the followers widget and put it on your blog. It's different from having Feedburner or Blogrolls. Apparently those don't count as much. I don't know why. Probably because publishers are drunk. Like you all are right now.

Thank you.

End of chat.

Rich Again?

I spent a few hours thinking about what I would do with my extra $65.00 a month stimulus check from the government. It's so exciting!!! I will not put it in the stock market although I'm sorely tempted because I haven't cried enough in this past year. I think the best place for it is under my mattress, unless AIG or GM come to my house and then I will have to stash it in the toilet tank.

But then I realized something. I don't have a job so I won't get all of that $65. So it appears the toilet is the best place to keep it after all.

End of chat.

Jai Ho!

Finally, a good Oscars. If you haven't seen Slumdog, I seriously don't understand what's wrong with you. All the talk, all the wins and you're still sitting at home? The dancing number is 100% better in the film than what you saw last night and it comes at the end, so wait for it. 8 out of 10 Oscars. A story of hope. A love story without Ali MacGraw. Go.

I read the book The Reader and it was so bad I didn't bother with the movie. Then I saw clips of the film and Hollywood painted some rather broad artistic strokes over the book so now I'll see it. Don't read Revolutionary Road unless you've run out of sleeping pills.

The clothes: I'm so over The Stylist Look, where they plant some pale, colorless gown on the whitest people in the world until their transparency mercifully makes them disappear. And diamonds? Gee, that's new. So my picks were for the always fashion forward Heidi Klum and the man without his dog, Mickey Rourke, wearing the fashion future forward Jean-Paul Gaultier. Honorable Mention to Viola Davis.

Other revelations:

Hugh Jackman: My new husband.
New format: Not memorizing your speech to the nominee. Rude.
The floor reflecting the back screen: FUCKING ANNOYING FOR DAYS.
Sophia Loren: Real Movie Star finally shows up missing her waist.
Phillip Seymour Hoffman: Jews in the 'hood.
Ben Stiller: Please put him out of my misery.
Bill Maher: Stop doing blow. It's so Oscars 1997.
Steven Spielberg: Can I land my plane on your heliport hairdo?
Will Smith: You used to be funny.
Steve Martin to Tina Fey: DON'T...fall in love with me.
Jennifer Aniston: A braid? Really?
Angelina Jolie. You put something in your eyes to make us stare at you. And we can't look away.

Jai Ho means "I hope you win." And they did.

End of chat.

The Best Person Oscar

Today is the 100th birthday of a woman I've known my entire life. She loves me so unconditionally that I used to joke that she probably didn't know me that well!
Happy Birthday Jean.

Once when I was 3 or so, we were driving and came upon a trailer full of horses. I begged her to slow down and she did and we followed while I squealed the whole way.

Finally she told me we had to pass the horses or we'd be late. I got so mad I screamed Mean Jean at her. Jean is now mostly blind and half deaf but the most cheerful and upbeat person I have ever known. She once told me she got up every day with a smile on her face and assumed it was going to be a great day. Obviously we're not related.

I still am obsessed with horses and ride whenever I can. Unless I have to sign a release WITH MY HANDS. As you can see on the photo, I USED to be able to write. I'm sure there's a handwriting expert out there amongst you who is looking at that sample and thinking, "Well THAT explains it."

End of chat.


***I can no longer do word verification on blogs that have that feature. It's too hard on my hands, unnecessary and for me, a waste of time. I hope you understand.

It's Everybody Can Bite Me Friday!

It's official. I'm at Def Con 1.

I microwaved a Dinty Moore tub of Beef Stew. And thought it tasted good. This was from my emergency earthquake reserve, which I keep eating.

I can't stop watching Maury and Jerry Springer because I might have children out there I don't know about because the DNA results aren't in yet. I told you, Def Con 1.

Stop asking me to join Facebook. PLEASE. I hate myspace, Facebook and Twitter. I keep in touch with 2 people from high school and 3 or 4 from university. Why would I want to remain connected with kids who had no goals other than to move three blocks from where they grew up? I'm not that person, and neither are my current friends, as most of you have figured out from reading this blog. I'm not glued to the electronic zeitgeist; (lie) I went out and did things with my life, like bought DINTY MOORE for the earthquake that will make the third floor collapse on top of me before I can get to the microwave, which will not work because there will be no electricity and oh yeah, I'll be dead.

And let's not forget why I hate everyone (not you pomnot) in my high school. THEY DIDN'T LET ME IN POM-PONS. That's the picture above of me and Jamey and our fake pom-pons. Bitter, party of two.

My sister took the same path as I did WHICH MY MOTHER BLAMES ON ME. The picture below was taken in NY, the one and only time my sister Lindy played there. I hadn't seen her in a while since she'd moved to LA to follow Burt Bacharach, who she was dating at the time. She once told me she can't look at old pictures of the good ole days because it depresses her. So I found this one to see how far out on the ledge she'll walk. She played The Princess of Power, She-ra in the 80's. She was flown around the country to do meet and greets with kids and ADULT comic book freaks, who she said were creepy and asked her out. AS IF.

I was waiting on a corner in midtown when she got out of the limo and looking back now, I hope to God we both laughed. She was getting paid and I wasn't so I'm guessing she laughed while I acted all superior because I was wearing shoulder pads and not a horn of plenty on my head.

I'm sure it's apparent to you all that it was probably just as well that neither of us had children.

And here's one of my famous cooking tips. If you happen to drop beef stew juice on your counters? And don't clean them up in 10 seconds? Those drops will be harder to clean up than the Exxon Valdez. You're welcome.

End of chat.

Rejection

Dear Suzy,

Thank you for sending us your tape. (my agent did, not me, which would have just been pitiful in our business)

Although we feel you are talented (I'll bet), we cannot offer you an appearance at this time.

Please do not be discouraged by this letter. Please keep us informed of your progress. (so we can make fun of your new tape)

We would like to keep your tape on file for our future reference. (gag reel) If this is not acceptable, please call Laura C. at 818-xxx-xxxx and request that it be returned to you.

We hope to hear from you again (never) sometime in the future. (maybe when Jay Leno leaves the show which we all know will never happen)

I got this letter in 1994 and it didn't kill me.

I kept going and NEVER got on the Tonight Show.

So don't give up. No matter what your dream is. Just remember, it's not about getting something, it's about TRYING to get it.

You know I'm totally lying, right?

http://lisahgolden.blogspot.com/2009/02/post-like-pbs-fundraiser.html

The comment verification movement is growing. Go read this while you're crying about my Tonight Show rejection in 1994. (It's dated Feb 18, 2009)

End of chat.

Seriously, I'm Writing This From Heaven

Here is the person who won my last contest. And she's showing her face and body for the first time! EVER.

Then go here to vote for whether you should keep or dump comment verification. Some of us want bloggers to stop wasting our time with CV and some of us have no life and have LARGE gaps of time to fill. We promised Sherri we'd vote one way or the other. Well, I promised anyway. (our side is winning)

I am still on my death bed and dragged myself out to try and clean a little and instead the computer grabbed me by the arm and forced me to blog.

End of chat. Maybe forever.

I Know God Hates Me And I Have Proof

I had to go the Post Office on Valentine's Day and people were out riding bikes, holding hands and slashing tires, as if it wasn't 56 degrees out. FIFTYFUCKINGSIX. I tried to hit a pedestrian and you'd be surprised how fast an 80 year old woman can move when she's crossing against the light and a purple car driven by a woman with murder in her eyes is gunning for her.

Jill's boyfriend from Australia had flowers delivered so I called and told her they were outside because I guess UPS hasn't heard of doorbells yet. I took them and put them in front of my apartment so I would look popular. People in mad, crazy love need to be in a crosswalk while I'm driving. And NOT GET FLOWERS DELIVERED WHERE I CAN SEE THEM.

And now I'm really sick and it's my karma for even thinking of running down an old lady on a walker (did I not mention that part?) and trying to put tongue kissing people out of my misery.

The best thing about living alone is when you get sick your place goes to shit and you couldn't care less. All perspective is renewed when you're on your knees begging God to spare your life. Or at least stop the coughing. Tonight I ate a heated can of chicken soup out of a Tupperware container because there's no clean dishes. It's come to that. I've never yelled at a guy for the way they live, or dress, or left the toilet lid up or put their dirty laundry on the floor. It's clear why, now. I'M ONE OF THEM.

This is what I take every 4 hours after 11 pm: Sudafed Night, Nyquil Nightime gross cherry flavor because I finished the last one, expired in 2007, 2 days ago, one Xanax and 2 hits off my asthma inhaler. And two Unisom to put me out first. Who doesn't want to fuck THAT?

When Heath Ledger wins the Oscar there's no doubt that I should accept it for him.

End of chat.

It's Everybody Can Bite Me Friday!

First of all, there's this:

Thanks Susan, and if I've never told you this before, you have a beautiful first name.
This is my sister Lindy in her overpriced co-op. Notice the weight bench and free weights on the balcony, to the right. This is overkill because her gym is across the HALL, on her floor. I picked her up downstairs after nearly clipping a red Ferrari the valets were parking and I mentioned how cold I was. She said not to worry because she left the heat on in her place so it would be warm when we got back.

We went to a thrift store and got 6 items for $27.00, including a black leather coat and a brown suede one. Sadly, they didn't have anything in my size 6 with a size 8 stomach. You'd think that in this economy stores would be more accommodating. Rude.

The next day the manager of my building asked me why my stomach was swollen. Rude.

When we got home from the thrift store an igloo had formed in Lindy's living room and Inuits were hanging blubber to cure for the summer.

"God, it's SO hot in here."
"This is hot to you?"
"Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuzy, it's SIXTY-FIVE." (actually she called me asshole)
Since it's SO hot I want to hit the pool; can I borrow one of your size 6 stomach size 8 bikinis?"

The view of the Santa Monica Mountains from my sister's balcony. And below is the fern where a pair of doves live. See the tail sticking up towards the top of the picture? It sometimes stays like that for hours.

I used to make fun of my parents for taking pictures of plants and birds. God, I'm a tool.

The doves lived in that fern for years high up in a corner and then one day they disappeared. Doves make a little dove noise when they came in or out of their nest. One day Lindy thought she heard their familiar sound and went out to her balcony only to discover it was the sliding glass door of the people on the fourth floor. She talked to them and mentioned their door sounded like her missing doves. The 4th floor neighbors said THEY had a new pair of doves who moved into their fern a year before.

My sister knew those were her doves and wanted them back because everyone knows you can control feral animals with your mind. So she practiced The Secret. It got so extreme that one day she actually thought she saw one dove sitting on the rail of the balcony. THERE WAS NO DOVE THERE because all our family is insane. She said that bird sitting on the rail was so real to her that she was positive it was hers. So she just kept visualizing those doves back in her fern. She also kept doing The Secret (if you've only seen the movie and not the book, get the book)

And finally they did come back and have been there every year since.

Seriously, everyone in our family needs therapy.

End of chat.

From The Queen Of India

There is a movement gaining ground. PLEASE LISTEN.

Feb 9, 2009

from Lost and Found in India by Braja

I read Liz's post yesterday about word verification on commenting, and I'm joining in. I'm tired of the time it takes to constantly type in stupid words to "verify" who I am when commenting on blogs. PEOPLE: TAKE IT OFF. We're blogging, not working in security at the White House. Sometimes it may be necessary if you're spammed, but having it on permanently is not necessary and it jerks some of us around a lot: I'm in a village in India, and my line is not good. Having to hit that enter button 5 or 6 times sometimes for your word verification is not my idea of a good time. Sorry to do this, but I won't be commenting on blogs that have it anymore. I don't need the angst. There's not enough Xanax in this village to aid with it...

Hey, bloggers love getting comments and readers like leaving them, so it's simple: make it easy...

I'm joining this. I will no longer post comments on blogs who insist on this very annoying add-on. If you get over 1000 hits a day, you need it. If you get 62 hits a day, get real. Delete your spam and take that verification off. I do, why don't you? AND I'M DOOCE, SO THERE.

End of chat.