Hollywood Heat and The Devil

It's a funny world I live in now -- right smack in the middle of "higher end" Hollywood, at the bottom of Runyon Canyon. Where lithe, young bodies go to exercise themselves and their dogs, on a street that's alive all hours of the night, and "Notices of Intended Filming" are posted on apartment gates like parking tickets. The 100+ degree weather has finally let up and I don't feel betrothed to the air conditioner.

Good puppy Nero seems to know everyone here, so I'm imagining Alan (especially) and Jeffrey are pretty social on their walks. Even really late (or really early :) there's always someone walking their dog... and I swear no one here looks like they're older than 40.

For the second night they're filming on Camino Palmero. The cast must be there because last night there were only security guards -- tonight I spoke with real LAPD.

After petting Nero and letting us cross the street, I asked one officer what they're doing. "Oh, it's 'Entourage.'" Funny, not even a preceding "the TV Show" or "a show on HBO" -- I guess Entourage is public domain now. :)

We took a different walk, and kept thinking I'd love to see the star, Adrian Grenier (the younger guy on the right), but then I thought, what the heck would I say to him? "I like your work," I suppose, so not to feel too stupid.

But the truth is, I like him because he reminds me of David Frankel (the older guy on the left).

It's funny, I tuned in to watch Entourage because much as I hate to admit it, I LOVE movies/shows about backstage show business shenanigans. Makes me still feel part of, I guess. How funny to find out that David Frankel, my ex-boss from The Ellen Burstyn Show directed the pilot to Entourage... and I bet he had a lot to do with the casting of Mr. Grenier. I have a picture of David at age 27 with the moppiest, curly mullet ever, and he was a dead-ringer for Adrian... and yes, you could say I was obsessed... David was my first "crush" on a "real" person in Hollywood. (Fan stuff -- Scott Baio and the like -- doesn't count!)

I was hired to work for David when we shot the pilot at Warner Bros. He was the Supervising Producer/Writer and I was to be his Assistant/Writer's Assistant. Whatever that meant because I'd never done that before! Previously I was typing a script on this new thing, a computer, with a producer named Norman Steinberg on the weekends on the Paramount lot (Yes! The same lot Scott Baio and Happy Days used tape at and I used to take the bus to see!). Norman's secretary, Juanita, didn't want to work on the weekends, so I got hired to type.

Boy did I learn a lot. At that point, I didn't know how to be an "assistant" to anybody, I was basically a production secretary on a magazine show before that and never had to "place calls" or "leave word" or "do a schedule." Juanita, the pro, taught me all of that. And when they shot they pilot, Norman asked me to work at the Warner Bros. lot for him and David since Juanita was already at his "real" office at Disney. Sure, why not.

So there I sit, all alone in a small office for this three-week shoot, and in comes David Frankel. I about croak... what a handsome guy! I was expecting an old person -- doesn't "Producer" mean "old"?

"Hi, I'm David."

I said hello back and he walked into the office to make calls. I'm sure I called Juanita, asking her why she didn't warn me -- he's so cute and only one year older than me! -- but she probably didn't think anything of it because David certainly wasn't HER type.

Anyhoo, I learned almost everything I know about scripts and assisting on that shoot. No one in the production office knew how to put out a script properly and I sure didn't either... someone finally brought one in from somewhere with all the colored pages for changes and headers at the top, etc. and I learned -- because I did I do everything! I put out pages, I xeroxed pages, I stayed at night to make the revisions, I drove to Disney to make the colored pages, collated and then distributed the scripts, and then I was back early in the morning for the scripts to be at the table read. OMG!

And in the meantime, David couldn't have been nicer. Quite uninterested in me, but really funny, super polite, even asking my opinion on jokes as we both learned about sitcoms. (Oh, and guess who played Ellen's daughter? Megan Mullaly, of Will and Grace fame.) Some other time I'll talk bout my six-month stint in New York when then show went into production... there are few good David Frankel memories there too and I don't want to forget them. :)

At the end final week of taping, I got a little crazy. (Probably from the sleep deprivation and all the responsibility!) I had befriended two of the actors, Billy Wirth and Maurice Davis, during the rehearsals and, yes even met David's dad. I got to speaking to him because I was on a "research project" to find out anything he might be able to say about David for the warm-up comedian -- only I don't know if I made that assignment up for myself or someone asked me to do that. In any case, someone in the office said David's dad was a really nice man, and wasn't it nice of him to take the time out of his busy schedule to fly to L.A. to see his son's show. (I thought this was normal as I'm sure MY parents would have come to see a show I had done!) I repeated that to Max, who said, "As long as I have a nice hotel room and the NY Times, I'm happy." Little did I know then that this was Max Frankel, Executive Editor of the New York Times -- what a humbling piece of information. I knew David was a Harvard man, but I didn't know from what beginnings he came... just that they were 100000% different than mine.

So the crazy part: at the final taping, I had bought congratulatory balloon bouquets to dear Norman, David, Billy and Maurice -- which, upon hindsight, sure seems like a HUGE faux pas! I mean, who the hell was I? An assistant on an assistant's wage paying over $120 for four corny arrangements! Well, it felt terrific at the time, and the look on Billy's face, just standing across backstage and waving at me with the balloons in his hand: PRICELESS.

In any case, I veered off in a weird direction, thinking about David Frankel in 1986 -- twenty years ago. Didn't expect that to do that, it was a nice trip down memory lane -- er, Fuller Avenue to be exact. Not much has changed for me but my name!... yet in saying that out loud, I know things are changing quickly... and I will always be a Hollywood girl.

Sending you good energy, David Frankel -- much happiness and thanks :)

Flattered... and proud!

The Los Angeles Fire Department's Public Service Officer, Brian Humphrey,
surprised me this morning in my comments box:

Ms. Katarungan,

First and foremost, please allow me to share how pleased we are that you safely survived your ordeal.

We've taken the liberty of sharing your well-crafted and (at the proper times) lighthearted missive with our LAFD News & Information blog visitors.

In doing so, we hope that members of the community and the Firefighters who serve them will gain better insight into what it may be like if they are (heaven forbid) ever trapped in an elevator.

We hope that you will be able to join us for the upcoming Firefighter Festival of Hollywood, when we hope that you'll be reunited with the crew from Fire Station 27's 'A' Platoon.

Again, thanks for sharing your experience.

Respectfully Yours in Safety and Service,

Brian Humphrey
Firefighter/Specialist
Public Service Officer
Los Angeles Fire Department
Brian Humphrey | Homepage | 07.19.06 - 11:02 am | #

So there I am on their blog and a great intro -- please feel free to read. I couldn't be more proud.

(BTW, the LAFD has a huge following (congrats!) -- my stats yesterday were incredible!)

L.A.F.D. Rules!

If ever there was a time to be blogging, this was it -- yes, tonight after a late night visit with a friend, I was stuck in an elevator for the first time in my life!

Right now I'm pet/housesitting at Jeffrey and Alan's in Hollywood. As I'm driving up and clickin' the clicker to open the garage gate, I'm thinking about how cool it is to always have a parking space in a condo building with an elevator in Hollywood. Life's good.

I threw out some garbage from my car (okay, I dropped by Mickey D's and had a McChicken sandwich) into the garbage can next to the elevator. Hmmm, I think, it's empty, someone just cleaned the garbage out. I get into the elevator, put my access key in and press 3 and proceed to daydream as I always do in elevators.

Took me a while to realize that there was nothing happening. Nothing.

Press 2. Nothing again. How about 1? Why isn't this thing moving? Hm. Okay, open sesame... oh dear, it's not gonna open either. Did I put the key in right? Yes. Aw, hell. No need for anxiety attacks now, this is why you've had all this emergency training, right? Just breathe.

There's an alarm button there... what does that do? No, no alarm yet, let's use that call button. It says it will flash when the call is answered. It's not flashing. Nothing is happening.

I don't want to alarm anyone yet, so I call Jeffrey in Chicago on his cell phone. It's probably 5:45 his time... well, who knows how early he gets up, but maybe he has the number to the super? Er, manager? Oh wait, these are condos, there is no super/manager, or a super manager for that matter. Hm. Well, it's moot anyway, I get his voice mail... and hot damn if my cell phone isn't flashing "low battery." Hang up fast.

So it's time to press the alarm button. It's a bell like noise and a white light goes off in the elevator each time you press it. Like a Staples Easy Button or something but with sound and light. Oh, I get it. It's an alarm to physically alert someone that there's something wrong with the elevator. It doesn't go anywhere, it just sounds pretty and makes pretty light. Oh shit. Nobody here is awake.

Well, hm. I'm going to wait until 4:00 am then I'm going to use my precious battery juju on 911. Trying to remember the other number they say you should call -- one that starts with 3 because this doesn't feel too emergency like... but what is it? 311? 399? Oh hell. Practice your speech because you're on the clock.

California Highway Patrol picks up after I say "ONE" into the phone.

"Hi, I'm stuck in an elevator at _ _ _ _ N. Fuller Avenue and I'm running out of juice on my phone!" The lady dispatcher says she'll connect me to the fire department and I'm telling her to please hurry... (the nerve of me.)

She connects me right away with the fire guys: "What's the address?" "_ _ _ _ N. Fuller Avenue and my battery's going dead." "What's the number you're calling from?" "It's my cell, _ _ _ _ _ _ _ but I'm running out juice!" At least I got out the address.

"Don't panic, and don't try to get out because you might hurt yourself. We're sending someone out right away."

"Okay."

I finally allow myself to sit on the floor. I did that well, I think to myself. I didn't panic, I acted like a grown-up would. If I had had a baby or a child with me, I would have been the perfect picture of calmness, no claustrophobia in sight at all. As a matter of fact, hm... I start singing: "Raindrops on rose and whiskers on kittens..." No, no, things weren't so bad and I don't know all the lyrics, even though I just sang it with my babysitting charge, Kate, tonight. What was that other one? Oh, yes, from The King and I: "Whenever I feel afraid, I hold my head erect, And whistle a happy tune, so no one will suspect I'm afraid." :)

Nah, don't need it... and I'm now I'm giggling because I know I'm gonna blog about this right away.

About ten minutes later, I hear noise. "Ma'am, you all right? Do you have any medical problems?"

I say I'm okay. They yell back: "Ma'am? Are you all right?" So I yell back that I'M OKAY WITH NO MEDICAL PROBLEMS. I'm also thinking of something light to say to ease the tension but then think that maybe that would be an obstruction of justice or something like that -- I stay silent.

They tell me they're working on it, so I start braiding my hair. I know -- braiding my hair? Works better than whistling, I guess.

I hear more male voices. They ask me what floor I'm on -- I say the ground floor. Okay, they're close, better get up. Wish I had put a bra on before I left... oops.

A few minutes later a voice says, "Ma'am, can you push on the door, going from left to right? Push with all your might." I push and groan my Superwoman groan:

"Nothing. Sorry."

"That's okay ma'am." Suddenly the door magically opens: and there are at least five firefighters dressed to the hilt. I'm a bit wowed and must have been grinning a big ole Cheshire smile, but then I remember to be humble and grateful.

"Thank you, thank you!" I say.

There's one among them in jeans and a tank top: "Don't do that again."

"Are you the super?" I say, forgetting there aren't "supers" in LOS ANGELES. "No," he says, "I'm in 101. What happened?"

The head/lead/oldest firefighter tells me there are no stairs to the ground floor, I'll have to go to the first floor from the outside. I thank him because I'm housesitting and have no idea where the stairs are. Then I walk out onto the street with the gang -- there are two huge fire trucks and the at least four more firefighter guys out there. Wow.

"Thank you again," I say. And they all -- well, probably most of them anyway -- wave. Good old L.A.F.D.!

Now I'm thinking about the stairs, as I go in the front door with Michael. I tell him that the elevator call button GOES NO WHERE. He's not happy with that. I almost say some smart ass remark about homeowners fees, but wisely hold my tongue because I'm not wanting to cause stress for my dear Jeffrey and Alan. But I'm sure that will get fixed soon. I mean what if they got someone hysterical (crazy/sick not funny/hilarious) in there?

I say good night and walk up the two flights. Oh goodie, I'm not out of breath -- training with Andrew works! Nero is waiting for me and gets all petted down before I start typing this.

Tomorrow I'll worry about the metaphysical implications of BEING STUCK IN AN ELEVATOR ON THE GROUND FLOOR... oops, guess I just figured it out. Well, I'm going to have a good sleep now... thanks again, L.A.F.D.!

Perspective

...and all I want are my puppies.

A Blogthing

You Are 60% Boyish and 40% Girlish

You are pretty evenly split down the middle - a total eunuch. Okay, kidding about the eunuch part. But you do get along with both sexes. You reject traditional gender roles. However, you don't actively fight them. You're just you. You don't try to be what people expect you to be.

How Boyish or Girlish Are You?

I'm Home!

It's 12:50 am and I just got back from my Academy music class that ended at 10:30... yes, yes, because I was talking to my teacher, Ross, at my car about an incredible project he's working on. (MMMs the word, but I will say my MOTHER will LOVE it!)

I haven't checked my emails or my messages yet because I'm too excited -- I keep thanking God for blessing me with my new life! It's not just musicals... it's that ALL of music makes sense to me now. It's that all the people make sense! It's that I, MYSELF make sense now... as in everything is all coming together. My love of music, my wanting to make it, the emotionality of it... yikes!

If I could write a joyous piece right now... this would one of the moments it would be centered around... YIPPEE!!!

Quan Yin

How did it happen I met a new website client today who tells me about the female buddha of healing compassion, Quan Yin? Did you know she's also the goddess of barren women?

Hm.

tick... tick...BOOM!

tick... tick... BOOM!tick... tick...BOOM! by Jonathan Larson ("Rent") - EXTENDS TO August 6th!

I was prepared to be disappointed because CJ had so recommended it, and yes, for the first five minutes I was stiff and underthrilled...

Until I allowed myself to relax, and not judge myself for being 46 and in the same damn place this almost-30-year-old caracteris. Once I could do that... of course, I saw myself in him.

I lived in a 5th floor studio walkup with three people in Hell's Kitchen in the late 80s. I got mistaken once for Santa Claus as I dragged my 30 pound of laundry in the snow to the laundry mat. And yes, I've done the corporate thing... for a long time.

But today I'm taking classes at the Academy of New Musical Theater -- I've found home, and shock (ha! not to my real friends), it's in musical theater! As a composer and hopefully bookwriter too... and our idols are both the same: Stephen Sondheim. Almost makes me want to change my name back to its original S.S... (NOT.). Wonder if I'll ever get to meet the infamous Mr. Sondheim before... before I go BOOM!

So eery that prevailed over the whole show, and lingered in the lobby as I read memorabilia of Jonathan's life: that he died 10 days before turning 36, just before RENT went to Broadway. That he was born only two months before me. That I get to be here and he isn't... it's so incredibly sad.

It was "REAL LIFE" sung by Wilson Cruz and Andrew Samonsky that made me lose it. Such a beautiful song, that made me feel for my fellow artists, especially the ones in L.A., who keep young, keep plugging away, still live like kids but have hope and don't choose "REAL LIFE." And it made me feel for me too.

Last night I babysat beautiful Kate and we watched The Sound of Music again, except with the Julie Andrews commentary turned on. Watching the kids sing "The Sound of Music" for the Baroness and seeing The Captain melt and love his family again... it made me wonder what happened to my dream of having a boatload of kids (twins, triplets, adopted -- you name it, I wanted them!). When did that dream die and I have to try and "prove" myself. And why is that mutually exclusive from being an artist?

So more tears came. Knowing that that's usually a very open, receptive, vulnerable place (for anybody) -- I had a Scarlett O'Hara moment:

"Okay, God -- if I'm meant to have a family and the man who loves me -- BRING IT ON! I won't make up excuses like I'm too fat, too poor, not accomplished, not ready. Whatever that next trip is, I will embrace it... BRING IT ON and I will choose LIFE."a

After my nap.

Thank God for "You Tube" - Ilia

The first time I saw Ilia Kulik EVER during his Long Program on the Olympics, and fortunately I had taped that. But this Short Program, which I LOVE LOVE LOVE, I don't have. Now I can always watch it, and immediately I'm in 1998... (and still hating Scott Hamilton's commentary too).

Thank you everyone for posting!

Last warmup before Short Program

Interview w/ Tracy Wilson before the Short Program

Nagano Short Program, "Revolutions"

After the win interview

The Lake House

The Lake House

Didn't want to like it and hated the music.

But I loved it. God help me.

First day of Musical School

Tonight was my first day of class at ANMT with Ross the teacher. And Joyce. And one other guy who'll be there next week. Three of us tonight, four of us after that. Can I just say I'M THRILLED?!

It's the Composers Lab and I'm feeling good because I know I have the tools. I can work a computer, including the music program, I've written for voice and orchestra, and now I just have to learn the how to thrive in the new world of musical theater and its special lingo.

The first 1/2 hour we just spent getting to know each other, and Ross rightly said he wanted me to talk about how I felt like bursting in tears. I'd said if I do start the waterworks, it's because it's been a long, circuituous route to be in that class, but give me a half an hour and then I'll be into the work.

Well, we did better than that... we all stayed an hour after class still excited to share stories and go over our material on musical notation.

First assignment: to write 32 measures of a melody that's aching to be sung by a Mandy Patinkin or... Of course I couldn't think of anyone else, but it doesn't matter who right now... I'm excited. And we have to do a lead sheet, or a whole piano vocal score if we can. Well, hell, OF COURSE I can... watch me kick ass (if I don't get on my own back.). But here's the kicker... it has to be HANDWRITTEN, in pencil and on manuscript paper.

Holy shit.

I haven't done that since my junior year at the start of the 80s... geez. I was shocked that he said that, but he said there's something to learn so I guess I will try it. After all, I did get a suggestion in 1981 that I would be great music copyist because I had a solid hand. :)

But then he said to me alone, you know, if you really want to do it on the computer and then copy it, you can do that -- just don't tell me you did it, okay? I think he knows I'm know my notation stuff, but no, I'm not gonna cheat. Unless it ends up being a five- minute piece -- then you better believe I'm using the PC! LOL

I've spent the last five days copyediting a novel and finished it just a few hours before relaxing and going to class. It was a terrific exercise for me (and nicely paying too), and now... I get to be all about me and music for awhile.

Tomorrow is the Book Lab (the script of a musical), but I have to leave early so I can read hands at a grad night at Universal from 9:30 pm to 3:00 am. WOW! This has been the busiest week I've had in months, (and yes, I'm having a bit o' trouble relaxing and sleeping), but I wouldn't have it any other way. Every move I've made, every appointment and job I've taken has been FOR MYSELF and no one else. And it's nice to take all the credit for those decisions too... though I haven't figured out yet how to balance it all, I am one heppy gel. :)

Il Divo and Hero

Boy, do I hate that Mariah Carey song "Hero" -- at least her version of it. Just got a streaming video of the Il Divo boys doing it and again I burst into tears. What is it with me? Boy, these fellows are something else... married, who cares, but when they sing, especially the bass guy... wow.

Their concert is already sold out in LA for June 28... let's see, who can I get to go with me on the 29th? Zowee...

On another note, I'm working on some hard, deep-rooted crap in my life with my good old therapist, Norm. Namely SLEEP... and my lack of a willingness to do the best thing for me. I just turn into a nasty or scared or a combination of both little BRAT.

Last night I was supposed to be in bed by 2am and up by 9am... both times I set for myself, neither of which I did. Ugh. I will say I had a good dream going up and down the elevators in Century City and then meeting G3rry Alt@mero at home to sell real estate... hm... G3rry, why do you come to me in my dreams when I'm stressed? What are you telling me?

I didn't wake up until 12:40. Yuck.

Academy of New Musical Theater

Dear CJ, Viv, Heidi, Viv G and Claudia,

Yes, folks, that's the Academy of New Musical Theater -- and I've just returned from an afternoon and evening with them!

Can I just tell you -- I was nervous to go, I was 7 minutes late and they were just getting started with the Demonstration of their Introductory workshop... talk about resisting that what I want most! But not three minutes when the Founder and Artistic Director, John Sparks started talking about what musical theater was -- IT'S ABOUT FEELINGS, FOLKS -- okay, I'm bawling like a baby. Sob Sob Sob... and I know I've waited all my life to be here.

I didn't think there would be almost 40 people there -- so good to be in like-minded people! And of all ages and from what I could tell from the questions afterwards, all levels of experience in book writing, lyrics and composing...

I CAME HOME TONIGHT.

There were a few short performances of how it each of the labs worked... and afterwards I met the man who will be teaching the music course... talk about a lot in common! He's gonna be a great teacher, not to mention a frickin' funny guy.

Speaking of funny guy... Kevin, Catheryn's friend, found me afterwards. I told him I knew he'd find me as was the only large, beautiful Filipino woman in the room so he couldn't miss me! hehehe We went to a good Chinese place close by, and it was very nice to have my door opened for me, etc. The (straight) man loves his musicals... and is a very pleasant fellow.

We went back to for the dress rehearsals of the four mini-musicals that will be performed on Tuesday... talk about different levels of experience.... I actually felt myself feeling relaxed. And guess what -- I wasn't the only large, beautiful Filipino woman in the room: the composer of the last musical was Filipino and had been introduced to ANMT by Kevin (who she knows from church). Interesting, eh? I said hello and even met her parents... of course the (typical) first thing out of their mouths was" "Do you speak Tagalog?" ("No, I was born here, but I understand a little" is my normal response to that, just FYI.)

So... I'm letting you know I'm in a terrific place -- and my tooth/jaw doesn't even hurt anymore! Please remind me that I had today when I'm miserable... please!

Thank you all for being there for me in this endeavor, the closest and most hidden in my heart (excluding boys/men, but that's another email :)

With smiles,
Madley

Crawler

adopt your own virtual pet!

I'm in need of some YOUTH around here...

adopt your own virtual pet!

Armed and Naive

Still giggling from my Sunday evening-before-I-lose-the-sun walk at the park where I used the walk the pupsters...

Walking on the path right next to the L.A. River, I could hear "popping" sounds and saw four people -- two teams of two -- in army fatigues and black ski masks shooting "machine guns" at each other, hiding behind trees, skulking around.

Of course I knew they were playing -- how could they do that so openly in GLENDALE? Had me a giggle and kept on my walk...

On the way back, they seemed to be paralleling me, but I wasn't going to give up my slow-as-hell-but-consistent pace, and at one point I was right in the line of fire behind one of the gunpersons...

And POWIE, one little pellet, the size of a piece of medium doggie kibble, hit me -- somewhere so easy I can't remember where, but not hard at all.

"Hey!" I yelled -- "GO THE OTHER WAY!"

The person closest to me turned at saw me, then started moving the other direction...thank you, I thought to myself... then one of the gunperson's got nailed by somebody else and I heard a female laugh. Heya! I started wondering how competitive I was myself. Answer: Not very. Unless you count perfectionism as competition with yourself -- most of the time I just call that insanity. Anyway, it's getting pretty dark and I continue on my walk when...

Blue and red lights go off! A siren yelps, then a man on the loudspeaker:

"PUT THE WEAPONS DOWN AND BACK AWAY!"

Ah! The Glendale Police Department to the rescue!

Once more: "PUT THE WEAPONS DOWN AND WALK AWAY!"

Oh my. Are these folks being stubborn? I look in the dark to see the four people drop the "weapons" on ground with the arms up and start walking towards the Glendale P.D. SUV. One of the homes that border the park must have called them... and these war mongers were gonna get in trouble. OOH!

OOH?!

Am I crazy? All of a sudden, in the pit of my stomach, I thought: Am I RETARDED that seeing games like this out in the public didn't make me worry or concerned? Am I that old, or jaded, or NAIVE?

Granted this isn't Israel, or Iraq, or even the Philippines where real machine guns can pop out onto anyone's arms in a second... but it didn't even PHASE me, until the police officer called it a "weapon."

Yikes. But you know, I just chalked it up to age, wisdom and focus on my walk because I still had ten more fence pushups I wanted to do...

FOCUS ON MY WALK? Isn't that funny, me? Yes, me. And I'm still smiling... my, I've changed, if but a little... Is THIS what they call "The Wisdom of Menopause"?! :)

Joann Rides :)

I flew into San Jose yesterday to spend a week with my parents and my brother and his family -- can I just tell you what a RELIEF it is to fly that one hour than driving 12-13 (for me, as I tend to nap on the road!).

Then SNAP -- great idea, I have to cab it to bro's house from the airport -- let's call a blogging friend and say hi in real life!

I've loved Joann's blog, Taxi Vignettes, since she and I both started a few years back -- I loved cabs in NY and always enjoy my adventures in them ;)

So she met me near the info desk downstairs -- beautiful Joann who just had her photo taken with Governor Arnie and has an 8x10 of it on her dashboard! I will have to say, I love putting people together with their writing, and I've met REALLY COOL PEOPLE via the internet... so here's to you, Joann, proving the rule that the net can be a lovely place!

Now... on to gourmet vegetarian dining in San Francisco...

Trader Joe's Disco

Saturday night at Trader Joe's and I find myself freezing (I'm always freezing in that store) but shaking my hefty ol' booty while I pushing my empty cart down the aisle...

I realize it's The Commodores' "Brickhouse" -- and heya, I'm back in high school! Where Kurt S. once called ME a brickhouse. Because I had big boobs. And because I thought it was funny. And I liked my big boobs. And yeah, we even played that song in Rock Band... everyone always "funked out"!

Hurry, hurry, it's COLD... and OMG, I'm dancing again! This time it's Evelyn Champagne King's "Shame" and I've about lost it now because I'M SINGIN' FULL OUT IN THE FROZEN FOODS SECTION.

And I don't care! I'm sick as a dog, can barely breathe, sweating from a temperature, but that loud-ass music is makin' me lightheaded and I like it. And to top it off... I hear a guy say:

"Boy, they play great music in Trader Joe's -- LOOK, everyone's dancing!"

It didn't occur to me that he could've been making fun of me until later... he just sounded so enthusiastic and was probably about my age too -- so I'm choosing to continue to think he was as "up" as I was!

What a lovely, Saturday night moment. :)

The Day of 100s

Oh dear... Andrew got it in his head that since today was my birthday, Viv and I had to do something SPECIAL -- and he remembered that when he was doing martial arts, on New Year's Day they did 1,000 kicks.

So in celebration of my birthday (poor Viv got dragged along), we did 100 seconds of plank, 100 leg presses, 100 lat pull downs, 100 push ups and 100 crunches.

"Happy Birthday!" the smiling trainer says. Then Viv and I go to lunch a do a little shopping.

Four hour laters... we are both aching. Can't even IMAGINE how miserable tomorrow morning will be... oh dear!

Evil Trainer. EVIL! hahahaha

Happy Birthday to me!

And yes, I've just woken up for the zillionth time sweatin' like crazy -- could it be menopause already?!? Darn.

Have a workout today, then a lunch, then spending the evening watchin' videos with a friend. A mellow day... but not a mellow year!

* Finish recital
* Go to Europe
* Get to goal weight
* Make a sh*tload of $$
* Finish apartment
* Learn how to cook

I'm breaking through that "wall" this year... and it feels good!

Down 3 more pounds (16 total)!

YAHOOEY!

I could actually tell I was going down... Andrew's been pointing out that I actually have muscles in my legs (darn squats). Now if I could only SPOT REDUCE -- but he says there's no such thing. Good thing, I suppose... I'd go in there with my gut and my chin(s)... and... hahaha okay, maybe it's better I melt the fat away with these metabolizing muscles (like a candle) so I don't look nuts...

So exciting :)

But there ain't any eggs left...

Should have kids You scored 85 % Parent Material!

Your high score suggests that you would be an excellent parent. Not only are you willing to put in the time and effort (and believe me, having kids is going to take plenty of both!)into raising children, but you are also willing to make necessary sacrifices. On top of that, you are patient and loving where children are concerned, and you might even have some good insights about raising them. You would have them for the right reasons (not because you feel obligated, and not so that they can take care of you, but because you really do love childen). If you scored this high and don't want children, don't worry-nobody is going to force you to have any if you really don't want to, and you are not a "bad" person. Go ahead and read what I wrote to people who scored "shouldn't have kids," and you'll see what I mean. That being said, maybe you'd be ideal for charity work with children, like Big Brothers/Big Sisters or tutoring? Just some food for thought.

My test tracked 1 variable How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 69% on Parent Material

Link: The Should You Really Have Kids? Test written by science_gal on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

Dream on

I know I'm sleeping well because I'm dreaming up a storm... I'm rested so the mind can take its little "trips."

Night before last I was cooking. Cooking up a storm... there were lots of friends preparing for banquet or buffet in a community center of some sort... I was helping with everyone and seemed to be the expert with all the recipes. Most were "comfort foods" of the people cooking them -- stews, one-pot-wonders, baked/broiled food, etc. And there was enough for an army. We never got around to eating it though...

Last night -- poor G3rry Alt@mero, if I couldn't have him in real life (4th-12th grade), he's there big time in my dreams! I learned how to be invisible and fly and found him and his family. Eventually I taught my family how to be invisible and fly, and taught him too... it was so lovely because we could help people as well as build our own house... flying and being invisible.

I'm going back to bed to see if there's more -- the two above seem heavy-duty (and obvious!). Good night, G3rry.

Quick Catch-up

1. I've lost two more pounds (yeah!) - 13 altogether. I'm so LUCKY to have Andrew as my trainer! And if you get a chance, check out his fitness tips -- they're terrific!
   
2. P and I are good friends again. I got over myself... and it feels great.
   
3. I'm getting lots of sleep -- it's amazing what happens when you take your anti-depressants every day.
4. I met my new landlords today. In May my rent will go up 87.5%. Not that I'm surprised, it's been the same teeny rent since 1995 -- oh well, decisions have to be made.
   

Happy Birthday, Patric