Ms. Cheevious in Hollywood

My Zany Years Spent Working in Tinsel Town

MsCheevious

“Dances with Couples”

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I broke away from watching “Riding in Cars With Boys” (which I never saw… YOU GUYS! Why didn’t you tell me?!) to take a call and chat with a gal pal in distress over her relationship with her man.

It’s what I do. I like to think I helped my best girl, but I gotta think that on some level, I was just doing the dance I always do.

Friends have issues in their relationship? Friends talk about it together.

I’m no different from anyone else in this. But what sets me apart is that I have a uniquely keen ability to cut through the bullshit and see what is really going on behind all the drama.

I know I’ve said this before, that it’s perfectly fine if you want to call me “The Relationship Whisperer” but that moniker is so overdone, and so five minutes ago. Now, you may call me by my new self-assigned Native American name “Dances with Couples.”

 

 

Groucho McGraplestein

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For those times when after drinking copious amounts of wine and eating fabulous food among friends, there is nothing left to do but fashion the grapes and flower petals on the table into an image of Groucho Marx.

 

 

I ate all of the chicken soup

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Before I begin, you must understand that when one lives three blocks from the sand, one finds rare occasion to go anywhere much further than three blocks from the sand.

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Continuing with my “crack” induced story-lines, I thought I’d let you know that, yes, I was up late again last night (though only until about midnight, because I had a horrible sinus headache), and yes, I woke up at 6 AM this morning. It appears I am keenly adept at getting tired, and can actually get a little sleep if I’m feeling sick.  I now know that I was definitely sick. It was like someone took a baseball bat rapped in metal spikes and repeatedly beat my face in with it.

So this morning I got up and was still not well.  I worked for about an hour and a half, and went back to sleep. For four hours. When I woke up my lovely man asked if he could get me anything. My swift reply? “Chicken Noodle Soup from Souplantation.” I could hear the air seeping out from Nuggie’s bubble as he rapidly deflated. It wasn’t that he didn’t ask with sincerity, it was that I actually took him up on it, and that my request involved driving about fifteen minutes, way further away than three blocks from the sand.

He did it though. He ventured out into the wild of the streets of Santa Monica, on into Brentwood, and purchased a large to-go container of my all-time favorite chicken noodle soup. Ahhh, bliss. And even though I was eating Chicken soup, and Nuggie is a Chicken Man, he wasn’t at all skeezed out by that. He is definitely a keeper.

 

 

It’s when I’m thinking I may be on crack

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So…. How do I put this?

Ever since I lost my ovaries I’ve been a little less energetic than normal.

Let me be more specific.

I was less than energetic until a couple of weeks ago (downright exhausted – like all the damn time). It’s important to know that this is an extreme departure from the “normal” me. Like – if the perfect Mormon missionary suddenly woke up and threw on a pair of buttless jeans – extreme departure.  Normal me could be up drinking, laughing, dancing and telling indecipherable, but hilarious-in-the-moment jokes until 3 AM and still wake up at 7 AM to get working on that world-saving serum I had cooking in my lab (if I had a lab, or cooked serums).  I attributed my listlessness to the fact my hormones were askew and it was a simple fact of life: I would be exhausted all the time unless the pills and tinctures my doctors prescribed started to work their magic.

This week, a couple of pivotal events occurred that were different:

Earlier this week the blonde me “decided” to revamp the Ms. Cheevious website. You are reading this on that website right now (in case you didn’t know this… unless you subscribe to Ms.Cheevious and were lucky enough to get this in your inbox… in which case, click here to visit my work of art). I did it in one day. Well… a full twenty-four hour period in which I never slept, and was never tired.

When I crawled in bed at 5 AM I was still not very tired, and all I could think was Damn, I may not wake up until noon which will screw up my whole schedule. 

I woke up at 9 AM and was full of energy. I went back to work on more fun website stuff and stayed up again until midnight (I’ll be working on this new design and updating old posts until I’m using a walker to sexy dance for M.C. Nugget. Don’t laugh. I think I’m super sexy when I pull out my best Michael Jackson and deliver a flawless moonwalk. Could be tough in a walker, but I’ll get an A for effort.).

The next day, M.C. left town and I was up early, working.  I never stopped to work out, make healthy food (which means I ate crap all day/week), watch the news or anything, before I was working again until midnight, and had to be up at 6 AM.

When 6 AM arrived… well, it didn’t really “arrive.” I woke up before the alarm went off (this is NOT okay), and stayed up working until 2:20 AM the next day – again without blinking an eye.

I think it’s safe to say

the hormones are working their magic now.

 

It’s a little scary.  It’s like I can’t get tired. I have to think this is what it’s like to be on crack… you know, minus the crack. But I guess I’m back to normal!

 

 

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