Ms. Cheevious in Hollywood

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I’m a Thin, Light, Lean, Mean Machine – Don’tcha Know?

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There I said it. It’s out there in the universe, swirling around now. I’m a thin, light, lean, mean machine.  That’s me!  Well, it will be soon.

Today I put a suit on that I plan to wear on a business trip to Florida in late February.  I embarrassed myself.  Just two and a half years ago this suit fit me and looked pretty stinkin’ good.  Not so this time. Blech.

So, I promptly took it off and hung it on my bedroom door as a reminder.  I proceeded to take three sheets of 8.5X11 paper and write messages to myself.  I wrote one that says “Don’t eat ANYTHING. You must fit in your suit! You need to lose it!” (it’s on the junk food cupboard) and another saying, “Thin & Lean is IN & Beautiful!!  Thin, Light, Lean, Mean Machine!!” (that one is suppose to get me amped up, and it’s above my desk), then one last one says, “The weight needs to come OFF! and you are the ONLY one who can do it!”  (that one is on my bathroom mirror).

So – I’m going to document my losses here.  I am good at this. I can definitely lose weight when I put my mind to it.  Don’t worry.  I am a health-nut dieter, not a basket case with OCD and anorexia. I’ll be good, I promise.

This all begs the question:  What do you do to get yourself back on track, both mentally and physically?

Tell me about it! I’d really like to hear, especially if you are trying to get slim once again as well!

Here’s to the new US in 2008 – or should I say, renewed US?  After all, this won’t be new – it’s more like a long lost friend who’s come back into our lives!  What a fantastic feeling!

So today – here I am at ground zero.  I have lost no weight.  My goal?  At least 11 lbs.

Stay tuned for the adventures of the Lean Mean Ms. Cheevious.

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Blog content copyright 2008, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious.

How Ms. Cheevious Got Her Groove Back

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“I have a funny story, right?” my British gal-pal said on the phone.  “We were all talking at the office the other day about what to do this weekend, and one of the girls in the office said she was going to Temple Bar.  It reminded me of that time a couple years back when we went to Boa, and then went with that guy – remember?”  I remembered.  I could also hear my girlfriend’s laughter in her voice.  It sounded like she was going to cry, it tickled her so.  “I told them, ‘I’ve GOT to tell you a funny story!  My girlfriend Lisa Jey and I went there one night – and Lisa Jey thought she was one of the ‘sistahs” – remember that?”  Why did she keep asking me that?  I remembered.  I laughed too. I was a crack up, I’m sure.

Here’s how it went down: (and no, I didn’t say ‘it went down’ to sound like I am a rapper or hipper-cooler chick than I am – that’s really how I talk, okay?) Basically, my friend Sheila (I’ve changed her name to protect her innocence.  Lord knows she needs it! ha ha) and I are the best of friends.  We are like sisters.  We get asked it all the time, too – whether we are sisters.  But she’s got this great British accent, and if there is some type of food I won’t eat – like bread or butter – she eats it, and still remains thin. Sometimes I hate her for that.

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Me (left) and my “Sistah” “Sheila”
Pretty lucky to be asked if we are sisters, eh?

I was scheduled that fall to fly out to Los Angeles to work on Soul Train’s Lady of Soul Awards, no less.  Just before my trip, Sheila got a sizable promotion or bonus or something at work.  I’d also just sold a piece of real estate and made a sizable profit.  We agreed we’d celebrate together when I was back in LA.

Sheila picked Boa, a wonderful steakhouse in Santa Monica with a very chic atmosphere, replete with bistro tables all in a row (and very close to each other), and a fantastic wine list.  About a third the way through dinner, a gentleman sat down at the table next to us who was obviously on his own.  He wasn’t bad looking either.  He had dark skin – so immediately I pegged him as potential for Sheila. She likes dark and handsome guys.  I wasn’t sure, though, as he seemed a tad-bit old for her.  She also likes younger guys.

Well, after we’d polished off a bottle of wine, I couldn’t help but strike up a conversation with this guy. He just sort of kept glancing sideways at us, and our tables were so close, he may as well have been sitting with us.  Once the introductions were out of the way, and after a couple more cocktails, we learned our new friend, Kevin Sullivan was a fairly well-known director.  His most recognizable directorial project was probably “How Stella Got Her Groove Back.”

We talked about lots of things, and were getting along swimmingly (it’s the closest I’ll ever come to being British – using that sort of vernacular), when our bill appeared, and it was apparently time to move on.  We were discussing options when Kevin said he’d been to a club nearby that plays live music, and it was pretty cool. He even offered to drive, as he’d not been drinking.  I’d worked all day with the Lady of Soul gals, and one of them mentioned she was going to Temple Bar as well.  I thought it sounded great.

We walked into Temple Bar, and immediately we could see that we were in Sheila HEAVEN.  If there was ever a place where all the people from the hip-hop and R&B communities hang out, THIS was it!  Sheila and Kevin seemed to be getting along a little better than before (they were arm in arm now), so I took my cue to do some of my famous Ms. Cheevious social fluttering.  I took my drink and proceeded to try and blend in.

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Sheila & I getting our
Groove on at a Christmas
Party One Year

The bar area had a dark atmosphere, with black wooden booths in the bar area, and red velvet accents.  I strutted past the booths, with guys and their girls lounging around looking at me as if I were on exhibit at the zoo.  I have to say, I am extremely white.  I have long blonde hair, and I live in Colorado most of the time.  This doesn’t mean much, accept for the fact that it contributes to my whiteness.  There isn’t much opportunity for sun bathing in Aspen.  So, on this particular night I was whiter than usual, and I felt it.  I could feel the gazes of the “brothers” on me, and their women too.  I struck up conversations with perfect strangers, and even shared a drink (by this time, I’d switched to water) with one group.  I decided to continue fluttering.  There was a wide opening to another room where a lot of people were crowding near the stage.  They had live music that night, and the band was exceptional – the kind you might only hear in LA or NY.  ‘Ooooh!’ I thought tipsily, ‘They’re good! How fun!’ as I proceeded to inject my whiteness into the sea of black beauties and groupies in the crowd.

Sheila and Kevin stayed toward the back of the room, as the lead singer jumped down  into the midst of the crowd.  I am a sucker for an exceptional vocal talent, and he had it.  He sang those R&B runs and his voice went all over the musical landscape – but with incredible finesse.  He was good looking too.  That didn’t hurt, as he tried to get the crowd of mostly women excited about his song.

Then it happened. He started to do this scatting thing back and forth with a few select little cuties in the crowd, and somehow – don’t ask me how or why – it must have been the alcohol – I decided I needed to get up there and vie for my turn at the mic.  ‘Why not?’ I reasoned with myself.  ‘I was a singer!  I use to practice this kind of stuff all the time, and I was good too! Plus there was that time I ROCKED scatting with the guy at Nic’s Martini Lounge in Beverly Hills!  This can’t be that different!’  No matter that I’d not sung professionally, or even practiced in several years – or the fact that I was somewhat inebriated, and probably not even speaking clearly. I was determined!   So, I careful maneuvered my way toward the area where this hot R&B vocalist was doing his “thing” and watched, smiling, waiting for my turn.  The other girls nearby bounced with me to the beat (See?  How white is that?).

He was singing this one line, something like “I said, tell me what you are looking for???”  And then he would put the microphone in front of a few of the faces in the crowd, who immediately backed away.  I was right there with him, and ready to go. So, when he repeated his line to me, “I said TELLLL me what you are LOOOOOKING  forrrr?”  I leaned in and – in my mind and in my heart I sang as hip and cool as Mariah Carey.  I could hang with the best of them, as the words “Much betttttter!” came out of my mouth.  Only the sound that actually came out was not what I’d envisioned for myself on my big lucky break.  Here I was scatting back and forth with this guy, and my voice felt like it was stuck in tar.  I couldn’t make it move fast at all!  Plus, I missed quite a few notes!  But I gave it my ALL.  I tell ya, it was an exhilarating experience, and now I know what it feels like to sing very badly in public!  It was hysterical!

After it was all over, and my singing partner had moved on, I turned to one of the girls next to me and exclaimed, “Oh my god! That was so bad!”  And she kindly said, “Girl! You held your own!  You were right on!”  Which led me to think that everyone in that place was drunk anyway, and none of it really mattered!

I meandered back to Sheila and Kevin.  Sheila had a mocking smile on her face, and as soon as I got close enough, she said, laughing, “What were you doing?  Do you think you’re a sister now or something?” I just laughed and threw out some cliched response, but the truth was I had a blast, and it’s one of my favorite memories to this day.

So what can we all learn from this boys and girls?  That if you aren’t willing to take chances or risks, you could miss out on the spice of life?  Yes.  But more than that, if you’re in need of getting your groove on, or you’ve been living a suburban existence, or perhaps you’ve just been working too hard –  make a trip to Temple Bar in Santa Monica.  I did.  I’d been living in Colorado, and hadn’t been out singing in a very long time. It’s how I got my groove back!

 

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Blog content copyright 2007, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious.

Wherever You Go, There You Are

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It’s January, 2008, and as the snow dumps at record proportions outside my window in Aspen, Colorado – I am reminded of a little trip I took last fall.  It was just before the first snowfall, when the leaves were still turning gold, and the crisp evening air required lots of layering, warmer sweaters and all the yummy snugly apparel that makes one anticipate the fall.

It all began on Thursday, September 20, 2007, when I packed up my car and headed west to Moab.

No. It’s not in the Middle East, somewhere. The original Moab (or the Moab some may have heard of), circa “old testament” was indeed in the middle east, and those Moabites wreaked havoc on the Israelites.  They were certainly a force to be reckoned with, from what I hear.

Moab, Utah, though it’s historic reputation of being home  and jail  to some surly wild west criminals back in the day may rival that of the middle eastern Moab, is not quite so infamous. These days Moab, Utah is most known for being home to the famous Arches National Park (pictured above), and for being a favorite destination for extreme sports (biking, rock-climbing and hiking) fanatics.  I have a little house there, and though the turning of the leaves that occurs in autumn in Aspen is really something to see and often awe-inspiring, I was ready to get out of Dodge.  The dew on the grass, and the chill in air was enough to scare even hard-core golden leaf fans. I just knew if I didn’t leave, I’d be dealing with the first snowfall, and I wasn’t quite ready to let go of summer!  (How far away and unfathomable that feeling is now, as the snow piles to twelve feet on the side of the road)!

Back then, I had just returned to Aspen from the Santa Barbara coast, with the sheer bliss of the ocean breeze, together with balmy, 75 degree temps and surrounded by REAL bronze tans (with salt-water-pelted skin). And with 80 degree weather still the norm in Moab, getting out of Aspen was something to look forward to!

So, I headed west toward Moab, careful not to miss exit, 182.  Not this time.

You’d think I’d know my way to my own home – even if it is a part-time residence, wouldn’t you?  In my defense, I just love a good road trip. It’s very cathartic for me.  I get some much-needed thinking and problem solving done.  I also day-dream quite a bit, but I’ve learned (the hard way) that there is a certain point on the highway when I really have to pay attention to where I am.  I once ended up in Green River, Utah and hadn’t even realized I’d gone too far!  I pulled off the highway and wondered with awe at the great restaurants and conveniences they’d built since my last trip to Moab, just a few short months ago (I am blond.  I was born that way).  Then I realized I’d gone too far and turned my car around.  I’ve never lived it down, since.  My boyfriend sends friendly reminder text messages to my cell phone, with playful comments like, “Don’t miss 182!” or “Don’t miss the turn!” because of that little jaunt.

But this time, as I drove west toward Moab, I mused about the transition from Colorado into Utah.  It was interesting.  I drove through towns with names like Rifle, Parachute, Silt, and Grand Junction.  Think about it. It definitely can conjure up some wild west sort of images.  Let’s play word association:

Rifle:  guns, hunting, target shooting, pickup trucks and beer with too much time to waste.

Parachute: blue skies, colorful parachutes, extreme sports, paratroopers, wartime, pow, guns.

Silt:  white rock, powdery rock, quarry, middle of nowhere, desolate, target practice, pickup trucks, beer, rifles, guns, hunting.

Grand Junction:  The place where it all comes together.

‘That is soooo Colorado,’ I thought laughingly, as I drove past a “Caution, Eagles on Highway” sign.  ‘No wonder everyone thinks Colorado is full of cowboys and ranchers!’  It is a tough stigma to live down.  Imagine me, Ms. Cheevious at one of the year’s most anticipated parties – lets say an Oscar party in Hollywood (work with me here – I like to dream big). Tom and Katie (tom-kat) compliment my dress, I smile and nod as I walk by and bump into Leo (you know the guy – DiCaprio), who stops me for a hug and asks where I’ve been.  “I moved to Colorado,” I say.  “Colorado? What prompted that decision?” Now, I know in this instance that Leo is patronizing me. He’s choosing his words carefully.  He’s already imagined a gaggle of cattle ranchers, and eco-nazi hunters touring the mountains in their Hummers and gas-guzzling other vehicles, and he is trying to place me in that landscape. I can relate. I LIVE there, and I am still trying to place me in the landscape!

That said, it is incredibly beautiful country. While places like Colorado and Utah may attract hunters, gun aficionados and all manner of cowboy sorts, it also attracts hard-core, serious athletes. The two states combined are probably second to none in providing training ground for world class Olympians.  The hiking, snow sports (skiing, snowboarding, snowshoeing, etc.), rock climbing, biking and more are virtually limitless, and people come from around the world to get a taste. They (Colorado & Utah) also attract their share of authors, writers, painters, sculptures – true artists – those who break away from the mold, and escape the confines or hustle and bustle of civilization in order to create something truly superb.  I think I fall into the latter group.  Yes, I like to imagine I am a true artEEst. At least that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.  I am definitely an artist – but in reality “true” sounds like a heavy commitment.  Let’s not go there.

Anyhow, we (my boyfriend and I) spent the better part of the fall in Moab.  It was incredibly beautiful with space and air and blue skies, and visibility for miles all around us.  The red cliffs that tower hundreds of feet overhead are awesome and intimidating.  What is not to love?  It was a refreshing reprieve from our crowded lives in Aspen.

In spite of all that wonder and amazement, however, I started to get a little stir crazy toward the end of our stay.  I was ready for some social time, some fun cocktail get-togethers and cultural fare. That stuff doesn’t happen in Moab – at least not for me who knows no one.  It was time to get out of there and get my fill of GIRLY time. Shopping, chick-flicks, yoga class and fantastic meals at restaurants that are not closed due to off-season.

I guess my boyfriend got the hint, (maybe it was that banner I hung over his side of the bed that said, “Help me. I’m suffocating in the beautiful scenery.”) Shortly after I started dropping hints, we packed up and returned to Aspen.

So, as I gaze out the window, and the snow continues to fall, I am reminded that we can never get too much of life’s beautiful scenery.  Wherever you go, there you are.  You know what I mean?  Make the most of every day, and above all, stay true to yourself.  You won’t let yourself down.

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Register to receive these posts by email and get my eBook “Ahhhhh…Haaaaaa Moments with Ms. Cheevious” for FREE. Registration is on the right side bar of every blog post. See you next time.

Blog content copyright 2007, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious.

Poison Spider Bee-otch!

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I have an announcement to make:  I found my camera!  You may recall the worry and chagrin I expressed over losing things a few months back, one of which was my digital camera which had some great photos and footage that could never be recreated.  I mean, really.  What is a girl suppose to do when she loses her digital cam?  So many memories in danger of fading into oblivion. It’s just not right! I am soooo glad I found it.  Don’t even ask where it was.  I’m embarrassed to even say it was lost.  Let’s just leave it at that.

This movie, which was made while in Moab this past fall, is of a hike I enjoy up the back side of what’s known as Poison Spider Mesa Trail.  It’s a great little hike, with incredible views!  I could spend some time (and I probably should) writing about the hike itself, or why I have only just gotten interested in hiking now, after living a fairly yogic or pilates driven exercise existence.  But I think I’ll just let you get straight to the video.  We’ll call it a VIDEO BLOG post, so as not to make my writer-friends out there feel as though I’ve fallen off the wagon.  (Another post is coming very soon – a written one). But check it out here, and PLEASE write a comment!  Be sure to watch it – or fast forward if you must – toward the end, and check out the credits at the end, which are kind of fun.  Am I just overly excited about this little medium I’ve discovered?  I’m so proud of myself for learning how to do these little credits, and to play around with the volume levels on the soundtrack (excuse my lack of expertise).  But , please let me know what you think. When you finish watching, click to reply to post!

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Iv628G10d4]

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Blog content copyright 2007, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious.

A-Muse-Ing in Aspen

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Okay kiddies! Here it is – the much anticipated, long-awaited answer to what Lisa Jey Davis – Ms. Cheevious herself chose to “be” on Halloween, and the photos from that crazy night in Aspen to prove it. 

It was loads of fun, I have to say, though probably wouldn’t really qualify as an adventure in many circles, as I was home and ready for bed before midnight!  (Gasp) 

I’m sure the midnight oil was burning hot for most people in town that night, but I found myself quite satisfied with myself and very ready to head home (along with my other crazy friends, I might add) earlier than anticipated. 

But why continue to bore you with the details of what time I turned into a pumpkin?  I’ll get on with the most important thing – the very news item you’ve all been waiting for: 

What costume did I decide to wear this year for Halloween, (since the Guinavere costume was sooooo three years ago)?!!! 

Okay – okay, I was one of the nine daughters of Zeus.  You know, the Greek god?  I was Calliope – chief of all muses.  Calliope was responsible for inspiring epic event poetry and such.  Sounds fitting, right?  Everyone knows I write such epic, serious treatises on world events — like my halloween costume.

If you read my entry last week, Seeking Inspiration, perhaps you also saw the comment by a friend “A”  – the one who so cleverly suggested I dress as a MUSE, after reading my last comment to everyone “Will you be my muse?”  Ah, A is a clever one, indeed.  She even went so far as to offer the 4-1-1 on the muses, themselves: 

Muse = Goddess of Art:
in Greek mythology, one of the nine daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne, goddess of memory. The Muses inspired and presided over the creative arts. They were Calliope, Clio, Erato, Euterpe, Melpomene, Polyhymnia, Terpsichore, Thalia, and Urania, responsible for epic poetry, history, love poetry, lyric poetry, tragedy, sacred song, dance, comedy, and astronomy, respectively.

Needless to say, I prodded “A” to come along with me on my A-Muse-ing journey, Halloween night, and thank goodness, she agreed.  We got together the night before and put everything together.  YEP – HAND MADE costumes.  They ROCKED too! 

So here they are – enjoy the photos! 

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Me (Calliope), Julius Caesar (of course) & “A” (Erato, because she was feeling so Amore) – that wrap on Erato is PINK FUR… SOOOO COOL!  It’s for sale for $500, if anyone wants it.  ha ha
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Erato & Trinity, plotting to kick some ASS!
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Calliope & Erato get a little NUTTY
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Me and the female TIN-MAN, or TIN GIRL, I should say

AND NOW FOR SOME OF THE CRAZY COSTUMES AROUND ASPEN, COLORADO: 

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Hot Mermaid & Pirate

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Aspen Airlines Big Boobed Flight Attendants

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An ALL-TOO-FAMILIAR Construction Zone – complete with cones and streetwalkers

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Old Lady Gertrude or Gladys, or something, the Mod-Squad Dude, and a Giesha – this was the rest of our gang that night!

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Crazy neon dude, on the move!!

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Me & a very young Gilligan!!!

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And the night wouldn’t be complete without a butt grab of an unsuspecting Teletubby, minding his own business. POOR TELETUBBY. 

Seeking Inspiration

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I need help.

I went out by myself this evening in search of inspiration.  I know.  Sad.

It’s the weekend before Halloween as well as the big costume night at all the bars, pubs and night-spots here in the big lights, big ciy of Moab, Utah.  (YES, we are still here.  I do love it, but I must admit, I’m getting desert fever… I need something girly, and quick…!!)

My solo adventure wasn’t always supposed to be that.  My boyfriend originally planned to come out with me.  I planned to get dressed up as Guinavere, and drag him along, when he began dropping hints that he wasn’t feeling well.

I’m not convinced it was all purely physical.  Most men I’ve known have trouble letting their hair down and wearing costumes (role-playing nymphos, aside). It is quite possible that my man could be mentally disturbed over the notion of what he deems to be “playing dress up.” He is a hard-core rock-climber, after all (And I’m not kidding. He’s a hot, hard-bodied man… yesiree…).
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This is my man… wooo – hooo…..

I tried everything to get him into the costume spirit, too.  I said I would dress up in my Guinevere costume, and he could come as he is, and cary around a piece of rock-climbing gear.  I would stay in character, British accent and all, and claim to be searching for Camelot.  He would, in turn, produce his camelot (no, not that – but said rock-climbing gear!!) and thus, be my hero!  How easy is that?  No dice. He just did not feel well.  So, I offered a compromise.  We’d been planning to drive back to Aspen to meet with some clients this week, so I suggested we drive out closer to Halloween.  Aspen, Colorado comes to LIFE on Halloween.  Sure, the kiddies all dress up and go trick-or-treating, but I’d wager to say Halloween in Aspen is more for the adults (to clarify for those who suffer from Peter-Pan or Tinker Bell Syndrome: adults = those over 21).  It’s tradition. Upscale restaurants and bars clear out all their tables, fly DJ’s in from around the globe, and the town plays all night long.

Sounds like everyday Aspen, I know.  Aspen’s nightlife is famous for never letting up.  But people take Halloween seriously there.  They spare no expense, nor amount of creativity on their costumes.  It’s something to experience, at least once.  I’d compare it to Mardi Gras in New Orleans or Carnivale in Brazil, but I’m sure that’s just going too far…  isn’t it?

Once I knew we’d be in Aspen for its holy of holidays, I decided to get to work.  I needed a costume, and some inspiration.  NOW.  All my girlfriends plan to dress up as Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders (they always do those theme group costumes), and I canNOT wear something I’ve already worn (Guinavere is out – as it was an Aspen inspiration).  The first time I met this group of friends, I was Guinavere and they were all naughty cops.  It was pretty funny… me in my long velvet gown, while my new pals were parading around in a blizzard (yep, snow is common on Halloween in Aspen) in their hot pants and fishnet stockings…

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There I stand (or huddle) in the middle of a bunch of naughty female cops… oh and Bo Peep and a Sexy Pirate…  too funny!! I love those girls!

So, tonight I went to the neighborhood Moab “hot spot” in search of the latest and greatest costumes.  I learned something:  Small town does not equal Halloween creativity.  Go figure. Ya’d think all that pent-up creativity would leak out into the collective consciousness and filter through into the social scene – especially on a holiday that celebrates such creativity.  No, no and no.  I guess in Moab, the costumes run the variety of everyday, small-town USA.  Blood, gore, blood, vampires, blood, french maids, etc…

Needless to say, I wasn’t inspired. Not so much.  I paid for my one drink at the bar (to get around that whole “awe… that poor older single woman, here all by herself” thing, I sat at the bar and pretended to be very interested in the outcome of the Red Sox / Rockies game that was on the bar tv.  I didn’t fool anyone though.  I tried to make small talk with a couple of locals, by saying really sports-enthusiast things like “So, if the Rockies lose this, are they out?”  I TOTALLY thought the games being played here were the pre-world-series games, to decide who goes to the World Series.  When I looked a little closer I saw that the World Series was ON….  and gee… the Rockies made it to the World Series!).

It wasn’t all for naught though.  Just as I was getting ready to pay my tab, the bartender informed me of a guy at the other end of the bar who wanted to buy me a drink.  It redeemed the whole escapade for me, to say the least.  It actually brought to mind a question asked by Single Mom Seeking, of “Can a Single Mom have a Boy Toy?” To which I answered yes – with conditions…  Not that I was looking for a boy toy… god no. But since I am enamored, enthralled and in love with my beautiful man, this guy’s offer actually startled me, and caused the flight mechanism to kick into gear!  What is that all about??  I told the bartender to say thanks, but that I was leaving.  Then I ran home to my honey, as fast as my legs could carry me.

I went out by myself in Moab tonight seeking inspiration, when what I think I needed was a muse.

So, here I am – seeking inspiration.  Will you be my muse?

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Blog content copyright 2007, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious.