Ms. Cheevious in Hollywood

My Zany Years Spent Working in Tinsel Town

Hip Chicks

Boys and My Toys

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1.  Boys love toys, this we all know.  We’ve all heard and probably said some rendition of the saying, “Boys and their toys” at one time or another in our lives.

2.  I was thinking about this the other day – and it seems in my adult lifetime, whenever I have been getting to know someone in a dating relationship, the “boy” inevitably has asked the question of toys, with a little twinkle in his eye.  They want to know, ‘do I have them?’ I love when they ask that.  Not only do I love to share secret information, but:

3.  I do.  I have good toys.

  • I have a 40 inch LG, flat screen plasma television;
  • I have a surround-sound home theatre system with an iPod docking station, and 5-disc dvd player;
  • I have DirecTv, with NFL Sunday Ticket, HBO, Showtime and I don’t know what else;  
  • I have a Wii with Rock Band;
  • And, yes.  I have a few fun little gadgets that I can’t talk about here.

4.  Boys love my toys. 

5.  I love my toys too.

6.  Enough said.

I’m off to Vegas tomorrow with my friend Britt (who is visiting from New York) and Fred the Wonder Chicken.  Now that I’ve revealed Fred’s identity to the whole world, we’ve decided to go in costume to Vegas on Halloween night.  If you are there, look for Fred.  He’ll be a gorgeous chicken in a pirate costume, and Britt and I will be the beautiful pirate wenches.  HA!

 

I’m sure there will be many a tale to come out of this trip – but you know what they say – What Happens in Vegas —  Didn’t I do a post about that once?

I will be thinking of you beautiful girls and boys this weekend.  Be safe, have a wonderful time, and ENJOY EVERY MOMENT!

Love you people!  Mmmmmmphhhuuhhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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

 

Surf and Turf Baby!

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1. Fred the Wonder Chicken and I were talking about Paul Newman and how his death was such a great loss to our world. 

Me:  He was such a solid guy.  He and his wife were married for so long. 
FWC:  Yeah. You know he was the one who coined the phrase, “Why go out for hamburger, when you have steak at home?  He was a great man.”
Me:  It’s so true, though.
~PAUSE~
Me:  But – it’s okay to bring a little shrimp home once in a while isn’t it?
FWC:  (Choked up) Your gonna’ make me cry, now.

FWC & Ms. Cheevious Talk About Paul Newman
FWC & Ms. Cheevious Talk About Paul Newman

Here, FWC is revealed for the first time.  In an earlier shot, I asked the question, “Which one is Fred?” as two chickens were present. Now the whole world knows.  Sorry Fred!

2.  Of course, I had to qualify the shrimp statement by saying “I’m ALWAYS the steak.” And now that I am on the subject, let me just say, this is not something I’ve ever even done before.  So, you old-school types can rest easy.  I just pride myself in being open to new things, and well – I have a deep appreciation for beauty in women – and wow – there is a lot of it out there!  So there you have it! I’m not crossing over to the other side or anything – just expressing myself. Besides, FWC brings out those quick-witted responses in me.  He is so freakin’ hilarious, I can’t help myself!  Plus – remember – Ms. Cheevious NEVER says anything she doesn’t mean. And hey – I mean it.  I really like shrimp!

3. FWC quickly allayed my dire need to explain myself and be understood by saying, “I get it baby!  Surf and Turf all the way!”

4.  A few days later, I was making my Asian Spring rolls for FWC at my house.  I had the mixture in the pan when he walked in and said with a happy voice, “Awe!  You made shrimp!” and laughed.  My Spring rolls, coincidentally, contain shrimp.  “Of course I did!” I said, without missing a beat.

5. We were at a party another time after that, where a gal and I were having a good time dancing together. I think she was very serious about me – as opposed to me – I just love to play and have fun.  She approached FWC, who exchanged a few words with her.  Later, I said to him, “Just remember: I am always the STEAK.”  He hugged me warmly and said, “You are ALL STEAK, baby.”  Awe.  A man after my own heart – calling me steak.  He’s so romantic!

6.  At the same party was a very cool couple – who I am pretty sure also liked me in that special way.  I said to FWC, “Don’t they know I am always the steak? I can never be the shrimp?”

With that, I will leave you my pretties.  Stay tuned next week when I think I will talk about a little dinner party with Spyglass and company (I haven’t decided yet.  Who knows what it’ll be?  I may even surprise myself!). 

Have a beautiful, lovely weekend everyone!

Love you people!!!  Mmmmmppphhhuuuuhhhhh!!!

xoxo,
Ms. Cheevious

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Tall, Dark, Handsome and SO Young in Aspen

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I spent a few days in Aspen, Colorado on business a couple of weeks ago.  You remember.   I mentioned that I was off to Aspen, and you all thought I was living the jet-set life!  Ring a Bell?  Leave it to me to exploit every single day-in-the-life experience as yet another facet of my all-too-glamorous life.  I’m good like that.  But it was really great to get back there and exercise, hike the Maroon Bells, and realize I’d not lost all my lung capacity by moving to sea level in Los Angeles!

Well, there is so much to this particular Aspen trip, I can’t possibly tell the whole story here – BUT – there was ONE incident that is just too priceless NOT to tell.

If you are new here – look out baby.  Things are about to get CRAZY. Glad to have you – but hang on to your hats!  It’s going to be a fun ride! 

So, I showed up at the Aspen Meadows resort bright and early on Monday morning, prepared for a productive week of meetings.  I was there for some in-depth training offered by a marketing and PR client of mine.  I don’t usually attend trainings offered by my clients, but this particular client teaches a business practice that is very intense and heady.  So, basically, it was important for me to dive in head first, learn the process, and participate in the practicum in order to promote the client effectively. Makes sense, right?

Now, let me set this up for you just a bit:

I’ve been to a few of these week-long training sessions offered by the same client, but I’d never been an actual participant until that week.  It happened to be the very same week that my client’s brand new Chief Operating Officer (I’ll call him Mr. Motley – you’ll see why in a bit) decided to come to the training as well. 

Needless to say, there was an air of – how shall I say it – trepidation?  caution?  fear?  among my client’s team members, because of this new guy’s presence. It was interesting to watch.  Of course, I was seated right next to the guy all day in the meetings. 

I quickly decided (dopey me), that there was nothing to fear from Mr. Motley.  He seemed so cool, funny, and harmless enough.  He was from the same town my client (the CEO) was from.  His wife was friends with a friend of mine in that same town in Florida.  He also had a wicked-smart sense of humor. I learned that pretty quickly.  I liked him!

So, back to that first Monday.

Since I’d been to a few of these sessions, many of the resort staff recognized me as “staff.” I made a point of smiling at the resort staff and saying hello.  I stopped each of them and asked how they’d been, how their summer was, etc. 

Hey.  It’s not weird.  I use to work for a 5 star hotel.  I felt a certain camaraderie with these peeps – like we were part of a secret little hotel-workers club. 

Apparently, one of them (I’ll call him Tall Dark & Handsome – “TDH”) was actually new, and I’d mistaken him for our regular event manager.  (Hey – he had dark hair – how was I to know)!?  Needless to say, he didn’t know who I was. I soon learned that he was pretty glad I’d been so friendly.

Later that afternoon, I left our meeting room in search of a cold Diet Coke.  You know? On a side note: that kind of thing gets me into trouble time and again!  I go out looking for chocolate or coffee, and come back with cocktails, and a bachelor party of guys or something.  Okay – that only happened once, at a bar in Hollywood, but it happens, you know?  When you LEAST expect it!  I’m sure that’s a major reason why my single girlfriends love me!  I’m just social like that.

So, as I walked down the corridor, I saw TDH walking toward me.  I smiled as we made eye contact, and as I got closer to him, said “Are you the one that can give me a cold Diet Coke?”  He smiled and said, “That’s me! Come with me,” as he stepped into the employee kitchen. 

Suddenly, he appeared nervous or sick to his stomach or something.  As I waited for him to hand me the beverage, he paused, looked at me, took a deep breath and said as he stuck his hand out to shake mine, “Hi” he said, “I’m TDH.”  As I shook his hand, and looked into his eyes, I said, “Hi TDH!  I’m Ms. Cheevious!” (of course, we used our real names, people.  Try and keep up, would you)!?  

Anyhow, as I shook his hand, I noticed a strange object in his hand.  In my mind, as I was smiling and making nicey nice, I was also trying to make out what it was in his hand.  Some sort of weird, stiff band-aid?  I didn’t know!  But my brain quickly calculated that it definitely needed to STAY in his hand.  So it did.

He handed me a luke-warm Diet Coke, and looked like he was going to vomit.  “Here” he said as he shoved the object into my hands, now short of breath.  It was a little piece of paper, that apparently he’d spent some time writing with the hope of this very meeting.  It had his name and a phone number written on it, with a little heart and an arrow through it. 

So.  I am blond.  Have I told you that? 

I still had a smile on my face from speaking to him, and being glad to safely deliver the weird band-aid thing back into his hands in one piece, when he shoved that thing my way. 

It looked like this (I’ve changed it to protect the innocent – hee hee):

Fake Hot Guy Phone #

 

I looked at it.  I looked at him.  My smile was fading – and not because I didn’t want to smile – but I was now concentrating really hard, and obviously very confused – plus, it was super hard to smile and concentrate like that at the same time.  Then I said, “Is this your number?” 

DUH.  I’m surprised I have ever been able to get a date in my life.  WHAT THE HECK DID I THINK IT WAS?

The poor guy looked green, I kid you not!  He said, “Yes.” As he hyperventilated, and I quickly said, “Thank you so much!” and headed back to my meeting. 

I sat back down next to Mr. Motley.  We’d already bonded on the humor level, so at the very next break, I told him what just happened. 

I know what you are thinking.  How heartless of me!  That poor guy was taking a risk, and here I was joking about him to my coworkers. 

It wasn’t that at all. I was actually joking at my own expense.  I’d been so befuddled by the whole experience, I thought it was hilarious that I was such a dimwit and didn’t know the guy was trying to hit on me!

Granted – he took great risk to do this.  He could have been fired if anyone knew he did that, yet he chose to do it anyway.  Ahhh.  To be young again, and not care if you lose your job for love.  He WAS young too.  I wasn’t sure at this point, but on further analysis (throughout the rest of the day, as I really tried to get a good look) I determined he must be about 23 or something.  He looked sort of like Orlando Bloom, with a very nice, muscular body.

 

He was probably about 6’0′ at least, since he still towered over me, even though I wore my five inch wedgy heels that day.

Anyhow, as the day wore on I suffered my share of jokes from the rest of the team, who’d learned the story of poor TDH and his failed attempt at getting a date with me. 

At one point in the afternoon, I sat down, and even though I’d put TDH’s paper in my leather portfolio, there it was again, next to my papers. 

Hot Young Guy's Number 

I looked again, however, and realized it had a familiar area code – much like my girlfriend’s in Florida. Okay – so this is where I am SMART people!  I am QUICK.  I looked at Mr. Motley and said, “This is YOU, ya big goof!”  And try as he may to maintain a straight face, he caved pretty quickly and fessed up to his plot. 

“I was just WAITING to get a drunken phone call from you at 2:30 in the morning — ‘Hey… (hiccup) TDH? This is Ms. Cheevious…(hiccup)!  What are you (hiccup) doing?'”

“HA HA” I said, with my best motherly tone.  “I outsmarted you!” 

But I have to say I laughed at that (a LOT) and filed it away so I could use it on someone else some other day!  hee hee

Fast-forward to that evening.  Remember it was opening day of these meetings.  It just so happened that Stealth (you’ve heard about him in my “Forget the Love Guru” post), was in Aspen at the same time as me.  He drove out from Utah to meet with some of his own clients and see me.  Since he works with this same client as well, he came to our cocktail reception the first evening. 

We walked into Aspen’s Social – a very cool, hip tappas place, owned by one of my very good friends, Deedee (also not her real name, but I suppose you could look her up! ha ha!).  My friend and client (the CEO) walked in, with Mr. Motley not far behind him.  Mr. Motley didn’t know who Stealth was, so he motioned for me to meet him at the top of the stairs by the entrance. 

I excused myself from Stealth and my client, and walked over to Motley. 

“Have you been playing a joke with me?” he asked.

“Why? What do you mean?” I asked.

“You have been, haven’t you” he said searching my expression.  “You’ve been texting me, haven’t you?”

“No, I don’t know your number.  I promise.  Why?” I asked.  Then it hit me.  “Oh Nooooo!” I said with a laugh.  “DON’T TELL ME – TDH has been texting you?”

Mr. Motley proceeded to show me a series of texts.  “Ms. Cheevious is this your cell?  Is this you?”  With Mr. Motley’s answers to the contrary.

“No way.  He has not.  It’s been you, hasn’t it.  Just admit it.” He said.  “How would he know how to text me?” He asked.

“BECAUSE!  We left that “JOKE” little piece of paper – remember?  The one that had YOUR number on it!  He must have thought that IIIII wrote one out, and left it behind for him to find!  Since it didn’t have HIS number on it, he assumed it was MINE!” I laughed so hard, I almost choked on my cocktail.  But I must admit it felt pretty damn good after being such a blondie about the whole situation, to piece this one together so quickly.

“NO WAY!” Motley said. 

I left him standing there, scratching his head and went to tell my client and Stealth the hilarious story.  My client thought it was hysterical, and said laughingly, “Serves him right.”

Okay – so where does that leave us?

1)  I had a great time in Aspen.  I got to exercise a few times in the mornings, went on an INCREDIBLE hike at the Maroon Bells (one of THE most photographed places on earth);

2)  I learned all about my client’s changes to their processes so I could better serve them as a client;

3) I discovered that I work with a MOTLEY CREW – headed up by Mr. Motley himself.  (Okay – I knew they were Motley long ago, but the name fits him).

4) I was incredibly blessed by the attention of a handsome young guy, who I am sure had the best of intentions.  In spite of all the jokes and shenanigans, his gesture made me feel truly special, and  – dare I say? beautiful? – and I think he will be a very special someone for a lucky girl some day.  What a brave, beautiful, sweet guy.

5) I need to sharpen my brain.  Isn’t their some sort of “here’s how you can stay sharp and alert and not miss it when someone hits on you” self-help course??

6) It’s not nice to fool Ms. Cheevious.  It ALWAYS – repeat – ALWAYS comes right back to ya!  HA HA HA HA!

Have a beautiful, lovely, inspiring weekend everyone!

Love you people!  Mmmmmmphhhhuuhhhhh!!!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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EMMYs Girl!

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Hello everyone!  I am so deeply sorry for keeping you hanging for the last couple of weeks!  My apologies!  I’ve been traveling to Aspen, Colorado for business, then the day I arrived back from Aspen, I hit the ground running, scurrying about Los Angeles in preparation for my BIG EMMY APPEARANCE. 

Yep.  You guessed it!  Last Sunday I had the incredible privelege of attending the 60th Primetime Emmy Awards.  I must say, it was a princess’ dream come true! 

If you are new here – WELCOME to my big Emmy night!  I’m so glad you stopped by.  Normally I try to fill my posts with funny little anecdotes and quips, but there is just SOOOO much to tell this time, I’m going to give you the lowdown as quickly as possible on my Emmy DAY (getting prepared), and the show.  Then I’ll go into the fun stuff — AFTER the show!

It happened like this:

My friend Musicality (a guy I use to work for on all the MTV shows, and a very good friend) obtained premium tickets from someone else working on the Emmy’s. 

Originally Musicality and I planned to go together, but the Friday prior to the show, he came down with a cold or something, and couldn’t commit to making the show.  In the interest of show business (you know – all that business about how “The Show Must Go On” – and based on the fact that we both just KNEW the Emmy’s could not air live without me in attendance) Musicality offered both tickets to me!  He’s such a gem.

“You have to bring someone that’s attractive and knows how to dress,” he stressed, “These seats are on-camera.  I don’t want them to not seat you there because you bring someone that isn’t dressed appropriately.”  He is forever the big brother.

I was then faced with the dilemma of finding the right date for the show – and on the Friday before the big event.  I offered it to Fred the Wonder Chicken, who wanted to come, but he would have had to cut his out of town trip short, without knowing whether we’d get into any of the parties afterward.  He opted out.  He could’nt see going through all of that just to attend the show (which tends to be boring, and did not surprise us otherwise this year), when the true fun of these events is in the socializing and – well – the PARTIES!

I then asked Brittany – my friend who is an on-air personality with a network that shall not be named.  (Her name is changed here as well).  She was ecstatic, but didn’t think she could get herself out here in time from New York.  I moved on to Sheila, who was game, but not emotionally invested.  She use to be married to a man in the business, and having lived for years in LA just knew these opportunities do present themselves from time to time.  She knew if she didn’t go this time, the chance to attend could easily present itself again in the future.

I’ll spare you all the details, but as soon as Britt hung up the phone, she felt a HUGE swell of remorse.  The Emmy’s were HER show – so to speak.  She’d been nominated for a daytime Emmy once, and keeps the annual show date on her calendar so she can try to make it each year. 

Needless to say, Britt found a way to hop a plane, buy a dress and pull it all together by Sunday morning, when she arrived on my doorstep at about 10 AM from New York.

The day was incredibly crazy.  I tried my BEAUTIFUL dress on for Britt – who loved it. 

Ms, Cheevious - Pre-Emmy Hair & Makeup
Ms. Cheevious
Pre-Hair & Makeup

Since I am sharing pictures here, I must warn you – I lost my brain on Emmy Day. I don’t know where it went kiddies!  I was so consumed with getting the dress, getting the hair and the makeup and making sure I had absolutely everything, that in the craziness we FORGOT TO TAKE PICTURES to document our frolicking around Los Angeles!  For much of the evening, I even FORGOT to bring my camera! Not only that, any pictures of my friends are blurred to protect their identities, but you will get the gist.

Now back to the story:

Somewhere along the line I was able to contact an old friend that use to do all the limousine coordinating on the shows I worked for.  He arranged it so that Britt and I had a car for the entire evening!  And it was absolutely FREE.  Can you imagine?  It was spectacular! 

My girlfriend Britt use to work for a network that enabled her to do many of these grand events over the years.  She was quick to remind me that she needed to eat, and watch herself throughout the day, so that she would last for the long haul.  Like the great friend I am, I listened.  I nodded.  Then I proceeded to munch lightly on carrots and caffeine free Diet Coke all day long, forgetting to eat anything of substance at all.

We had a celebratory drink at about 2:45 pm, and at 3 o’clock our driver arrived to collect us.  We figured since red carpet started at 3:30 pm, it would give us plenty of time to get downtown to the Nokia Theatre for our grand entrance. 

Our driver, Art, came inside and we immediately enlisted his photographic skills to begin chronicaling our evening.


Posing without a flash 

 
One of the ONLY good photos we got ALL night! I took Britt out of the photo
to protect her identity!  SORRY!

So, we hopped into our black suburban at the able hands of Art the Driver, and set off for the Nokia. 

On the approach, we became keenly aware (and I say that with real depth of meaning – we were KEENLY aware) that something had gone horribly wrong.  The limo line was not moving at all.  We had our little cocktails in the back seat and had been preoccupied up to this point, but after about 45 minutes of sitting still, it was getting just downright ridiculous.  Finally, someone came along to explain that the Nokia had received a bomb scare, but that hopefully things would be moving along soon. 

Now, I’ve lived in LA before.  I was there during Nine-Eleven, and I feel as though I KNOW when to take something seriously.  This, I just took as a routine precaution, that was probably taking WAY TOO LONG, because of some joker who decided to call in a bomb threat.

I felt that way, that is, until I saw the men being handcuffed on the side of the road.  These are taken (as the remaining photos are) from my cell phone – because, after EVERYTHING, Britt and I BOTH forgot our cameras back at my place!

Emmy Bomb Scare Culprits
Emmy Bomb Scare Culprits

When I saw these guys handcuffed on the side of the road, I made the brilliant observation of “Wow!  I guess it was a REAL threat!”  We laughed at that. 

When we FINALLY turned the corner to the Nokia, we realized we had been in the limo line for over two hours, and that red carpet arrivals were probably over.  We knew we’d be lucky to make it into our seats on time, at this point! We made our way to our seats, because red carpet had indeed ended, and sat down.

Our seats were directly on the stage, “stage-left,” which means if you are facing the stage from the audience, we were on the right side.  The seats were PHENOMENAL.  It was so exciting being so close and able to watch the reactions on celebrities’ faces, as awards were given and jokes were told.  We felt so lucky.  It wasn’t until after we left, and we saw the show on television at the first party (the show was tape-delayed in Los Angeles), that we realized our seats were not lit.  It didn’t even look like we were there for most of the show. 

Occasionally the camera would sweep the auditorium and you could make out two BOUFFANT blond hair do’s.  Britt and I were laughing at that.  At least WE knew where to look for ourselves!  HA! Here is a picture of the stage, during Josh Groban’s incredible and funny performance.  The red and gold arrow points to our seats in the DARK, but you see how excellent they were!  

After about two and a half hours, and numerous unnecessary trips to the Restroom of the Stars (located coincidentally right outside the auditorium exit, Stage-Left, next to our seats), we decided it was time to leave.  The highlight of the show for me was both Josh Groban’s performance, and Don Rickles, when he presented with Kathy Griffith.  It was so hilarious!  I just finished reading his book, Rickles’ Book: A Memoir, so it resonated with me, and made me laugh.  I love that guy. 

Once again, we hopped into our black Suburban.  We had three parties to attend:  The FX Network Party at LA’s Foxtail, the Comedy Central Party at LA’s STK, and the TV Guide Party at The Kress in Hollywood. 

Okay people, here’s where it gets fun and interesting! Sorry for the delay!  I had to set it up for you, though!

FIRST: FOXTAIL 
Britt and I walked in and were immediately treated like Hollywood Royalty. They offered each of us their signature lemonade sort of concoction with Gin, served in a martini glass.  We each accepted and took a seat at a premier table.  We were early, so we had our pick of tables. 

Waitresses began swooning over us, trying to stuff goat cheese and fig pizza down our faces, and so many other scrumptious appetizers, I can’t even recall to describe them.  I watched as Britt ate everything they gave her, and I continued to “think thin” and ate little or nothing.  I drank my first Lemonade drink, and accepted a second. This was just too fabulous! 

I went to the front door and asked if my good friends Lucy & Ricky, who were on their way to the TV Guide Party, could be added to the guest list.  A few minutes later they came to our table and confirmed that “yes, your guests would be more than welcome.”  I immediately sent out a smoke signal to Lucy & Ricky, imploring them to stop by and eat a fabulous dinner prior to drinking the night away at TV Guide. 

A few minutes later, and half-way into a Grey Goose Martini, I realized Lucy & Ricky were standing next to our table, waiting for us to notice them.  I was so thrilled.  I immediately went to work on their behalf and brought the WireImage photographer over to photograph each of my friends/clients.  They obliged, and we ate, drank and were merry for a short while. 

Though this is the location where I met my demise (in terms of holding onto sobriety), we managed to get some photos of me with my cell phone.  I am SUCH a ham!  Britt and Lucy are too.  I wish I could show you the photos of she, Lucy & Ricky.  They were awesome!

Soon enough it was time to move on to the next party.  Somewhere during the evening, Brit received word from TV Guide that it may not be as easy as we thought for us to get into the party.  We determined to send Lucy & Ricky as the advance party, to suss things out and work their magic to get us in.

Next it was time for Comedy Central, and my experience as a Star STALKER. 

SECOND: STK
Here  is where things became a blur.  Brit and I walked into STK, and I really hardly remember it.  Apparently all of the Comedy Central and Wire Image photographers started shooting photos of us.  I announced who Britt was, and apparently – as Britt told me later – I tried to just walk off.  They would have none of it.  “WHO ARE YOU?” they asked.  “Ms. Cheevious in Hollywood!” I said, as I fluttered away. 

Can you believe it!??  My big chance to say something smart like my NAME and “Author of Ms. Cheevious in Hollywood” and I BLOW IT!  GEEZ!!  That is what I get for drinking on an empty stomach on an important night like EMMY night!  Maybe I’M the one who needed a publicist!  ha ha!

Jimmy Kimmel was the big celebrity at this party.  Well – there were probably more, but he was the first we came upon, and it stuck like glue to my brain.  I kept going up to him and chatting.  I said how I had a friend who was the grip on his show.  He asked who it was, and all of the sudden, of course – my mind went blank!  I could NOT for the LIFE OF ME remember who it it was.  I kept thinking of a producer I’d worked with and could not think of it!  I sounded so ridiculous, but I SWEAR, I DO KNOW someone who works on the show!  I still can’t think of his name, but I think I killed those brain cells with alcohol!

Here is when I realized I’d just had way too much to drink: I said something – I have no idea what – but it elicited an uncomfortable sounding response from Jimmy Kimmel – something like “No. I don’t go for that kind of thing. ”  or “I’m not up for that.”  I have NO idea what I was trying to say – probably something along the lines of power networking, and I REALLY have no idea what it came out like, but somehow suddenly I realized I was now relegated to STAR STALKER status, and I walked straight over to Britt who was having a cocktail with some guy she’d just met.  I stepped between them and was visibly VERY upset.  I opened my eyes very wide and raised my eyebrows to let her know something had just happened that went horribly wrong, and I pulled her aside to tell her.  She agreed we should probably leave the party, and we were off.  Gotta love it when your friend agrees that you blew it SO bad, it was now time to LEAVE a very cool party. HA

PIT STOP:  MY HOUSE
We decided to run by my place, since we’d forgotten our cameras, and also because my brand new, yet VERY COOL shoes were killing me.  All I remember is running around my place, and landing in my closet deciding (on my own, full of alcohol) that my six inch platform heels would be the best option for my sore feet.  I know what I wasthinking – that these shoes were actually comfortable – and they are.  But they are TOUGH to walk in SOBER, let alone inebbriated – which was my obvious condition at this point!

I stumbled out to the car, and we headed over to the TV GUIDE PARTY.  The PARTY OF ALL PARTIES, to meet up with our advance team, Ricky & Lucy. Little did I know I would be sexy dancing with the NBA in a very short time.

FINAL STOP: THE KRESS, HOLLYWOOD

Ahhh, I remembered The Kress all too well.  Fred the Wonder Chicken and I had gone there for an MTV Video Music Awards Kick Off Party, only to be turned away at the red carpet.  We were actually ON the list that night.  Tonight Britt and I were not on the list, but Ricky & Lucy told us to come anyway, and we’d work it out.

My friend Lucy is an AMAZING freak of Hollywood Nature.  She can work a party like there is no tomorrow – and in her mind, there isn’t – HA!  By the time we arrived, Lucy was on the phone with Britt directing her to our rendezvous point.  I don’t remember much of this, except at one point when Lucy & Ricky met us outside the party and we were standing near all the security for the party.  Apparently I was rather loud-mouthed.  Lucy had acquired two additional wrist bands, but one of them was broken.  We were trying to figure out how to make it work, and I kept yelling, “No Britt!  Put the Wrist Band on THIS WAY!!”  It got so bad that Ricky had to walk me into the party ahead of everyone just to shut me up!

Then came my chance meeting with the NBA.  At some point my friends made me sit down, and had cut me off.  They kept saying how I needed to eat but there was no real food available.  I was nervous to eat at this point, for fear of tossing my cookies.  I have a foggy recollection of Lucy sitting in front of my face, force feeding me crackers, one right after another.  I almost choked on those stinkin’ crackers.

Then I saw them.  These EXTREMELY tall guys hovering on one end of the room.  They were dressed like rappers, or so I thought, so I thought I’d better just go over and say hello.  After all, I’d probably worked with them through MTV, right? 

Apparently the tallest guy – geez, he must have been seven feet tall – Rasheed Wallace played for the Detroit Pistons, and was very keen on me (I know, again with that word).  He was very flirtatious, I remember, and he kept putting his arm around my waist.  Well – now that I am sober and thinking about it – it could be it was more about stabilizing me than any real attraction!  I do recall that there were loads of photos taken, and at one INGENIOUS moment, I actually remembered I had my CAMERA!

Yep.  I ran home to get my camera – and only managed to take ONE photo with it.  And it was with RASHEED WALLACE of the Detroit Pistons!  OH MY GOD.  How embarrassing.

Here I am with Rasheed.  Remember – I have SIX INCH PLATFORM HEELS ON!

Can anyone LOOK more goofy!  I’m talking about ME here!  ha ha!

I have to say:  I have some of the BEST friends in the world.  They literally looked out for me (to the best of THEIR ability after a few cocktails), and took turns babysitting me. At the debriefing the next day, I learned that I had been lifting up my train of my dress and trying to sexy dance.  “They must have started to play good music!” I insisted, in my defense.  I also learned that I am not one to be controled when drinking.  Well, who is, I must ask?  Ha ha!  All in all it was fun.  I learned NEVER drink on an empty stomach.  There IS no catching up once you are blurred.  But it was a glorious and all-too-memorable time, to say the least.  I am SO glad for it!

Well my friends, it is time for me to get BACK to work – you know, nose to the grindstone and all that?  Trust me – W-O-R-K is something I actually do from time to time. 

Tune in next time when I tell you about a little love triangle with the Motley Crew I was with in Aspen, Colorado!

Have an incredible weekend, everyone – be sure to enjoy every moment, and LIVE every day! 

Love you people!  Mmmmmmphhhuuuuhhhh!!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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Ms. Cheevious on Mulholland Drive

by

You know, my friends Lucy & Ricky are pretty cool.  They can show up at a birthday party (or anywhere for that matter), and both run into several ex-boyfriends, girlfriends, hookups, what-have-you, and still not lose their cool – no matter how BIZARRO things seem to get. It is a BEAUTIFUL thing to behold,  my friends.

They recently took me to a birthday party of a friend of theirs, Party Girl, (whom I’d met through them, on another occasion, at another party thrown by said Party Girl).  We had loads of fun at this little soiree, I swear, but before I dive in let me provide you with the Cast of Characters.  I wouldn’t want you to get lost along the way (PLEASE – try and keep up):

Lucy – my girlfriend who has been dating and now lives with her man, Ricky.  She is an accomplished actress and business woman – and a very good friend. A few years back, when Lucy and I were both single and living in LA, we tore up this town (L.A.) whenever we had the chance.
Ricky – a new friend, and Lucy’s man – a very cool guy. Also an accomplished actor, writer, etc.
Party Girl – the birthday girl, as well as hostess to more than one party!
Party Man – party girl’s hubby.  Also producer of some really popular slasher / horror films.  
Tyler Mann – an actor, producer, member of a very well-known family of actors (dad, brothers, etc..) – but I can’t tell you any more.  He provided me his own alias. 

Funny how these Hollywood types just eat up this alias business.  I love them so much – sniff sniff.  Was it me or did we really make a real connection on the alias thing? These are people after my own heart.  They rock.

Okay – Enough already.

Leopardesse – a good friend of mine.  A gorgeous Swedish gal (former model), Hollywood socialite and jet-setter. Named for her signature leopard print on everything that is “her.”
Michele – pronounced Mickelly – it’s an Italian name for a guy.  So, yes, Michele is a guy.  He is a really cool guy who’s nice looking, and a very well-known singer/song-writer.  I’ve always been a fan.  Can’t say any more – again.  SORRY.  But he kindly provided his alias as well. 
Malibu – Michele’s best friend, and a therapist to the stars.  He lives in a very cool home  in the hills above Malibu.  Being at his house makes me miss hiking and the outdoors.  (I know, it’s a stretch).  But if I could, I would run right up those hills. Not sure what I’d do once I got up there, except perhaps jump up and down hysterically, shoot a video to prove I did it and call it a day – but I can imagine it, nonetheless.
Pixie – a nice enough gal who can’t seem to let go of the past – or old boyfriends, apparently.  At least not when she ties one on (pun intended). 

In order to begin, I have to rewind to a few nights before the party, when I had a chance introduction to Tyler Mann. Leopardesse and I decided it had been far too long since we’d gotten together.  The last time was when she visited Aspen last winter.  I wrote about it in “Alcohol with Altitude (and Hormones)“. Plus, she’d been traveling in Europe (for over two months) since I’d moved back to LA.  We decided to make a night of it.  Our first stop:  Koi.  YUM. I love that place.  As we walked in I quickly learned a valuable lesson:  I must never EVER go out again without Leopardesse.  She knows everyone, and they all love her and swoon over her.  She’s forty-eight, and still turns heads.  Use your imagination, un-kay?  It can happen.  It’s GOING to happen to ME when I’m forty-eight. Believe it baby.

Anyway, Jorge (pronounced hor-hey) – one of the owners – bought us some very lovely martinis and positioned us at the seat of our choice on the sushi bar, while the maitre d’ Charles caressed us whenever he walked by.  You’d think we were two kittens in the window at the pet shop, the way these men stopped by to stare and pet.  ha ha. But I attribute it all to my lovely girlfriend.  I just got caught in some of the overflow.  🙂

As we were leaving Koi, Leopardessesaw an old friend of hers having a drink at the bar with Tyler Mann.  Tyler and I introduced ourselves and started chatting, while Leopardesse and her friend caught up.  He educated me about his family – he was the son of Mr. Mann a very famous sitcom dad from the 70’s and 80’s, and the brother of another couple of famous Brothers Mann.  He himself had just made an appearance in the latest craze of horror / slasher flicks – something like “I Love Machetes Seven” (ha ha).  He also is producing a musical which he promised to invite me to the premiere (I’ll keep you posted on that one). 

While we were getting familiar, I mentioned that my friend Ricky’s ex-wife was now married to his brother Mann (here’s where you must try and keep up).  Well, we talked about that and how everyone was in this sort of incestuous relationship in Hollywood – and I asked the question, “You mean it isn’t just that way in Aspen?” 

Okay – little break here.  Just so you know – when we say “incestuous” – we, meaning, well, me (hey I’m feeling royal) – we don’t mean it in the literal sense, people.  It simply means everyone travels in the same small circles and people end up dating some of the same people that their friends have dated.  It’s very common in small towns with small populations, but I was a bit surprised to hear it in reference to Hollywood.  “These people gotta get outta their circle more often,” I said to him, jokingly.

Anyhoo – he talked about a party his brother’s ex-wife, Party Girl,  hosted a few weeks back, and how he’d been there.  (“Oh my god! So was I!!”  “No! How come I didn’t see you there?” “Well, maybe because we didn’t get there until 1 AM, and there were only six people left stumbling around.”)

He said he planned to see all of the same people in a couple of nights for another party at their house, celebrating Party Girl’s birthday. Again, we had something to talk about. Lucy told me about this upcoming party earlier that day. 

“No way!  Lucy and Ricky will be there? I love them!” He said excitedly, “You should come then, with me!”  

“Sure!” I said. 

“What fun would that be, for you to show up again at their house, only this time with me?!” he continued.

I pulled out a card, and in the dimly lit bar we both determined that certainly my card had my cell phone number on it.  (I later learned that it didn’t, after, *surprise* he didn’t call me for the party).  You know what I really hate?  Not that he didn’t call – big deal – but that, my eyes and brain are really aging!  I couldn’t see anything on that card (note to self, make cards old-people friendly next time) – nor could I remember if I’d put the cell number on the card!  Sad people.  Really sad.

The next day I recounted the story to Lucy, and shared my doubts about actually getting a call.

“Well, you can come with us anyway.  Party Girl and Party Man love it when pretty girls come to their parties.  They won’t mind.” 

Yo.  I am never one to turn down a fun time. Remember that.

We arrived at the party at about 9:30 or 10pm (I know.  Early for us!), and all manner of shenanigans was already afoot. 

We entered the lovely home in Mulholland Estates, and immediately Ricky ran into his ex-wife, whom he hadn’t seen in several years.  ‘It’s starts’ I thought to myself, ‘Let the games begin.’  Lucy took it upon herself to have a lengthy, friendly conversation with her.  They were new B-F-F’s.  Then, Pixiewalked in at about the same time.  Ricky dated her some twenty years ago, and the last time we’d been in this house Pixie was falling down drunk, telling Ricky how he’d been the best boyfriend ever and she’d been so in love with him.  How she’d been so stupid to lose him.  She sooo wanted him, and hung all over him.  It was pretty funny – in a twisted, Mulholland Drive sort of way.  Pixie wasn’t drunk yet on this night, and was actually very nice and normal at this point.  We all walked into the party together, chatting with people we saw and knew along the way. All of us, that is, except Lucy, whom we’d lost to Ricky’s ex-wife.

You know – I’ve been to some pretty cool parties in Hollywood.  I’ve seen oxygen bars and henna tattoo stations – and astrologers and psychics on hand to do readings. I’ve seen Cirque du Soleil sorts of performers, acrobats doing tricks and fire breathers.  People in Hollywood know how to throw a good party. That or they like to entertain themselves as much as they love entertaining the world.

This party, though not quite the extravaganza of some that I’ve seen, was no exception.  They had an incredible sushi bar, and homemade (“Zee flow-werrr was flewn een from Pah-ree”) crepe station set up.  In the billiard room sat Tarot card readers, and there was a DJ spinning his latest and greatest outside. 

Amid all this sensory stimulus, I became keenly aware of a little rumbly in my tumbly.  Hey – I am a mommy, don’t forget, so even Pooh Bear makes the blog. Deal with it. It was a beautiful night, and as Lucy worked the party, Ricky and I hit the food.  That’s what I’m TALKING about:  When attempting to play with the big boys, it’s ultra important to stay fueled up.  One problem existed for me, however:  There was not a single vegetable or salad in sight.  I was forced to indulge in the fare supplied by our hosts.  I had two spicy tuna rolls and a bite of Ricky’s crepe, and I was ready to fumble – I mean rumble.

The big fun of the evening for me was the fact that famous singer songwriter Michele (again – not his real name, people – sorry, but he is GOOD.  AND FAMOUS – okay?  Trust me on this one)  was there, with our friend Malibu. I loved watching everyone pander after Michele.  I don’t really get that, myself, but it’s interesting to watch, I have to say. 

That, and my tarot card readings.  How the heck do those people do that?  He was spot on, with little or no info from me.  Fun fun, boys and girls! 

I also saw someone who frequents my “Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf” daily coffee stop.  I’d never formally met him, but we sit together occasionally and chat along with all the other regulars in the mornings.  Now we had a place out of context to converse, and it was loads of fun.  I learned that he works for Party Man as a talent manager, but I digress.

As time wore on, and I did what I do best at these sorts of functions (flutter), everyone began to get a little tipsy – to say the least – except me, of course.  I had two glasses of wine the entire evening.  I knew I needed to stay alert so I could take notes and live to tell you people about it. 

I fluttered over to Mr. Tyler Mann who asked me to marry him, after multiple apologies for standing me up, and pulling out the very card I gave him two nights prior, to prove he had it and had tried to call a cell phone that was non-existent on the card.  He even got his brother Mann (the one now married to Ricky’s ex-wife) in on it, who whole-heartedly approved of our engagement.  I told them both I’d marry him, but that my new fiance was going to have to work for it.  They weren’t sure at first what to make of that, but after a split second, he agreed, and the deal was done.  So, I guess I’m engaged now.  Talk about brokering the deals in Hollywood!

Then I fluttered over to Michele and Malibu and chit-chatted with them.  As we were talking I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Pixie seemed to be up to no good again.  She was invading Ricky’s personal space, with her inflated lips just about touching his nose as she spoke, and putting her hands all over him.  He was taking her hands off his arms, and trying to get her to back off.  Then it happened – and I am sure Ricky was at least a little grateful. Pixie noticed Michele talking to our little group, and with a slurpy grin, maneuvered over to “talk” to him. 

Here is where Michele, the famous person of the night, and I bonded. As Pixie slurred her wonderful world of woman-ness into Michele’s ear, he remained stiff, and though we’d been mid-sentence on another topic, he said under his breath to me “I really need to extricate myself from this situation to my right.”  As he tried to move to his left. 

Listen.  NO ONE has to tell me twice to rescue them, if they need it.  Hello?!!  Have you read my story about the Mummy Terrorist?  If not, you may want to stop now and read it before going any further.  You really need to get a clear picture of the great lengths to which I will go to save the world.

Here’s how I did it this time.  I quickly and innocently failed to notice that Pixie was trying to get closer to Michele, and I simply stepped between them, and placing my arm on his back, guided him three steps to the left – away from the vixen. 

“Thank you,” he said nicely.  “No problem!” I said, matter of factly.  And we continued our conversation.

About that time, my friends and I noticed it was almost 2:30 am, and time to leave.  Ricky and I began the slow and arduous process of extricating Lucy from the scene, and making our grand exit.  I said farewell to my fiance, and all of my new friends, and we headed home.

When my head hit the pillow at 3 AM, I immediately fell into a deep and sweet slumber.  Life is good.

Remember that people.  Even in the twisted world of Hollywood and Mulholland Drive, one can see the beauty of life, and enjoy it.  Believe it.  It’s true.

Time for me to hit the road now!  I am sitting in LAX dispatching this to you, and about to board an airplane.  I’m off to Aspen for a week.  But stay tuned!  Next Sunday I’m suppose to attend the Emmy Awards with my good friend Musicality. He said he thinks we even get to walk the red carpet. That is, if all goes according to plan!

Have a great week my lovelies – and puhhh-leease – enjoy every moment.

Love you people!  Mmmmmmmmphhhuuhhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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Trippin’ the Fifth Dimension

by

I had the opportunity a few weeks back to go sailing near Marina Del Rey, California with a group of people I’d never met.  Hesitant as I was, once I heard the group planned to sail for a while then land at Marina Del Rey in time for a concert by 70’s recording artists and Grammy winners The Fifth Dimension, I was in.  That sealed the deal.  I didn’t care who I didn’t know.  All I could think of was a favorite song growing up by The Fifth Dimension:

Bill, I love you so, I always will
I look at you and see the passion eyes of May
Oh, but am I ever gonna see my wedding day
I was on your side Bill when you were loosin’
I never scheme or lie Bill, there’s been no foolin’
But kisses and love won’t carry me till you marry me Bill!

You get the point. That and a host of other hits (“Up, Up and Away,” and “Aquarious” notwithstanding) made me all the more determined to go to the show. “I don’t mind hanging out with a bunch of older people!” I bragged happily.

OF COURSE, just when I’d agreed to go sailing with these perfect strangers, the agenda was changed, and they weren’t going to make it back to the harbor in time to see the concert.  Well, much as I love the idea of sailing, I quickly declined the invite.  Nothing was going to stop me from singing along with the Fifth Dimension. Come hell or high water it was going to happen. That’s all there was too it!  Little did I know what was REALLY in store for me.

If you are new here, welcome!  Whatever you do, don’t let a little thing like old songs from the 60’s and 70’s frighten you – what we talk about in here is RELEVANT I tell you!  I’ve got everything from skinny Jabba the Hut women, to lesbo propositions, and drugged-up homeless boat captains.  It’s all fantastic – and as the title eludes – TRIPPY.  HA!

I arrived that evening to a sea of seventy year olds with their grand kids in tow.  There were a few people in their thirties and forties, but we were definitley in the minority.  I scanned the crowded lawn for a place to park myself and realized things were going to be difficult.  There wasn’t a single inch of real estate available for little ole me.  I managed to get into a war of the wills with one woman, who when I sweetly asked “Do you mind if I sit here?” (on a 12X12 inch piece of grass), quickly snapped, “NO.  I have three kids and three dogs, and these people (motioning to an empty blanket) haven’t come back yet, and who knows how many people they’ll have?” 

‘Wow, this is a TOUGH crowd,’ I thought to myself.  I SAID, “Well, I’ll just wait until these people get back then.” And I plopped down on her piece of land.  It wasn’t long before “these people” came back and started giving me the evil eye, so I got up and started the search for land all over again.

As I walked along the thoroughfare in front of the stage I overheard a gal talking to some local law enforcement, saying, “What else did they sing?”  I looked, and she was smiling sweetly at the officers and appeared to be with a couple of guys to her right that looked like golfers at a tail-gate party.  They had their cooler between them and were wearing standard golfing attire.  It all looked safe enough to me, and I just couldn’t resist the challenge to educate this chick about the Fifth Dimension, so I went right up to her and asked, “What songs do you know?” And she smiled and started to sing, “Up, up and away in my beautiful, my beautiful balloon!”  I sang a few bars of a number of their other tunes, and apparently this was all this gal, I’ll call her Sy Snooty (I’ll tell you why later), needed in order to invite me to join her on her large and uninhabited blanket.  I looked at the blanket, which reminded me of something I had as a twelve year old, only this one looked like it hadn’t been washed since I was twelve.  I somewhat hesitantly agreed, rationalizing that I could triple up my blanket into a little square and sit only on it – not ever touching her blanket. 

Okay – so I’m adventurous and willing to talk to just about anyone.  It’s served me well in the past, and I don’t regret my social voyeurism in the slightest.  But the blanket should have been a MAJOR red flag.  Also – Sy was very drunk and was already slurring her words.  Not only that, HER BLANKET WAS EMPTY!  Where were all her friends, since apparently the golfer guys – who were now having a great laugh at my expense – didn’t even know her.

Sy was trying to get to know me, and told me that she lived on her boat.  That they (apparently her friends) were cooking tri-tip steak, and that she belonged to all the yacht clubs in the marina.  (I couldn’t imagine it, considering she could hardly even say “yacht clubs” in her drunken stupor).  But she really did say things in that order.  1) She lived on her boat; 2) They were cooking tri-tip steak; and 3) She belonged to all the yacht clubs. 

Within a few moments, a homeless guy with a captain’s hat and dirty, torn khaki shorts and shirt started staggering toward us carrying something.  I thought, ‘uh oh, now what?  Who’s this drugged up homeless boat-captain guy?’ I thought to myself.  “Honey!”  Sy cooed gleefully to the guy.  ‘Great.’ I thought.  He was carrying their dinner (tri-tip), which I think he’d just cooked over on the boat. 

Following him were another couple that were just as odd, and definitely on drugs.  The other girl couldn’t open her eyes, and she kept swaying to and fro as if she would fall over any second.  They all sat down behind me and started to eat, as the band took the stage.

Immediately Sy jumped up, and in front of everyone, started to dance.  This was not some cute girl doing a little happy dance with herself.  She had a ragged black sundress, and what should have been lats (those  are the muscles on the back near the outer shoulder-blade area, for you anatomy & physiology-challenged peeps) – were these over-hanging pouches of cellulite that jiggled when she danced.  She kept grabbing herself, and apparently thought it was pretty damn sexy.  What she LOOKED like was the lead singer from the Max Rebo band that performed for Jabba the Hut in one of the Star Wars movies.  The lead singer’s name was Sy Snooty, and I am NOT kidding.  Everything from the skinny legs, and big, Rolling Stone lips, to the jiggly, fat torso – made this woman Sy Snooty incarnate.

 

 

 

 

 

What was truly priceless to observe that evening, however, were the kids standing off to the side with their families, minding their own business when all of this began to unfold.  Most had been happily jumping and dancing around, but were now frozen and saucer-eyed, jaws dropped to the ground as they stared at Sy doing her sexy, feel-herself-up dance, cellulite back jiggling as she shimmied. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I coped – at best – with it all, thinking I’d be able to write about this, at the very least.  I tried to enjoy the show, which turned out to be more of a variety show, with only one remaining member of The Fifth Dimension present.  All in all, it was a disappointment, but I was handling everything fairly well – including dodging Sy’s attempts to shove a fork full of tri-tip into my mouth, and to get me to join her up front for a little dance. 

Then it happened. Sy sat next to me, and propping herself up on a stanchion pole on her right, started to stroke my hair with her left hand. 

“I’m not hitting on you,” she stuck her steamy mouth into my ear and said in her husky, drunk voice, “I’m just balancing myself.” 

“Well, balance yourself on my SHOULDER then,” I demanded, to the now apparent deaf, drunk Jabba the Hut girl.

She stroked my hair again, and repeated herself, once again getting right next to my neck to whisper in my ear, “I’m just balancing myself, I promise.  I’m not hitting on you.”  She backed away for a second, then came back to my ear to say, “Well, maybe a little.”

To my GREAT DELIGHT, the band requested that any ladies who wanted to dance up on stage come up, and everyone in Sy’s circle shouted at her that “now was her chance.”  Off she skipped to dance on the stage.  I turned back to look at her friends, and surprisingly drugged-up boat captain guy said, “Now’s your chance. I’d leave while you can.”  I’ll never know if these friends of hers were actually prisoners in a way, who were empathetic as they watched Sy make her moves on me.  It sure seemed like it.

Drugged-up boat captain guy did NOT have to tell me twice.  I jumped up, grabbed my blanket and RAN back to my car.

So, boys and girls, what is the moral of the story?  Well, I really don’t know. HA HA.  I suppose I could rattle off some nugget of wisdom about how my frivolous behavior is what got me into this very predicament, and that is probably true.  But I have to say, I wouldn’t change it for the world!  What fun would that be? And, what a great story!

I tell you, people don’t experience life by watching it from the sidelines.  They take chances and they MAKE things happen.  So, I challenge you to get out there this week and make something happen.  Would you?  Just be careful, and try not to make my mistakes.  Do as I SAY, not as I do.  HA!

Until next week, when I tell you a story about a little birthday party off Mulholland Drive. 

Love you people!  Mmmmmmphhhuuhhhhhh!!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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