Ms. Cheevious in Hollywood

My Zany Years Spent Working in Tinsel Town

Single Moms

Sir Tab, Dennis Quaid, Face-Offs and Other News

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1) I’ve never done a post where I number things.  Everyone else does it. My turn.

2) First and foremost – in the OTHER NEWS category (not to be confused with unimportant):  My boyfriend and I broke up a little over a couple of weeks ago. I suppose it was coming for a long time. Not surprised, are you?  As many of you know, I determined I could not live away from the city for the rest of my life, and my man is or was (as it were) a country boy.  He is very special and we remain friends as well as business partners, and care very much for each other, but in all fairness to him, I had to let go.  He wants and needs a hot outdoorsy chick who can remain by his side in small town America.  The jury is still out on whether it was the smartest decision I’ve ever made.  It was not something that my Barbie GPS  could help me with.  It was all about being true to oneself.  But, I’m sure you’ll hear more from me on this. Stay tuned.

3) On a lighter note: I met someone new that I like!  🙂 At first I told RandomEsq (the consummate alias creator) that this guy is British, but reminds me of Tab Hunter – sort of – and if you do not know who Tab Hunter is, I hate you. Random came up with the fantastic alias of Sir Tab, which is very appropriate, even though when I conducted an Internet search on Tab – an actor from the 60’s – there were only cutesy, Beach Blanket Bingo sorts of images.  Tab Hunter had the clean-cut look of one of the Beach Boys in their early days.  If you don’t know what “Beach Blanket Bingo” or who the Beach Boys are, you’d better look them up, because you are WAY out of it, baby.  Everyone should know about these monikers of pop culture. 

4) Once I saw the Tab Hunter images, I embarked on another search for who Sir Tab really reminds me of.  I figured it out: It’s Dennis Quaid.  Sort of.  Sir Tab is actually MUCH cuter – blows Dennis out of the water!  I suppose if Tab Hunter had ever grown his hair out, he may have even looked sort of Quaid-ish.  I considered changing the alias to Sir Quaid, but it sounded too much like QUAALUDE, so I decided against it.  Sir Tab is a hottie, with some incredible lips, I must say.


Here’s a shot of Tab Hunter – the hottie.  But this image is just a little too far off from Sir Tab. Sir Tab has some ruggedness to his looks.  Though it looks like Tab has some luscious lips here – so there are some definite correlations. heh heh

Here’s an idea of what Tab would’ve looked like with more hair. Well, maybe not (okay – I’m not Rembrandt).  He kinda sort of looks like a Chia Pet.  HA!  But, with longer hair, Sir Tab might actually be compared to him.  Ya think?

This better depicts Sir Tab – I think.  Not to say that he doesn’t have his own unique, wonderful look. But based on this, one could surmise that he’s cute, eh?

5) I still haven’t got even a tinge of desire to upload the video footage from my appearance on Entertainment Tonight.  It was an ABOUT FACE sort of thing, any way – if you know what I mean – laser treatment and all.  The footage I have is from an apparent shorter version than what was finally aired after its initial debute.  I hear the full-length version is better, and am waiting to see it.  Once I do, I will get around to uploading it some day, in which case I will include the video footage here for you as well! (SCARY)

So – Welcome to the very first LIST edition of Ms. Cheevious – Enjoying every moment.  If you are new here, welcome. I am so very glad you are here, and honored you chose to stop by. We have a FABULOUS time in here, dahhhhling!

And now, my friends, I am off!  There are soooo many people to do and things to see.  Strike that.  Reverse it. (Anyone remember where that line came from?? First person to recall is guaranteed to never have their personal stories appear in my blog. Hee hee.)

As always, have a fantastic weekend, and enjoy EVERY SINGLE MOMENT!

Love you people! Mmmmmmphhhuuuhhhhh!  xoxo
Ms. Cheevious

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What Happens in Vegas

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I’m in Vegas with my soon-to-be teenage son (does that make him still a tween, or just simply hormonal?), Graden.  If you are new to Ms. Cheevious – Enjoying Every Moment, welcome!  We have loads of fun in here.  I tell it like it is, based on how I see things, of course.  Anyhow, I change the names of my friends and family, whenever they get entangled in a predicament I feel compelled to share.  So, Graden is not really my son’s name, but it’s cool isn’t it?  My son’s pretty cool.  I must admit.  Both of them are.  Graden and Joel (another cool, also not-my-son sort of name).

As many of you know, Graden and I were in Aspen last week, where I got very sick and was laid up most of my visit.  I was there on business, and upon arrival soon found myself about the business of lying in bed trying to recuperate. 

When I planned the trip a couple of months back, I’d mentioned it in passing to Graden, thinking we’d be driving from Los Angeles to Colorado.  To sweeten the deal I said we’d probably stop in Vegas on the way there or back to break things up.  Graden is a cool twelve year old.  In “parent language” (in case you’ve not been blessed with little darling children) this means he doesn’t crack a smile or show any emotion.  At least not to me.  I’m his mom, dude. That wouldn’t be cool.  Hello???  So, when he half-way squeaked a quasi-exuberant huff, something to the effect of “Oh! Snap! That’s coooool,” I knew I’d better not re-neg on this one.  He went on to explain that the roller coaster at New York, New York was on his list of “must rides.”  I quickly realized that the little boy who, on a trip to Knott’s Berry Farm a couple years back, wouldn’t board anything that looked remotely fast or furious, was gone. Sniff, sniff.

You’ll get a laugh, (either that or be extremely bored) over our little excursion.  Our story is replete with after-midnight tales, and scurrying about the strip. But it’s not the usual story, as most trips we’ve all heard about that are chock full of juicy, sordid details of love lost (and found – well, a tainted version of it, anyway), money won (and lost). and all manner of legal and illegal substances consumed (or, ehem, “tossed” – as in “I tossed my cookies”), for better or for worse. 

So here we are!  We arrived at about 7 pm last night, got the rental car and checked into the hotel (NY NY).  It was 9 pm before we were able to head over to a little restaurant called Mon Ami Gabi in the Paris Las Vegas hotel.  It came highly recommended by a friend who frequents Vegas, who said “Sit outside on the patio.  You’ll love the view.” We did, and – we did!  Graden said, “Tell Thurston (another fictional name) I love him!”  THAT, my friends, was a very important clue.  For Graden to say that, I’d DEFINITELY broken through the hard, cold exterior of his coolness.  I was on the fast track to becoming the essence of cool in the eyes of my son, which, at the age of almost thirteen, is INCREDIBLE. 

 

Here I caught Graden in a “moment” where it wouldn’t be too bad to take a picture with mom.

Mon Ami Gabi’s patio sits directly opposite the Bellagio Hotel’s famous fountain, and every fifteen minutes, on the dot, we were treated to a beautifully choreographed fountain routine.  There were routines perfomed to songs by the likes of Celine Dion, Frank Sinatra, even Charro.  And those sexy legs!  Well, anyway.  It actually was very beautiful.  But the really fantastic thing about the restaurant was the food.  That was what prompted Graden to say that he LOVED my friend.  He drooled as he savored every bite of his filet mignon.  What twelve year old wouldn’t, I suppose!?

Here is basically the same photo, but this time, you can see the FOUNTAIN!!

But I must admit, as beautiful as the fountain was, it was what happened next that was really hilarious (or very sad, depending on your opinion, I guess). 

Okay – one more picture of the fountain, just for good measure:

We left the restaurant and ran as fast as we could back to the hotel to try and catch a ride on New York, New York’s roller coaster, the Manhattan Express (I’m not sure that’s still the name, but it works for me). 

Normal hemming and hawing, making excuses as to why the ride could wait until tomorrow, complaining about the traffic (pedestrian as well as auto), or any other stalling mechanism I could think of to enlist aside – I went on the ride.  I have to say, something interesting happened.  It was as if my inner teenager was awakened.  I had a BLAST on that roller coaster!  I would have run back to the front of the line again, were it not for our getting on board the last ride of the night. 

Graden and I got back to the room after midnight and pulled up whatever websites we could find to plan our coaster strategy for the next day.  We were up until TWO AM scheming our screams for the day ahead.  Silly me even thought I’d get up early and get a work out in.  Yeah right. 

We ended up riding the roller coaster at Circus Circus, the Sahara (pictured above, at the NASCAR cafe), and one other that escapes me now.  They were ALL fantastic.  We rode them multiple times.  By the time we got back to the hotel, I was in need of a massage.  I got one.  It was fabulous.  Graden used his free time to buy a Manhattan Express wrist band and ride the coaster at our hotel over and over again.

We are off to see “O” by Cirque du Soleil tonight, then it’s the Stratosphere coaster and swimming at Mandalay Bay tomorrow.  My, we are awfully hip, aren’t we?

I have to run now people.  Places to go, people (or at least characters in costumes and what-not) to see!

I hope your weekend brings you multiple smiles and something good to remember.

Mmmmmmphhhhuuuuhhhhh! 

xoxo, Ms. Cheevious

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Shrimp on the Barbie Baby

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You know, when I first heard that saying “Shrimp on the Barbie,” it actually conjured up images of a Barbie Doll with a piece of shrimp on it.  I’m sure there are psychological implications to this, especially given my deviant nature at times, but suffice it to say, once I thought of that saying (don’t ask me how on earth I thought of “Shrimp on the Barbie” after lying in a bed of Kleenex, having sneezed and coughed for the past eighteen hours.  Perhaps it was a drug induced hallucination of Barbies and shrimp dancing around my brain, or maybe it’s just because I LOVE Barbie.  I think Mattel should create a Barbie GPS.  One that is pink and says things I can relate to, like “Time to stop and apply lip gloss!” or “No! Don’t go down there! You’ll get mud on your Jimmy Choos!” ), my mind went on a rabbit trail from there.  It took me to thoughts of my Memorial Day Weekend.  It was my first holiday weekend since moving into my new condo in Los Angeles. 

One of my best friends (the one who is an on-air personality on national television – the one I can’t mention here – ha ha) was in town from New York, and we planned a little soire at a mutual friend’s house.  Okay – not just any house – and not just any friend.  He’s pretty cute too (always a bonus) and a perfect host.  This friend’s house is up in the hills of Beverly Hills and has a panoramic view of Los Angeles from its pristinely landscaped back yard.  This view can be seen while sipping Pina Coladas in the hot tub, lounging near the pool, or from any point in the back yard.  Not only can you see a spectacular array of city lights on a clear night, but you can see some of the elaborate mansions on the rolling hills across the way.  As I scanned the breathtaking view on that night I couldn’t help but wonder what each of the members of these households were up to in that very moment.  Were celebrities afoot, hobnobbing and congratulating each other on their latest projects as they sampled the latest and greatest Wolfgang Puck fare?  Were they welcoming friends and family for a little shrimp on the barbie and some delicious daiquiris? 

Cool Pad in Beverly Hills

Here is our host’s pad.  Very nice place. 
The photo, taken by our mutual friend, doesn’t do justice to the view, but you get the picture.

Or could it be that the most likely scene in this belly of affluence was that of a desolate housewife sitting alone in her bathrobe, smoking cigarettes on her balcony looking at the fantastic view her world has created for her, only to also create a husband whose hunger for status, success and an unhealthy appetite for celebrity leads him astray time and again with every next top model or actress – or even actor? 

I allowed my mind to go to this dark and very real place for some in Tinsel Town for only a moment, before it was so pleasantly interrupted by a delicious Malibu Rum and diet Coke offered by my adorable host.  ‘Ahh, Malibu’ I sighed with relief. Not only was I relishing in the rum, but thoughts of the beach, the ocean’s waves in all their majesty, and the burnt orange and fuchsia sunsets so beautifully crafted by the unique attributes of Southern California’s carbon footprint.  It may not be paradise to some, but I do love the landscape here, even with all the faults so many are quick to point out.

So, anyway.  I got to the party a little in the dark as to what we’d be cooking up.  My girlfriend said she had it covered, so I showed up in time to help get things going.  This friend of ours is a total bachelor.  It’s almost criminal for such a magnificent kitchen, complete with indoor grille and all the accoutrements for fabulous culinary creations, to belong to a bachelor who doesn’t even cook.  I tried not to drool as I prepped the lettuce and tomatoes for the burgers.  He is so much the stereotypical male bachelor, too.  Poor guy.  He told the story of how he’d been in the house for almost ten years, when his parents came for the holidays recently.  His mom went to cook a holiday dinner only to find the oven did not work.  “Please tell me you have used this oven before,” he mimicked his mother’s disdain over his pathetic bachelor state. Of course he hadn’t.  As a matter of fact, he even expected my friend and I to actually do the grilling for our little group.  This is where I stepped in.  I protested that idea vehemently.  I am a little traditional, in the sense of male and female roles.  Go figure.  Me, the jet-set, marketing and PR professional, who actually likes to be valued and cherished, and treated special!  As traditional as I am, I don’t go so far back to the golden olden days, that I am willing to carry buckets of water from the well, or worse yet, light the grille and flip the burgers.  In my book, that’s where the men take over.  Either that, or I stay inside and use the fancy indoor grille, which works just fine as well.  🙂  Once the guys took charge of the burgers on the outdoor grille, we were all set. 

So, do you think it’s outrageous that I am actually so old fashioned? Listen, I am all for being liberated, and we all know I’ve exercised that liberation on more than one occasion (in many fun and interesting ways!)  Even though I am strong and able, I LIKE a man to take over when things intimidate me, or seem bigger than me.  Or if I cry.  Ha ha.  I LOVE to defer to my man.  I suppose it could be construed as a bit of a double standard.  I want to be treated special, like a precious commodity.  I also want to do what makes me happy when I want.  But doesn’t everyone?  I want to be able to take off the Paris if I’m so inclined.  Of course, if I am with someone, I most certainly want them to come along, but I am not opposed to seeking adventure on my own once in a while, too.  The latter tends to intimidate, or infuriate men.  They can’t seem to wrap their mind around the concept that a strong independent, intelligent woman is deserving of being cherished, loved and treated like they (the men) are so lucky to be with them.  Is that so much to ask?  Like Sheryl Crow says, “Lie to me.  I promise I’ll believe.”  Just make me believe I am precious.  Dammit.  ha ha!  You know, growing up, my family called me Super Brat.  Then a little later a brother-in-law elevated the title to Wonder Brat.  It was a compliment.  I truly believe my family sat back with jaws on the floor at the way my life unfolded.  HA!

I’m really not a brat.  I just know what I want.  Right now, I’d like to be able to stop the coughing and sneezing.  I want to go for an exhilerating hike or bike ride.  I could even love the hot tub right about now.  But alas, I must get back to work!

So, I went from Shrimp on the Barbie (and all that implies) to the lifestyles of the rich and famous (or not), and then ended with an analysis of – ME (albeit distorted and just-as-drug-induced as my Barbie hallucinations.) How utterly apropos. 

I am in Aspen this week, and will be in Vegas for next week’s post.  THAT will be fun!  I received the footage from my underwhelming appearance on Entertainment Tonight, and still haven’t decided whether I will post it or not.  More later on that.  Perhaps next week I’ll chat about my escapades at Book Expo.  Or not. Regardless, it’ll be GOOD.

Have a great weekend everyone!

xoxo – or as an old boyfriend use to say “mmmmmphhhuuuhhhh!”
Ms. Cheevious 

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Random Esquire, Plush and Blogging

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I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again:  RandomEsq (aka Random Esquire), hereafter referred to as “R”, (how’s that for legaleeze?  Notice my swift rise in aptitude to all things legal? Ha ha) is a real lady killer!

I began a dialogue with the now infamous blogger / attorney / food and wine aficionado some months ago, when I approved a reply to one of my blog posts. (Pardon my detour here, but those descriptions for R – blogger, etc – are from my own keen observations, of course. R can’t be blamed for laying the credentials on me.  The attorney credential came pretty simply, given the blog handle “RandomEsq.”  That was a dead give away.  So was the blogger thing.  Be warned: I’m pretty bright.  But the rest came over time, after a few “random” emails and conversations.)  

Ahhh, the first contact. Those are the truly fine moments in any new relationship, aren’t they?  Whether a new friend, love interest, business relationship, or even a new job, the first contact is when we are all on our very best behavior, generally.  But in the blogosphere, there are no rules.  It wasn’t that R’s first reply was earth shattering, creating a great chasm in my personal philosophies or beliefs and causing me to rethink everything I’d ever learned.  It’s just that it was – well – Random. Ha!  I didn’t know this blogger.  Who was this person gracing my little corner of cyberspace?  I had to investigate. I found R’s posts to be witty, interesting and, yes, again, random.  I loved it!  What a novel concept!  A blog about nothing in particular!  (Pun intended).  Great minds think alike, I suppose! 

As so aptly put in the post Meeting Ms. Cheevious, MILF Moniker Maintained, I was the one to de-virginize R in the whole “meetings from the blogosphere” thing.  But I too was new to that game, and I am proud to say that it was DEFINITELY good for me!  ha ha!  Was it good for you R?  How about you Plush?  Plush, a beautiful singer-songwriter and blogger in her own right, is also the subject of many a post on RandomEsq and a love interest of R’s.  We were thrilled to be graced by her presence that Saturday night in Chicago, which is generally reserved for paying gigs – a hot commodity for musician types. 

The meeting and the entire circumstances surrounding our meeting are priceless – segments of which will most certainly be the subject of future blogs. But for various reasons – most importantly the fact that R has chosen to maintain a completely anonymous blog – I won’t share that story here.  You’ll see smatterings of funny stories throughout my career as a writer.  Some of them will refer to a meeting I once had with someone, and the hilarious story that goes along with it.  You won’t know if it’s this meeting I’m referring to or not, but suffice it to say, Random, Plush, my eighth grade best friend (who contacted me through my website, out of the blue in April) and I had a great time, an eventful night, and we alone – well – aside from a few select “in-the-know” people in Seattle, I suppose – are privy to the back-story. 

I’m sorry!  I know, I know!  I’ve fashioned my entire online existence by being completely open and entirely transparent.  I’ve not trained any of you to allow this sort of secrecy.  One day, should R choose to put an end once and for all to this anonymous blog stuff, I’d be happy to divulge all the nitty gritty details.  Until then, however, I must respect a fellow blogger’s wishes.

I’m off now to BOOK EXPO 2008.  Remember last year?  It was an incredibly successful event, after I attended the Writer’s Digest Writer’s Conference.  This year I was not able to participate in the same conference, which was the very thing that opened up many possibilities for my book Ms. Cheevious in Hollywood – Memoir of a Hot Mamma / MILF This!  But I will attend the expo and network like a banshee, nonetheless.

That’s all I have for today.  More sordid, juicy details of my own life to come next week, I assure you.  And I’ll see if I can get access to my little turn on Entertainment Tonight for you all to view. 

Have a FANTASTIC WEEKEND!  Next week I’ll be writing on location from Aspen!

xoxo

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

My Big Break Got Bumped by Ted Kennedy!

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I feel bad for the guy, I really do.  He’s got a brain tumor, and apparently it’s breaking news, even on Entertainment Tonight. So, no E.T. for me tonight, but honestly – I am a bit relieved.  Perhaps they will actually drop the piece altogether, and if nothing else comes of it, I can say I ended up with a great facial treatment!  Wouldn’t that be fantastic?

The piece is now scheduled for next Tuesday, May 27th.  Check your local listings. 

Then maybe I will “see” you next week (well you’d see me, in this case, but you get the idea)!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

Ms. Cheevious and ET (Entertainment Tonight)

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No, “ET” is not the extra terrestrial from the movie E.T., though he was cute and all.  Entertainment Tonight is what I’m talkin’ bout.  And I’m gonna’ be on it – TONIGHT!  That’s right you read it right. The reason for my slightly erratic posts of late (my move made me a Delinquent Ms. Cheevious last week, and I didn’t even bother to send it out to my peeps), and even today’s post, (as I normally write this column for Thursdays) is being posted because I am going to be on the show TONIGHT, Wednesday, May 21, 2008.  That is, unless I get preempted by Angelina’s water breaking or something. 

Speaking of preempting.  How sad is it when the story of my now infamous meeting with one of the blogosphere’s own, Random Esquire, is once again preempted by my appearance on Entertainment Tonight?  I guess sometimes life just happens and ya gotta go with what is RIGHT NOW, ya know? The Random Esquire story is great, in and of itself, but it’s nothing (sorry R!) compared to the serendipitous happenings of the past week! I’ve not forgotten the story.  Hopefully I’ll be able to tell it some day.  That is, if I’m not overwhelmed by phone calls from producers and agents after my appearance on national t.v. tonight.  Ha ha!  If so, you know I’ll have to write about it, and bounce all my other stories once again.  But think about it!  I could seriously be bogged down suddenly with all sorts of industry folks clamoring for my attention! 

I know, I know.  I’m just yankin’ your chains.  But sometimes I like to let these types of fantasies run amok in my head. Sometimes that is what makes good things really happen in life.  That’s right. You heard it here first. Fantasy is good.

If only this appearance on t.v. – and I have to say it is NOT anything that will promote me, my friends or any of that fabulous-ness – if only it could promote me and my book, and provide me with some positive publicity!  I’d get my book published in a heart beat. 

Okay.  I have to tell you what really went down and how this all happened: 

I got to Los Angeles last Monday.  I was here little more than a day, and was shopping for a few supplies at Costco, when I gave my girlfriend Sheila a ring. 

“Your ears must be ringing.  Did you know I was just writing about you in a email?”

“What were you writing about me for?” I asked, my curiosity peaked.

“Well, one of the producers from Entertainment Tonight called and they’re wanting to do a segment with lots of drama.  You know, bandages all over, like for a face lift or something.”

Okay, I have to interject here: my girlfriend Sheila works for a prominent cosmetic surgeon in Beverly Hills.  She is basically the COO for all things in that office and all the doctor’s endeavors. 

But once she said that, I thought ‘Uh oh.  Not again. I’ve been down that road, and it’s not pretty.”  It happened the last time I’d just moved to Los Angeles.  A friend of mine (another Beverly Hills surgeon) asked if I wanted free Botox in exchange for being photographed for some news papers. Little ole me thought, “why not?”  I’d had Botox once before, and I knew it was harmless – but could be costly, so I eagerly agreed.  Unbeknown to me, that little “photographer” my EX doctor-friend mentioned (just kidding Paul!) worked for the Associated Press and the “news papers” meant that any old publication could pick the story up, thus my before and after pictures appeared on the cover of the LA Times, the New York Post and so many others.  Regis and Kathy Lee held up my FROWNING MUG on national television.  I was so embarrassed by the whole episode, and it has never gone away.  Anyone can look up my name and BOTOX on the internet and see those frowning pictures easily.  The worst part is I had my first experience with being misquoted by the media.  I told the slug who photographed me that I worked in television production – which I did.  He wrote down “producer.” So, when Kathy Lee told the country that “Television producer, Lisa J. Davis had Botox” and held up my pictures for all the world to see, my phone started ringing. “So, when did you start producing, Lisa?” some of my acquaintances in the business prodded.  I had to do some fancy footwork to get out of that one, even though technically, I had actually produced.  They just didn’t know about it, and no one had seen what I’d produced.  Doesn’t that just bite?  

Still, hopeful Sheila was not thinking I needed a face lift, I asked “So what does this have to do with me?”

“Well, she wants all this drama, right?  And we don’t have anything on the books, so I am trying to pitch our Fraxel Laser treatment to her, but I need help with the pitch.”

“So, what have you got?” I asked, relieved, and now thinking she just wanted me for my editing prowess.

“Well, I’ve basically explained how right after the Fraxel, the patient has to wear this cooling mask, and it’s kind of dramatic because it looks sort of like ‘Jason’ or some other character out of a horror flick.  When I did the treatment I loved the cooling mask so much and wanted to drive home with it but the office wouldn’t let me do it.  They said I’d get pulled over looking that scarry,” she explained, laughing. “But now I am trying to pitch you.”

“Me?” I asked laughing.  “Why do need to pitch me?”

“Just listen to this, okay?” and she went on to read her initial email:

My girlfriend has just returned to Los Angeles after living in Colorado for the past four years and she is looking really old. 

I stopped her immediately, laughing hysterically (maybe from fear it might be true), “WHAT?! That’s awful!  That’s not true!  Does my skin look that bad?”

She laughed, “Listen!  I had to make it dramatic, but – yeah it’s pretty bad” she laughed again, with her huge, invasive British laugh (okay it’s not really big or invasive, but I had to exact revenge somehow).

In that mili-second, I quickly glanced down the road of where this was going, and decided I needed to ignore what my friend was saying for the moment, and put on the hat she needed.  I needed to help her EDIT THAT EMAIL and FAST.

“No, no.  If you are really wanting to pitch this, you need to paint the picture. What you say is, the frigid, dry Colorado air has taken its toll on her skin.” 

She bought it and sent the email. 

A few minutes later she called me back, ecstatic.  “They loved the idea! They want to do it this week!”  I quickly reminded my best friend that I had movers and handymen and cable men and all manner of men coming to my place THIS week, and if the “men” didn’t say enough (just kidding honey – it’s for the audience, I promise), the fact that I was MOVING should.  I was booked.

“Oh please!  I told them your movers were coming on Thursday, and they want to do it Friday! Can you make it happen?”  I agreed that, should all go according to plan, I could come in for the laser treatment. 

But I wasn’t actually sold on this laser thing. She had to reassure me that the treatment would not scar or cause me to swell up like a balloon.  I listened to all the details an all the worst case scenarios that could occur with the treatment. I won’t go into details, as you’ll have to watch the segment to see what really happens – but I decided it was safe to go for it!

So, there you have it!  My first appearance on national television, and I’m going to look like JASON.  How’s that for a serendipitous occurrence?  As one friend put it, “You’ve got a world of opportunity opening up to you there, and you’ve only been there a day.”

So be sure to tune in tonight!  You will have to check your local listings, but you can go to the Entertainment Tonight website and click on the bottom left navigation “Local Show Finder” as well.  If you read this post too late to tune in, not to worry my little darlings, I will get a copy of the tape and post it later. 

Well, I am off now.  I have to go peruse my wardrobe and get ready for my eventful day.  I may go to the American Idol after-party or something.  Who knows? 

Tah Tah for now.  xoxo

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