Ms. Cheevious in Hollywood

My Zany Years Spent Working in Tinsel Town

Single Women

Tall, Dark, Handsome and SO Young in Aspen

by

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

EMMYs Girl!

by

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

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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Virtual Plans and the Flakes of LA

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Sheila and I were talking about friendship.  We are pretty lucky for ours.  Especially in Los Angeles. People are flaky here.  Okay – not to diss the people in LA. People are flaky everywhere.  Real, true friendship is so rare and such a hot commodity, though, it’s something to talk about.

Our friend Glasgow (named as such for his Scottish heritage and accent) insists that all people in Los Angeles are flaky.  He’s so bloody negative about it. You can’t really blame him, when you hear his story though!  One New Year’s Eve after he’d just moved here, he had no plans.  He was chatting with some friends who told him of and invited him enthusiastically to a party.  They said they’d pick him up at a certain time and place, and planned to make a night of it.  Glasgow got himself ready, was at the appointed place, on time, only to be stood up.  It gets worse.  His “friends” never returned his calls.  Ever.  He NEVER heard from them again. What is THAT all about?  That’s just plain RUDE, isn’t it?

Do you think they died?  HA HA.  That IS the natural reaction among NORMAL, kind, caring and thinking people, isn’t it? 

Hey, I’ve been victim myself here in LA.  It dates all the way back to when I was only twenty years old. I was a single mom, living in Denver, when I decided to take a much needed vacation out to Los Angeles over the Fourth of July. I called up a childhood friend, Roseanne, who was my partner in crime growing up, when I came out to Southern California for the summers.  We were both (presumably) excited about my coming out for the weekend. Roseanne even invited me to stay at her place, offering to pick me up at the airport. 

On the flight over, being the amicable, friendly sort that I am, I made friends with a couple of guys on the plane.  They were super sweet, super cute and gave me their phone numbers.  They said to give them a call if my friends and I wanted to meet up in San Diego – their destination.

I arrived at LAX and waited FOUR hours, (having left repeated messages on an answering machine – hey – it was the early 80’s) before I finally had to call my brother who lived in Valencia county to come and pick me up.  He was kind and gracious and offered for me to hang with he and his wife and kids for the weekend, (just what a single mom who’s free for the weekend wants to do) but I would have none of it.  I called the two boys I’d met, and they drove all the way up to Valencia to pick me up.  We drove down to San Diego in a cool convertible and partied all weekend with a big group of fun people. 

That was one FLAKY situation that worked out to my BENEFIT! HA! Thanks Roseanne!  Boy was THAT fun! 

Oh – and there was another time flakiness worked in my favor.  Not too long ago, all but two people I’d invited to a dinner party flaked.  Because of that, I was able to go (with one of my guests) to the Santa Monica Pier, see Fallout Boy perform a surprise concert, and get into the Victoria’s Secret Pink Party.  If my friends hadn’t flaked I may have never met Fred the Wonder Chicken, seen Fallout Boy at such a cool venue, or gotten free drinks at a Victoria’s Secret party!  Now THAT was cool. 

Hey!  I have pretty good luck when people flake!

If you are new here, welcome!  I am so glad you chose to stop by!  We have fun in here, so watch out! 

What do you think it is though, that makes people flake?  Do you think they are just mushy and can’t be honest, or maybe they don’t know how to be honest, so they just lie about their plans in the first place, never intending to follow through?  Maybe.

Listen to me. I know this to be true: LA is FULL of good, solid, quality people.  It’s true!  I know each of them.  Ha ha!  I’m just kidding.  There are loads, and I am continually thoroughly pleased to meet them.

But I do have another theory. (Are you surprised?!)

Be afraid, people.  Be very afraid.  In the next few paragraphs, you may actually begin to think you have traveled or transported to some other blog.  Don’t let the intelligent writing and sharp analysis of human behavior fool you.  It is still me, Ms. Cheevious.  I have learned over the years not to ignore, but to go with my feelings. Today I’m feeling REALLY INTELLECTUAL.  Okay? 

So, I think flakiness is more about the world we live in.  We are spoiled.  We have so many ways to connect with people, we can’t keep up!  It’s really gotten pretty ridiculous over recent years, if you think about it! 

In the beginning things were simpler.  A man’s word was his word.  If he said he’d be somewhere, he was there.  That was back when people wouldn’t do business with you if you flaked.  It was also when they used smoke signals to send messages. 

After smoke signals, came the town crier, the stage coach, the US Postal Service, the telegraph and finally, the mother of all inventions in communications, the telephone.  Ah, that long lost original mainstay of modern communication.  Yes – these devices are still around and available today.  I swear!  I hear one ring from my kitchen wall every once in a while. 

Since then we’ve become much more sophisticated in communications with conveniences like FedEx, and – of course – the Internet. Why, the Internet has alleviated our need to ever even leave our homes!  People work from home, and surf the Internet ad nauseam. The networking sites like Myspace, Facebook, LinkedIn, Friendster are just a tiny microcosm of the thousands of connection sites out there!  Imeen, Itunes and Napster (just to name a few) are there for sharing music, and Flicker, Kodak, PhotoBucket – or whatever –  I don’t even know all the names of sites for sharing photos. Then you have dating sites like Match.com, EHarmony.com, J-Date, Fitness Singles, you name it.  If you want to get connected, you can go to the Internet and get lost in a sea of virtual connections – which sometimes turn into like, real, actual, physical connections.

I won’t go on and on here, but there are all the other modes of communication consuming us as well, like cell phones, cell phone texts, email, instant messaging.  It’s just CRAZY!

Hey – I admit it.  When it comes to utilizing modern convenience to get my point across – I’m guilty as charged. I’ll even throw up a smoke signal if I think it’ll get some attention when I need it! As a matter of fact, I am known for my TEXTING capabilities. I’m an expert texter. I can send a text blind-folded, with one arm tied behind my back (ha ha).

But we are talking about flakiness, aren’t we?  Well, that’s just my point! 

I think all of this CONVENIENCE has made things, well, too convenient for people.  They flutter around with little or no accountability, little or no responsibility to anyone or anything, and shun any sort of solid commitment.  It’s almost like all that time on-line, virtually connecting and networking with people has caused them to get their wires crossed.  Somehow now, even their plans or commitments are virtual.  Their promise to meet your for a drink is just as VIRTUAL as the ELEPHANT they threw at someone on FACEBOOK (don’t ask).  Why not? It’s CONVENIENT.

That said, is it possible that the convenience of the Internet has created or at the very least enabled an entire generation of flakes?  Particularly in large cities like LA, where these networking websites and ways of making ourselves known on-line are the most successful?

Well. No. 

Now don’t get your panties in a bunch.  I know I took you around the block to get next door, but the truth is, flakiness among people goes way back – probably to the beginning of time.  I’m sure Cro-Magnum Man had his share of hot cave chicks flake on him when it came time to let him clunk them on the head with his club and drag them by the hair back to the cave.  Hey, whatever happened to that hair pulling, head clunking man, anyway?  That’s a MAN’S MAN if there ever was one, but I digress.  (hee hee, just kidding.  I like to be cherished, I really do. It’s just that well, I like to have fun too, but again, I digress).

I admit.  I don’t have the answers to the compelling question of the Flakes in LA, or anywhere else for that matter. But I don’t think about it too much, really.  Remember?  I have GREAT things happen when people flake!  Why do I care?  ha ha!

I’ll share with you one of my personal mottos – which I truly do believe:  “You never know what’s coming around the corner.”  Deep, huh?  Well it’s true.  People can flake, and open up a world of other possibilities!  So just get out their and enjoy every single stinkin’ moment, would you?

Love you people!  Mmmmmmphhhuuuhhhh!!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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Playing Quarters

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No.  Not the kind of quarters you guzzle beer to.  Though, I played my share of that with my good ole friends at Sigma Chi.  I’m talking about the quarter that is measured in months.  Three to be exact.  Did you know three months makes up a quarter?  Yep.  So the next time you hear someone say, “Our first quarter earnings were up by 30%” you’ll know that means they made bu-cu bucks over the last three months, and it’s their turn to buy dinner. 

I want to play that type of quarters – the kind measured in months.  Because I’ve just celebrated my 3 month anniversary of moving back to Los Angeles!  Yep.  That’s right.  I’ve been here for over a quarter now.  I rolled into town on May 13, 2008.  It’s been a whirlwind, to say the least, but I thought this momentous occasion deserved a bit of pomp and circumstance. 

By the way, I’m sorry to interrupt my regularly scheduled programming (I think I promised last week to tell you about the Flakes of LA) to bring you this broadcast, but it had to be done.  I have to say, that I’ve had some trying times, sad moments, and a little heart break, but I’ve had some really awesome, incredible times as well, and I am glad I moved back to LA.  I love Los Angeles, and actually enjoy living here!

Sadly, one of those trying times came this week, when a very good friend – someone whose opinion I value greatly – told me he was worried about my blog and what it may do to my personal life.  He swore it was only because he wants me to be happy, but that I may never attract the kind of man who was worth his salt into my life, because he would just want a piece of Ms. Cheevious (I suppose he meant that in the nicest possible way).  He said any good man won’t want me to write the way that I do. 

Teary eyed and worried I would truly grow into an old, frail and undesirable, albeit mischievous spinster, I immediately put it to the pundits.  I consulted with four of the most qualified, strategic planners out there – Lucy (my producer, show business friend, who’s also a shrewd business woman), Sheila (a single mom friend who is exceptionally bright and – well, she’s a single mom and bought a condo in LA by herself without any alimony or help – need I say more?), Brittany (my brilliant, on-camera television personality, forward thinking, media savvy friend), and of course, RandomEsq, because the blog is wicked-smart, and I feel a kindred spirit with it (can you be kindred with blogs?), and because I needed the opinion of someone who doesn’t really know me that well, but reads my blog.  Besides, Random is a lady killer (haven’t I said that before?), and would probably know if men might be turned off based on my blog – or if it even mattered.  I just knew I’d get the truth there. 

To my overwhelming relief, everyone I asked poo-pooed the idea of this blog ruining my real life.  They said, admittedly that this blog reveals a very tiny slice of the real me – and hilariously.  That there would be no way to reveal the depths of who I really and truly am here in this blog.  They also said the friend in question ought to give you, my readers more credit.  I agree.

So, with that said, as I thought about the three months I’ve been here, I became – well – EXHAUSTED.  WHAT THE HELL HAVE I BEEN DOING, AND HOW THE HELL DO I DO IT?  That’s what I want to know!  It’s been a wild, fun and interesting time, since I landed in LA LA LAND.

Let’s see what’s been going on over these past 12 weeks (that’s 3 months – or a QUARTER – people):

Week 1:  I arrive into town, awaiting the movers to bring my stuff, when I receive a call from Sheila who’s just pitched the idea of peeling my face off – ON CAMERA – to Entertainment Tonight.  They love the idea, and now she just has to sell it to me.  I have movers arriving the day before they want to shoot, but what the heck?  She sells me on it, and my faces sizzles for a day. Plus – I get some lovely footage of me in a JASON mask, saying something stupid like “The years are peeling away.”  The things I do for my STINKIN’ friends, I tell ya’.

Week 2: I help throw an impromptu Memorial Day soiree at a friend’s house, and about a week afterward I am asked out on a date by a lovely guy (the host of the party).  You remember.  He’s the one with the incredible home I spoke of in “Shrimp on the Barbie” in Beverly Hills, overlooking Bel Air. I accept the date, and we watch the basketball playoffs (no really – and it was fun) – and root for the Celtics.  I don’t feel even remotely like a traitor.  What do I care?  I don’t even keep up with basketball really.  The only time I care is when I am at a particular friends’ home – the ones that own the Sacramento Kings.  They are very sensitive.  In that case, I button my lip, or I root for their team.  But this guy has a FABULOUS gourmet kitchen.  Hell, with a kitchen as cool as that, I’d root for just about anyone.  We decide during the date that no matter what, we are going to be friends, because – hey – I’m a likable gal – and he’s kinda cool too.  But also because of our mutual friend, Brittany.  He goes off to Spain and falls for some hot Spanish chick.  So, now I have this friend with a very cool pad in Beverly Hills.  Hey! He might let us host a party at his place.  Ha ha!

Week 3 & 4: Enter summer and my thirteen year old son. I don’t know if you recall that my son went off to live with daddy this past school year, and what do you know?  He loved it.  Who wouldn’t with his dad for a roommate?  It’s non-stop fun!  Anyhow, I had a business trip to Aspen scheduled, and took my son with me. He had a nice little vacay hangin’ in a hotel in Aspen with his friends, while I worked.  Then we took off to Las Vegas and rode all the roller coasters we could get to. I showed you pictures to prove it in “What Happens in Vegas.” While in Aspen, I am re-introduced to Sir Tab, who I’d met when first moving to Aspen.

Week 5, 6 & 7:  I officially introduce you to Sir Tab, talk about what it would be like to have a guy that I can say “Hit me Bitch” to, whenever I need a little spanky – (which of course, sparked quite the controversy). Then I went introspective on everyone for a moment, with my “Declaration of Independence.”

Week 8:  After my week of introspection, and the fact that I was missing the beautiful outside climate of the Rocky Mountains, I start to investigate the great outdoors of Southern California in “Forget the Love Guru.” Here my BLONDIE friend Sheila and I go for a hike in Will Rogers State Park. I laugh at the way she leans over as if to sip from her high-tech, hiking-mama camel back – outdoor enthusiast that she is – but instead she asks me “How do you work this thing?”

Week 9:  My blond memory starts to awaken in “Black Out This” – as I retell the stories of some unbelievable but hilarious memory lapses I’ve experienced over the years.  After having a drink with my friend Spy Glass –  he reveals to me a blackout I had – where I apparently freaked out on him and told him I never wanted to see him again – then stormed away – FOUR YEARS AGO.  No wonder he never called!  Thank goodness he was a good sport!

Week 10:  My friend Lucy invites me and a client’s niece to meet them for a Fallout Boy concert on the Santa Monica Pier, and she gets us into the Victoria’s Secret VIP party nearby.  I am introduced to a great group of people, among them, Fred the Wonder Chicken, while at the same time, scoring major points with my client, who’s neice LOVES Fallout Boy, (and apparently playing Wii until two in the morning, as well.  Fred and I kicked their butts at bowling, though).  🙂

Week 11: I save the lives of hundreds of people in a little movie theatre in Westwood, at the opening night of “The Mummy” movie.  It’s true.  Sheila spotted a terrorist – she’s a real hawk eye – and I went to work, with secret agent finesse and the deadly prowess of a professional hit man (or woman).

Week 12:  I share the crazy realities of dating in LA in “Five First Dates in Hollywood” – and talk about some of the funniest, yet zaniest experiences known to mankind!  Well, maybe not ALL of mankind.  I reveal that I had a first date with Fred the Wonder Chicken, but not much else about that – which brings on the whining and murmuring from The Peanut Gallery (that’s YOU).

So – there you have it!  My first quarter in Los Angeles – in review.  Wasn’t that fun??!

Have a FANTASTIC weekend everyone.  I promise not to flake on the FLAKES of LA for next week!

Love you people!  Mmmmmmphhhuuuhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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5 First Dates in Hollywood

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1.  Fred the Wonder Chicken called me on a Tuesday and asked me out for the upcoming Friday night.  I said yes.  Later that same evening our mutual friends, Ricky & Lucy invited me spontaneously to meet them at the opening of the Hollywood restaurant, Hush.  Fred was there as well.  After the opening, Fred and I wanted to stay out to play, so off we went to Sky Bar.

Our hot little waitress observed Fred the Wonder Chicken and I interact (smooch) over a cocktail.  She was very sweet and good at her job.

Hot Waitress:  “You two are a stunning couple.  How long have you been dating?” 

FWC:  “Well, actually, our first date isn’t until this Friday.”

Crack me up. He’s just too cute.

Oh and since I know you will ALL ask, the first date was fabulous, dahlings.  Dinner with a beautiful harbor view in Marina Del Rey, followed by a visit to World Cafe in Santa Monica, sitting at the bar, heckling the uniforms chosen by each country in the Parade of Nations  My kinda fun. (What WAS the USA thinking putting Kobe in a GOLF HAT?? How embarrassing. The Cheq Republic had the cool threads.  We should cremate them and steal their outfits). 

(And – yes – there may be a bit more to the date – but that’s for me to know and you to find out.  hee hee.  And besides, I am all about encouraging the fostering of creativity and imagination among my readers.  Let your imaginations run wild people! This IS Ms. Cheevious, after all!)

2.  Not really a “FIRST” date, per se.  But a first for THIS: “Silver Keys” (named for a combination of his career – a successful Hollywood writer – and the fact he’s crafted his command of the English language into a stealth weapon.  Also a derivative of “Silver Tongue” which denotes a smooth operator).  Over various emails, well-written sonnets, conversations and such, he convinced my friend Sheila he was madly in love with her (this after two plus years of waffling, going back to his ex-wife and such).  He insisted, and followed it up with various proofs, that he was finally ready to be in a committed relationship and build a life with her – only to break up with her less than a week into it. 

3. “Dear John” (a hot yoga camp owner/instructor), hit on Sheila.  Okay, it was my fault.  We were dining at a very hip spot called Beachwood (of course!  LA is full of these suave destinations). After dinner we moved to the bar at my prompting so we could interact with the beautiful people – or at least watch them (ha ha). I planted us right next to Dear John, and struck up a conversation.  It was clear he and Sheila were attracted, so I just sat there with a proud grin on my face watching the pheromones fly.  After obvious flirtations and texting back and forth, he apparently felt a tinge of yogi guilt and sent her a “Dear John” text before they ever went out.  Apparently he’d been seeing someone for two weeks. TWO WEEKS and he was committed!  He should have a talk with Silver Keys.

Sheila:  “Shit.  Last time I got a five day commitment.  This time I got broken up with before the first date. Funny, yet sad.  I need to move to Alaska.”

4. This one involves Spy Glass (not a first date either… but you get the point).  I told you back in my Black Out post that it was a “for now” when Spy Glass and I decided to be friends.  Not that we are more than that, or that I want more. We aren’t and I don’t.  I just knew I’d not heard the last of him. 

Let this be a lesson to you.  I am very adept at analyzing human behavior.  I swear.  You read my blog don’t you? I rest my case.

Anyhoo – It started a few weeks ago, when I received a text asking what I was doing on that next Thursday. I replied, and never heard from him the rest of the week.  I sent a text much later, checking in, which resulted in a text back that he was on location and all was good, just very busy. 

Fair enough.  After another couple of weeks, I received another random text asking what I was doing this past Saturday night, replied, and didn’t hear again.  Saturday afternoon I got a text saying, “will call you in a few hours – at my daughters play.” I wrote back, “Okay.”  I never heard from him. 

Until Sunday.  I was at the Holly Shorts Film Festival, supporting my friend Ricky (Lucy’s man), who’d starred in one of the fabulous shorts that day, when I got a message from the cad – ehem – Spy Glass.  No explanation, just “Ms. Cheevious!  It’s Spy Glass.  Just giving you a call!” 

What is THAT?  Is he trying to pay me back for my whack-hammer behavior of FOUR YEARS AGO?  Maybe.  Well, BRING IT ON BABY – it’s only more fantastic fodder for me. And the blog.  And the world wide web.  Oh, and Youtube. HA!

Okay – You’re right.  Right here is the only place this Spy Glass episode will probably ever appear.  No YouTube interviews of Spy Glass’ ex-girlfriends, ex-friends or anything. But for only a moment it felt REALLY good to wax psychotic, I have to admit. Heh heh.

And, last but CERTAINLY not least (and again, not a first, but you get the point):

5.  Sheila tells me, “Yeah, I had a date with Hot Boring Guy.” 

“Really? Was it HOT?” I inquire,  “Or Boring?” ha ha. 

She replies, “Well, it was kind hot, actually.” 

“Do tell,” I say eagerly.

“Well, I had him over for dinner and a movie, and one thing led to another, and we had sex.  But then afterward, I was just kind of – DONE – you know?  So, I said to him, “You can leave now.””

I stopped her, dead in her tracks.  “Wait a minute. You said WHAT?”  laughing hysterically.

“Well, it was really hot at my place, and you know how you just want to shower and get cleaned up and everything, and I just couldn’t be bothered.”  She explained with a chuckle in her voice.

“You crack me up!” I said, “You were like a Queen holding court, and apparently, the queen was DONE!” 

“Yeah,” she laughed. “At first he was a little shocked and said ‘What?’, and I said ‘I know you want to’ – you know because it was so hot there, and uncomfortable? I was just letting him off the hook, you know?” 

Okay.  That has its OWN set of psychological implications – the fact that Sheila assumed ahead of time the guy wanted to be let off the hook.  That just never occurs to ME.  ha ha

“Wow.” I said slowly. “That’s gotta go down in history for SOMETHING.  I don’t know WHAT yet, but THAT is DEFINITELY SOMETHING!”

I had NO IDEA my girlfriend was such a VIXEN! I still don’t quite know if the EVENING was hot, or the sex!!!  How frustrating for me!

I have to say, I’m all about enjoying my own personal SPACE. But still, it causes me to wonder how other people handle it when they just don’t want to be with a person – like, physically, in bed, or whatever – any more? 

I know it sounds calloused, but this is DATING 101 for GROWNUPS people.  Deal with it.

I can tell stories about how I’ve been treated or mistreated I suppose, but how do YOU treat people? How do YOU handle it when you realize for yourself that “THE QUEEN (or king) IS DONE?”

You know, here in Ms. Cheevious Land, I am all about these deep, introspective contemplations.  In doing so here today, I hope I’ve provided you with some really great nuggets to ponder and disseminate for yourself.  Perhaps you’ll share the wisdom you’ve gained with the class.

Until next time beautiful people, when I unveil a TRUE HOLLYWOOD STORY entitled, “FLAKES in LA.”

Love you people!  Mmmmmmphhhuuuhhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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