IT SUCKS WHEN YOU WAKE UP
#DailyNugget
This was part of the set of NCIS: Los Angeles.
A warehouse full of Jameson’s Irish Whiskey is the stuff dreams are made of. But then it sucks when you wake up.
~ The Nugget (M.C. Nugget that is)
MsCheevious
If I were a drag queen
IF I WERE A DRAG QUEEN
#DailyMischief
I was talking to a friend Aaron the other day, reminiscing about some good times (times when we rocked this world working on music specials and award shows for MTV, and people gave us free stuff just because they thought we were cool). Oh wait. That still happens. Neither one of us works for MTV anymore, but you can’t erase our knack for fooling people into thinking we’re “cool.” I’m sure Aaron gets cool things like free address stickers and stuff mailed to him too, because he’s doing uber cool fashion shows for Tech-Week these days. And me? Well, YOU KNOW me.
But hey, over the years our priorities have shifted. Swear.to.god. Free address stickers and boxes of chocolates are just as cool as singing karaoke with celebrities or having access to box suites at the Kentucky Derby, the Super Bowl or other fun events.
Seriously though, he really is one of the coolest guys I know. Aaron is the guy who hired me on my first real-life television gig and regardless of the laughter and silliness, he is still one of the most highly respected men in the business. He’s legendary. He and I always joke that we should have a radio show because our hilarious telephone banter would be an immediate hit. I’m sure we’re just drunk with our own merriment, but it feels good to muse about.
The other day was no exception. Aaron was telling me one of the many funny stories from his days as a CBS paige when he was first starting out. I’ve heard most of these stories at one time or another, but I can’t be responsible to remember these things, and he has a knack for reeling me in with a new twist. Here’s how it went:
“Lisa, I worked on the lot next to where the show Solid Gold was shot. Remember Solid Gold?”
Oh my god. Yes! Too funny.
“I’ll never forget when the solid gold dancers would come filing out of their studio door.
LISA, they had a choreographer who had the best name for a drag queen. Her name was almost as good as Ms. Cheevious.”
HOLD UP.
WHAT?
Ms. Cheevious is NOT a drag queen name, Aaron!!!!!
“No, but think about it! It would be perfect.”
(pause)
Dammit, you’re right!
“But you know what her name was? Have I told you this before?”
Probably, but I can’t remember.
(pause)
(pause)
“You ready?”
(pause)
“ANITA MANN.”
(pause)
“Say that out loud, Lisa.”
*laughs*
From CBS paige to drag queen names.
Ms. Cheevious’ name being enviable to drag queens.
These are the topics of life, people. These are the twists and turns in a conversation only possible between people like Aaron and I.
This is what I love about my life. People like Aaron.
But let me clarify this, ladies and gentlemen. If I were a drag queen…well… ANITA MANN.
I would want that to be my name.
photo credit:
Robert Croma / Foter / Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)
They didn’t know who it was
THEY DIDN’T KNOW WHO IT WAS
#DailyMischief
Last weekend Nuggie and I went down to an area of the South Bay of Los Angeles called Rancho Palos Verdes. We attended a birthday party at the Trump National Golf Club. Most Trump “properties” are covered in glass and steal and tower over people ominously, as if to say “I dare you.” His golf club here sprawls instead of towers, and instead of saying, “I dare you,” it says, “Don’t even THINK you’re good enough.”
We immediately felt at home when upon mere mention of the party we were led through the fancy dining rooms to the outside patio. Before you think “Oooh.. cool! They had an outside patio!” let me clear this up for you. There was no one else out there, because they seat no one there. No one except us (unless you’re spending a gazillion dollars on a wedding, and you need extra space, they’ll happily put more tables out there for the guest rejects). The patio was like a long porch to a big estate. Okay… veranda. (below photo from their website)
Don’t get me wrong. It was incredibly beautiful. But it was so friggin cold, it felt like the place where the family puts the kiddie table during parties, or if you’re in my family, at Thanksgiving. It was miserable until I started ordering the wait staff around and got the space heaters turned on.
Never to be stifled, at one point Nuggie and I (and our friend Jenna, who also happens to be an MOS – Ms. Cheevious on the Street – contributor), decided to walk to the far end of the veranda, where Nuggie immediately noticed the phenomenal acoustics.
We broke into an a cappella version of a song we’ve been working on for a while, “Tonight You Belong To Me.” You know the song, don’t you? Steve Martin sings it on the beach with Bernadette Peters in The Jerk. You can watch a video of Zoe Deschanel (New Girl) playing ukelele and singing it with someone here.
One day Nuggie and I will do it for you here. We’re brilliant. Trust me.
Heads turned as we walked back, but they really didn’t know who it was singing at the end of the veranda.
We like it like that.
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Blog content copyright 2014, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious.
The Mayor of Venice Beach
THE MAYOR OF VENICE BEACH
#DailyNugget
Yes, he is a clown, but that’s another story.
This particular effigy dangles from the corner of the CVS Pharmacy building at Main Street and Rose Avenue in Venice.
It’s our history, don’t knock it.
~ The Nug
Show blogging
SHOW BLOGGING
#Reviews
One of the things I’ve always thought would be fun about living in New York City (if that should ever come to pass), would be the immediate and easy access to Broadway shows or theatre in general. That and the subway, but have you heard? Los Angeles has a real-life subway and it’s spreading across town! Squeee!
I actually love all art forms and seeing great plays, comedy shows, interesting films, fine art exhibits and musical performances (or bands and “artists” for you rock stars) takes me to my happy place.
I apparently love to be entertained!
And as long as it takes any form other than me dancing around my living room with a loaf of bread, I’m good.
But because I live three blocks from the sand in the city of Los Angeles (where the subway has not yet reached), I don’t often get out to see shows unless they happen to be within walking distance (which, in our neighborhood could be street performers singing along to a transistor radio). I just don’t get out as much as I’d like. It is Los Angeles, for goddsakes. Have you heard of the traffic here?
This week was different.
When Monica Davis, a talented actress, comedienne and UC Berkeley graduate (in political science, no less) invited me to review her one-woman show The Monica Davis Show, I have to admit you guys, I was a little excited. Like, get dressed up for “The THEATRE” (insert old British guy’s voice), excited.
I thought it was probably going to be a comedy (I’d seen clips posted by Monica on Facebook that cracked me up) and that it was staged in a small theatre in LA’s theatre row on Santa Monica Boulevard (some of these theaters are so far off-Broadway, they’re smaller than my walk-in closet), but I was excited anyway.
All I knew in advance about the show was the title, and that it was done in a talk show format. It was promoted as Monica’s way to finally “be just like Oprah” — something she dreamed of as a child. I thought the show was truly inventive and fun. It was produced with a combination of video clips and live performance. “Host” Monica, conducted the interview via big flat screen TV, and “live,” in-person Monica answered interview questions as various incarnations of herself (the Thief, the Hooker, and some other fun and sorted characters).
Going in, I half expected an uproarious comedy, based on what I know of Monica, and hey, it certainly served up some good laughs! But it was also a sweet, touching, coming of age in Los Angeles piece that tells the familiar tale of single life, family drama and finding the strength to be empowered despite the jerks and the pitfalls. We’ve all been there right?
If you live in or near Los Angeles, and are looking for something fun, unique and cultural to do – I recommend you see The Monica Davis Show.
It runs every Saturday evening through March, 2014 at Studio C Artists – 6448 Santa Monica Boulevard, just west of Cahuenga in Hollywood.
Besides – you could probably do with a little culture, right?
And my rating?
This show gets 7 out of 10 Chocolates, because — I just gotta have the FUNNY in my life. Especially now. (Long Story). It was a really great show and well-worth the time, the drive etc… I just decided that chocolates equate non-stop-laughs FUNNY for some reason. LOL! (You’d think vodka would equate funny, because everything’s funnier with more vodka, but no). Don’t get me wrong! This show was incredibly funny! It just had some tears and other emotions too. It was a great all around experience!
BUT – – It gets 10 outta 10 vodkas because,
DAMN GIRL, you are one tough bitch. When I grow up, I think I want to be you.
It’s all about the loophole
IT’S ALL ABOUT THE LOOPHOLE
#DailyMischief
I was called in for Jury Duty this week. Correction: I postponed my mandatory jury duty service (from last November) to this week.
My true confession over this is I would be overjoyed to be able to exercise my freedom as an American and serve on a jury. Really and truly. Pinky swear.
And I know I’m not alone in this. You’ve fantasized about kicking some criminal booTAY on a jury ever since you watched your first episode of Law and Order (and for you ancient – ahem – Nick at Nite types, maybe it was Perry Mason). It’s true. Admit it. We both have fantasized, even though we know the system works against itself and is one flawed MOFO. If you happen to be one of the few people who disagrees with me on this, I have just two more words for you: CASEY ANTHONY.
O.J.
Black Glove.
George Zimmerman.
Lorena Bobbitt.
Apparently I have a lot of words.
And those trial lawyers are crafty sonsabitches. But hey, I may not have killed anyone or anything like that, per se, but I’ve wished some pretty bad things. Things like my neighbor falling in a ditch and never coming back, ‘n stuff. And if that were punishable by death (or at ALL) I’d want one of those people on my side doing some fancy footwork.
I postponed my original jury duty in November when I was about to leave town to join M.C. Nugget in Arizona on his film set. I wasn’t about to miss that, and the court said I could only postpone this last time. So I did. I picked this week, not knowing what the future held, or that some of our very best friends would choose this FRIDAY, VALENTINE’S DAY to get married (during the day, no less).
OY.
I needed some fancy footwork of my own.
Here’s what I did:
- I reported for duty, on time, as directed.
- I listened carefully to the verbal instructions of the boss lady in the jury room. (My ear was tuned in for any clues that might help… things like being “EXCUSED” and whatnot. When it came up, my brain zeroed in on everything she said).
- I followed her directions implicitly, and after a brief interview with a woman who wanted some fitness tips, I got my official EXCUSED stamp.
Actually, I discovered my footwork didn’t even have to be that fancy. When it comes to dealing with the county clerk’s office, the hall of records, the courts… hell, basically any government office or agency, your footwork can be…eh… mediocre. You’d probably still be okay even if you can’t dance at all.
There is always a way to delay, distract, discombobulate or defer.
There is always a loophole.
In the end I found mine, which I’d love to share with you, but because I don’t want the courts to read this and decide to crack down on people with excuses like mine, I’ll leave it to your imagination and incredible ingenuity. Just trust me. I got out of it and it was all about the loophole.
photo credit:
myfuture.com / Foter / CC BY-ND