Ms. Cheevious in Hollywood

My Zany Years Spent Working in Tinsel Town

Relationships

Hooked on a feeling

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HOOKED ON A FEELING

#DailyMischief

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When I first got divorced, I wasn’t even thinking about dating, per se. I was off in La-La Land (Los Angeles for you newbies in the class… get with the program) trying to stop flopping around as a single person, when the first interesting guy came along. He turned out to be a guy who’d cheated on girlfriends on multiple occasions, but that didn’t stop me, no. I WAS HOOKED. It wasn’t necessarily HIM I was hooked on. We weren’t in a relationship for goddsakes.

I was hooked on the feeling, baby! He just happened to be the first person who came along, was a willing participant, and put the bounce back into my step (or the spark into my -um- spark plug?)….

Hooked On a Tingly Feeling

I often confused that tingly feeling with feeling special or being treated special. And heck, that tingly feeling is pretty FREAKING special. Can you blame me?

By the time I rose up from the ashes of those post-divorce “sparks” and realized it hadn’t been a lover whispering sweet nothings, but my hormones trying to scream at me…well… I’d met far too many losers.

But really, ladies, ADMIT IT. You do this too. You make the mistake of falling for the same bad guy over and over again, because not only does it feel good when we get a little action, but… well…here’s a hint: THE BAD GUYS WORK HARD TO WOO US. (Plus, most women love the challenge of taming the wild beast more than we like to admit. TRUE STORY).

And for our part, we’re putty in their hands. They’re the carpet baggers and we are handing them our prized possessions, because dammit that tingly feeling feels GOOD! You could hook me up to an i.v. NOW. I wouldn’t say no.

So when the folks at DatingMetrics.com showed me a study with statistics around this phenomenon, I knew I needed to explore further. Granted… these are people writing blog posts like “Talking to Girls Like 007” and “Picking Up Women in the Wild: 9 Lessons from the Animal Kingdom” but I was intrigued, nonetheless.

So, I conducted a scientific evaluation of my own and am hand-delivering my findings to you, here and now.

Read on, learn, and NEVER, EVER fall for a loser again (and by loser, I do not mean a hot, gorgeous, edgy guy… those guys aren’t bad, right?):

Who ARE you people at Dating Metrics, and WHY did you do this study? 

Think of us as mad scientists who measure the do’s and don’ts of dating in a secret laboratory. We did this study to wrap up the bad boy vs. nice guy debate once and for all because there’s been a lot of talk recently that nice guys are the 21st century choice and we wanted to cry BULL SH*T!

There’s been a lot of talk that nice guys are the choice for the 21st century, and we wanted to cry BULL SH*T!

But to shout from the rooftops we needed proof…so we found it in the TV characters that get women addicted to shows like The Vampire Diaries, Mad Men and True Blood.

After rounding up 53 of the “sexiest TV character” lists ONLY written by women and counting 444 votes we slam dunk proved it: 86% of women’s favorite TV characters are – you guessed it – bad to the bone. Bad boys aren’t just winning…they’re cleaning up.

86% of women’s favorite TV characters are bad to the bone. Bad boys aren’t just winning… they’re cleaning up.

What was the most shocking thing you found?

Get this: 40% of women’s votes didn’t just go to any old bad boy. They went to cold blooded MURDERERS like Dexter Morgan, Damon Salvatore and Jesse Pinkman.

Most shocking: 40% of women’s votes went to cold-blooded MURDERERS.

This quote from a Dexter fan kinda says it all: “I’m starting to get alarmed about how many murderers I would justify getting with, but Dexter only kills other killers so it’s like he’s not even a killer at all. He’s basically Batman. Beautiful, ginger Batman.”

Sure, this was all about fantasy boyfriends (serial killers wouldn’t be ideal in real life), but despite this data being very tongue in cheek, it speaks VOLUMES about the type of man that makes women…you know…go WILD.

Tell me, oh gurus…why do you think we women DO THIS STUFF? 

Women do it because oh…it feels so GOOOOOD! Bad boys allow women to unleash their most primal, sexual urges. They deliver a roller coaster ride of passion, danger, adventure and animalistic lust. Here’s a quote from a Don Draper fan that sums this up perfectly:

“Don Draper is sex. Don Draper is beauty. Don Draper is the kind of guy who will leave you at the side of the road, and have angry sex with you while making Kraft dinner.”

==============

Like I said people…. Hooked on a feeling.

I mean, feelings are good, but come on. Get over it. Take a trip to the sex toy shop if you must, or find a better feeling. You deserve it!

Oh – and here’s a nifty infographic you can pin, post, tweet, pluck, whatevs…. Check it out (and don’t forget to comment on this post):

Vampires-Psychopaths-Serial-Killers-Perfect-Boyfriend-Material

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This is what family does

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Last month I flew home for three days to help my family do a spruce up of our childhood home. I come from a family of 11 – yes ELEVEN – kids from the same set of biological parents. We were raised Catholic. I have my own set of excuses I like to give for how 11 kids came about… “My mom was Catholic and my dad was easy…”, “My dad was in the navy, so my mom got pregnant every time he came home”… “I was adopted.” You get the idea.

Our family home is on the market, but was in dire need of serious attention, so, off I went.

When I say that my family and I did this, I’m exaggerating. Sure, twelve people were present and accounted for:

Me and my three sisters (Pah-tay, Ice-tay and Smart-tay – all of the “tays” were in my Capers of the Sherwood Kind video);

Our lovely former sis-in-law Hot-Tay and her beau;

Two of Smart-tay’s lovely daughters (our nieces), a grand-niece and one of Bliss-Niece’s good friends (all came from out of town to help);

One of our brothers (when he wasn’t working – about a half a day – throughout the weekend);

A girl I went to school with in third grade who was crazy (I mean lovely) enough to respond to my begging and pleading on Facebook;

When I say that we spruced up the home, I mean we prepped a seven bedroom home, the doors, light fixtures, fireplace, trim etc. We painted four of the bedrooms, most of the main rooms (kitchen, living room, den, bathroom), and we did things like repair lights that were falling out of the ceiling, linoleum that was peeling up and so on. We also strategically placed throw rugs to cover flooring that would be replaced when the house sells. IN TWO DAYS.

WE ROCKED THAT THING.

On Saturday night our youngest brother invited us (his sisters) to come out to hear his band perform at a bar in town. Smar-Tay and Ice-Tay, the two oldest, declined. They don’t “do” clubs anymore. That left me, Pah-tay and Hot-tay to represent for our brother. We were exhausted and covered in paint, but something about live music at a club (and copious amounts of cocktails) holds a certain appeal and makes a girl want to make an effort. Plus, we felt it was a great opportunity to show our brother that we support him and our family, regardless of circumstances.

IMPORTANT NOTE: Our little rock-n-roll brother did not grace our family’s home once during the weekend, even on his day off. Two other of our brothers didn’t make it for various other reasons. (Okay, one of them cut the tip of his finger off, and the other was in rehab… EXCUSES, EXCUSES).

But THIS? This begs the question, “Why show up in support of little rocker brother, when he didn’t support you?” which demands the answer: BECAUSE THIS IS WHAT FAMILY DOES. We (my sisters and I) are not barbarians, for goddsakes. 

Here is what our family’s home looked like on Monday morning, as we laid down the last of the throw rugs, and Pah-tay and I drove to the airport to fly home:

Family Spruce Up

By the way – if you’re an actor, producer, director, or just someone who loves the Southwest, and you’re looking for an affordable place to shack up in Albuquerque, maybe so you can ride the New Mexico Entertainment Industry Gravy Train… Have I got a property for you! And it’s SUPER AFFORDABLE, with a swimming pool, on corner lot, with TONS OF SPACE, and two blocks from the Catholic church. Need I say more?

I’d buy it if I could, because dangit – it’s a great house. SNIFF SNIFF.

#MomFactor: Teach your sons to be chivalrous, valiant, and to protect, love and support their sisters. 

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Register to receive these posts once a week by email and get the blissful yoga routine in an eBook “Ahhhhh…Haaaaaa Moments with Ms. Cheevious” by Lisa Jey Davis for FREE as a result. Registration is on the right side bar of every blog post, or on our Facebook page. See you next time.

Blog content copyright 2014, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms.Cheevious.

 

 

Don’t ever stop trying

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Don’t ever stop trying   

#DailyMischief

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I have been a single mom for much of my mothering lifetime (aside from the 12 years I was married and living with my ex, of course, but I was single mommy before marriage, and obviously afterward again). I was the mommy, the daddy, coach, tutor, confidant, cop, friend and anyone or thing else my sons ever needed. If my kids needed a guy to tell goofy, silly potty-humor jokes to, well I was their guy… to a certain extent.

Because I can relate to the struggles all single moms face, I am sympathetic to them. So, I have a soft spot in my heart for struggling single mommies.

“So what,” you say, “Single moms are pretty much the majority these days, right? And there are tons of people supporting and helping single moms.”

You know, you’re right.

But you see, most people help single moms with advice on parenting, or paying the bills or finishing their college degree. All very worthy areas of need for these mommies. And I like to help out where I can in those areas on occasion as well.

But I don’t know anyone offering the kind of help I think is crucial for single moms.

HOW TO ENJOY BEING SINGLE AS A SINGLE MOM

Single moms must never forget that they are SINGLE. I want them to understand that just because their responsibilities at home quadrupled when they got a divorce, or their kid’s daddy left, or maybe even right when they gave birth, it does not mean they stopped being a red-blooded female with all the wants, desires and needs that go with the territory!

In the interest of helping a sistah out, I found and am sharing this check list I compiled before apps or the internet were readily available. Every single mom should have something like this at her fingertips, to ensure that one of the most under-served parts of her body (otherwise known as her libido) gets some attention, and STAT.

I’ve filled in the blanks, where you would normally keep your own information, but you can see, it’s not about having an actual check list, it’s about being organized, having essential information at your fingertips and always being ready with the supplies you need should the occasion arise.

Hot Moms Check List

These days, single mommy ladies gotta’ be friggin’ BOY SCOUTS if they ever want to get lucky and/or have an adult life. As they say, you’ve got to BE PREPARED.

Get those resources together… all of the people you can think of that will help you in your time of “need,” and that includes hot men (even if they’re just friends, because we all know hot men beget hot girls, which in turn attracts MORE HOT MEN). My personal fave from the check list? Jean Paul (tres Francais) the cute soccer coach.

Come on girls. Even if you have daughters, they’ve got coaches and friends with daddies who are single don’t they?! Be on the lookout!

Remember ladies: Every single one of you is HOT. We humans are all hot in one way or another. So embrace your hotness, and get busy getting lucky! You’ll be glad you did it for yourself, but believe it or not, your kids will benefit as well!

HAPPY UN-FRUSTRATED MOMMY = HAPPY, WELL-ADJUSTED KIDS.

I know that there are some days, weeks, months (maybe even whole years – really?) when the kids’ needs are simply too great, and you’re exhausted just trying to keep up.

Just don’t ever give up. Don’t ever stop trying.

You heard it here first.

AND INTRODUCING A NEW COMPONENT TO MY POSTS: THE #MOMFACTOR

The Mom Factor will be a brief synopsis of what each post means for single moms (or moms in general). Look for it.

#MomFactor: If your kids grow up to be in your shoes one day (though it’s not always ideal, it could happen), wouldn’t you want them to have a life and get out there and meet people? Teach your kids to value themselves. Teach them to respect themselves.

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Register to receive these posts once a week by email and get my eBook “Ahhhhh…Haaaaaa Moments with Ms. Cheevious” for FREE as a result. Registration is on the right side bar of every blog post, or on our Facebook page. See you next time.

Blog content copyright 2014, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious.

 

When Nuggie was my Cartman coach

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WHEN NUGGIE WAS MY CARTMAN COACH

 

#DailyMischief

 

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Do you guys watch Southpark? I love that show. It’s inane and it makes me laugh (on alternate days, it also makes me want to throw up, but meh… it’s a give and take). The other night I tried and failed miserably to impersonate Cartman (one of the show’s characters). As a matter of fact, I think it was the same night I told you guys about, when Nuggie and I were at happy hour and I thought I should try to put those Bassett Hounds on sets of long legs to see what kind of dogs they would resemble if they weren’t so short and waddle-y.

My impersonation of Cartman was so bad, even I was embarrassed. That’s huge.

M.C. Nugget gave me a pitiful look and laughed in my general direction. Then he graciously tried to teach me how to do a proper “Cartman.”

So there we were… Nuggie and I, strolling down Main Street in Santa Monica, while I tried to say “Paiiiiih” (that’s “pie” in Cartmanese).

I would love to have been a stranger walking behind us to hear our goofball, whacked out exchange that went something like this:

Paaaaiih

“Do THAT but with a higher pitched voice.”

Paaaaiih

“No, like this: Paaaaiih…”

Paaaaiih

“More nasal.”

Paaaaiih

“That’s it!”

This, THIS ladies and gentlemen is why Nuggie attended college, and studied acting and dramatic arts in London… so he could help me perfect my Cartman.

And boy is he GOOD.

You see? College is so important.

south park heaven

 

 

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Photo credit:
Joelstuff V4 / Foter / Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic (CC BY 2.0)

 

 

Future you is so mean

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FUTURE YOU IS SO MEAN

 

#DailyMischief

 

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Have you ever heard a guy cry out in pure exasperation “Chicks!”?

They do that – especially when we girls aren’t around. It’s because we females stupefy, dumbfound, confound, and baffle men (you can tweet that).

The only reason I know this is because M.C. Nugget and I say it ourselves about other chicks all the time. You can’t blame us (or – er – them – or – er – men).  Women come up with some of the quirkiest, zaniest things, most of the time for no good reason at all.

Nuggie doesn’t ever say it about me, though. The guy’s got it pretty good. He’s had hardly any chicky situations to deal with from me. I’ve probably got more testosterone than the average woman, which sort of makes me not quite understand “chicky” behavior either. Nuggie and I see eye to eye on this issue. This is where we are compadres.

But today was different.

It was as if the Big Guy upstairs needed a laugh and the heavens opened up so He could thwack me on the head with His magic wand (full of female juju). (That or it could have a little to do with another thing that’s going on in my body chemistry right now… I’ve alluded to this phenomena otherwise known as hormones (or lack thereof) in too many posts to count, but my most recent funny (or slightly scary) rant can be found here).

Nuggie and I were pleasantly going about our day. He was in the living room surrounded by and opening his mail, I was in the kitchen (about four strides away) making my lunch. It was a pleasant ordinary day until Nuggie said what I heard as either a slightly frustrated, or it could have been a somewhat satisfied sigh and “Paid the bills!”

I replied “How was it?” (because aren’t all bills painful? I wanted to be sure he was okay) and the rest went like this:

Nuggie: I don’t know.

Me: Huh?

Nuggie (slightly frustrated): I haven’t finished yet.

Me: What do you mean? What’d you say?

Nuggie (thoroughly confused now) and more loudly: I SAID I’M “PAYING THE BILLS!”

Me: OMG! I just heard “Paid the bills!”  *Laughing*

That’s scary!  If we’re THIS bad now, we’re in trouble! It’s gonna’ be like “EHHH? Sonny boy? What’s that? Pay for some thrills?” 

We both chuckled about that for a minute.

The fact that THIS is where our conversations go during the day while we’re supposed to be working has me a little more than concerned, but it didn’t end there.

As I thought about our future conversation and compared it to what just happened (with Nuggie getting slightly peeved) and I imagined the same thing with a crotchety Nuggie, I got my feelings hurt.

Yes… I, Ms. Cheevious, the one with far more testosterone than the average female who is unable to understand “chicky” nonsense, took our future conversation to the only possible conclusion – that of old geezer Nuggie grumbling and growling at me because CONFOUND IT, YOU SHOULD TURN UP YOUR HEARING AID!

old man grumbling ...

…and I GOT MY FEELINGS HURT.

 

I finally said out loud, “Honey! Future you is SO mean!!!“

 

You heard it here first. I went chicky. Just this once.

 

All together now:

“CHICKS!”

 

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Photo Credit:

Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike License  | Dietmar Temps / Flickr

 

Kiss before you date

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KISS BEFORE YOU DATE

 

#DailyMischief

 

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One night back in the summer of 2008, my friend Sheila and I met for dinner after one of my hard core pilates workouts (back in the day when I could go five times a week, people). I was reconciled that evening to enjoying some girl time and going home to work from my desk for the rest of the night.

When the phone rang and my friend Lucy said “We’re going to this opening of a cool speakeasy restaurant in Hollywood, and M.C. Nugget is coming… do you want to go?” initially I said I couldn’t. I was busy. I’d just eaten, I was in my workout clothes, blah blah blah.

I’d only met M.C. Nugget a few weeks ago, and seem him a few times in my life. The last time I’d seen him was with Lucy and her man when he asked me out on an official date. I laughed then because THE GUY PLANS AHEAD. Our date was almost two weeks out… set for this coming Friday night…

I was definitely interested but I still hadn’t actually spoken to him for about a week. I have self respect, yo.

But so far, every encounter with this Chicken Man had been new, fun and exciting. While we were slowly getting to know each other, I was slowly changing my relationship to men and to dating. No longer would I drop things to be with the guy. No longer would I have an excuse to call or text, email, etc. I was changing who I was. I used MEN as my model as I navigated the opposite extreme from being way too available and way too into them, to having better things to do and more important and awesome things to accomplish in my life. That became my focus. Like grim death it became my focus. BY GOD. And I took a page from the guy’s playbook and decided that two months of dating would and could no longer be considered a “thing” or relationship. Six months didn’t even mean much. I decided that I would hold out and keep things light for at least two or three years before even turning the page and considering something long term with someone. And forget about marriage. That was far from my radar. These were important life changes for someone over forty who was single again and did not necessarily want to die alone…But I was also someone who would sacrifice even that – even dying alone –  if it meant I would die with the wrong person or anyone who would stifle, control, hurt or squelch me. I knew I needed to drastically change my approach. After all, the common denominator in my failed relationships of the past was – well – ME.

Yeah. I was working on some big stuff alright.

Also – have I mentioned how I can talk a big game?

Because Lucy apparently peeked into my soul when she struck with the precision of a ninja and said, “But he wants you to come. He asked if you were coming…” I am no idiot, so I implied that if he wanted me to come he could have asked me himself.

She put him on the phone.

“Hey darlin… Are you going to be able to make it?”

I folded like a cheap, pre-folded, permanently creased polyester suit.

I’d already looked at Sheila for approval and got it.

THIS WAS ON.

I raced home, turned my bedroom and walk-in closet into a war zone looking for the perfect outfit. I kept my braids, rinsed off in the shower, threw on a hat and ran out the door.

Hollywood Opening

We had a great time at the opening, laughing and joking, and then … after all I’d done to get there… AFTER ALL THAT WORK it was time to go home.

It wasn’t happening if I could help it.

Are you ready to go home? I asked Nuggie nonchalantly.

No… but can you give me a ride home? IT WAS ON.

We went to Sky Bar – the rooftop bar of the Mondrian Hotel on Sunset. It was a slow Tuesday night, and we enjoyed our own queen size lounge area to ourselves.

We ordered drinks… and as the cocktail waitress was coming over with a new round, M.C. Nugget and I kissed a sweet, lingering sort of kiss. And oh, was it exceptional.

The waitress interrupted with our drinks and said, “You guys are such a cute couple. How long have you been together?” to which Nuggie, in true form replied:

 

“Funny you should ask…. Our first date isn’t happening until this coming Friday.” 

If you can make it happen, I highly recommend you kiss before you date.

 

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photo credit:
Rab’s Da / Foter.com / CC BY-NC-ND