I Bet You Think This Blog is About You...

...don't you, don't you. If your scarf is "apricot", we've got a serious coincidence here. (quoting the lyrics to Carly Simon's "You're so Vain")

This blog is about YOU. YOU- everyone that has ever crossed my path, ends up in my mind, on my notepad and even my blog...indirectly. I often get asked "was that 'ME' you mentioned in one of your blogs?" People that I don't even know approach me about this. Even the barista at Starbucks asked the other day, now that's just odd.

L.A. Neighbors

I excitedly hurried home with my son after completing my Thanksgiving shopping early, it was only Monday. Carrying groceries from my car up to my place is always a challenge when I'm juggling shopping bags and a speedy risk-taking two and a half year old. Somehow, I always manage...one way or another.

Today, it was a little bit more difficult than had expected. Luckily, one of my neighbors walked by. "Great," I thought, already thinking that I would take him over some fresh baked cornbread muffins after he helped me with my groceries. I held my son's hand and put down three of the five bags I was carrying (no joke). He looks over at us, says hello and keeps on walking. He wasn't carrying anything. He did not seem to be rushing anywhere. But, he just walked by, without offering any help.

Was I expecting too much? Probably. While I was busy ruminating about neighborly injustice, my son slipped off of one of the stairs. He was over it in about five seconds, yet I was in a slight panic (ok, major panic). Now ruminating about the fact that I had been so wound up in my neighbor's actions, I hadn't been there to catch my son. Shortly after, my son began his sprint toward our front door, while I trailed behind with my shopping bags.

My neighbor walked by again. (And we still hadn't made it to the front door.) He smiled. "Have a nice day!"
"You too," I managed to mutter, still with shopping bags in hand. I was just happy my son was ok and we finally made it to the front door.

18th Annual Environmental Media Asoociation Awards

Hollywood turned green Thursday, November 13th at the 18th annual Environmental Media Association Awards. The green carpet was rolled out outside the Ebell Theatre as stars arrived in their hybrid vehicles and donned eco-friendly attire to promote awareness of environmental issues.

Click to read full article: Environmental Media Association Awards

The Mommy Hour

The Witching Hour is a term that was once used to describe the hours when black magic was at its best. It was later used to describe the time between midnight and three a.m.  I now believe these hourse to be  ' The Mommy Hour'.  Nothing supernatural here.

The Mommy Hour is the often the time between 9:30 p.m.-12:30 a.m. (give or take a few hours). After tucking the kids, and often the husband, in bed, this time is used solely for the mommy.  In fact, I write to you now in The Mommy Hour. The day belongs to everyone else. You  divide your time between work, home and family. Although there are periods throughout the day where a mommy gets time to herself, I don't think it's truly until this time where a mommy is most effective.

In the last half hour alone, I have been able to do more things than I could have done the entire day. I organized the kitchen, put away the toys scattered throughout the house especially the living room, grabbed myself a cranberry juice and pitched up a tent in my living room. No really, I did. (It was the cutest igloo/tent in the Kid's Dept. at Ikea. Room or no room, I had to buy it. Plus it was only $9.99) Now after the tent-pitching, it's mommy time.

During this time, I usually get a call or two from friends on my cell or an email, so not to wake up the rest of my household  (although my husband is usually up having his Daddy Hour too.) We don't make small talk, we just stick to the facts and plan play dates for the week.  The call is short and sweet, so that we can each get back to our own "mommy time."   (Now if I can just fall asleep at a decent hour, so I can actually stay awake at these play dates, that's another story.)

I'm starting to realize that I might just be nocturnal and that sunlight actually hurts my eyes. The only problem is that I have to be up at the crack of dawn when little man gets up, because although he heads straight to the TV, turns it on and props his favorite DVD in the player, he still has a hard time frying eggs on his own. (We're still working on this one, so that mommy can sleep in. Is two too young to be frying eggs?)

According to my friends, The Mommy Hour is mandatory for the sake of the family. If mommy doesn't have time to wind down, then there's no telling what will happen to her family the next day or if breakfast will even be served. This unwinding time also includes: cleaning up, preparing kids lunches, paying bills, returning emails, opening snail mail, and folding laundry among other things. I like to focus on the other things: just sitting and staring at the walls (which I can't do--I always need to be doing something and wall-watching doesn't work for me), painting my nails (because who has time for a manicure, unless someone is getting married), taking a shower or bath (because, yes, some days we go un-showered.)  Most of my freelance friends or On-The-Go moms (aka Stay at Home Moms) use this time to work, paint, write, create (whatever word you want to use). This is when I finally write without interruption, except for the occasional moments that I begin to drift of, other than that, I am good. I really value this time. I, as I am sure many moms, do.

So, after all the other hours of the day; the working hours, family hours, errand hours, avoidance of household chores and inlaws hours etc...it is good to know that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and time for the Mommy Hour. Now if I could just stay awake long enough to enjoy it.

The Little Ol' Lady From Pasadena

I enjoyed some quiet time by myself at the food court in the mall. Just me, my Mediterranean salad, and a little old Japanese woman. Yes, you read it correctly--I ate a salad.

I promised myself to just sit still for a bit. (What? An unstructured activity? But what should I do?) So, I sat there alone in my thoughts: Should I have stayed home and used this time to nap like my husband and son?"...but I was interrupted by a little old Japanese woman.

"You look lonely," she said. "Ok, I will sit with you." I looked lonely? Had I subliminally asked her to sit with me? She responded as if I had asked her to. Was looking lonely synonymous with looking homely? What did she mean?

So, she decided to sit across from me, at the table I specifically chose farthest from the other tables. There must have been at least fifteen empty tables around us. I counted ten before she interrupted me. I wasn't sure what she was saying, but I smiled and nodded "yes." She was a sweet old lonely lady with a dark wooden cane in one hand. Her hair was dyed jet black and appeared as if she had it recently curled and styled (or she slept standing up.) You could tell by the lines on her face that she had seen many good years. You could also see sadness in her eyes, but she continuously giggled as she spoke, so I joined in and giggled with her. I don't know what we were giggling about, but when I realized what she said, I stopped giggling.
"Me silly woman. Too old to eat my food. It's falling everywhere." I didn't know how to respond, so I just focused on my food.

"Now, where was that Kalamata olive they placed on top of my salad?" I was determined to find it. Had I not been paying attention and swallowed it whole, pit and all? Just then, a tehina-covered lettuce leaf got stuck in my throat.
"Lady, you ok," she either asked or stated, I wasn't sure. I decided the latter and of course just nodded and smiled.

Our conversation continued. She made small talk. She told me she was from Pasadena originally, somehow her accent made me feel she wasn't telling me the whole truth. Then she said, "Mall not busy for a Saturday, huh ok." (Again not sure if this was a question or statement by the infliction in her voice.)
I replied, "No." (I'm not very good at making small talk.)

"You write lots. You have nice day," she said, as she got up to leave.
"You too," I replied overly ecstatic. I found my Kalamata olive, it had rolled under my plate.

That Which is Not Different

On a recent drive from Los Angeles to Temecula, I could have sworn I was having deja vu. Every few miles alongside the freeway, I would notice the same shopping center with the same stores. Target, Starbucks, Barnes and Noble...then a tract housing community and even a Westfield mall. Target, Starbucks, Barnes and Noble...tract housing...you get the point.

I had to re-sip my decaf Iced Latte with soy a few times, just to make sure I wasn't dreaming or in some sort of trance. Were we in the same spot we had been in all along? Were we driving in circles?
Nope...but how could I be sure? The sign finally read "Dorothy I don't think we're in Kansas anymore", aka "Welcome to Temecula" right after we passed...
...yup you guessed it: a Target, Starbucks, Barnes and Noble and tract housing community.

We continued our journey on to Wine Country. I couldn't wait....green hills covered in grape vines, just like those that I remember when I visited Italy. We were getting closer...I new from the sign up ahead that read "Wine Country ahead"...but not until we passed a Target, Starbucks, Barnes and Noble and TWO tract housing communities.

This is no joke!!!

When we finally got to the winery, I realized it was not even close to what I had seen in Italy. There were also two empty lots facing each other on both sides of the road.

I looked at my husband and said "you know what would be great here? A Target, Starbucks, Barnes and Noble and a tract housing community."
"But what would be across the street?" he asked.
"A huge parking structure to accomodate all the cars, of course."

We sipped our wine and toasted, "Here's to all that is the same."

SAHM

I just received an email from a friend, describing another friend of hers as a SAHM. Huh? I sat there staring at the letters. S-A-H-M. , was it pronounced Sahem? Was the H silent? Same? Did it stand for something? Silly And Happy Mom? Sexy and Hot Mom? Is that like a MILF? (See I'm up with the hip acronyms....sometimes). I had to ask.

Apparently it stands for Stay at Home Mom, but you probably already knew that. OK. I am confused as to why we would need the acronym SAHM. Is that to make it easier to take out a singles ad in the local paper:

SAHM seeks SM(the 'M' standing for Male, not Mom in this case, but to each their own) or SAHD(Stay At Home Dad) to LOL together with.

Is it used in crossword puzzles?:
Accross
47. Four letters that describe a mother that never leaves her home.

Or, is it that when you are chatting on a MOM board (which all mom's do of course), you can state your career easier? - SAHM....LOL (I have to keep throwing that LOL in there too).

Another problem I have with the term SAHM is I don't find that to be an accurate description of what I do. My job has little to nothing to do with STAYING at all. I never STAY in one place too long, let alone at home. Maybe that's just me. I think it should be changed to OTGM (On The Go Mom) or RAHM (Rarely At Home Mom). I think these are better descriptions of what I do. Between Mommy and Me, swim class, tumbling and errands (which go on and on and on...), I can't honestly say how often I am AT HOME. When I picture a SAHM, I picture the little old lady who lived in a shoe, sitting back in her rocking chair knitting with tons of children running around and cats on her lap, in her hair, on the dining room table, on the kids.... (Not that there is anything wrong with owning cats or knitting for that matter). That is what I picture as staying at home. The kids run free and care for themselves, just like the cats (I know cat-lovers will differ). The mom just sits all day and Stays At Home. Maybe it is true "when you live in a shoe and have so many children you don't know what to do."

So, the next time you hear someone categorize a mother as a SAHM, think of me. Please correct them: "You mean an 'On The Go Mom,'" and I'll feel that just one more person gets me.

Saved by Cheerios

So, there he was. He was tall, dark and...... greasy. He stood over the cash register at the mall pretzel shop. Our eyes met as he was about to take my order. Before I could say anything, he stopped to pick at one of the oozing pimples on his face. Of course, he wiped it clean with a napkin shortly after and grabbed a pretzel. With a quick "Never mind," I ran off as quickly as I could.

Shocking as it may seem, this was not the first time I had to deprive my son of a pretzel at a mall. It has happened before, the same way at a different location. I understand that acne was even more uncomfortable for the cashier and an awkward part of growing up, but as long as there was no interaction between the acne and my pretzel, I would have been ok. Am I asking for too much?

After a persistent mall search for anything else my son would eat as a snack, on opposite ends of the mall no less, all he could say was "No! Pretzel mommy, pleeeeeeeeeeease." How could I refuse after a pleeeeeease like that? But how could I explain to him that it was unsanitary, and there was no way I would let him have one. I tried. Trust me. I tried and tried.

So, I did what any good mother would do and I returned to the pretzel place. There had been a change of shifts. A new greasy teen was on the register. I took my chance because the pretzel- twister-teen was wearing gloves and handling the actual pretzels. The line was long. That's a good thing, right? (Not for my two year old son.)

We finally reach the register. Ok, I can do this. As long as the pretzel-twister-teen is the one that hands us the pretzel. Just then (and this is no joke, I am serious!!!), the cashier teen gets a paper cut and screams. He tells me to hold on and begins sucking on the cut on his finger. He gets back to me. I can't move. I am in shock.

Thank goodness for the pretzel twister. He must have understood the look of fear on my face when he asked if HE could help me. I asked for a pretzel that HE twisted and just took out of the oven. He handed me one and I left the money on the counter. I left before I could get the change. I didn't want to take a chance on having him touch the register that that greasy teen #1 had touched and paper cut teen #2 had touched. I must have had that same look on my face I remember having when I had morning sickness with my pregnancy, because he asked if I was OK. I nodded, thanked him politely and left with my pretzel.

I hesitantly handed my son the CLEAN pretzel after inspecting it closely ten times. "No, mommy! Cheerios? " he asked. Did he understand?

Thankfully, I always have a cheerios stash in my purse. With a sigh of relief, I tossed the pretzel into the garbage can and handed my son his zip-locked cheerios.

Kundalini

Early morning, I head over to my Kundalini Yoga class. I have always practiced Yoga on and off "truthfully" for some years now, but have never experienced Yoga in the way I do through Kundalini. Kundalini represents a letting go of thoughts and control (what? control issues?) and helps one follow the flow (what?...not a chance, buddy!)

With my eyes barely open and mind already running a mile a minute, I almost turn back each time. I can't help but think of all the things "I could be doing with my time" instead of Yoga. Sleeping for one. I make it to class...we start out sitting cross-legged and reflecting on our inner selves. Inner selves? No, let's just move on and think about all the other things in the world. So, I fight my mind every step of the way. The conversation with my inner self begins:

Me: After class, I need to stop for groceries. Can't forget a roll of quarters for laundry. Wait, mind come back.
Mind: I'm here. I've been here all along. What?
Me: Ok, I have to stop thinking about other things.
Mind: So, stop thinking.
Me: Ok, I'm going to stop thinking now. Did I lock the door on my way out? Wait...clear my thoughts.
Mind: Need something to think about. I can't help but think about not thinking.
Me: Ok, I'll pay attention to my breath. Wait, no that will make me hyperventilate. Am I breathing ok? Too fast? Too slow? How come the guy next to me sounds like he's snoring when he breathes? Is that the right way to do it?

This conversation goes on and on and on (did I mention "and on..."). We move on with our poses. Wait..my thoughts are disappearing. I'm focusing on being scrunched into frog pose. Now, standing. My mind is slipping away from me. Damnit!!!! I need to regain control!!!!
But there is no use. I'm in standing position chanting 'Sat Nam'....Me? How did I get here?...and how do I get out of it?

An hour and a half later, the practice finishes in Savasana pose (pronounced Sha-Vasana) or corpse pose. Lying on my back with my legs straight out in front of me. Hands at my sides, palms facing up. I am calm. This scares me. (Yes, calm scares me.) My mind is clear. All I hear now is the old man next to me snoring. Is he asleep? No, he snores even when we are changing poses. Then the song. (Yes, everyone joins in to sing the same song as the end of every practice. )From the outside looking in, it looks really lame. I am not going to sing it! It's like singing "the Hokey Pokey" at the end of every class. "Now everyone join in." So, I put my right arm in, and once again, by the second verse....I'm singing. What? They got me again!!! Then class is over I get up to roll my purple yoga mat slowly. I feel as if I'm a fly moving through molasses. I feel everything is happening in slow motion. I put on my shoes. (which takes great effort) So, this is what it feels like to be calm? I head out to my car with a new attitude. Carefree! I decide that I am not going to let anyone or anything bother me today. I'm not going to swim against the current. I am just going to be at peace - always. I smile. I get in my car and head out of the parking lot. Just as I am ready to make the right turn, a teenager on a bike runs the light and cuts me off. I slam on the brakes and lean in on my horn. I angrily bite my lip to avoid cursing at the guy. He stops his bike, turns around and flips me off. What, now it's my fault!!!! And just like that....my yoga practice is gone, until tomorrow morning.

Just in case you are interested in the lyrics to the song...I have included them below:

You put your right arm in,
You put your right arm out.
(Oops...not the Hokey Pokey)

(Don't laugh when you picture me singing this at the end of class...)
May the longtime sun shine upon you
All love surround you
And the pure, pure light that's within you
Guide your way home

Namaste!

Highlights of My Day

You know what THEY say. THEY are always saying something. A talkative bunch THEY are. They say we are never happy with what we have. If we have straight hair, we want curly hair (flashback to bad 80's perms...EWWWW) (I almost posted a scary pic of myself with 80's hair, but had second thoughts. Some things should be left to the imagination.)

If we have dark hair, we are not sure what color to change it to, so we put in multiple colored highlights. Lighter ones, no darker, wait...a little lighter. Ok...a few blonde ones and some brown ones....

My hair started to resemble that of Rainbow Brite's (another 80's flashback). For those of you who don't remember her or for those of you born in the 80's (geez, I'm old) See pic below:

There were different versions of her with funky red and rainbow colored highlights. (I'm getting off subject here), but that's what my hair resembled with all the touch ups. So after careful review of myself in a mirror (which I don't care to do often), and feeling inspired by my fellow brunette icons: Sex and The City's Charlotte, Mila Kunis, Catherine Zeta Jones and Mary Louise Parker, I visited my local Rite Aid, spent a whopping $9.99 on a bottle of Dark Brown Loreal Preference Hair Color and poured it on. Within minutes, twenty five to be exact, my highlights were gone and I was back to my old self.

I'm not sure if that is a good thing or not...but it works for now...'til the next visit to the hairdresser or Rite Aid.

Thanks...

Thank you to all the people I meet every day that influence me in some way, who teach without knowing, who inspire without trying, who give without expectations, who care without ambivalence, who are open and allow others in, who are authentic in an often cold and dark world. Thank you for not knowing all you do all the time.

Mamma Mia, What Were They Thinking ?

A Greek Island with breath taking views, upbeat music, a sappy love story, Meryl Streep and spandex. You would think with all this you have the formula for a great musical. Some critics have even gone as far as calling it "the next Grease". Hey guys, don't press your luck.

Mamma Mia, starring Meryl Streep, Pierce Brosnan and Amanda Seyfried did not quite live up to its hype. After only a few minutes into the film, I thought anyone that can sit through this is a "super trooper" as Abba would say. I cringed every time someone opened their mouth to sing with Meryl Streep excluded. Not due to the fact that her voice was on pitch, but it was likable. Come on, she is Meryl Streep after all. Streep's acting was right on and believable as usual. She is at a point in her career. I respect her decision to do this role, she has nothing to prove to anyone any more. I expected Brosnan, on the other hand, at any moment to blurt out "Bond, James Bond". He was clad in "Bond-like" attire and could not make me believe him as anything other than the 007 himself.

After the opening credits, I waited for the movie to pick up its pace. It was slow-moving and the musical numbers seemed forced. The movie did not do the staged play justice, which was fun and addicting. The play would make anyone want to run out and buy Abba's greatest hits (which I did). The songs in the movie sounded like mere Karaoke versions of Abba. In today's modern world, a lot could be done to improve the musical numbers at the very least. Auto Tune anyone?

Overall, I left the movie thinking two things 1) wow, good for Meryl Streep. I still see her in the same light. And 2) I couldn't help but think "BLUE". Everything was blue about the movie, the set, the ocean and the way the film left me feeling.

Mama Drama

For the sake of anonymity, let us just say that a certain mom was at a certain park in Burbank, California today with her son. The scene was frightful. Not the children running around, but the lack of concern on the moms' faces when their child would trip, hit or steal a toy from another child. But then again, how could they be concerned about their child when their cell phones, or new blue-tooth head sets were glued to their ears. Thanks to the new Cali law of now cell phones while driving, moms are reverting to making calls during play time with their children. To give the moms the benefit of the doubt, I'm sure they all were on extremely important calls. I even heard one mom say into thin air, aka her bluetooth headset, "You're kidding me, she cut her hair that short."

Although, I'd like to take credit for the creativity of that last line, I simply can't. It was a true statement said by a bluetoothed mother whose son happened to be stealing every toy my son wanted to play with and aggressively doing so.

After removing my son from the situation, because I'm sure it wouldn't have been nice to simply push her son off the toys, I walked away only to encounter further mama drama by another mom. Kudos to this mom, she was not on a cell phone, but instead talking the ear off of someone she befriended at the park about how she needs a break. The "befriendee" was clearly not paying attention. So, I followed my son into the sand box and weplopped down to build a sand castle, when loud mouth mommy comes over to tell me I should make sure that my son doesn't steal toys from other kids and pay attention. I'm sorry, but we were minding our own damn biz lady. You must have us confused for the bluetoothed beasts picnicking on the grass yards away from where their children actually are.

I was so upset that I took my son out of the sandbox and out of the park. Just as I was nearing my car I noticed another mother doing the same. We stood around and chatted that WE the moms who were actually playing with our kids in the sandbox where kicked out of the park. The Bluetoothed Burbank Beasts enjoyed the rest of their afternoon on their cell phones. while their kids bruised each other, themselves and learned Darwin's theory of survival.

Mommyfied

While holding shopping bags in one hand, and pushing a stroller with the other, I ran toward the restrooms at Target with my newly-potty-trained-needing-to-go-now son. Just when I hit the door and tried to maneuver to open it with my foot while avoiding the handle (you don't know who's restroom-ridden hands have touched it), the door flew open to reveal two trendy Hannah Montana/Jonas Brother-loving teenagers girls. They were so busy texting on their rhinestone-covered Sidekicks that we almost crashed, if it hadn't been for one of the girls shouting, "watch out for that lady."

"That Lady"? When did I go from "girl" to "lady"? Merriam-Webster defines lady as "a woman having proprietary rights or authority especially as a feudal superior." When did I become superior and to whom? Where is the line of superiority drawn? Was I an instant lady because I was there with my son? Did I look like a lady? What does a lady look like? Me, apparently.

When did this happen? Was it when I stopped listening to my Tiffany and Debbie Gibson cassettes that I grew older? Maybe I should've kept listening to them or at least ripped them as MP3s so I wouldn't have to listen to them on my Sony Walkman any more, but on my iPod instead.

I graciously said "thank you" and held the door with my foot (washing it off soon after). The girls smiled a "you're welcome" politely and walked away. Just as my foot couldn't hold the door any more and my son reminded me that he needed to go now, the door began to close and I heard one of the girls mumble to her friends...."that lady didn't look like a mom."

Instead of thinking too much, I took it as a compliment. I don't look like a mom, but I am one and wouldn't have it any other way!!!!

Typing In The Rain

Why hasn't anyone come up with a waterproof laptop computer? Come on. I mean, think of all the uses for this computer. You could type in the rain, underwater while scuba diving, or in the bath or shower (which is where I came up with this idea).

In a Seinfeld episode, Kramer installs a garbage disposal in his bathtub so that he can conserve water by showering and peeling his vegetables at the same time. Why not shower and type at the same time? For some reason I get creative ideas when I'm in the shower. Some people sing. I think. This is the time that I'm alone with my thoughts, no distractions, just soap suds and me.

As I was showering tonight (this is a blog about personal information, right?) I came up with a story idea. I had to quickly exit the shower, soap suds and all, to find my laptop and type away my ideas before I would forget them. If I had a waterproof laptop, I could have just brought it into the shower with me and typed away. If I had a garbage disposal, I could have prepared tomorrow night's dinner as well.

I'm a big believer in time management and utilizing each moment as efficiently as possible. Next time someone is in the market to invent something, think of the waterproof laptop or maybe even a waterless shower, so I can use my own laptop. It wouldn't be good to let creativity go down the drain.

Twenty-Ninth Annual Gift of Life Tribute Celebration Dinner

George Lopez and his wife Ann hosted the twenty-ninth annual Gift of Life Tribute Celebration Dinner at the Century Plaza Hotel on May 18th to hono Samuel L. Jackson and his wife Latanya Richardson.  Jackson was honored with a Humanitarian award for his involvement with the National Kidney Foundation.  "They've (Jackson and Richardson) always done stuff for other people and have been great supporters of my wife Ann and I," said Lopez.

Jackson's involvement is a personal one, as his niece had been ill for a long time and awaiting a transplant.  He made a plea at last year's gala to find a donor for her.  A match was found: one of his cousins.  "Now she has joined the one kidney club, as I call it," joked Ann, who gave her husban Lopez on of her kidneys in 2005, the same year he was diagnosed with kidney disease.

For full story go to Gift of Life

George Lopez Launches The First Annual National Kidney Foundation Celebrity Golf Classic

Andy Garcia, Don Cheadle, Ray Romano, Joe Mantegna, Cheech Marin, Charlie Day and former Miss USA Susie Castillo were clad in their golf outfits and just a few of the celebrities who participated in The First Annual National Kidney Foundation Celebrity Golf Classic launched by actor/comedian George Lopez along with philanthropist Stewart Rahr. THe fundraising event, which was held at Lakeside Golf Club in Toluca Lake, California on May 5, benefited programs such as the Children and Teen Camping Program (allowing children and teens suffering with kidney disease to attend camp). Kidney Early Evaluation Program (KEEP), screening individuals at high risk for kidney disease and the Pediatric Education Conference, which provide information to children and their families affected by the disease.

George Lopez involvement is also personal, as he received a kidney transplant from his wife Ann in 2005, after suffering from chronic kidney disease for most of his life. George and his wife Ann believe in raising awareness for early detection, as his disease was discovered "too late".

For full story go to: The First Annual National Kidney Foundation Celebrity Golf Classic

Review: The Wackness

Starring: Josh Peck, Sir Ben Kingsley, Famke Jannsen, Olivia Thirlby & Method Man

What do you get when you put together a college-bound drug-dealing virgin, promiscuous girls, a drug-addicted suicidal therapist who cheats on his younger wife, hip-hop music and 90’s slang and clichés? Sundance 2008’s Audience Award winner-The Wackness: a dramatic coming of age story with an appropriate title, as this film seems a bit scattered and dragged out.

For full review go to: The Wackness

Kids' Choice Awards 2008 - Orange Carpet

The stars shined as they arrived for a slime-filled evening on the orange carpet at Nickelodeon's 21st annual Kids' Choice Awards, March 29th at UCLA's Pauley Pavillion.  The star-studded guest list included Jodi Foster, Harrison Ford, Will Smith, Steve Carell, Shia La Beouf, Drake Bell, Hayden and Jensen Panettiere, America Ferrera, Cameron Diaz, Ashlee Simpson, Miley Cyrus, The Jonas Brothers, Naked Brothers Band, Jordin Sparks and Rihanna among others.

For full story go to: 2008 Kids' Choice Awards

To Gift or Not to Gift...

The wedding registry, such a simple concept. You will be attending a wedding, shower or any other momentous occasion and don't know what to get, so you simply look to the gift registry.

The gift registry -a list of things that the person has requested you buy for them with prices included.  How convenient, right? Don't get me wrong, when you are at wit's end trying to figure out what to get "Miss, oh thanks, that's nice, it's so YOUR taste" or "Mr. thanks I love the gift, but you shouldn't have.  No, really....you shouldn't have"., the registry is a sure win-win every time, or is it?

Registry dilemma #1:  Miss  "I-need-to-entertain" (although she hardly ever has entertained anyone before, unless you count her tasteless jokes)  registers for a 15-piece china set at $150 a setting or mixing bowls for $29.99.  Clearly, what do you think the entertaining Miss would prefer you get her?  If you answered mixing bowls, you clearly have not gone through the registry shuffle thoroughly to note that the $29.99ish gifts were thrown in to throw you for a loop, to, in fact, make you feel bad that you didn't get her the new electronic sweeper that does it all for you (because when you are busy entertaining, who has time to sweep?) for $399.99 (not $400.)  How do you compete with the "great gifts" (high-priced) and the "cheap, I can't believe that's all you got me gifts".

Registry dilemma #2: Getting lost in the crowd.  Now that you have made your selection and decided to go in with your closest friends, relatives and even people you don't know attending the wedding, to get Mr. & Mrs. Need To Entertain that new refrigerator, just so you don't appear cheap, how does the happy couple know how much you've contributed to the group or if you just signed the card.  When they send out Thank Yous will it just be one for the group (ie" Thank you fellow refrigerator contributors, we will be thinking of all of you every time we refill our glasses with the great crescent-shaped cubes from our automatic ice dispenser) or is there a way to partially purchase the item through the registry to receive full credit for your part.  Also, is your contribution refundable?

Registry dilemma #3: The element of surprise is gone.  Where is the old-fashioned sense of anticipation to see what Aunt Matilda knitted you this time or if your always drunk Uncle Chuck's 95th bottle of Tequila (shipped to you from one of his weekend cruises to Mexico) include a worm in it or not this time?   How exciting is it to get gifts you already know you are going to get? The bride opens yet another gift from "enter online store registry here" with the same wrapping paper and of course logo on the bag to further remind her that yes, this gift is from your registry don't worry. (atleast wrap it in a grocery bag or something to scare the living hell out of her)  So the bride opens her gift and smiles...."Wow...mixing bowls. Thank you so much I love them..." and then mutters under her breath..."of course I do, I chose them..but didn't think that my maid of honor would stoop that low and get me the $29.99 cups after all I've done for her- giving her the honor to stand up by me at the alter and have her hair done with me...." (Ok, getting carried away for a moment).  How should the bride respond to the gift purchases ?  Should she act surprised that that particular person bought that particular gift or just smile because she willingly received exactly what she asked for?

Registry dilemma #4 (final dilemma..because I decided to end it here...I could go on for days). You are the ONE person who strays from "THE REGISTRY" (aka "THE ONLY GIFTS TO BUY). Kudos to you for your daringness, but good luck trying to fit in with everyone else when the bride or her maid of honor (because she gets all the tasks the bride avoids)  looks over the list of gifts she has received scribbled on some restaurant napkin and remembers you.  "Oh yeah, THAT gift".  She is thinking exactly what you'd think she would. " Why didn't I get EXACTLY what I asked for?"  There's no room for creativity here people.  (Not even in the choice or wrapping paper)  You're basically doomed, unless you've included a gift receipt.  You're especially doomed if you thought you were being smart for purchasing the EXACT (or so you thought) replica of that Cuisinart blender at wholesale for half the price, when as the bride is

opening  your gift you see it's not "Cuisinart" but "Cuisincopy".  You should've stuck to the registry,  Then the worst thing that would've happened is the bride would've known you purchased one of the $29.99 fill in gifts, but at least it's $29.99 worth of something she actually wanted.

The registry has taken the guessing game out of what to buy for the bride and groom.  With it, it has taken out the element of surprise.  But who needs surprises any way. With all the surprises the bride will have to face at the wedding... oh no, the napkins don't match my centerpieces, will my centerpieces match my dress, will my dress match my shoes, oh...where did I put my shoes again....at least the bride can be sure of one thing....(if it's not who she's marrying as well) that the gifts she received were exactly what she ordered.  What she's going to do with all of them..now that's another question.

Penelope Premiere

I was at the Director's Guild in Los Angeles on February 20 for the premiere of the film Penelope starring Christina Ricci and Reese Witherspoon.
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Penelope Premiere