What To Expect When You’re Expecting In Arizona

Hey, everybody! I’m pregnant! But if you’re a woman, so are you! That is, if you have a period and you live in Arizona. Sorry to the men out there who are reading this and don’t want to get into all this icky female stuff, but it’s official government news now. You know, since the government is in charge of when a woman is pregnant and when she isn’t.

Arizona has finally decreed it. They’ve had it up to here (if you can’t see me, I am holding my hand up to my forehead) with the fighting about conception and when is a baby a real baby. Or a real person. Or a person with rights. Or a little person with more rights than the person who is incubating it. Anyways, they’ve had it up to here (see above) with the infighting and the picketing and the liberal, baby-killing politicians, so they have made a decision! A woman is officially pregnant two weeks before conception. So that’s, like… almost all women!

I’m really proud of Arizona for their forward thinking. First of all, the government can now help get these expectant mothers the prenatal healthcare they need before they even conceive. Or maybe just healthcare for preventative measures. Or maybe just health care. That’s smart thinking, Arizona!

And imagine this: The partner can be there for their wife/girlfriend/one-night-stand before the baby is even thought of. Perhaps a dinner can be arranged before the actual deed is done. Maybe a conversation can be had? First names exchanged between the two people? I don’t want to push things too far…

You see, if the lawmakers decree a baby is a baby two weeks before conception, via bill HB 2036, this means the woman only has 18 weeks, not 20 weeks, to decide to terminate a pregnancy because the baby happened before she even had sex. The baby’s life would start the first day of the mother’s last period. The baby would exist before the mother committed the act. So it would be like a Minority Report baby!

What other events will Arizona retroactively date and call truth for their citizens? What documents can they fix to bend the laws to their favor? Am I always going to be pregnant from now on? I really could use the excuse to eat more frozen yogurt. If I’m already pregnant I’d like the state to start sending me my child benefits now. I get some sort of Mommy and Me discount on stuff, right? Do I get to pick which future dad is the one who is the father? Or does the State of Arizona already know?

I wonder if in Arizonaland you can get pregnant just by thinking about having sex with someone. Because there’s this guy I’m crazy about and he is really sexy… Uh oh. I think I feel morning sickness coming on.

My Life With Kitler

For the record, I am not a crazy cat lady. No matter how many cat calendars, cat magnets or cat notebooks my mother gives me, or how many cute LOL Cats people post on my Facebook wall…I’m really a dog person, I grew up with dogs. I’m not that into cats. I don’t even think I would like YOUR cat. But I’m obsessed with mine.

I live with a cat that runs my life. Sometimes, when money is tight, I buy myself food at the 99-cent store but she gets the expensive organic cat food. I’ve stolen toilet paper from public bathrooms, but she gets the pricey litter. She deserves neither because she is a total nightmare. But I would never leave her for two reasons. One, she thrown in a dumpster as a kitten and I could never abandon her again. Two, I am afraid of her.

Those that know Delilah, speak of her with reverence. And fear. A lot of fear. She’s only seven pounds of fluff, but she packs a lot of scary fury in that fluff. So much so, that my friends refer to her as Kitler.

That is, what friends I have left. I’ve gone through a lot of friends who I’ve asked to watch her when I’ve gone out of town. They weren’t my friends when I came back. I got so low in the friend pool I would have to go out to bars and pick up girls and make friends with them when I knew I had a trip coming up. You know, go shopping a couple times. Go to brunch. A few tears over margaritas about shitty boyfriends to really reel them in. And then casually ask them to watch my monster when I had to jet to a music festival or a family holiday or something. If I was smart, I didn’t give the girl my cell phone number. That way I wouldn’t get a barrage of texts featuring a play by play of my cat systematically destroying my apartment brick by brick, poop by poop. The texts would eventually devolve into a bunch of frowny faces with exclamation points and then radio silence.

Okay, most cats aren’t good when their owners are away, but mine isn’t good when I’m here. She has destroyed every piece of furniture I’ve owned. She is the reason I don’t have carpets or a cloth couch. I used to have a gorgeous collection of haute couture clothing. What’s left of it is vacuum packed and hidden away like Anne Frank in the back of my closet. My cat bites with malice. She scratches. She will eat your food off you plate. She steals sushi. She steals pillows. If you steal the pillow back from her she will piss on it so that no one gets it. God, she is smart.

She looks like a Disney villain sidekick cat if you mixed that with the creepy, haunting stare of those twins from the Shining. I once saw her attack a large Doberman about eight times her size. The sheer terror in the eyes of that dog – I will never forget it.

Every morning she wakes me up by swatting me in the face until I get up to feed her. If I ignore her, she uses her claws or eventually covers my mouth until I can’t breathe. I often have nightmares of drowning only to wake up with a paw shoved halfway down my throat. She is either trying to suffocate me or is urging me to become bulimic. The look in her eyes say: “If I had opposable thumbs and could open a can of tuna, you’d be dead.” That’s the difference between Delilah and all the dogs I’ve raised. If my dogs were three or four times their size, they’d still fetch and try to climb up on my lap to lick me. If Delilah were four times her size, she’d kill me and then play in my blood.

And there are the men! Delilah has gone through several of my boyfriends who decided they just couldn’t hang. I’m going to blame her on this one, although there is a very small chance it could have been the combination of both of us. Strangely enough, with all of Dee’s bad habits, most of my boyfriends found her endearing. It seemed the more badly she behaved, the better they liked her. She has always bewitched them.

I remember once after a three year live-in relationship was ending. This boyfriend, the one that bought the cat her own water fountain, was packing his things up to go after a big fight. He dragged a suitcase to the door and I heard him say “Goodbye, Sweetheart.” I turned to meet his gaze. Except he wasn’t looking at me. He was kneeling, holding the cat as she scratched and bit him.

Still, with Delilah’s evil Sith Lord demeanor, she puts up with all of my faults. She has been a constant in my life for years and has been kind of like a life partner. Not like a pet, like a dog that loves you, but like a mute roommate that never pays rent and shits on the floor. And believe me, when you’re all by yourself after the umpteenth break up, a mute roommate that shits on the floor is something to be thankful for.

I’ve had several people shove the “My Cat From Hell” TV show contact information into my hand. Yeah, right. You think I want the sheer humiliation of knowing that my cat brought down the career of Jackson Galaxy, the professional Cat Whisperer? I just can’t have that on my conscience.

However, I did once go see a pet psychic. It happened when I went with my life coach friend to some spiritual expo in Pasadena. I don’t usually believe in that stuff, but I DO believe in free massages, which were plentiful there. On my way through the convention center hall, I passed a table covered with framed pictures of animals. Behind the table sat a cute little old lady in a rocking chair looking up at me.

“Is your pet in distress? I can help. I talk to animals.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure my cat is beyond help.” I said.

“There’s no such thing. Anyone can be helped. Do you have a picture?” The little old lady said.

I blushed. For someone who isn’t sentimental about her cat, I carry around a picture on my keychain. It was a gift my sister gave me; a mini driver’s license picture with my cat’s photo and all her information. You know, in case she wants to take the convertible out for a spin.

“Uh, yeah. Here she is. That’s my cat.”

The old lady asked for forty dollars. FORTY DOLLARS! Jesus. I quickly gave her money so other people around me wouldn’t notice I was actually about to do this. I was about to talk to a freaking Pet Psychic. A frown came over the woman’s face as she held the keychain.

“Oh, it’s dark and she is very, very frightened.”

“Well, she was found in a dumpster as a kitten.”

“No! Not this life, a past life. Much further back. I see barbed wire. A prison. There are stripes. And mud. And tears. She is angry. I can’t make out the language…”

“Because she is a cat?”

“No, it’s German. She’s…I’m so sorry. I think she is at Dachau.”

I immediately crumbled inside. Was this lady trying to tell me my cat was in a concentration camp? She was in the Holocaust? Oh my poor fluff face! No wonder she is so messed up. Ever since she appeared on my doorstep stuffed in a Wendy’s cup, no bigger than a hamster, she has wormed her way into my heart. I forgave her for every ruined pillow, every lost friend. I’d give her extra tuna helpings from now on. I know I never said it but I loved that little beast more than anything! She was beautiful, demanding, bitchy, weird, and beguiling. We were soul mates!

From then on, I did my best to not only tolerate Delilah’s behavior, but celebrate it. Not only did she come from humble beginnings in this life, but she had come from such a nightmare in her previous one. She was a survivor. Cue Beyonce!

Not everyone agreed with my parenting skills. My mother muttered something like “what you permit you promote” and my friends stopped stopping over. Plus the Cat Sitter, aka the dude I was dating at the time, was pretty fed up with Delilah’s run of the house. I explained to him that she was a Shoah survivor and that he had to be sensitive to that. He wasn’t buying it.

“You spent money on a pet psychic for her to tell you that your cat is disturbed?” He said.

“Yes! She said Delilah was at a concentration camp at Dachau.” I said.

“Uh huh. Did you ever stop to think that maybe she was one of the guards?” He said and walked out. I looked over at Kitler who was dunking a mouse in her water dish.

One of the guards. Actually, that does make more sense.

Not Letting My Boyfriend Get In The Way Of Having The Perfect Valentines Day Date

I spoke with Psychic to the Stars, Psychic Girl, aka Jusstine Kenzer about who would make the perfect date for me on Valentines Day. 

ALI: I don’t have a date for Valentines Day. I have a boyfriend. Yet, I’m still dateless on Valentines Day.

JUSSTINE: You have a boyfriend.

A: Yeah. He is out of town, so I’m dateless. But I’m not going to let that get in my way. I want you to help me find the perfect Valentines Day date. You said you might be able to help me out and predict who could be a good match for me out of the men that I find…dreamy. That’s the technical term, right? Dreamy? So I chose men I think would be delighted to go out with me. But also men that I would say yes to. Maybe we can see who you get a hit on? That’s the lingo, right?

J: Yes, let’s see who I get a hit on for you.

A: Well, there’s Jude Law, whom I just adore, no matter what horrible things he does in his personal life. I think he is handsome and talented. There’s Jon Stewart. He’s a genius. There’s Daniel Craig. He’s Bond! C’mon.

J: He’s a little taken.

A: So is Jon Stewart. I am too, supposedly. Doesn’t mean I can’t go out for a nice Valentine’s dinner, right?

J: …Okay.

A: Okay? Let’s see. Hmm. Oh, Ryan Gosling. I think he’s also taken. Doesn’t mean he can’t take me out for Valentine’s Day. Oh and then there’s my first love. Han Solo.

J: Right. How about a real person?

A: He’s real. He has his own action figure. He saved the galaxy…

J: Okaaay. I’ve looked at lots of people who are delusional about things.

A: Are you talking about me? Or Han Solo? He awakened my sexuality at the age of six.

J: Let’s just say Harrison Ford.

A: You can call it Harrison Ford, but I’ll be thinking Han Solo.

J: Why don’t you start to ask me specific questions?

A: Let’s start with Jude Law. If I were with him, would he sleep with the nanny?

J: No.

A: Really. He’d be faithful to me?

J: I didn’t say that. I said he wouldn’t sleep with the nanny.

A: Damn. That’s cold. Ok, rephrasing. Would he be faithful?

J: I get yes.

A: Wow. So I could cure him of all his infidelities? Amazing. Would his hair grow back?

J: No.

A: Is he worth all the trouble he causes?

J: I get no.

A: So I would tire of him?

J: He’d get bored if things would be balanced.

A: Is he a drama queen?

J: Not a drama queen but he has issues with his mother.

A: Uuuuuugh. No. I can’t, nope. Next. I can’t. I CANNOT. No. No. No. Let’s talk about Jon Stewart. Is he funny off camera too? Or is he a crying on the inside clown?

J: He is funny off camera.

A: I figured. Is he married to his work?

J: No.

A: No? He can leave it at the office?

J: Looks like he is balanced. He used to not always be that way but it’s reached a point where he has found that balance.

A: So, he’s not married to his work but is he married to his wife?

J: Yes. He’s faithful and a good guy.

A: Aww, that’s why I love him. He’s a really good guy. But he’d still take me out for a dinner Valentines Day night. Right?

J: No.

A: No? Now I love him even more.

J: No, but he’d be very flattered and he would buy you a rose.

A: I am so in love right now. (whispering) Jon Stewart, I love you! I can tell he loves me too. Sigh. We will just have to work together someday.

J: I get yes on that.

A: Really? Oh my god. Now I’m in love with YOU too.

J: It will all work out.

A: OK, who is next? Oh yes, James Bond! Daniel Craig. Does he get really fat in between the Bond movies?

J: I get no. He is muscley. His constitution is pretty solid.

A: Is he emotionally muscley?

J: I get no.

A: So he is a softy? Does he cry a lot?

J: I get that he is romantic.

A: Does he make his date go dutch or does he pay?

J: No he always pays.

A: Good to know.

J: It seems like he is a good guy.

A: They can’t all be good guys.

J: The ones you are asking about are.

A: Wow. If I have such good radar then how did I end up dating all the asshole losers I’ve dated? Before my boyfriend, I mean. Honey, if you’re reading this, I love you. Just because I’m plotting a date with a big movie star doesn’t mean I don’t love you. Maybe I should have been dating big stars?

J: You’re asking about fantasy men who are your perfect type. In reality you don’t pick that type.

A: Pfft. “Fantasy”. Anyways. Ryan Gosling. Is he damaged from all those years in the Mickey Mouse Club with Justin Timberlake and Britney Spears?

J: No. It seems like a lifetime ago for him.

A: Is he hard to live with. I mean its just dinner, but just in case.

J: No, he’s a nice guy.

A: Again? Why am I picking all the famous nice guys?

J: Sometimes when we can’t have what we want, we pick things that fill the void that perpetuate that myth.

A: So I told my subconscious that since I can’t date James Bond I might as well date a second rate asshole musician?

J: Uhhh, maybe. Some people make that mistake. Or you can listen to my Heal Your Relationship download and change your subconscious beliefs and heal yourself. Find something fulfilling.

A: Define fulfilling. Oh, you mean like Daniel Craig. OK. Moving on. Han Solo.

J: OK. How am I going to do this? I guess we can look at him as that character. How should we approach this?

A: I dunno. You’re the psychic. Will Han let saving the galaxy get in the way of our relationship?

J: No.

A: Will he let his relationship with Chewbacca get in the way of our relationship?

J: For that I get yes.

A: FUCK! He’d let a Wookie get in the way. Believe me. I understand the love of a cat or a dog or a best friend. And I love Wookies. But how are you supposed to settle down with somebody if there’s a Wookie in your way?

J: For him, that relationship comes first.

A: Damn. I mean where is he even going to take me for Valentine’s Day? The motherfucking Cantina? With those freaks? Don’t I deserve somewhere special? Or clean at least? I’ve been to some dirty ass places before. Backstage of any place on the Sunset Strip is about as dirty as the Cantina. But it’s Valentine’s Day! I want somewhere I can wear an open toed shoe.

J: Maybe this is a relationship that could happen on EBay? I seeing a lot of merchandisers and collectors connected to the name Han Solo who hang out there.

A: I don’t see this one going anywhere. It’s not as promising as some of the other famous men. It’s so hard to find a nice guy in this day and millennium.

You can find out more about Jusstine at www.psychicgirl.com

Stupid Cupid – A Workplace Valentines Survey

Ladies! The biggest day of the year is coming up. Don’t let another year of a flower-free desk or chocolate-less, barren, empty life make you miserable. If you don’t get a ring, a date, a kiss or even a hello come this 14th, you could be one step away from suicide. Or worse, a Marie Callender’s cheesecake!
It’s imperative that you line up something special NOW so you don’t look lonely to your friends, family and co-workers. You don’t want people feeling sorry for you. Especially your therapist. Especially after he turned you down.
Look on the bright side: there’s men at work. No, not the band Men At Work, but actual men at your place of work whom you’ve probably overlooked, pined for, ignored, or had awkward one night stands with. These are men who you can rekindle that passion with for one special Valentines night…and maybe a lifetime of uncomfortableness. But probably just for one night.
Are you unsure of whom your special someone in accounting might be? Looking for that knight in shining copy toner? Here’s a survey that just might help you out! Pass this out at work to anyone who is a possible valentine, dating, or life partner candidate (you can even tell them which category they fit in as you hand them this survey.) Have them fill out the form and hand it back to you.
Voila! You are on your way to attracting the cubicle-mate of your dreams and being fulfilled as a woman! Happy hunting! And Happy Valentines Day, Miss Cupid!

WORKPLACE DATING SURVEY

I hereby decree that I ____________________ have been a suitor, beau, lover, cubicle mate or all around good guy to ________________. I also hereby swear that I have not impregnated her (cross this out if necessary) or any other woman during the time of our relationship/tryst/working relationship. I also note that I am of sound mind and body or as good as it’s going to get anyway, and I am fully capable of answering this questionnaire.

Signed,

_____________________________

PLEASE CHECK ONE:

1)    I care for ___________ so much as a friend that it pains me to think that us having sex may ruin our close bond. I need time to figure out what to do.

2)    I used to think of __________ as just another gal, but she’s kind of growing on me.

3)    I am not interested in _________ as a friend or a fuck. I don’t know where she got that idea and I wish she’d leave me alone before I get a restraining order.

4)    I think  _________ is cool. Yeah, man. She’s definitely great for a lay or a laugh. But I don’t  think it will go past that because I am too self absorbed and slick for my own good.

5)    My girlfriend is pressuring me to get engaged but I don’t want to give up having sex with   _________ on the side. I’m going to keep doing both and see how this plays out.

6)    I really do like __________. I think I’m falling for her. But my
a) emotional immaturity
b) job/career
c) ego
d) buddies
keeps me from taking the next step.

7)    I have had a crush on _________ for sometime but her fast lane lifestyle scares me a bit. She could have any guy she wants. Why would she want to fuck me? Not that I want to fuck her. I mean, I do. But it’s more than that. I want to love her too. Behind all that mascara and sack-lunch meth, I bet she breaks just like a little girl. I want to spoon her in my Papasan and tell her it’s going to be all right.

8)    Supply room closet. But never in public.

9)    Honey, for the thousandth time. I’m GAY!

10)    Who?

American Has Baggage

Okay, I was never good at math, but 60 pounds equals 60 pounds. Right?  If you have 60 pounds in one bag, and then take fifteen pounds out and put it in another bag and both of those bags are going on a plane you are still taking 60 pounds of your precious belongings onto a plane…Right?

Please don’t tune me out because I sound like some SAT question you may have skipped on the test. Okay, I skipped on the test. I’m just checking my facts here because I’m just a traveling layman, not a aerospace scientist, or a conglomerate corporation whose primary focus it is to calculate numbers such as these: 60=60. Which is maybe why this corporation has filed for bankruptcy.

Welcome to American Airlines.

As I scrambled at the American counter to remove a sweater, two books, three magazines, a package of Starbucks coffee, my toiletries (but not the hair pomade) and my make up bag, my jewelry, and a pair of shoes and fit them in my purse and carry on, the question dawned on me…all the items are all going on the plane. What freaking difference does it make?

Yes, my bag is heavy. I’ve been away for over a month plus I’ve accumulated several books, and there’s Christmas…but it’s all going on the plane. 60 pounds is 60 pounds.

Well, not according to American Airlines. 60 pounds checked is an extra one hundred dollars bag fee. So actually 60 equals 100! Me carrying odd packages slung over my shoulder like a Sherpa, a stack of books like a college grad at finals, clothing tied around my waist like a hipster bag lady  - through the terminal, in and out of the bins at security and on and off the plane? Only twenty-five dollars.  So 45 equals 25. And sore shoulders. Are you still with me?

When I boarded everyone was told no coats in the overhead bin. No shopping bags in the overhead bin. Only wheelies in the overhead bin. So, basically, only heavy suitcases in the overhead bin? 60 pounds is 60 pounds. I stuffed everything around me and below me like an economy class scarecrow, unable to move, unable to tweet about it because American didn’t even have wifi on the flight. I’m lucky I got a light over my seat. I wasn’t so lucky when I asked for some sugar for my tea.

The surly, bitchy, caustic flightie rolled her eyes at me and tossed a pack of sugar my way. Just like something I would have done to her, except I don’t get paid to be pleasant and helpful because I know better than to work in a job where I would be nasty to people strapped into confined spaces who need me (you’re welcome, Humans). She was so testy, I was tempted to turn on my phone and play a rousing game of Words With Friends. Alec, are you free?

I have to admit I am spoiled. I’d just traveled overseas via Virgin, with the choice of over 40 movies at my fingertips, seats that recline like a lounger and free bags checked. Yes I said FREE. That Branson is a goddamned communist or something!

Plus the food. Oh my God, the food.  All served with a smile. A pre-drink snack. Free wine. Then a post-drink snack. Then dinner (mine consisted of Christmas dinner with all the trimmings). Then another round of wine, mulled wine, spiked cider or tea. Then they came around with ice cream. Then they brought around tea and chocolate mousse. And then came teatime with cakes, scones and clotted cream, chocolates and mince pies. And then we had tea.  That’s sixty extra pounds right there.

Plus they give you little goodie bags with toothbrushes and socks and a sleep mask and a pen. They GIVE it to you. No questions asked about shoplifting. They don’t bill you for it later. Wow. Virgin really knows how to treat a gal on a date. Their name is deceiving because by the end of the trip I was willing to go as far as they wanted.

AND it was all included with your economy ticketed flight. None of this swipe your credit card to pay seven dollars for a stack of Pringles bullshit. Plus they didn’t ask us to pay eight dollars for our very own pillow and blanket that we can “take with us” either. Please. Who are you trying to kid? Unless we are deplaning and marching directly to our closest Occupy campsite, your thin blankets and flimsy pillows with dental cape covers are not needed for purchase, thanks.

Oh! And two dollars for head phones? To see Real Steel?

Screw you, American.  You should be paying us as a focus group to sit through that.

Why My Boyfriend Has A Hook For A Hand

So, when you meet Tim, just don’t mention the, you know. I mean, time has passed but he’s still a bit sensitive about it and all. It totally wasn’t his fault.

 

See he lives above an Olde English Pub, which was built a few thousand years ago and is more like a tunnel in a torture chamber you’d escape from rather than anywhere you’d actually keep your things and constantly return to. 

 

But Tim is British so everything IS WHAT IT IS. That means he can be overcharged for a place that is covered with an inch of black, sooty pub grime from years of burning the food and then wiping it down with ale soaked rags. I’m kidding. They’ve never wiped it down.

 

While it does have running water, that seems to be a downside. It’s always running. There are weird pipes sticking out of windows spouting water at odd times of the day. Depending on the water pressure of the window spouts, you can garner whether or not the sink will work.

 

There’s also a lot of noise below of course, because it’s a pub. And there are pub like things going on downstairs like open mic nights and football match viewings and sheep tossing. But there’s also noise above us. It sounds like someone is trying to break in though the roof. I keep thinking it’s an intruder, or that the English gale force winds are going to peel off the ceiling. But Tim assures me the clomping above is just the mice. 

 

When something goes wrong with the pub, the owners patch it up with a blowtorch, a saw, and a vacuum. Then they coat it with paint. When they aren’t fixing things, they throw these items in a heap in the hallway of Tim’s living quarters that they also consider ‘storage’.

 

The narrow hall from Tim’s bedroom to his water closet and bathroom is already a gauntlet of 5 steps, mouse-traps, paint rollers, an old futon his flat mate discarded in a heap, and several other odd steps where the floor doesn’t quite meet the adjoining floor.  After tripping and breaking three toes, I’ve been peeing in a cup in his room.

 

Now, I’ve commented that this set up seems a bit dangerous, but then again I’m an American and by nature all I ever do is complain. Plus, Tim is stealth and quick on his feet, like an Anglican panther and does parkour styled moves, bouncing off walls and over equipment swiftly and deftly, even in complete darkness. He is never phased.

 

Until…one day a child’s neon green bike appeared in the hall. It was just parked there, large and imposing, making it almost impossible to get by. As I tried to maneuver around it, the folds of my dress and my handbag got caught in the handlebars, the faux fur trim of my coat tangled in the spokes. Tim rolled his eyes at me and quickly hurdled the bike like an Olympian. He landed on one foot by the imposing propane gas canister that fuels the blowtorch and smirked at me. But he hadn’t counted on the paint rollers. The God damned paint rollers! The rusty things had been kicked about the hall and were now right in his path. He took another step and whoop whoop whoop, up in the air he went, banana peel style, and came down back first. He put his arm out to brace himself and the big gleaming saw greedily severed his hand clean off.

 

The hospital was out of artificial hands. They had a run on them…so they gave him a hook. Just like Captain Hook! Which, given the nature of his olde timey surroundings, is really perfect.

 

He can even use it to patch things up around the pub now, though he gets quite cross when they ask him to do manual labor. I mean, after all that’s happened, wouldn’t you?

The Goddesses Must Be Crazy

Greetings, Bloglings.

There’s been a little makeover here. Just sprucing up a bit.

Hope you all are following me at http://www.witstream.com, especially for the big political events like the Republican ‘debates’. I’ve gone through several bottles of cooking sherry while doing my running commentary and the other comedians involved have moved on to much harder stuff – household cleaners, etc.

Word has it I will be working with a recently ex-communicated sitcom star at the end of the summer, so in honor of that, here is an open letter I wrote a couple months ago. Enjoy!

Dear Charlie Sheen:

Recently it came to my attention that my followers on Twitter had, unbeknownst to me, recommended me to you for your open Goddess position at your Sober Valley Ranch. I have to admit that when I first heard about this, I thought I must have been overqualified for the job, even though the actual job duties seem to be a bit hazy.

I was raised to be a very cultured lady. I have a college degree — I graduated, cum laude, and six credits shy of a double major. My entrance essay was written in iambic pentameter. I’m a classically trained actress, with an emphasis on Shakespeare and 60′s British Theater. I am trained in ballet, tap and jazz. I’m fluent in French and also French wines. I’m a published author and playwright, I’ve created my own fashion line, and I follow politics.

So you see, I didn’t think that a position as your plaything would be a natural fit … but then I didn’t hear back from you.

I was a bit shocked when I wasn’t hired immediately, especially with my other qualifications. Being the captain of my cheerleading squad in high school has got to count for something. Right? And not just regular old hayseed cheerleaders, but I was one of the tumbling, flipping ones on ESPN. You know, the ones who wore those teeny little uniforms with barely any skirt.

My obvious beauty and sex appeal would be of use to your tiger blood and Adonis DNA. I have some music video vixen roles on tape that I can procure as evidence if you need to see some of my work. You may want to turn the volume down, as the 90s weren’t always a great time for music, but my hotness is unquestionable.

In addition, I have experience in childcare. I’ve worked as an au pair and a nanny. I can care for your sons if need be. I also have ‘nannied’ for two alcoholic boyfriends and one pissy, manic-depressive rock star, who, like you, believes himself to be from Mars, so I can weather that storm as well.

I can provide a clean driving record but I assume that most of the time I will be tied up and will be unable to drive.

I don’t have any porn experience, per se. That I know about. I mean I’ve never been taped to my knowledge. I did have one ex-boyfriend who, truthfully, is kind of dodgy and I wouldn’t be surprised if there was some grainy tape floating around out there without me knowing about it. Sigh. It’s not the betrayal of being filmed without my permission, so much as the possibility of lost revenue…

Now, I’m sure there are many of my peers who will look down on me for applying for this position. There are those who will think that I’m not living up to my full potential, who think being a kept whore is, well, sexist. I know I am a smart, talented lady, but there are only so many jobs out there, and the competition is tough. What would they have me do? Become a successful recording artist like Kim Kardashian? Write a New York Times bestseller like Snooki? Marry well like NeNe Leakes? No, no. I’m not that connected. I need to branch out and consider other options.

I like the honesty that goes on at Team Better. Rach is very honest that she’s a slut and you are honest about that being the reason why you like her. No one is trying to be something they’re not (Gwyneth — give the singing a fucking rest!). I know full well the abuse I’m walking into at Sober Valley Ranch but at least I know right away. I won’t have to wait for you to drop your best behavior after three months before you start hurling hate and bigotry my way. But what I get in return is I get to WIN! And I haven’t been winning lately, Charlie. I’ve been standing at the slots here in LA for oh so long and I think that just maybe, Charlie Sheen, maybe YOU are my jackpot. You are my eye of the Tiger. Does that sound crazy? Because if it does, then we are perfect for each other!

I really think that this could be an opportunity for me to grow. If given the opportunity to be on Team Better, I think it would be a chance to improve myself while helping you, your children and the other goddesses.

Oh, I’m also really good in bed.

Goddess Love,

Ali

Follow Ali MacLean on Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/aliontheair

I Believe That Eddie Izzard Is Our Future

Biopics are normally saved for the icons that are old and wrinkled octogenarians reflecting back on their life of accomplishments. But what if through sheer grit, determination, talent and an unyielding belief in yourself, you’ve managed to cram all that life and success into half a lifetime?

Sarah Townsend began working with Eddie Izzard back at the Edinburgh Fringe Festivals in the 80s when he could barely get a time slot, if a laugh. Her career as a budding theater director and filmmaker followed a similar trajectory as the two learned by trying and failing and trying again. Sarah began filming Eddie’s journey and what culminated over the past ten plus years is the documentary Believe. The film is an Emmy nominated, uplifting look of how a transvestite street performer can become one of the most iconic and lauded performers of his time.

© 2010 Halyon Films

ALI MACLEAN: Let’s talk about your early days at the Edinburgh Festivals — starting with the Salieri/Mozart rivalry you had with those evil Fry & Laurie characters who thwarted you.

EDDIE IZZARD: They weren’t evil, they were just better. I think I’ve gotten better since then. Stephen Fry, Hugh Laurie and Emma Thompson were in the Cambridge Footlights where Monty Python had come out of. I was trying to get into Cambridge, just to get into the Footlights. So these were the guys who succeeded in getting into Cambridge, and being in the Footlights. And they were better, so it was two kicks in the head, really.

A: Was it hard for you to believe back then? Did it take time for you to build your confidence?

E: I decided at seven to become an actor and at sixteen I made a private pact in my own head that I was going to do this and I wasn’t backing out of it. At the same time I was going to career advisors with my Dad and Step-mom and saying I might be an architect, but I just was coming up with things. I knew I wasn’t going to do those things. I wanted to do this. It just seemed a million miles off.

A: Your one hundred percent belief in yourself has worked out for you. I, for one, am glad that you didn’t give up, but are there any people out there that you wish had given up on their dream?

E: I don’t know if I should start that list. If you think about determination, if people have a heart and are determined, they can get to that place. But there are a lot of negative people who were enormously determined. All the Nazis were determined. They wanted to murder everyone. Everyone with a bad heart, who doesn’t care about people, I wish they hadn’t started. People with a bad heart can all fuck off.

A: What do you think about mass marketed guru stuff about believing like ‘The Secret’ and best selling books that teach people how to manifest their dreams? You know, all the books on tape and workshops and week long retreats.

E: I have done my own version of that for myself. I do realize that the word ‘believe’ is part of the word ‘faith’. And I don’t believe in God. So I’m a non-believer in the non-visible. I’m a believer in us; in humans. I think people either see the glass half full or half empty and suffer from depression or are prone to depression. I’m like my Dad and I don’t seem to have that. I’m consistently able to regroup fairly quickly. It’s much harder if you suffer from depression. You know, comedy improv has a lot of positive thinking in it. It’s all about ‘Yes, and…” If someone says “I am the King of Prussia.” You have to say “Yes, and I have your new shoes.” It’s a glass half full method. So positive thinking is great, as long as you’ve got a positive message. If you’re a positive thinker and you’re a dickhead, well, these are the complicated things of human existence.

A: Sarah really showed in the film how controlled and structured you are with putting together a show. A lot of comedians and actors spend their lives complaining on TMZ or their act is completely neurotic, like a Rorschach test. Do you attribute your success to your military background and that discipline?

E: It definitely helps. I kept pulling back and regrouping. You get knocked down and you get up and go back into the fray. Though, I don’t feel that disciplined because I’m incredibly lazy. I’m like a large ship. Once you get the ship going you can’t stop it. But once you stop it you can’t get it going again. I tend to like to watch black and white movies on Turner Classic or AMC. Apart from talking to you today I’m not doing anything and I like that.

A: I have a feeling our ideas of lazy are different. I think I could challenge you to a sloth-off and I could probably win.

E: Oh, I don’t know. Get me going…but I do start hating myself. People are offering me things now. So I’m trying to catch up on the years when I had nothing going. As you know the media is full of people taking off at seventeen. At sixteen years old they come in at number one.

A: Yeah, but they go to rehab when they’re twenty-three.

E: Yes. If I had to do it all again I’d do it the same way, but at the time, you want it to happen immediately. Learning that you have stamina is an excellent thing to know. If a project fails, I know I can pick myself up. Just like Clint Eastwood in a Fistful Of Dollars.

A: You’ve talked about future plans for politics and that your model would be more Franken than Schwarzenegger. I’m wondering if you think if Schwarzenegger would be a better politician if he were funny? Or maybe not a Terminator?

E: I’m more linked to Al Franken because of the comedy and because he’s a democrat. There’s no particular advice I can give Schwarzenegger…I’m pleased Prop 8 was overturned in California.

A: Do you think there is something about comedy and Al Franken’s satirical mind that lends itself to critical thinking and political policy?

E: Comedy is good at tearing down. If the right wing government is in power, comedy is good at tearing away at that. If the left wing government is in power, they will tear away at that too. So, I think comedy may be a hindrance in a way. I don’t subscribe to the theory that all politicians are crap. I think the ‘cool people’ often take that position.

A: So, are you prepared, when you take office in 2020, for Larry the Cable Guy to make fun of you for giving people clean drinking water?

E: Oh yeah, it’s gonna happen. If you’re a performer, people tend to be quite positive about you or they have no opinion. If you go into politics, it will be polarized. I’m ready for people to take swings at me. But then again I am a transvestite, so how much harder can it be to deal with political pressure?

A: You’ve talked in your shows and on The Riches about The American Dream. And you’ve mentioned the European Dream. Do you think you’ve achieved either?

E: I’ve started saying that I’m living the European Dream. Now I want Europeans to have the dream too.

A: Congrats on the Emmy nomination for Believe.

E: Well, I’m not nominated, Sarah is. She made my life worthy of being nominated. But hopefully there’s some lesbian girl in Pakistan or some transgender kid in Chile that sees the documentary and says, ‘Shit, I can do that!”

A: Or maybe some kid who’s trying to put together a tight ten-minute set to go up at The Comedy Store.

E: As long as they have something interesting to say and a good heart.

A: Yeah, we’re not trying to encourage any more Hitlers.

E: No. They can fuck off.

***

As Eddie said, Sarah Townsend made his life worthy of being Emmy nominated. How does one follow a man that runs 43 marathons in 51 days, performs his shows to sold out crowds at Wembley Stadium, and films blockbuster like Oceans 12. How do you capture a hummingbird on film?

ALI MACLEAN: This is your first feature length film and you are nominated for an Emmy. You run the risk of being called an overnight success — even though the film took, what, seven years to make?

SARAH TOWNSEND: Well over seven years. It’s one of those magical overnight successes that wasn’t really overnight. That’s really the storyline of the film. People really do work for ages. We wanted to make something that reflected what Eddie has put into his career because he gets the same comment. And of course it wasn’t. It was years and years before he finally got attention.

A: Eddie seems like a private person and the film shows that he is in control of things, certainly his emotions. Did you feels, as a filmmaker that it was hard to get behind that? Were you surprised that he wanted to do a documentary and let you behind the scenes?

S: I don’t think he thought that’s what we would be doing. I thought “Oh, because I know him, this will be so much easier.’ Far from it. I don’t think it was easy for anyone. It took four years to get an interview that was genuinely in the moment that was absolutely honest. He has like a sixth sense of when that little red light on the camera was on. It was unbelievable. If something interesting was going on and we started shooting he would instantly change his demeanor. Just at the point where we thought, “What are we doing? This is a special, but not a full movie”, then it happened. We got that scene with him. I think it was a real moment for him – he really shocked himself.

A: With his military background and the marathon running, he is so disciplined.

S: With the military stuff I was trying to show that he is a very early 20th century character. They don’t really make them like that anymore. Very stiff upper lip, “Carry on chaps”. You don’t encounter that much. He doesn’t complain. He doesn’t say: “That’s not fair.” He’ll just say: “Right, I’ll do some extra work, then.” In Britain we have a very powerful tabloid culture with celebrities on the front page crying with their make-up smeared and tears, and it’s kind of what you’d expect from someone who likes to dress up that way. It’s a very contradictory bunch of things going on with him, and that’s what makes him so fascinating.

A: Would you ever consider doing a documentary about Eddie’s future political run?

S: No. At this point it will be a while before I do another documentary. Doing it was an enormous film school experience and I don’t regret it for a moment. It was very humbling and exhausting and an incredible experience. I’m grateful for every moment of it now.

A: The theme of the film is believing in yourself. Eddie talks in his shows about believing in the American Dream and the European Dream. Do you believe in those?

S: In the UK a lot of people don’t like to try. There’s a different cultural thing. Here if you try and fail, you get up again and start again and keep going. People respect you for it. Even if you keep failing, they respect the tenacity.

A: We are a country of failures.

S: I love the fact that trying is respected. The American Dream: if you try, if you build it, they will come. I love that. It’s honorable. That’s part of what got this film finished in the end. It’s not really how it is in the UK.

A: It’s funny that you bring up ‘If you build it they will come’ the Kevin Costner movie quote, because he just built that oil spill machine and sold it for millions.

S: What? Not the Hadron Collider? In Geneva?

A: No, Kevin Costner, the actor, invented some centrifuge type device that supposedly separates oil from water and he sold it to the US government to help clean up the oil spill.

S:…You’re kidding.

A: No. He went before Congress. I guess anything is possible. I mean after The Postman and Waterworld, he staged this comeback. It’s The American Dream.

S: That’s the maverick spirit.

Believe has been nominated for an Emmy for Outstanding Non Fiction Special at the 62nd Primetime Emmy Awards 2010. It is available on DVD.

Eddie Izzard is currently performing on Broadway in David Mamet’s Race through August 21.

Street Drum Corps Walks The Walk at the US Open Of Surfing

Often when making their way from humble beginnings to the arena setting, a band will play some odd gigs. State fairs, weddings, bar mitzvahs, cemetery hipster shows and if they chance upon it, the corporate gig. Some may balk at it and call it selling out, but a band that plans on not living on some girl’s couch  a band planning on owning their own equipment – and publishing, knows that getting paid to play instead of the other way around, is the business of show.

So this is why I found myself heading down to ‘the HB, yo’ to see the lads in Street Drum Corps, where they were performing a set at the US Open Of Surfing. Having played the Bamboozle tour, The Alt Brothers and Frank Zummo are no strangers to drumming in the hot sun, but this was right on the beach, right on the water, in close proximity to surf, sand and sunscreen. How would all the leather and studs and war paints hold up in these conditions?

Huntington Beach is only an hour away, but we may as well have needed a passport. Every cliche for SoCal life was immediately present. Barefoot girls in trucker hats? Tattoos of Tilly’s on their ass? Check. Dudes in Ed Hardy? Check. Guy with no shirt wearing a python as a scarf? Check! Los Angeles is supposedly the Babylon that the religious right is so worried about, but if you take a peek behind the Orange curtain, I think there’s a lot more to be sweating right in their own back yard.

As we approached the incredible maze like phalanx set up for the Open, throngs of half naked co-eds with day glo body paint milled about walking from booth to booth looking at displays set up by Nike, G Shock, Skull Candy, Converse and other sponsors. Each PA system at each booth bumped their sound louder, raffling off prizes and announced stupid human trick contests until it was a muddy mix of loud noise where one could only make out a few “yo, dawg” s and “aiiight bra!”s mixed in.

Before heading to the stage to catch the boys play, we decided to take in a bit of surfing competition. I walked down to the beach and looked towards the pier, scanning the horizon. Nope, no surfing going on as far as the eye could see. Strange that. Perhaps a bit later. What was still going on, was a LOT of shilling by Hurley, and other companies with their latest products with the latest technologies to stay drier, be louder, go faster, get drunker. Mixed with booze and free bands, the corporations had the kids as a captive audience. You really have to hand it to them. Genius.

Next to the BMX pit, a stage surrounded by trucker hat wearing teens and twenty somethings, Street Drum Corps took the stage with a rousing rendition of their single ‘Knock Me Out’.

Bobby Alt, sporting a new Billy Idol look, got the crowd singing along, though I’m pretty sure not many of them knew the song, which is definitely a coup.

Bobby Alt knocks the crowd out

What followed next is one of the strangest things I’ve ever seen…Hurley’s ‘Walk The Walk’ is a high school fashion design competition described as  as “Friday Night Football” meets “The Runway”.  After three months of online video challenges, six high schools from across the nation  compete with a runway show with their own Hurley collection in front of Hurley executives and ‘celebrity’ judges like actors from 90210, Lauren Conrad (from The Hills) and Camila Alves (Mrs. McConaughey).    .

What it was really like was a cheerleading/drill team competition from Bring It On, meets MTV’s Pimp My Ride, meets Glee on Crystal Meth. Don’t get me wrong, the designs these kids came up with were great. Some of the routines and dance ideas would make Broadway choreographer throw in the towel. But the onslaught of sparkle and spandex and commerce was very Californication.

And of course it was set up as a competition, for a $25,000 prize that Hurley was donating to the school. Which is awesome of Hurley. Because Hurley is giving a lot of money to help kids who have promising design careers ahead of them. However if you think about the money Hurley is saving…

Companies spend millions of dollars on market research on the teen market. They do a lot of research on what young people want to buy. Especially what young people want to wear. Wouldn’t it be genius to hold a competition around the country and get that market to show you, nay MAKE you exactly what they want to wear? Call it a contest. Throw them .001% of what you would have spent to figure it out. You are local heroes in the community…everybody wins. Surfs up, dude.

Sorry, the cynic is back to the previous blog in progress…

The high schools competing built routines with movable ramps and hoops and ribbons, basket tosses and stunts.

winning high school Corona Del Mar

Some had multi cultural messages, others stuck with the theme, Born In the USA. But the level of professionalism, both in the clothing and in the performance was tops.

Even the hostess, Anna Lynn McCord of 90210 seemed embarrassed to follow some of these teens with her lame stilted patter.

Anna Lynn McCord host unextraordinaire

As the judges conferred on who would take the prize, another band took the stage, Cobra Starship. I know of the band, because I know they were formed after one song written for a movie was a hit. ‘Snakes On A Plane’. You see where I’m going with this? As they launched into their first song, the only thing I could verbally mouth was “How did this happen?” Seriously. With all the talented bands working their asses off all over this great nation, How. Did. This. Happen? I can be patient and graceful, but I’ve found that my patience wears thin when record companies insult me. It reminds me of that Quincy Jones quote: “When you chase music for money, God walks out of the room.” Well some of this music really points towards atheism.

We quickly made our exit, the Street Drum Corps lads drums long silenced, their corporate job done. As we scanned the beaches and the horizons again, not one single surfer was out on the water. Perhaps the surfers who had been paid to surf were done and they had all gone home too.

the only surf board near the water

At least Street Drum Corps really shined and got paid to do what they do well.

That’s one small triumph for the creative spirit, in the face of the corporate Goliath.

Alternative Press Magazine Throw an Arty Party for Their 25th Anniversary

The 25^th Anniversary of Alternative Press continued it’s multi city revelry on Friday in Los Angeles at the Merry Karnowsky gallery where hundreds of iconic musicians and respected rock photographers displayed their art work.

The Cleveland based magazine, who have already celebrated with a big British themed show in Las Vegas, chose an Art Show themed party in Los Angeles, to pay tribute to all of the pin-up posters and amazing art work that has been featured in the magazine since it started.

Founder Mike Shea notes that when AP planned this party, they had some specific guests in mind.

“We are the forgotten child in the magazine world. We’re thought of as a fanzine. A magazine for kids. We create it for kids. We didn’t want to throw a party that was exclusive and for a bunch of advertisers. Kids don’t care about advertisers. They care about music and they care about artwork.”

Nick Cave by Marina Chavez

Amongst the rock n roll portraits of icons such as Trent Reznor,  Robert Smith, Elliot Smith and Nick Cave,  and favorite artists such as The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, The Beastie Boys, The Dandy Warhols, Taking Back Sunday and Paramore, there was art work created by musicians themselves.

Shirley Manson of Garbage fame created a knit on canvas creation called Peking Noodle.

Peking Noodle by Shirley Manson

Adam Jones of Tool contributed a bronze sculpture and Liz McGrath of Miss Derringer’s sculpture Eyes Of Dead Ophelia was a focal point of the exhibit.

Eyes Of Dead Ophelia by Liz McGrath

Rancid’s Tim Armstrong and Shepard Fairey, who were both on hand, proudly hung their paintings and multimedia silkscreen prints in between Marilyn Manson’s eerie watercolors.

Alternative Press founders with Tim Armstrong & Shepard Fairey Photo: Chelsea Lauren

There was even some living art in the form of a Dark Crystal styled monster greeting people on their way into the exhibit. In a sea of punks, goths, cosplay dollies and music denizens, the monster blended right in.

The welcoming committee

Along the back room of the gallery was a small shrine recounting the history of AP with many of the old covers, proofs from old photo shoots, and other memorabilia on display.

Nine Inch Nails memorabilia

One case even included Dave Grohl’s laminate for the Tibetan Freedom Concert that clearly states that his access should be restricted.

Dave's pass

Looking over all the covers throughout the years, the question begged: What makes a good cover? Mike Shea pondered thoughtfully.

“I spoke to some Vogue photographers recently and they said that the trend has gone away from Photoshop and post production. A lot of magazines are doing a raw pared down look. But they tell us to keep doing what we’re doing. Our audience was raised on video games and graphics and green screen technology. It reflects the generation. The stripped down cover doesn’t work for us. They want a lot going on.”

Luckily there was a lot going on both on the walls and in the room. The event was a big success. What was represented on the brightly colored pages on the walls seemed to spring to life as the party went on well into the night.