I Don't Belong Here....

I kind of hate saying, "I went to Venice Beach last weekend." It sounds so exclusive. As though we Californians thought that naming a city, right off the freeway, in Los Angeles after an ancient city, built on water, in a European country known for vineyards, the birthplace of the Renaissance, and the inspiration for Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, was perfectly reasonable.

"Yeah, let's just go ahead and name it Venice. We'll put 'Beach' after it so that it'll be different and point out that we're built on water too. Now. Where are we gonna put the nudie bar?" - Venice Beach city planners

Anyway, I did spend a saturday morning in Venice Beach recently, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I'm sure most of that had to do with the pleasant company, the perfect weather and the fantastic food at GJelina. (Highly recommend the place. Brick floor, rustic tables, food served in skillets, dish towels for napkins....and one rather attractive waiter with hair bordering on an afro, but wearing a sweater with a tie. Which made the afro just look "quirky.")

Speaking of quirky....I notced that Venice Beach seems like just the type of hipster haven that Zooey Deschanel would take to. Meaning....I didn't belong there. Technically speaking, I mean. I, however, felt perfectly comfortable, thank you. With or without tights and leg warmers worn with shorts. But I do wish Zooey would meet me and learn to like me and then we'd rent an apartment together and we could just be two quirky, glasses-wearing, single (R.I.P. Zooey and Ben Gibbard's marriage) gals about town, listening to Ratatat on our walkmans. (Because I swear to you, those are going to be the next trend to hit hipsterville.)

Nope, I wasn't going to be run out of town by those haters of Banana Republic and plastic water bottles. Because, by the way Venice Beach residents, I saw a scarf as thin and insubstantial as John Edward's integrity in one of your atypical, off-beat boutiques for $62.00. So who's all corporate now?

Still, what looked like the pages of an Urban Outfitters catalogue literally spilling onto the sidewalks via some "bad" pot, only made me love and appreciate the refreshingly different feel that comes with a city not in the County of Orange. I'm learning to fall for the dirty, crowded, billboard housing, cheesy tourist sights, unimpressed Los Angelians, run-down parts of L.A. Plus, who wouldn't be taken with a city that has an establishment with this as their marketing slogan: "Home of Turtle Racing."

Although, maybe that love for L.A. only exists on weekend visits. It's a possibility. Maybe I'll find out sometime.... (When Zooey asks me to be her roommate. I'll let you guys know when the housewarming party will be.)

- Just Michelle

Grammy Musings....

I'm sick of all of you cool people. You know who you are....too cool to be entertained by the SuperMadonnaBowl Spectacular. Too cool, certainly, for the fluffy drivel that is the Grammy Awards. Hey, I'm feelin' ya. I get it. But I refuse to be that cool. On the off chance that I get to sit and watch something on TV, I want it to be fun. Preferably sparkly, with lots of varieties of talented people, whether I am actually a fan or just an amused bystander. I'd probably mostly go with the latter for this years Grammy performances, but there were a couple of artists who now have a new fan. Stop reading here if you think my musical opinions are lame. Opinions are like you-know-what...everybody has one.

Bruno Mars. I now love you. I might even purchase some of your music. Your soul tribute was awesome, spot on, gold suits were totally Temps and Tops, and you delevered the best line of the night, "Get off your asses rich people! Let's have some fun!"

Adele. Adorbs. 100%. Please don't argue with me on this. I have no rational arguement, I will just say something like, "Oh yeah?..Well I LOVE her!" #whyimnotcool

LL Cool J prayed. Wow. For everyone criticizing that today, there are 100s of Christians going, "OH YEAH!" And watching all of the beautiful people with their heads bowed while LL spoke to our creator was well worth every time I had to listen to the 12in dance mix of "Goin' Back to Cali" in 1989. God bless you LL.

I jumped off of my couch like a screaming Hessian when the Foo Fighters showed all of the little indie dweebs how to ROCK. While, I might add, keeping intact their very legitimate indie cred.

Rhianna. Channeling her inner Tina Turner Hair. Nice. Give me a call Rhi...I'll show you how we do big bad guys who like to hit girls.

Here is where I lose everybody. I hate Coldplay. The only feelings I can muster for them at all is when I struggle to decide who is more pretentious, Chris Martin or his wife. Dave Grohl makes him look like a British nancy boy.

Again, warning... this will not be a popular opinion either. (Please don't work into a lather. Just say, "Well you know she likes Gaga and Katie Perry, so her taste sucks anyway.") I also hate the Beach Boys. I'm sure I actually hear the distant sound of people booing me and calling me some sort of communist. I know they are American icons, blah blah. I never liked their music, and trotting their old caracsses out for a feely feel good reunion made my eyes roll. Foster the People, who whored you guys out for that cheese? Fire someone. Beach Boys, please see Tony Bennett on how to be old and still relevant.

Ryan Seacrest. Adorbs. Mischa, please marry him. #reason2whyImnotcool.

Sir Paul. Untwist your knickers, of COURSE I love Paul McCartney. The cream colored, double breasted, wide lapel tux was beyond FAB (Haha! See what I did there? Fab/Fab 4. Get it?!), the harp player added the classy, the drummer is one of the best I've ever seen, and Rick literally swooned over the bass player's bass. Like a BOSS, Sir Paul.

Taylor Swift. I turn into a 14 year old girl dreaming of love, drama, and heartbreak. I am singing into my hairbrush with every magical chorus. I love T.Swift, not just because I am totally lame (which has been mightily established), but she is suprisingly talented. Besides, she doesn't put herself out there like a total pop hoochie. #refreshing

Lose the gum Adele. I still love you.

Katie. Love you. HATE your hair. Faded blue? Crimped bob? Cyndi Lauper called, she said that hair was stupid 30 years ago.

Adele. Huge hair = love #wheremyAquaNetat?

Glen Campbell. I knew all of the words to Rhinestone Cowboy. I honestly don't know why, but my family was laughing at me. #starspangledrodeo

Tony and Carrie. SQUEEEE! Tony Bennett wrote the book on cool.

Bon Iver. Are you pretentious, incoherent, drunk, or what? Way to trash the Grammys' Lameosity all week. You make me wish that the ever unoriginal and uninteresting Niki Minaj would have won. Bleah.

How did Joe Walsh get into the awesome superstar line up?

Fave Grammy moment. Foo Fighters with Deadmau5!!! Ok, so I am cool.

Lambaste away, my friends and readers. And, as usual, I'm sorry if I offended anyone. (I'm pretty sure Chris Martin doesn't read my blog anyway.)

just Dawn

Ugly Shoes! and more....

I confess to being a bit of a shoe snob. I am also rather judgey when it comes to fashion and trends. I don't mean to people, it's just a bad (snarky) habit. That being said, I am also definitely NOT Superfashionista myself. Catch me on the weekend sashaying around with my THHS sweatpants with the elastic around the ankles in a double XL. This look is almost definitely accompanied with a bad ponytail. Not a cute, "I'm J-Lo" ponytail, mind you. So since I am both the judge and occasionally the accused, let us review the worst trends ever in my humble opinion, in no particular order...

The Fanny Pack. I know what you're thinking...Dawn, they are so practical! Just for Disneyland or travel? Unequivocally, NO. Not ever. The fact that they are often seen in flourescent technicolor makes them even more offensive.

Scrunchies. While there were certainly many regrettable 80s trends, it seems that this one took the longest to die. Ladies had long hung up their Jellies sandals and stonewashed Chemin de Fers (Google it youngsters), but were still rockin the matchy matchy Scrunchy. I still often see them in bathing suit catalogues. Just say nay nay to the Scrunchy please, even if it matches your Miraclesuit.

Crocs, Toms, Birkenstocks, and Uggs. Not since the 1970s punk rock fashion movement featuring combat boots, has their been a more awful fashion abomination for feet. Cordwainers everywhere are dying on the inside. Please do not give me the whole "comfort" or "humanitarian" arguement...no quarter.

(Confession: I own Crocs. I garden in them or cook if I am going to be standing a long time, and even then, I am ashamed.)

Blue eye shadow. Erroneous. Blue eye shadow is fab.

Grunge Era. Everything. Especially the Surly Expression, Flannel, and Herion Chic. Way worse than the fashion crimes of the 70s and 80s.

Ed Hardy. Not the worst ever, but Ed Hardy enthusiasts tend to annoy me.

Mini Skirts/Shorts with Wooly Boots or (gasp) Uggs. For some reason, nothing says "Appalachian Hoochie" quicker than this look.

Overalls. If you know me at all, you know my opinion of adults in Overalls. Only permissable for two occupations: Farmer (duh), or Kindergarten Teacher. (I don't know why this look is somehow ok for them, it just is. Must have something to do with the wooden apple earrings and the Puffy-painted Keds.)

Small Dogs as accessories. Unless they are truly loved and pampered pooches, nothing will incur my ire faster than a chihuahua in a Louis Vuitton, on the arm of a smiling heiress.

This is obviously a short list, so feel free to add your faves in the comments section. I would have included Minimally Talented Pop Stars in Dresses Made of Meat just for Mischa, but I would be as wrong as she is. :)

just Dawn

Beach Day musings

Just a few thoughts and observations from an AWESOME time at the beach with Rick.

• LARGE fat man in a Speedo: Never ok. Never, ever, ever ok. Like a car accident, I just couldn't look away. I need soap for my eyes.


• Group of "serious" cyclists in their cycling costumes for half a mile down PCH. Right in the midde of them: 2 dudes with swim trunks on beach cruisers drinking something out of red Solo beer pong cups. Awesome.


• You might be a redneck if: You have a giant FREEBIRD tattoo spanning your entire back. (Jeff Foxworthy, you may use this.)


• We brought chairs this time, but no umbrella. Rookies. But we are learning.


• Rick and I had a rock skipping contest. He won by a huge margin. I did, however find a sparkly rock in the perfect shape of a heart. :)


• 6 little Asian children getting LUNCHED on their Boogie Boards. Almost like "Wipeout, the Reality Show."


• Spandex is only for skinny people.

Great day! Had the best time laughing with my BEST friend!

just Dawn

Celebrity and Me

Most people who know me know how largely unimpressed with all things "Celebrity" that I am. Please refer to several earlier posts if you enjoy angry rants about the rich, famous, and egomanaical. Today, I was thinking about the fact that I have actually met a lot of celebrities from all walks...movies, television, sports, music, and theater (Well, not exactly theater, I am from Las Vegas and I have met Bambi and Bambi Junior. Plus Frank Marino who does a dead on Joan Rivers! That counts, right?)

Redd Foxx: I met him at the Boulevard Mall in Las Vegas when I was in about 6th grade. I knew him from Sanford and Son NOT from his raunchy XXX rated comedy. So it was no wonder that looking back, he gave me an odd greeting. I asked him for his autograph, which he graciously gave, and then handed me 5 bucks and told me to go buy a small bone for my dog. Me: "Mom! Redd Foxx gave me 5 bucks!" Mom: *dodgy glance at crazy old man*

Ozzy Osbourne: Backstage, Diary of a Madman Tour, I think....some of the 80s are blurry. Ozzy: "Mmfgmldphngfd!" Me: "OMGsh! Totally!! I love you Ozzy!!!" Sigh. Stupid teenager.

Red Hot Chili Peppers
Anthony Kiedis and Flea: At Paradise Alley in Las Vegas. I was there with some (rowdy) friends from a local band and as we walked through the parking lot, all of the band gentlemen were acquainted. They began to have a friendly pool ball chucking exchange. (I don't get boys. At. All.) Anthony noticed me as I deftly dodged a cue ball, and he practically squealed, "YOU'RE GODIVA!" I told him I was, and it turns out several of the band guys and crew were huge wrestling fans. He asked me if I could Airplane Spin him. Being that he is about 5'5" and weighs about a buck o five, I assured him I could. Wait for it...."SPIN ME!! GODIVA SPIN ME!" I spun him. Right in the parking lot. He ran away, thrilled, and told me to wait here. He comes back with Flea, who is a more rabid fan than Anthony. Flea tells me he and the drum roadie have a wrestling match planned on the front lawn at Caesars for the next morning AND would I show him some moves?!!! (ONLY IN LAS VEGAS!) Hell to the yeah I will, Flea! So we adjourned to a VIP room at PA and I put Flea in a figure 4 leg lock. (This is a legit and painful wrestling move, non-fans, so please do not read anything R-rated into this exchange.)
Several years later, a good friend of mine, Tony, went to LA to audition for the Chili Peppers. So did a lot of guitar players. Anthony looks at his intake form, info, etc. and says, "You're from Las Vegas?! Do you know Godiva?!" My friend almost fell over in the How-random-can-you-be-catagory.

Paul Anka: Lived next door to him for a couple of years. This one really doesn't count because I only met his dog. I threw her treats almost daily as my private entrance to the house overlooked her dog run.

Jim Dandy: I only include this because it is wierd. He is some guy from some hippie-esque 70s rock band called Black Oak Arkansas. I didn't know who he was, even when he sang me their "famous" song. He didn't care we totally laughed. I'll be more impressed if any of you know who he is, than by the actual him.

Known Godiva fans:
Bruce Jenner. Mt. Fiji met him once at a benefit and he went right over to her and asked her if Godiva was here. I wasn't, but apparantly, the Olympian made a big fuss over his love for me. Look out Kris Jenner! Woohoo! Kim and Chloe could be my semi-step kids!!
Brian "Boz" Bosworth, Seattle Seahawks. Sent "His People" up to me in La Dome in Hollywood to let me know "The Boz" wanted to meet me at his table. I told said "People" that Boz was welcome to join me, but Godiva would not be summoned by an American football player. Boz joined me briefly, to tell me he was a fan and hang out for a bit. Sweet, really, once the "entorauge" nonsense was disabled.

I actually have lots of celebrity stuff...between growing up in Las Vegas and being a quasi-television personality (reality TV before its time) and living in LA, I've met lots of famous and infamous. Apparently, I told a serious Mafia Don in Little Italy in New York, that I wouldn't wash my feet in the swill of the champagne that he offered to purchase. Oops.
I won't include it all lest you think that I am IMPRESSED by them. Still not....except one encounter...The only time one, (or 2 or 3) of them took my breath away......

Sammy Davis Jr., Liza Minelli, and Joey Ramone: I was invited to be a guest at the Jerry Lewis Telethon in New York with Sammy Davis Jr. I was in line with Fiji to sign in, find dressing rooms, etc., when someone taps me on the shoulder and asks me if I know where she is supposed to sign in. I turn around...it's LIZA FREAKING MINELLI. Yeah. Pick up your stupid gaping jaw "Godiva". I'm sure I said something completely idiotic to her. I have NO idea. I resume the check in process, kicking myself for being such an uncool douche, while behind me I hear, "It's Godiva! No seriously, it's HER!" I turn around, ready to restore my battered faith in my own cool by interacting with an obviously enamoured fan....and it's Joey Ramone. Lurching over me like a 6'7" Rock and Roll Cousin It. Coolest. Rock STAR. Ever. I ignored him and almost barfed. (I was still reeling from Liza with a Z, and JOEY RAMONE shuffles up??? AND he loves me?!) I can't even describe how completely freaked out I was when one of the Rat Pack, Mr. Las Vegas, SAMMY! comes in to my dressing room to welcome me. I had pulled myself together a bit in anticipation of meeting him, but I confess to being less than smooth.
OMGsh Dawn, what a poseur of a Diva you are! You can't even stand your own in a room with Las Vegas AND Punk Rock royalty. (In my defense, WHO puts those two together???) Luckily, I had bought into my own mystique by the end of the taping (the Ramones did "Sedated" live, yes they did.) and was able to have a normal convo with Joey. He was shy and sweet. And a Godiva fan. For those of you keeping track...this makes me officially, and forever...cool.

So, unimpressed though I may be by celebrity in general, I smile at my brushes with greatness. Maybe one or two of them smiled at their brushes with me.

just Dawn

Selective Memory

Michelle and Dawn - we should be ashamed of ourselves! Nearly a month has gone by since one of us posted something worthwhile to our blog, and that is simply unacceptable. I'd like us to do something about that immediately. And Michelle, since you follow direction exceptionally well (especially if it's coming from yourself), go to it.





"Okay. But what if I don't have anything of significance to write about?"





Then you might want to recognize that as a sad lack of creative writing skills. Or, a severe state of pitiable boredom.





"Hmmm, yes. One or both of those sounds very plausbible."





Just write what you write best: you know, that whole cynicism thing.





"Good call. I like the way you think, me."





And that's how it went in my head. So, here I am, trying to get in at least one more blog post in the month of June. (Which should tell you right now that I'm not writing this post because it was inspired by some amazing/fascinating/irritating/humorous observation. Or, inspired by something meaningful. Kind of like tattoos: If you have to ask your friends, "So, what should I get tattooed on my body this time?", then you probably don't actually need to get one. Things that require you to permanently alter your body for the duration of your life should, in my humble opinion, be at least mildly significant and have a point to them. But moving on...)





And now that I've overclarified the backstory to this post, let's get started. I've decided that instead of being all cynical and complain-y, I thought I'd write something entertaining (probably only to me) and maybe even nostalgic (again, probably only for me. And maybe my sister.)





I went to Disneyland with my family this past week, and I definitely noticed that seeing it through my nieces' eyes made it extra fun. But I have to admit that I'm pretty sure I didn't need 3 little girls there to get me to that place of childlike euphoria and awe. Other than feeling like my legs and feet had been beat with lots of tiny angry fists by the end of the day, or shaking my head at the prices of things in a digruntled way that clearly shows I've been jaded by the economy, I was pretty much in the mindset of a kid the whole time.





Disneyland holds some of the best, most comforting childhood memories for me, and it made me start thinking about the other things that were a part of my youthhood that still make me feel exactly like I did as a kid. I thought I'd list some of those. Some may need explanation ("why do you receive comfort from mail slots in front doors, or the smell of certain kinds of laundry detergent, Michelle?" Don't worry about it.), and some probably won't. And some will probably have you embarrassed for me. We'll see, won't we. Here goes...

• "Mary Poppins." This shouldn't even require explanation. But, basically, I call that movie my "comfort food" movie. Everything about it makes me feel...comforted. And carefree. I can't tell you how happy I was when I heard my nephews were obsessed with the movie. That put them as officially a part of our family, in my opinion.




• Huey Lewis. But only because it reminds me of "Back to the Future." Which leads me to Michael J. Fox. I don't know how he made such a hideous puffy, nylon vest look so attractive and cool, but he did. And he did a fine job of it.




• The really awful, pointy animation of "Sleeping Beauty." Today, it looks almost purposeful because it seems all arty and surrealist, but that's probably not what they were going for in 1959. And that's perfectly fine.




• Laffy Taffy and Fruit Roll-Ups, neither of which taste anything like the original. They're both still deceptively called by their original names, but instead of "grape" flavor or "cherry" flavor, there's "Psychedelic Rainbow flavor!" Or, "Banana Strawberry Smoothie!" No.




• The smell of chlorine. This is one of those that probably needs some explaining. That smell will always remind me of swimming lessons in indoor pools with flourescent lighting and echoe-y, loud voices and not noticing if you got a swimsuit wedgie. Not noticing or just not caring. One or both of those.




• The Beach Boys and John Denver...together. This is because these were my family's first two Real! Live! C.D.s! So of course we listened to them on rotation one summer when I was a kid living in California and swimming all day long. So, naturally, summer and swimming and the music of The Beach Boys and the original Rocky Mountain High go together quite nicely for me.




• Toto's "Africa", and Willie Nelson singing "You Were Always on my Mind." Okay wait; let me explain. As a kid, my parents got an Oldsmobile, and with that majestic piece of automotive machinery came a delightful casette tape of songs picked out specifically by, I'm guessing, the makers of the Oldsmobile. Maybe they were hoping the music would inspire the driver of their automobile to imagine himself coasting down an open road with wind in his hair and a beautiful woman making herself right at home on his sexy maroon, felt car seats, and then the driver would go tell all his middle aged, little -league-dad friends that they too can have that life: the life of an Oldsmobile owner. Either way, the songs on that tape would be a volitle and piercing ringing to anyone else's ears. But to my siblings and I, the music is pure gold. We still talk about "the Oldsmobile tape" and I've gone as (pathetically?) far as to try and remember every song on it so I can create a playlist. Which brings us back to Toto and Willie Nelson. They both made an appearance on the casette, and they will forever be known as "family road trip" music for me.

So, there's some nostalgia for you. My own, but still; nostalgia nonetheless.

(Let the mocking from Dawn about every musical reference in this post begin...)

Just Michelle

Movin' on Up.

Moving is fun. I'll bet you've never seen those words written together. But here I am, in my "New Digs" (more on that later) and I've forgotten the pain and hassle of moving. The backbreaking physical WORK of moving all of our belongings from point A to point B and then spit shining point A AND point B. (No, I didn't spit on anything, people, did you just meet me?!) It's kind of like child birth....tons of work and discomfort and pain, and then your whole life is happy and new and wonderful. (Well, for 19 years at least.)

At this point, dear Reader, go back and read my post about Lake Forest. Hey Lake Forest, Hell called, they want to know where they can get some more leaf blowers.

Humorous moving stories: #1. I drugged my dog. Poor Ruby! Both of them must have taken note of that because they have been on their absolute best behavior. #2. I have a cardboard cut out of a "Luau Guy" and a "Hula Bikini Girl", you know, where you put your face in the hole where their face should be and take pictures of Grandma and Grandpa as sexy hula folk. Hilarity ensues. Well the 3 ex-cons we hired from "Super Cheap Moving Company...We'll make ya an offer youse can't refuse!" thought it was hilarious too and I walked in on them posing and snapping photos. Their embarassment was adorbs, especially when I told one of them that that bikini made his boobs look nice. But hey, they got a good Facebook post out of it. #3. Incredible friend Jim shows up to help and works with us all day on both ends. He is carrying in a large box of dishes and the box gives out. The crash was deafening and everyone stood in silence. John was waiting for a serious swear word, I was trying to think of something nice to say so he wouldn't feel bad like, "Oh, I didn't have room for those dishes anyway." and Rick walks in and says, "Hey Ballidis, you're Greek!...OPAHH!!!"
Funny husband AND friend points.

Non-humorous moving stories: #1. 1st night in our new house, glorious sunset, across the street neighbors making us dinner...John's car breaks down on the freeway. Super-size my stress, please! I didn't want any money anyway! #2. Washing machine making clicking sound instead of washing sound. No repairman till Thursday. #3. Plug in my trusty PC and get lines, static, 4 beeps and power off. (Ok, maybe this one is funny, because after I got done panicking, contacting my IT guy on retainer, and removing the battery, I realized that I was using the wrong power cord. User error, again. (I owe said IT guy a box of cupcakes from Frostings.)

WORST part of the move: Money stress, sore back, more money stress. Finding a new Costco, Vet, and Del Taco. Transferring all of my prescriptions. Not being able to find______(fill in the blank...band aids when Rex busted open his tail, box cutter when boxes got 2 stories high, garlic press.) Waiting for the cable guy. I HATE waiting for the cable guy. I despise the phrase "new digs" to describe moving into a new home, and 3 people in a row asked me how the "new digs" are. Did I mention the money stress?

BEST part of the move: The nightly sunset light and color show is a gift. God talks to me in colors a lot, and being here is just confirmation to me that He desires to be close to me. That He wants to make me smile, and He is promising me a colorful smile 365 evenings a year. I AM God's masterpiece, along with His ocean, His sun, and His sky. Wow. It feels amazing to be loved this much. In light of this, you may disregard the previous list of "Worsts". There is no worst when we get all of God's best.

Plus, God doesn't take Visa or Mastercard. Whew! Finally no money stress. If you need me, I'll be on my new patio asking God how to blend orange into purple so seamlessly. (If you are on my Christmas gift list, you are all getting paintings of sunsets. I will try to do Him justice.)

just Dawn