Vast Ocean

Yesterday morning, Russ and I woke up early and drove to Santa Monica for our very first ocean swim. We were so excited and I was actually VERY nervous about the water being cold. That to me would be pain and you fear pain. It's the same as going to get a root canal. You are not afraid that something is going to happen during the procedure, just that you know you are subjecting yourself to pain and a generally unpleasant experience.

To my surprise, the water was a balmy 67. In the wetsuit, it was quite nice. My beginning group of 3 with our leader Conrad marched into the water to practice getting in and out. We learned to duck dive under waves, which I thought were scary and big. Conrad agreed that the conditions were not favorable to a beginner. I actually had a great time going under the waves and was doing very well. And then I panicked. We were to swim past the waves to the calm. And I went in to try to swim and the ocean, the big waves, the salt water it all literally came crashing down on me. I tried to get into my swimming rhythm, but couldn't seem to breathe. I needed to stop and try to center myself but we were right in the middle of the waves parts. There was no resting. You had to swim under the waves and I couldn't put my head under anymore. I remembered a time when I got stuck in the middle of a lake because Edward wanted me to swim back to the boat so he could windsurf alone. The boat wasn't anchored. i found myself right in the boat path, alone and helpless. And I remembered the time when I was 4 at a swimming lesson. The teacher was away at the moment so I decided to show off for my mom who was watching from the side. The pool was too deep, I couldn't swim yet and I panicked. My mom just sat and watched. She later told me she thought I'd learn faster if she didn't try to help. I was alone and helpless. Swimming back in was almost impossible. If it weren't for that annoying little girl cheering me on, I don't think I would have made it. And actually, it also made me think that I don't know if I could cheer on the annoying little girl, as a side note. She was just too annoying.

I don't know if I can do the swim.......

Rhiannon rings like a bell in the night...

Rhiannon, besides being a song about a Welsh witch, is a dear Welsh friend. Well, she's a friend who happens to be Welsh I suppose it more accurate. And she's married to another dear friend Michael. Here we are eating at French 75. It was a wonderful dinner to celebrate their birthdays and the impending birthday of their daughter. Russ said when the chocolate souffle came out, I made an O face. I think he was jealous of the dessert.

Luck of the Irish

The Irish have never been really lucky in any way. Generally, that island has been invaded and subjugated over the past 2000 years. I think the phrase is meant ot be ironic. But then there is Guinness. I have always had good luck when it comes to Guinness. Friday night was indeed a lovely time surrounded by friends and Guinness. In fact, besides our dear Disney friends, we stumbled upon Pete, an old stand-up friend from Chicago. And by stand-up friend, I mean we all did stand-up. Pete is one of the most sweet, talented people I know. He wrote, directed and starred in a movie, which actually was really funny. The triple threat is usually a buzz kill, but this one truly did not suck. But Pete is jobless, taking writing gigs from time to time and playing father to his young son Joseph. Sometimes I miss being on that end of the business. But rarely. Surrounded by friends and Guinness, I feel really lucky.

Angie Lafontaine

Friday, I drove down to E! in the Mid-Wilshire district or Miracle Mile or whatever it's called and shot a few more installments of The 7 deadly Sins of Hollywood. I think they changed the title to somethign less logical like The 7 Hollywood Sins Deadly. Russ oh so kindly brought me in to play one of the talking head characters. It's really fun. Angie is an OC tabloid subscriber. She KNOWS celebrities like she knows sculptured nails. Note the fake eyelashes. I kept the make-up on all day, just for fun. I got so many compliments, I'm considering making this my new look.

On the way back to Disney, I stopped for petrol. Geez. I'm going broke driving in LA. Note the bilboard of a little girl crying. It's some photo exhibit about End Times, which is weird, but I find it ultimately ironic that it is posted by a gas station. The tank cost over $46. I don't even drive an SUV. And instead of shutting off as pumps normally do, this one lept out of the tank and squirted all over the ground. I probably lost a good $5 right there on the pavement.

Whatever happened to Full Serve???

Waxy

Oh, the pain!

I had my very first bikini waxing yesterday. All my friends rave about it, so it seemed like the thing to do. My first question is, what man invented this? Oh, my dear jesus, the pain was unreal. And, hey! It lasts for HOURS. I'm still a little stingy today.

When I made the appointment, I was very clear that this was my first waxing and I was afraid of it. The suggestion was for me to take an advil before hand. I did, but what effect that had I have no idea. I showed up on time and waited. Then my waxer, Noelle, greeted me. She's a cute little goth girl from Indiana. All of 25 maybe. I kept convincing myself that she would be very good, even if she wan't remotely Russian. I told her this was my first time. She remarked that everything would be just fine. I'm blonde after all - tiny little hairs that come out easily. She started explaining everything she was doing. I tried to take the curious, scientific approach thinking that would distract me. No go. It really hurt. Noelle kept the chatter going, trying to keep me focused. At this point, I was assuming there would be about 5 strips to rip off. There were lots! I had no idea they do little sections. Oh, the pain, the pain. Not quite as bad as getting a piercing. Possibly close to getting a tatoo. Which by the way, this has sealed it for me that I'm not going to sport the ink.

After leaving, I went to the coffee house next door to recover over a sandwich and a latte. The shock was wearing off and I was feeling pretty good. Somewhere in the mid-afternoon however, I started really feeling nauseas. I think I was running a fever. This can't be good for you. I finally had the courage to peek and see Noelle's handywork. She missed a few spots. I shuddered to think that there could have been more. So did she stop because I looked as if I was going to pass out? Or is it that spots get missed? Or is she just not that great a waxer?

After all that, I know deep in my heart that I will be back in that table in six weeks.

Night Running

I went fo ran evenin run. Had to as it was 100 degrees in various parts of the valley today. I love running at the end if the day. You get to see so much. I met about 5 dogs, three were just puppies. One cat. Quite a few families on a post meal walk. I smelled BBQ, hamburgers, and I think chef Boy-r-dee ravioli. usually it's tater-tots, but that was missing. Maybe Tater-tots are not a Sunday night offering. There is something so binding about meeting people in your neighborhood in a Sunday.

Jason's birthday

This is Jason. He had a birthday party last night.

I found myself on the roof of the Standard Hotel on the Sunset strip speaking in Hollywoodese. It's a dialect that one picks up when around these types. Funny thing is these types are my friends. I gave Jason some Hands Off! Anti-masturbation creme and a book of 1950's pin-ups. Seemed appropriate. I usually give him some sort of underwear, but I couldn't find anything this year that I haven't already given him. Besides, it's really hard to beat that one time in 1999....

Our friend Michael had a party at his house. There was already a running joke centered around the fact that I prefer thong underwear. I had jokingly promised I would donate a pair to Jason. Russ and I devised a plan. So, being his birthday and all, I gave him a little black pair in the kitchen, right in front of everyone. Everyone laughed and Russ stormed off in a pretend huff, but we played it up to Jason, telling him that Russ was so mad he had locked himself in the bathroom. So Jason went to find Russ and "talk him down" when Russ appeared, handing his own boxer-briefs to Jason, not to be outdone. And that was the night the McGarrys gave Jason their undergarments.

Father and Son Pizza

Back in Chicago, I lived right behind Father and Son Pizza on Milwaukee Ave, just past Fullerton. Even though it was a few steps away, I always had baked ziti delivered in the winter. One summer day, I was there noshing and sipping stale iced tea (it was never good there) and I realized that right behind me was legendary film critic Roger Ebert. He was waxing poetic about Sean Penn being the greatest American actor of our time. It was a valid argument in 1989. Father and Son was a favorite of his, so I wasn't surprised by his presence but star struck nonetheless. Famous people rarely came out in Chicago.

Years later in LA, I was walking up to the Vanity Fair party after the 1999 Oscars when I spotted Gene Siskel, the other half of the famous film critic duo. I lived in the neighborhood and it was an annual trek to walk up Robertson Ave and watch stars do the red carpet thing. This year, due to a traffic snafu, the stars ALSO had to walk up Robertson Ave much to our delight. As our comic friend Pardo was on the phone to another comic, Pat, Gene passed by. Jimmy held out the phone to Gene and said, "Gene Siskel, say hello to Pat in Chicago!" And he did. Without a beat he said, "Hello, Pat, " and kept walking up Robertson. Being Chicagoans, we were awed by not only the presence but the vocal acuity of dear old Gene. And those were the last words we heard him say. He died weeks later.