Dear Blob,
Let's Pretend We're Bunny Rabbits! by The Magnetic Fields! Covered by The Ukulady & The Evil Sandwiches!
Love The Ukulady
ps: Stay tuned for the Continuing Gaga of Mitch Being Fired Because He Is Gay! Waiting for the update....
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
UkuAdventures in LA: The Power of Cookies!
PHOTOS: Mitch & his Daughter, Powerful Japanese Cookies!
Dear Blob,
A few months ago while shopping at my local Japanese grocery I took a photo of a package of Japanese cookies called Cream Collons, posted it to facebook and tagged my best gay friends in it. They were amused.
Last week my BFF, Mitch Stein, was fired from his water-polo coaching job at his daughter's high school, for being gay. An anonymous parent sent the principal and superintendent of Charter Oak
High School in Covina an angry letter demanding Coach Stein be fired and included:
1. a photo of Mitch and some drag queens
2. Mitch eating a corndog
3. my Cream Collon Cookies photo.
Within a couple hours of his firing, four gay lawyers offered their services for free and dozens of parents of water-polo players wrote letters demanding that the best coach they've ever had, be re-hired.
The Principal and Superintendent insist Mitch was not fired for being gay, pointing out they have several other gay teachers. Mitch points out the other gay teachers are the Good kind of Gay: Quiet. Mitch is anything but a Quiet Gay. Aside from his desire to get back on the pool deck and coach, he's hoping this situation will secure him a spot as Grand Marshal of Gay Pride Long Beach.
I am beyond appalled that humans who consider themselves educators of children are promoting discrimination and homophobia. My tax dollars are going to a public school system that is celebrating and modeling Hate. The kids of Charter Oak High School are being taught homophobia and I'm angry! I'm sickened and sad for the Gay Kids of America and outraged that so-called child-advocates consider it ok to choose Hate over Human Sexuality.
I have some questions for Principal Kathleen Wiard and Superintendent Terry Stanfill of Charter Oak High School in West Covina:
1. How will you fight discrimination and homophobia in your school?
2. What message does the firing of Coach Stein send to the Gay Students? To the straight students?
To me their actions say Hate is Cool! it's ok to fire someone for being loudly, openly gay; and if you are a gay student, you better keep quiet or risk future jobs and professional opportunities.
3. Why do you, Principal & Superintendent, think Coach Stein thinks you fired him because he is gay?
Apparently the Principal & Superintendent and Anonymous Mormon parent prefer hate over human sexuality. Why are humans so afraid of human sexuality? Perhaps because it puts us on the same level as animals and humans want to think we are more than animals. We aren't. Not yet.
I would far prefer my theoretical child to learn about human sexuality of all kinds than hate.
Please pass this blog on Readers. Making the principal & superintendent's shamefully hateful act public, is part of the Downfall of Evil.
Love The Ukulady
ps: Mitch, saavy heeb he is, had even gotten the water-polo team a $500/month sponsor.
pps: This principal and superintendent will never work in Hollywood with this kind of attitude. I hope they have really bad hair, outfits and home decor forever, as no gay should ever give them any fashion or decorating advice.
ppps: Stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason. I love advice and hot tips from my gays. We all have our strengths: I've got a fiscally-saavy-heeb gene; Ukulad, from the South, is leisurely-slow; Cameron blows away feng-shui furniture arrangers.
Dear Blob,
A few months ago while shopping at my local Japanese grocery I took a photo of a package of Japanese cookies called Cream Collons, posted it to facebook and tagged my best gay friends in it. They were amused.
Last week my BFF, Mitch Stein, was fired from his water-polo coaching job at his daughter's high school, for being gay. An anonymous parent sent the principal and superintendent of Charter Oak
High School in Covina an angry letter demanding Coach Stein be fired and included:
1. a photo of Mitch and some drag queens
2. Mitch eating a corndog
3. my Cream Collon Cookies photo.
Within a couple hours of his firing, four gay lawyers offered their services for free and dozens of parents of water-polo players wrote letters demanding that the best coach they've ever had, be re-hired.
The Principal and Superintendent insist Mitch was not fired for being gay, pointing out they have several other gay teachers. Mitch points out the other gay teachers are the Good kind of Gay: Quiet. Mitch is anything but a Quiet Gay. Aside from his desire to get back on the pool deck and coach, he's hoping this situation will secure him a spot as Grand Marshal of Gay Pride Long Beach.
I am beyond appalled that humans who consider themselves educators of children are promoting discrimination and homophobia. My tax dollars are going to a public school system that is celebrating and modeling Hate. The kids of Charter Oak High School are being taught homophobia and I'm angry! I'm sickened and sad for the Gay Kids of America and outraged that so-called child-advocates consider it ok to choose Hate over Human Sexuality.
I have some questions for Principal Kathleen Wiard and Superintendent Terry Stanfill of Charter Oak High School in West Covina:
1. How will you fight discrimination and homophobia in your school?
2. What message does the firing of Coach Stein send to the Gay Students? To the straight students?
To me their actions say Hate is Cool! it's ok to fire someone for being loudly, openly gay; and if you are a gay student, you better keep quiet or risk future jobs and professional opportunities.
3. Why do you, Principal & Superintendent, think Coach Stein thinks you fired him because he is gay?
Apparently the Principal & Superintendent and Anonymous Mormon parent prefer hate over human sexuality. Why are humans so afraid of human sexuality? Perhaps because it puts us on the same level as animals and humans want to think we are more than animals. We aren't. Not yet.
I would far prefer my theoretical child to learn about human sexuality of all kinds than hate.
Please pass this blog on Readers. Making the principal & superintendent's shamefully hateful act public, is part of the Downfall of Evil.
Love The Ukulady
ps: Mitch, saavy heeb he is, had even gotten the water-polo team a $500/month sponsor.
pps: This principal and superintendent will never work in Hollywood with this kind of attitude. I hope they have really bad hair, outfits and home decor forever, as no gay should ever give them any fashion or decorating advice.
ppps: Stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason. I love advice and hot tips from my gays. We all have our strengths: I've got a fiscally-saavy-heeb gene; Ukulad, from the South, is leisurely-slow; Cameron blows away feng-shui furniture arrangers.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
UkuAdventures: Kim Jong Il Should Read the Far Side!
Dear Blob,
Maybe if Kim Jong Il read the Far Side, he would lighten up and the people of North Korea could enjoy the interweb, world travel and reading literature other than books about Kim Jong Il.
Love The Ukulady
ps: I'm particularly partial to Far Side Chickens.
pps: I drove to the Bay Area today! Little is as soothing as the feeling of being in my homeland and I was like a junkie for the summer Northern California Air, inhaling giant sniffs, unable to get enough of it. Thrilling and joyful to see the starry sky again.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
UkuAdventures in LA: Monster Truck Hits The Ukulady!
PHOTOS: Ukulady, Phil Proctor of Firesign Theater & Evil Strawberry Sandwich!
Dear Blob,
I started my day calling 911 and ended my day with doughnut crumbs in my hair. An unbelievable 10 hours.
After an early am hour in excruciating lady-pain, moaning on the couch, thinking of the pioneers, clutching my pouch and awaiting ibuprofen to kick in, which it did, I embarked on an excursion to my voiceover agency in Studio City.
My car was fresh with 2 new tires and an alignment after the flat tire on the 405 incident 2 days ago. I and Zippy Cupcake entered the hell of the 405 North at morning rush hour. I turned on my indicator, checked my mirrors, noticed a monster truck in the next lane, behind me, with plenty of room to merge. I began to change lanes and was shocked when the monster truck hit me smack on the back of my car. I pulled to the side of the 405 for the second time in 3 days and surprisingly, another small silver car also pulled over. Apparently the monster truck hit both of us and oddly, in the exact same place. She had been behind me, merging as well and he clearly did not see either of us. My theory is his truck was too high and our cars are low to the ground.
It was ridiculous being in the shoulder of the 405 twice in 3 days. The truck driver became defensive and schmucky, yelling at me and the other girl in the small car that we had run into him. It was an odd moment, deciding to call 911; I was unsure whether it was a 911 situation. It was an emergency but not life-threatening; there should be another number for Sort-Of-Emergencies; Non life-threatening emergencies.
The coppers arrived and we were ordered back in our cars while they did their police business. Awaiting the cops for my story-version, there was another fender bender right next to us. It was surreal, watching and hearing their crunching crash and I felt somewhat jealous of them because their accident situation was not going to involve waiting for cops, as they were already right there with our accident. We could have had an accident party and networked!
Police report done, car inspected, it appeared I could drive on to my audition. I pulled on to the freeway and got up to about 50 mph, when I heard beeping and a white car pulled up alongside me, frantically waving for to get off the freeway. Thank meep I did, because the white car turned out to be a AAA technician who noticed my back tire, where the Monster Truck hit it, wobbling and about to come off!
My new BFF, Daniel, the AAA Technician from El Salvador, saved my life! Chatting with him as we awaited Alphie and his tow truck, I felt like I was in the movie Crash. Daniel and I discussed God, The Universe, Death, Nature & Pupusas. I got to know about Daniel's absent father and his pre-school teacher wife, whom he brought from El Salvador. He knew my voiceover work from The Sims and Silent Hill and we talked about having children. It was a cinematic meeting and I hugged him farewell when Alphie arrived.
Alphie, a recent UCLA microbiology graduate, inspected my car, declared my axel bent and towed my car to Jessy the Mechanic.
Along the way, Alphie told me a riveting story of his college buddies who were recently beaten by SF Cops and had captured it on video! One of the beaten kids's father is a Bel Air Lawyer/DA. Bad kid for the police to beat up. Alphie also revealed he'd towed Jay Leno's car and Pierce Bronsnan's, who startled Alphie with his extraordinary in-real-life-beauty, even though Alphie is not gay. It was the best AAA experience possible.
Jessy the Mechanic was awesome, insurance-reporting was smooth and Dayton at Hertz was hilarious. Five hours after I left the Marshmallow, I arrived at my agency where I pretended to be cartoon flamingo twins. I hope I book the parts.
I arrived home to Jessica for band rehearsal and collapsed, my body depleted of energy from the adrenalin.
Somehow I revived by 7 to play dress-up and perform songs at a variety show for an audience of Phil Proctor of Firesign Theater and other oddball artists. I wore my pioneer bonnet for a rendition of Campfire Vampire. After the show, Jessica bought us doughnuts, reminiscent of our Churro Times in Mexico.
I returned the the Marshmallow and wearing my doughnut pants, covered in glaze and powdered sugar, considered my day; it was unexpected, but the smoothest, most pleasant car-garbagecrap day/experience/event possible, thanks to Daniel, Alphie & Jessy. They made me want to be a AAA Technician, the Modern Hero.
Love The Ukulady
ps: Lately I've been wanting to do every job I've been around: Elvis Impersonator, AAA Techie, Mechanic, Accordion Player....
pps: Everyone's LA Car-Crap Card comes up at some point. May the past 4 days last me many years to come.
Dear Blob,
I started my day calling 911 and ended my day with doughnut crumbs in my hair. An unbelievable 10 hours.
After an early am hour in excruciating lady-pain, moaning on the couch, thinking of the pioneers, clutching my pouch and awaiting ibuprofen to kick in, which it did, I embarked on an excursion to my voiceover agency in Studio City.
My car was fresh with 2 new tires and an alignment after the flat tire on the 405 incident 2 days ago. I and Zippy Cupcake entered the hell of the 405 North at morning rush hour. I turned on my indicator, checked my mirrors, noticed a monster truck in the next lane, behind me, with plenty of room to merge. I began to change lanes and was shocked when the monster truck hit me smack on the back of my car. I pulled to the side of the 405 for the second time in 3 days and surprisingly, another small silver car also pulled over. Apparently the monster truck hit both of us and oddly, in the exact same place. She had been behind me, merging as well and he clearly did not see either of us. My theory is his truck was too high and our cars are low to the ground.
It was ridiculous being in the shoulder of the 405 twice in 3 days. The truck driver became defensive and schmucky, yelling at me and the other girl in the small car that we had run into him. It was an odd moment, deciding to call 911; I was unsure whether it was a 911 situation. It was an emergency but not life-threatening; there should be another number for Sort-Of-Emergencies; Non life-threatening emergencies.
The coppers arrived and we were ordered back in our cars while they did their police business. Awaiting the cops for my story-version, there was another fender bender right next to us. It was surreal, watching and hearing their crunching crash and I felt somewhat jealous of them because their accident situation was not going to involve waiting for cops, as they were already right there with our accident. We could have had an accident party and networked!
Police report done, car inspected, it appeared I could drive on to my audition. I pulled on to the freeway and got up to about 50 mph, when I heard beeping and a white car pulled up alongside me, frantically waving for to get off the freeway. Thank meep I did, because the white car turned out to be a AAA technician who noticed my back tire, where the Monster Truck hit it, wobbling and about to come off!
My new BFF, Daniel, the AAA Technician from El Salvador, saved my life! Chatting with him as we awaited Alphie and his tow truck, I felt like I was in the movie Crash. Daniel and I discussed God, The Universe, Death, Nature & Pupusas. I got to know about Daniel's absent father and his pre-school teacher wife, whom he brought from El Salvador. He knew my voiceover work from The Sims and Silent Hill and we talked about having children. It was a cinematic meeting and I hugged him farewell when Alphie arrived.
Alphie, a recent UCLA microbiology graduate, inspected my car, declared my axel bent and towed my car to Jessy the Mechanic.
Along the way, Alphie told me a riveting story of his college buddies who were recently beaten by SF Cops and had captured it on video! One of the beaten kids's father is a Bel Air Lawyer/DA. Bad kid for the police to beat up. Alphie also revealed he'd towed Jay Leno's car and Pierce Bronsnan's, who startled Alphie with his extraordinary in-real-life-beauty, even though Alphie is not gay. It was the best AAA experience possible.
Jessy the Mechanic was awesome, insurance-reporting was smooth and Dayton at Hertz was hilarious. Five hours after I left the Marshmallow, I arrived at my agency where I pretended to be cartoon flamingo twins. I hope I book the parts.
I arrived home to Jessica for band rehearsal and collapsed, my body depleted of energy from the adrenalin.
Somehow I revived by 7 to play dress-up and perform songs at a variety show for an audience of Phil Proctor of Firesign Theater and other oddball artists. I wore my pioneer bonnet for a rendition of Campfire Vampire. After the show, Jessica bought us doughnuts, reminiscent of our Churro Times in Mexico.
I returned the the Marshmallow and wearing my doughnut pants, covered in glaze and powdered sugar, considered my day; it was unexpected, but the smoothest, most pleasant car-garbagecrap day/experience/event possible, thanks to Daniel, Alphie & Jessy. They made me want to be a AAA Technician, the Modern Hero.
Love The Ukulady
ps: Lately I've been wanting to do every job I've been around: Elvis Impersonator, AAA Techie, Mechanic, Accordion Player....
pps: Everyone's LA Car-Crap Card comes up at some point. May the past 4 days last me many years to come.
UkuAdventures in LA: Mumu of Fear & Kimmy Jong Il has FUN!
Dear Blob,
Humans in olden-days cultures chewed on willow bark to alleviate pain; I can't help but feel so wimpy when I'm in agonizing lady-pain, popping several necessary ibuprofen, thinking of pioneer women giving birth, sometimes alone and then getting up a day later to walk across the country and on the way, slaughtering a buffalo for tallow to make soap to wash laundry and dishes. If they were near a tree, let alone a willow tree, for pain-alleviating-twig-suckling or just old-fashioned shade, they were extraordinarily lucky.
In other news, I was waiting for my car to get new tires yesterday in the Tire-ery waiting room and the 24 hour News Network was playing continuous coverage of the rare East Coast earthquake. It is geologically exciting and I'm sure East Coast geologists are giddy with delight, but the 24 hours News Network, as per their job description, was ridiculously over-dramatic. Their ability to dramatize some broken knick-knacks was impressive.
The 24 hour News Networks must be responsible for one of the many Mumus of Fear that drape over our scared and plump nation; unfortunately, not a kitschily fabulous, form-fitting mumu but the ugly tent-like mumu designed to hide the problems underneath, designed for those who've given up and are resigned.
Love The Ukulady
ps: Kim Jong Il recently went on a field trip to a Russian grocery store and went boating with Russian Leaders, while chatting about Nuclear testing. NPR quoted Kimmy as calling the trip "Fun!" It's nice Kimmy gets to have so much Fun! Life is Fun! Apparently, Kimmy wants to resume socializing with other world leaders and start "talks" about his Nuclear toys.
I'm pleased the Russians were clever enough to mask the weight of Nuclear Chit-Chat under the pleasure of boating and Grocery-Store-Browsing. I know I like to have heavy discussions in the cookie aisle and as previously noted, the Ocean (or large-body-of-water) is Natural Valium. Great Work Russians!
pps: I love the visual image of Kimmy Jong Il eagerly perched on the brow of a boat, wind blowing his hair-piece back, jowls flapping, a healthy flush on his stem-cell-infused cheeks, perhaps an expensive Italian sweater casually draped across his evil-doer shoulders, a glass of cognac in hand....
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
UkuAdventures in LA: The Donner Party, Pancakes & Gadhafi!
Dear Blob,
Late last night I made the mistake of googling The Donner Party. After a few minutes of reading various diary accounts I realized that immersing myself in The Donner Party lore before bedtime was a terrible choice, as I'm renown in the UkuMarshmallowHouse for having nightmares.
To rid my subconscious of The Donner Party's accounts of starvation, death and cannibalism, I googled Pancakes.
I did not have nightmares.
Love The Ukulady
ps: In honor of our non-friend, Mallomar Gadhafi, enjoy an old Ukulady tune!
pps: When is that Mallomar going to bow out? Get the hint, dude! Wouldn't it be more fun to spend your senior years on a Mediterranean island doing karaoke and eating pancakes rather than die amidst dusty rubble? What is wrong with these meglomaniacs?
pps: I am a maple syrup snob and refuse corn syrup syrup; however, if I was a Donner PArty member, I would be thrilled to eat corn syrup syrup!
Monday, August 22, 2011
UkuAdventures in LA: Fear Propaganda, Velveeta & Seeds!
Dear Blob,
Driving around LA, I'm disgusted by the amount of billboards for new movies and television that base their ad campaigns around Fear. Like whiny Luke Skywalker in the first Star Wars, I feel whiny about Fear Propaganda; "When will Americans realize our society is based on Fear Propaganda?" Whine I in a whiny meep.
When I was on my way to Mexico for 5 weeks, more than 5 friends looked stricken upon learning of my destination and warned me against getting kidnapped. I was surprised that so many well-educated, saavy and seemingly-courageous friends of mine still believe everything the news says. Thanks American News for Meeping up the Mexican Tourism industry! It would be like someone saying to an LA-bound tourist, "Ahh! Careful you don't get shot!" Interestingly, many non-Americans I've met believe that all Americans carry guns.
Videogames about war and fighting, television about murder and crime, films about murder and betrayal, books on sex and vampires; this is what our society is raising new humans on. Since the rise of Monotheism, humans have relied on Fear Propaganda and I find it mind-blowing that Fear Propaganda is still going strong; it's numero uno! Fear is Little Miss Pretty Princess, Gold Medal Winner, Valedictorian!
The Hollywood movie billboards are a sad joke on humanity. Millions of dollars wasted on a couple hours of chip-eating-inducing escapsim about either fat stoners or sexy murder. The Hollywood moguls would seemingly rather buy another vacation house than stand up to their peers and say, "Meep this! I'm going to make a 100 million dollar film about kindness!" Bummer for the masses who don't have the privilege of a private school education which encouraged me to be a critical thinker and question, rather than fill-in-the-SAT-bubbles and remain a frightened chip-eating sheep. I'm a chip-eating questioner.
The news frightens people of the wrong things. A tiny part of Mexico is dangerous, not the entire country. What is dangerous is the Fukushima nuclear waste spreading throughout the globe. The news considers Jessica Simpson's fat more important than radioactive poisoning, which is Everywhere. Apparently the Fear Propaganda leaders prefer to keep humans scared of each other and mind-broadening world-travel.
The pioneers were told by pioneer newspapers that the Indians were bloodthirsty, so they set off into Indian Territory terrified and racist. Genocide comes from Fear Propaganda.
I'm not scared of international travel or Muslims or checking out Watts Towers in Watts. I'm not scared of people; I'm scared of what the media doesn't tell us: that there is nuclear waste and toxic poison seeping into every corner of planet earth.
I'm scared my years in LA will compromise my health because after all, Readers, LA is a Nuclear Wasteland. How do we get the word out that a Nuclear Meltdown Larger than Three Mile Island happened here in Los Angeles and has never been cleaned up? Does anyone care? Attention San Fernando Valley Dwellers: You are living amidst Nuclear Waste! Don't let your kids play in the dirt outside! Seriously. That's something to be scared of, not taking a trip across borders.
Because of the invention of Money, humans continue to foster racism and xenophobia. Poor humans; too stupid to realize positive thinking is the best choice, until some idiotic book like The Secret comes along, the saavy authors making billions off Human Insecurity.
In other news, how can Velveeta possibly be cheese? I was nibbling leftover Velveeta, which some non-hippie-raised hippie brought over and a droplet fell on my lap. I peeled it off and not a trace remained; it was like plastic. The Lad looked up Velveeta ingredients and apparently it is not technically plastic; however, any food that peels off fabric without leaving a mark can't actually be food.
Love The Ukulady
ps: I planted seeds of basil and artisan salad spring mix a week ago and little green sproutlets are shooting up! Its' so rewarding! Everyone should plant seeds; it feels so fantastic! It should be a requirement in school: gardening from seeds!
UkuAdventures in LA with UkuMommy!
PHOTOS: Elvisfans, Honey Butters gets Flat Tire, Mom & Uncle Jhn with Cheri Pann of Mosaic Tile House, UkuMom & Uncle's Childhood House, 2nd Mar Vista Childhood house
Dear Blob,
This weekend was beyond stimulating. I journeyed to more neighborhoods in the past 2 days than I have in the past 6 months. Friday was an adventure with UkuMom & Director Di from Venice to Los Feliz to Lincoln Height's St. Vincent De Paul Thrift Store, the largest in LA, to surprisingly outstanding fish tacos in Highland Park, to Studio City where, like the fish tacos, we were surprised to see an outstanding play.
Throw in a yoga class with my teacher in town from Bali, which, with a tiny foot adjustment, resulted in my first pain-free yoga practice in 18 months. Director Di, in her fabulous British accent, wove stories of being mugged at 3am on Christmas Eve, after deciding to go grocery shopping and being freelancers-broke at 61, without enough money one morning to take the bus and then a residual check for 27,000 pounds arriving in the evening. A transformative and road-weary day.
Saturday we journeyed into a time-machine vortex in my mom’s childhood neighborhood and my current hood, of Mar Vista with my mom's brother, Uncle John, who drove us up and down the streets of their youth from 1946 - 1951. Memories of slug-collecting, a still-damaged pinky-finger slammed in the gate of Mar Vista Elementary, my uncle's paper route, my mom being refused a paper-route because of gender, a nursery called Flowerland, their father's soda-fountain in the now-Whole-Foods, celery fields, scooter-riding down hills; in between the memories we stopped at garage sales, where UkuMom scored 2 valuable works of art for $5 and $20, potentially worth $500 - 1500. Interesting universe-energy that she garage-sale-scores in her childhood neighborhood….
We rang the doorbell of their childhood house and the surprised current resident, a recently discharged-Marine, graciously gave us a tour of her family’s home, which her father had lived in for 40 years. Minds blown, UkuMom and Uncle John wandered around their old house, a giant Spanish style with sweeping arches. My mom tripped and fell against the closet where she remembered being beaten with a rod and she pointed out her upstairs patio, where she'd watch the clouds roll by. Serious vortex of mind-magic.
Exhausted from garage sales and memories, we lunched at Casablanca and then were privileged enough to get a tour of the extraordinary folk-art extravaganza, the Mosaic Tile House. We were beyond withered, but remembering the Donner Party, we napped and somehow, doughnuts in hand, made it to a fabulous gayman party in Larchmont, complete with BBQ/Southern-cooking catering and so many Hott people, I felt the urge clutch my pouch and shout at the ridiculously-hot 'n' slim party-goers:
"This is a Pouch! It's a naturally-occurring body-part in 99% of the Women of Planet Earth!"
Then I decided we were all hot and if we competed in a Who Is The Hottest Party Pageant, our party would win. Then I created a reality television show around the concept and pitched it to my EP friend.
It was a weekend-orgy of extraordinary experiences. Most weeks the most exciting thing I do is make friends with the clerk at Trader Joes'.
The scoop is, Blob 'n' Readers, Sunday still hadn't happened yet.
Sunday: a workday, booked to entertain at the 12th annual Elvisfest. I woke up at 7am, dressed up as Honey Butters, Elvis's pretend manager, beehived, heavily-makeupped, be-mumu-ed and wearing a giant TCB foam necklace, and I got on the road at 8am to Orange County. 3 minutes on the 405 South, one of the busiest freeways on planet earth, I got a flat tire. In my Elvisfest outfit. I thought of the Donner Party.
An hour late to work at Elvisfest from the flat tire, Honey Butters was a hit with the ancient Elvis superfans, who were ridiculously enthusiastic, almost manic, during the Elvis Impersonator sets. Elvisfest is at the OC Marketplace, a swap-meet where you can purchase anything, from socks to produce to a pre-fab house. 5000 people, at least 50 Elvi and hundreds of fans who were acting like
1. Teenagers
2. Elvis is not dead and every Elvis impersonator is actually Elvis.
I shepherded a very popular Elvis around the fest, handed out Elvis stickers to screaming Old-People-Teenagers and made it home for teatime with Ukumom's friend from the early '60;s, character actor, Larry Hankin, and Evil Sandwich, Jessica, resident genius of all things.
We ate plums from Hummingbird Hall, jicama & Japanese rice crackers, discussing the denial of the wealthy, human greed and the decline of human evolution. Good Times!
Love The Ukulady
ps: The past 3 days was like going to a Buffet, but I didn't feel sick at the end and it was fabulous, not sickly.
Dear Blob,
This weekend was beyond stimulating. I journeyed to more neighborhoods in the past 2 days than I have in the past 6 months. Friday was an adventure with UkuMom & Director Di from Venice to Los Feliz to Lincoln Height's St. Vincent De Paul Thrift Store, the largest in LA, to surprisingly outstanding fish tacos in Highland Park, to Studio City where, like the fish tacos, we were surprised to see an outstanding play.
Throw in a yoga class with my teacher in town from Bali, which, with a tiny foot adjustment, resulted in my first pain-free yoga practice in 18 months. Director Di, in her fabulous British accent, wove stories of being mugged at 3am on Christmas Eve, after deciding to go grocery shopping and being freelancers-broke at 61, without enough money one morning to take the bus and then a residual check for 27,000 pounds arriving in the evening. A transformative and road-weary day.
Saturday we journeyed into a time-machine vortex in my mom’s childhood neighborhood and my current hood, of Mar Vista with my mom's brother, Uncle John, who drove us up and down the streets of their youth from 1946 - 1951. Memories of slug-collecting, a still-damaged pinky-finger slammed in the gate of Mar Vista Elementary, my uncle's paper route, my mom being refused a paper-route because of gender, a nursery called Flowerland, their father's soda-fountain in the now-Whole-Foods, celery fields, scooter-riding down hills; in between the memories we stopped at garage sales, where UkuMom scored 2 valuable works of art for $5 and $20, potentially worth $500 - 1500. Interesting universe-energy that she garage-sale-scores in her childhood neighborhood….
We rang the doorbell of their childhood house and the surprised current resident, a recently discharged-Marine, graciously gave us a tour of her family’s home, which her father had lived in for 40 years. Minds blown, UkuMom and Uncle John wandered around their old house, a giant Spanish style with sweeping arches. My mom tripped and fell against the closet where she remembered being beaten with a rod and she pointed out her upstairs patio, where she'd watch the clouds roll by. Serious vortex of mind-magic.
Exhausted from garage sales and memories, we lunched at Casablanca and then were privileged enough to get a tour of the extraordinary folk-art extravaganza, the Mosaic Tile House. We were beyond withered, but remembering the Donner Party, we napped and somehow, doughnuts in hand, made it to a fabulous gayman party in Larchmont, complete with BBQ/Southern-cooking catering and so many Hott people, I felt the urge clutch my pouch and shout at the ridiculously-hot 'n' slim party-goers:
"This is a Pouch! It's a naturally-occurring body-part in 99% of the Women of Planet Earth!"
Then I decided we were all hot and if we competed in a Who Is The Hottest Party Pageant, our party would win. Then I created a reality television show around the concept and pitched it to my EP friend.
It was a weekend-orgy of extraordinary experiences. Most weeks the most exciting thing I do is make friends with the clerk at Trader Joes'.
The scoop is, Blob 'n' Readers, Sunday still hadn't happened yet.
Sunday: a workday, booked to entertain at the 12th annual Elvisfest. I woke up at 7am, dressed up as Honey Butters, Elvis's pretend manager, beehived, heavily-makeupped, be-mumu-ed and wearing a giant TCB foam necklace, and I got on the road at 8am to Orange County. 3 minutes on the 405 South, one of the busiest freeways on planet earth, I got a flat tire. In my Elvisfest outfit. I thought of the Donner Party.
An hour late to work at Elvisfest from the flat tire, Honey Butters was a hit with the ancient Elvis superfans, who were ridiculously enthusiastic, almost manic, during the Elvis Impersonator sets. Elvisfest is at the OC Marketplace, a swap-meet where you can purchase anything, from socks to produce to a pre-fab house. 5000 people, at least 50 Elvi and hundreds of fans who were acting like
1. Teenagers
2. Elvis is not dead and every Elvis impersonator is actually Elvis.
I shepherded a very popular Elvis around the fest, handed out Elvis stickers to screaming Old-People-Teenagers and made it home for teatime with Ukumom's friend from the early '60;s, character actor, Larry Hankin, and Evil Sandwich, Jessica, resident genius of all things.
We ate plums from Hummingbird Hall, jicama & Japanese rice crackers, discussing the denial of the wealthy, human greed and the decline of human evolution. Good Times!
Love The Ukulady
ps: The past 3 days was like going to a Buffet, but I didn't feel sick at the end and it was fabulous, not sickly.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
UkuAdventures in LA: Elvisfest
Dear Blob,
Today I will snack on Love Me Tenders, a tasty Elviscentric snack at the 12th annual Elvisfestival!
Love The Ukulady
ps: Love Me Tenders taste like chicken.
Today I will snack on Love Me Tenders, a tasty Elviscentric snack at the 12th annual Elvisfestival!
Love The Ukulady
ps: Love Me Tenders taste like chicken.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
UkuAdventures in LA: Mycological Meep!
Dear Blob,
Mornings with UkuMommy are for enjoying hot beverages and chatting. Off we go garage saleing! Enjoy this mycological video
Love The Ukulady
ps: Yesterday we found the largest thrift store in LA!
Mornings with UkuMommy are for enjoying hot beverages and chatting. Off we go garage saleing! Enjoy this mycological video
Love The Ukulady
ps: Yesterday we found the largest thrift store in LA!
Thursday, August 18, 2011
UkuAdventures in LA: UkuMom Visits!
PHOTOS: Special Occasion Dinner, UkuMom, Mary Props & Director Di!
Dear Blob,
The Ukulady's UkuMommy has come to visit! UkuMom grew up in Mar Vista in the 1940's when the Red Cars trolleyed down Venice Blvd and most of Mar Vista was farmhouses. She remembers her farmer neighbor who would grill sausage and Sunday meats for the entire neighborhood; his farm is now several ugly 1970's apartment buildings.
The concrete sprawl of Mar Vista was wetlands, forest, creeks and orchards and parents felt safe enough to send their kids on the bus to the Santa Monica Beach. My mom and her brother never went to Venice though, a mile south of Santa Monica. Perhaps because in the olden days Venice was a sin-hive, swarming with rum-runners, low-life, street-walkers and other unsavory characters who might land from the sea.
UkuMom and I thrifted in Culver City, braving the cracked-out & agonizingly-slow clerks at Goodwill, strolled the Venice Canals, where I, sticky-fingered several interesting succulent specimens for my succulent garden. Succulents will re-root, after being nipped or snapped off and multiply, needing almost no care. The perfect plant pet: low-maintenance Dr.Seussian spaceshippy plants!
Our evening was spent in the Marshmallow's (UkuHouse) garden-eatery with UkuMom's magical lady friends, Di the British Director from London (Gary Oldman was once her lover!) & Props Mary the Healer (she works in props and is a shaman healer!), along with Evil Strawberry Sandwich, aka, Jessica of Jessaly, and Sailor Aleks, our neighbor. I prepared handmade cornmeal-crust fresh-pesto-pizza with fancy mushrooms purchased on sale at the local Japanese supermarket. Jessica brought a candy salad, full of blueberries, strawberries, candied pecans & greens. It was a tasty & magical Special Occasion event.
In other news, UkuMom wants a Segway. The Segway is a topic of constant mockery in the UkuMarshmallow House, thanks to Gob Bluth of Arrested Development. However, after UkuMom expressed her desire for the ridiculous vehicle, I see the light! The Segway, is the Perfect mode of transport for Folks-Getting-Older! It's not as shameful as the fat-scooter and doesn't have the stigma of the wheelchair; The Segway should be The Vehicle for Seniors! I'd like to champion this along with the Downfall of Evil!
Love The Ukulady
ps: In other news, UkuMom pointed out that The Ocean is Natural Valium. Always listen to your mommy.
Dear Blob,
The Ukulady's UkuMommy has come to visit! UkuMom grew up in Mar Vista in the 1940's when the Red Cars trolleyed down Venice Blvd and most of Mar Vista was farmhouses. She remembers her farmer neighbor who would grill sausage and Sunday meats for the entire neighborhood; his farm is now several ugly 1970's apartment buildings.
The concrete sprawl of Mar Vista was wetlands, forest, creeks and orchards and parents felt safe enough to send their kids on the bus to the Santa Monica Beach. My mom and her brother never went to Venice though, a mile south of Santa Monica. Perhaps because in the olden days Venice was a sin-hive, swarming with rum-runners, low-life, street-walkers and other unsavory characters who might land from the sea.
UkuMom and I thrifted in Culver City, braving the cracked-out & agonizingly-slow clerks at Goodwill, strolled the Venice Canals, where I, sticky-fingered several interesting succulent specimens for my succulent garden. Succulents will re-root, after being nipped or snapped off and multiply, needing almost no care. The perfect plant pet: low-maintenance Dr.Seussian spaceshippy plants!
Our evening was spent in the Marshmallow's (UkuHouse) garden-eatery with UkuMom's magical lady friends, Di the British Director from London (Gary Oldman was once her lover!) & Props Mary the Healer (she works in props and is a shaman healer!), along with Evil Strawberry Sandwich, aka, Jessica of Jessaly, and Sailor Aleks, our neighbor. I prepared handmade cornmeal-crust fresh-pesto-pizza with fancy mushrooms purchased on sale at the local Japanese supermarket. Jessica brought a candy salad, full of blueberries, strawberries, candied pecans & greens. It was a tasty & magical Special Occasion event.
In other news, UkuMom wants a Segway. The Segway is a topic of constant mockery in the UkuMarshmallow House, thanks to Gob Bluth of Arrested Development. However, after UkuMom expressed her desire for the ridiculous vehicle, I see the light! The Segway, is the Perfect mode of transport for Folks-Getting-Older! It's not as shameful as the fat-scooter and doesn't have the stigma of the wheelchair; The Segway should be The Vehicle for Seniors! I'd like to champion this along with the Downfall of Evil!
Love The Ukulady
ps: In other news, UkuMom pointed out that The Ocean is Natural Valium. Always listen to your mommy.
UkuAdventures in LA: Meeping in Highland Park
PHOTOS: Garden with Fake Flowers, UkuFamily, Unicorndog & Succulents
Dear Blob,
The other day was Take-Your-Girlfriend-To-Work Day, so I went to Highland Park with the Ukulad to meep around the neighborhood. What a gem of a 'hood, full of hillsides packed with craftsman houses in need of TLC, abuelitas & secret stairwalks. The downside is the hideous smog, which in the summertime, gets trapped inland, making it difficult to see the gorgeous Angeles Mountains. I wandered around the hilly streets, stumbling upon vintage Victorians and sweeping palm-tree-lined boulevards, which reminded me of parts of Oakland, near Lake Merritt.
The gritty main drag, York, is packed full of taco-shops and ridiculous stores, like SoCal Flagpole Supply. Is there a NorCal Flagpole Supply? I'm surprised there's enough of a demand to keep a flagpole supply shop in business; what are the flagpole enthusiasts purchasing once they have their pole and flag? Flagpole polish? Do the Polish polish things?
In other news, there is a street in Mt. Washington/Highland Park called Marmion, which sounds like an animal or a race of people: Look at the Marmions in that tree! The Marmions of Marmia! Marmions are known for their Marmion hospitality and Marmion cheese.
Love The Ukulady
ps: Meeping around Highland Park, I came upon a magical garden, full of colorful, blooming flowers; however, upon further inspection, the yard was actually decorated with fake flowers planted in pots of dirt. My grandma used to plant fake flowers.
pps: Highland Park is full of chickens; not too many chickens in Mar Vista. The Chickens of Highland Park!
Dear Blob,
The other day was Take-Your-Girlfriend-To-Work Day, so I went to Highland Park with the Ukulad to meep around the neighborhood. What a gem of a 'hood, full of hillsides packed with craftsman houses in need of TLC, abuelitas & secret stairwalks. The downside is the hideous smog, which in the summertime, gets trapped inland, making it difficult to see the gorgeous Angeles Mountains. I wandered around the hilly streets, stumbling upon vintage Victorians and sweeping palm-tree-lined boulevards, which reminded me of parts of Oakland, near Lake Merritt.
The gritty main drag, York, is packed full of taco-shops and ridiculous stores, like SoCal Flagpole Supply. Is there a NorCal Flagpole Supply? I'm surprised there's enough of a demand to keep a flagpole supply shop in business; what are the flagpole enthusiasts purchasing once they have their pole and flag? Flagpole polish? Do the Polish polish things?
In other news, there is a street in Mt. Washington/Highland Park called Marmion, which sounds like an animal or a race of people: Look at the Marmions in that tree! The Marmions of Marmia! Marmions are known for their Marmion hospitality and Marmion cheese.
Love The Ukulady
ps: Meeping around Highland Park, I came upon a magical garden, full of colorful, blooming flowers; however, upon further inspection, the yard was actually decorated with fake flowers planted in pots of dirt. My grandma used to plant fake flowers.
pps: Highland Park is full of chickens; not too many chickens in Mar Vista. The Chickens of Highland Park!
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
UkuAdventures in LA: Pipecleaner Yogi
Dear Blob,
Among my hobbies of succulent-gardening, world travel & thrifting, is Anusara Yoga. I'm a total Anusara yoga snob, commuting across the city to practice with my favorite yoga teachers. It is a un-naturally fat-free environment, except for me, Yogi-with-a-Pouch.
Love The Ukulady
ps: The Ukulad flies to The South today and was transferring items from a backpack into a paper-grocery sack; I briefly thought the paper-bag was his carry-on, which is something Shirley Q. Liquor would do, use a grocery sack as a carry-on.
Among my hobbies of succulent-gardening, world travel & thrifting, is Anusara Yoga. I'm a total Anusara yoga snob, commuting across the city to practice with my favorite yoga teachers. It is a un-naturally fat-free environment, except for me, Yogi-with-a-Pouch.
Love The Ukulady
ps: The Ukulad flies to The South today and was transferring items from a backpack into a paper-grocery sack; I briefly thought the paper-bag was his carry-on, which is something Shirley Q. Liquor would do, use a grocery sack as a carry-on.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
UkuAdventures in LA: Wontons, Mimes & Temps!
Dear Blob,
This one goes to Eleven:
1. Beekeeper or Bookkeeper?
2. Ton Ton Wontons
3. Porn on the Cob/Porn Corn: Summer Craft Services for Adult Film shoots
4. Jamochians from Jamocha
5. Rockola: Cough-drops for Rockers
6. Quafka: A Thirsty Writer
7: Coifka: A Hairdresser
8. It's my Time to be a Prime Time Mime!
9. It's not a crime to be a Prime Time Mime!
10. Stop on a Dime! It's a Prime Time Mime!
11. The Temps of Tempe, Arizona
Love The Ukulady
ps: The Whole Foods Parking Lot truly is Hell on Earth.
Monday, August 15, 2011
UkuAdventures in LA: The Crop Circle of Car Stories!
Dear Blob,
This weekend brought the Crop Circle of Car Stories! Due to a morning band photo-shoot, The Ukulad and I, dressed in our matching chicken 'n' egg outfits at 10:30am on Sunday, were outside, when the Lad noticed some schmuck had parked in the driveway belonging to our house; then he realized the car was his!
In the middle of the night his car, in park and with the parking brake on, had been pushed roughly 10 feet forward. No locks had been tampered with, the back bumper was undamaged and there were skid marks 10 feet, indicating the wheels had been pushed. It was the weirdest thing. Either a fleet of linebackers were playing a prank, a huge truck pushed the car in hopes the driveway-owners would tow it, or a mythical giant pushed it for fun.
We are mystified, disturbed & concerned. But not too much; we are mostly thrilled around here, beautifying our yard, planting basil, arugula & weeding constantly-overgrowing morning-glories.
In other news, I love Home Depot because it is so full of Potential: Make a New kitchen! Plant a pretty garden! Build a house! Home Depot shoppers appear so empowered and confident, comparing drills & purchasing do-it-yourself items.
Sunday is totally Couples-Day at Home Depot but every other day is a great day for single ladies to meet men. Forget bars! Home Depot or Guitar Center are the best places to meet fellows. Home Depot is better than Guitar Center, which is full of pale, slacker musicians, where as Home Depot men are go-getters and will fix things around your future house. I'm going to suggest it to my single friends.
Love The Ukulady
ps: If any readers have theories about the Crop-Circle Car story, please share!
pps: The matching Chicken ''n Egg outfits were found at a Salvation Army in Roswell, New Mexico, over 10 years ago. I held on to the outfit, waiting to find a manpanion to fit the shirt. Ukulad fits the shirt and wears it!
ppps: It's so pioneerishly-satisfying to spend the weekend gardening, home-beautifying & cooking handmade cornmeal-crust pizza with handmade sauce from garden-picked tomatoes 'n' basil. Pizza dough is not difficult to make and kneading dough is a pleasing mini-fitness workout.
pppps: The time has come in America, for Home Ec. to return; kids need to learn healthy cooking. This opinion comes after another marathon computer-tv session of watching Heavy, which is riveting & rewarding television. My initial dislike of Beverly Perfect, the health-trainer, is gone and now I wish I could go to South Carolina and work out with Beverly Perfect.
pppps: Read about my UkuAdventures in Echo Park here!
Saturday, August 13, 2011
UkuAdventures in LA: Video Gaming Reel of The Ukulady
Dear Blob,
The pioneers made johnny cake, pickles and log cabins; I made this yesterday:
Work-Seeking these days!
Love The Ukulady
ps: Along with audio Voiceover Reels, The Ukulady is now offering Video Voiceover Reels for Voiceover Actors! Emeep to get started!
The pioneers made johnny cake, pickles and log cabins; I made this yesterday:
Work-Seeking these days!
Love The Ukulady
ps: Along with audio Voiceover Reels, The Ukulady is now offering Video Voiceover Reels for Voiceover Actors! Emeep to get started!
Friday, August 12, 2011
UkuAdventures in LA: Brain-Chips, Pioneers & Singing Telegrams!
PHOTO: Ukulad-Made Stool & Bookcase!
Dear Blob,
From Egpyt to sociological-weight-loss TV-shows to Pioneers, I require a constant infusion of intellectual stimulation. Like humans snack on chips between meals, my brain snacks on books between working. This week's Chips-For-The-Brain has been Pioneer women literature, purchased in last weekend's comically-large used booksale. Riveting! While Pioneer Women made Pioneer Men feel well-fed, sexually-satisfied & homey, Pioneer Women make me feel:
1. so physically wimpy.
2. so much better about life-hardships.
These women wrote journals about baking dozens of bread-loafs, washing clothing in water they lugged from the spring & heated themselves, killing a couple prairie chickens, plucking & preparing & then giving birth, all in the same day! And finding time to write in their Blog!
If I have to drive across town in traffic, have multiple friend-like-schmooze-meetings, go to Trader Joe's and jog all in the same day, I am exhausted. Add a yoga class to the mix and I collapse, porcine-like, on a couch that neither I nor the Ukulad made from scratch (although I am currently writing this blob perched upon a cute-stool The Ukulad made from scratch!).
It's odd to realize that the majority of potato-Americans leading sedentary lives, sprung forth from ridiculously physically-fit ancestors only a few generations ago,. If they learned the rules and trained for maybe a week, Pioneer Women could easily beat professional lady wrestlers.
I would love to see Jill Michaels go up against Elinore Stewart, a Wyoming homesteader who not only raised cellarfuls of root vegetables but also herded cattle, performed weddings 'n' funerals, thought nothing of taking her young daughter camping in the snow, cooked for dozens with food she grew, birthed kids, midwifed and wrote a bookful of eloquent letters to her Denver friends, describing her life. She had no Korea Spa to rejuvinate in.
In other news, The Ukulad honored the life of the dead lead singer from Warrant this morning by playing '80's hair-metal-band music. I am partial to the power-ballads.
Love The Ukulady
ps: I, like the rest of America, spend most of my energy on making money or scheming to make money, which buys me food, a home & other life-necessities. The Pioneers spent their energy on creating what they needed themselves. It would be ideal if our civilization found a balance of the two: self-sufficiency mixed with money-making self-sufficiency.
It seems my generation, formerly the Gen-Xers, now the 30's/40's peeps, are striving towards that goal. Many peers have food gardens & chickens; however is this trend only happening in the urban centers, where books like The Omnivore's Dilemma, circulate like "Hot Models Needed to Circulate at Hollywood Events"? That's a posting from a typical LA craigslist job listing.
pps: The Ukulady now offers Singing Telegrams! If you are not in the greater-SoCal, USA area, The Ukulady offers Telephone Singing Telegrams! Tell that Special Meep You Are Special! Ukulady style! Contact meep to get started!
Dear Blob,
From Egpyt to sociological-weight-loss TV-shows to Pioneers, I require a constant infusion of intellectual stimulation. Like humans snack on chips between meals, my brain snacks on books between working. This week's Chips-For-The-Brain has been Pioneer women literature, purchased in last weekend's comically-large used booksale. Riveting! While Pioneer Women made Pioneer Men feel well-fed, sexually-satisfied & homey, Pioneer Women make me feel:
1. so physically wimpy.
2. so much better about life-hardships.
These women wrote journals about baking dozens of bread-loafs, washing clothing in water they lugged from the spring & heated themselves, killing a couple prairie chickens, plucking & preparing & then giving birth, all in the same day! And finding time to write in their Blog!
If I have to drive across town in traffic, have multiple friend-like-schmooze-meetings, go to Trader Joe's and jog all in the same day, I am exhausted. Add a yoga class to the mix and I collapse, porcine-like, on a couch that neither I nor the Ukulad made from scratch (although I am currently writing this blob perched upon a cute-stool The Ukulad made from scratch!).
It's odd to realize that the majority of potato-Americans leading sedentary lives, sprung forth from ridiculously physically-fit ancestors only a few generations ago,. If they learned the rules and trained for maybe a week, Pioneer Women could easily beat professional lady wrestlers.
I would love to see Jill Michaels go up against Elinore Stewart, a Wyoming homesteader who not only raised cellarfuls of root vegetables but also herded cattle, performed weddings 'n' funerals, thought nothing of taking her young daughter camping in the snow, cooked for dozens with food she grew, birthed kids, midwifed and wrote a bookful of eloquent letters to her Denver friends, describing her life. She had no Korea Spa to rejuvinate in.
In other news, The Ukulad honored the life of the dead lead singer from Warrant this morning by playing '80's hair-metal-band music. I am partial to the power-ballads.
Love The Ukulady
ps: I, like the rest of America, spend most of my energy on making money or scheming to make money, which buys me food, a home & other life-necessities. The Pioneers spent their energy on creating what they needed themselves. It would be ideal if our civilization found a balance of the two: self-sufficiency mixed with money-making self-sufficiency.
It seems my generation, formerly the Gen-Xers, now the 30's/40's peeps, are striving towards that goal. Many peers have food gardens & chickens; however is this trend only happening in the urban centers, where books like The Omnivore's Dilemma, circulate like "Hot Models Needed to Circulate at Hollywood Events"? That's a posting from a typical LA craigslist job listing.
pps: The Ukulady now offers Singing Telegrams! If you are not in the greater-SoCal, USA area, The Ukulady offers Telephone Singing Telegrams! Tell that Special Meep You Are Special! Ukulady style! Contact meep to get started!
Thursday, August 11, 2011
UkuAdventures in LA: Oprah is Right: Spa-Magic-Fever!
Dear Blob,
There are many reasons to love Los Angeles from the kitschy wonder of Clifton's Cafeteria to Elysian Park's hidden-gem Stairwalks and most amazingly, the Korean Spa. With the largest population of Koreans outside of Korea, LA offers millions of Korean Meatery-Eateries, bubble-tea drinkeries and a handful of comedically-affordable Spas, resembling what I imagine the Roman baths were like.
My BFF of 30 years is a harried mother of 2 kids under 6, who has been living at her in-law's Orange County house for a year, reluctantly transitioning from fabulous Austin to a fiscally-neccessary-job-market-for-hubby in the beautiful OC.
If you haven't been to the OC, imagine a miles and miles of strip-malls attached to strip malls with planned mcmansion developments between the Ruby Tuesdays, Chili's and Chucky Cheeses. Oprah knows: when a mother is in desperate need of a break-from-reality, her supporters better move fast; get that lady in a vat of hot water.
I took her to the Olympic Spa, where for $15 women only go from 3 different hot'n'cold tubs to 3 different saunas & 1 giant restery which includes a heated-marble-floored stage with fake-wood square pillows. The Korean spa is a festival of lady-nudity and is the perfect LA location to return to body-reality & feel good about one's body.
LA is ridiculously fat-free, with a giant population of super-tall, pouch-free women of European ancestry, exactly who the worldwide media celebrates as the ideal of feminine-beauty. It's easy to feel fat in LA surrounded by millions of these genetically-perfect-by-media-standards women. The Korean spa is full of different races which means different genetic body-types and we all are so relaxed from the extreme temperature-waters & saunas, it's impossible to feel self-conscious. It's the Verge-of-Drooling-Relaxation.
The Koreans have the right idea, incorporating soaking in spa-waters regularly. I particularly appreciate the affordability of their spas. There are many chic European-style spas that only the Wealthy can afford to relax; I understand it's exhausting managing a fortune and keeping up appearances but it's also exhausting blogging about the wealthy's exhaustion and the Korean spa offers rejuvenation for everyone. Even a homeless person could raise enough street-corner-coinage to refresh at the Korean spa and still buy a forty.
Everyone should get over their nude-in-front-of-other-people issues and go to the Korean spa.
Love The Ukulady
ps: Heavy, my tv-computer show, upsettingly, changed their format at episode 6 and switched health-centers, leaving behind my trainer-friends, David and Britny for a condescending trainer named Beverly Perfect. I'm not pleased.
pps: I love that the Korean Spa gives Fruit it's own category.
pps: For extra-money you can get a rigorous skin-sloughing and other services at the Korean spa. See this blob from the past to learn about The Ukulady's skin-sloughing experience...
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
UkuAdventures in LA: Imagine if Gandhi ran ABC/Disney...
PHOTOS: New Zoo Review, X the Owl, Woodsy the Owl!
Dear Blob,
My Egyptology obsession has passed and now I'm obsessed with A&E's show Heavy. I made the Lad watch 3 episodes last night, a computer-tv record for me, as I usually fall asleep after thirty minutes. I love shows about people overcoming physical & mental challenges, particularly weight-loss shows. It gives me hope for humanity.
I love the positivity and inspiration of weight-loss reality-shows, lacking in most reality shows which glorify backstabbing, betrayal & overall sleazy-douchebaggery. I occasionally enjoy gawking-oddity reality shows about conjoined twins or 19 chilun', but can't watch more than one episode. I was intrigued by The 19 chilun' religious-nut show and Toddler's & Tiaras, but both made me angry & repulsed. A recent viewing of a conjoined twin documentary left me feeling overwhelmingly thankful that I don't have a conjoined twin and gave me nightmares.
A&E's Heavy is riveting and this morning I googled the cast members, informing The Lad that I am thinking of Liking some of my favorites, like Rickywayne, on Facebook.... I Facebook-Like Ruby, a former 700 pound, deeply charismatic & hilarious reality-show star, keeping up-to-date on her lifelong weight-loss journey.
Media is humanity's most powerful tool. When Jessaly was in Mexico, we decided Mexico desperately needs an anti-littering media campaign, featuring an enigmatic, lovable mascot. I grew up with Give a Hoot, Don't Pollute, vaguely recalled by The Lad, although he didn't remember Woodsy the Owl, who pops into my mind upon hearing the slogan, which conjures vague recollections of a ballerina Hippopotamus and turtle-necked Frog, who were actually part of the New Zoo Review. My childhood television-watching-memories are a hazy blend of happy, googly-eyed creature-friends singing and dancing... A lot of Owls; Mister Roger's featured an Owl friend as well.
Humans love to feel better about themselves by watching trainwrecks on television and there is certainly a time & place for garbage TV, but it's upsetting & disappointing that the majority of television offerings are an enormous waste of resources. American Movies are worse, wasting ridiculous amounts of money, time & human-energy on utter-crap and worse, brainwashing millions of impressionable teens, shamelessly encouraging them to, not only indulge in, but celebrate materialism, greed & narcissism.
I am in LA to work in Media for the Non-Dark-Side. TV is an incredible tool for the Downfall of Evil. It's time to shift Control of the Media. Imagine if Do-Gooders like Gandhi, MLK & Mother Theresa, (or undead ones) were in control of ABC/Disney! If Donald Trump's media presence was replaced by Thich Nhat Hanh! That's my version of John Lennon's Imagine.
Love The Ukulady
ps: I am pleased that blob-writing made me realize I don't just enjoy shows about losing weight because I'm concern-obsessed with obesity.
pps: I like to exercise along with the Heavy Contestants, even at midnight.
Dear Blob,
My Egyptology obsession has passed and now I'm obsessed with A&E's show Heavy. I made the Lad watch 3 episodes last night, a computer-tv record for me, as I usually fall asleep after thirty minutes. I love shows about people overcoming physical & mental challenges, particularly weight-loss shows. It gives me hope for humanity.
I love the positivity and inspiration of weight-loss reality-shows, lacking in most reality shows which glorify backstabbing, betrayal & overall sleazy-douchebaggery. I occasionally enjoy gawking-oddity reality shows about conjoined twins or 19 chilun', but can't watch more than one episode. I was intrigued by The 19 chilun' religious-nut show and Toddler's & Tiaras, but both made me angry & repulsed. A recent viewing of a conjoined twin documentary left me feeling overwhelmingly thankful that I don't have a conjoined twin and gave me nightmares.
A&E's Heavy is riveting and this morning I googled the cast members, informing The Lad that I am thinking of Liking some of my favorites, like Rickywayne, on Facebook.... I Facebook-Like Ruby, a former 700 pound, deeply charismatic & hilarious reality-show star, keeping up-to-date on her lifelong weight-loss journey.
Media is humanity's most powerful tool. When Jessaly was in Mexico, we decided Mexico desperately needs an anti-littering media campaign, featuring an enigmatic, lovable mascot. I grew up with Give a Hoot, Don't Pollute, vaguely recalled by The Lad, although he didn't remember Woodsy the Owl, who pops into my mind upon hearing the slogan, which conjures vague recollections of a ballerina Hippopotamus and turtle-necked Frog, who were actually part of the New Zoo Review. My childhood television-watching-memories are a hazy blend of happy, googly-eyed creature-friends singing and dancing... A lot of Owls; Mister Roger's featured an Owl friend as well.
Humans love to feel better about themselves by watching trainwrecks on television and there is certainly a time & place for garbage TV, but it's upsetting & disappointing that the majority of television offerings are an enormous waste of resources. American Movies are worse, wasting ridiculous amounts of money, time & human-energy on utter-crap and worse, brainwashing millions of impressionable teens, shamelessly encouraging them to, not only indulge in, but celebrate materialism, greed & narcissism.
I am in LA to work in Media for the Non-Dark-Side. TV is an incredible tool for the Downfall of Evil. It's time to shift Control of the Media. Imagine if Do-Gooders like Gandhi, MLK & Mother Theresa, (or undead ones) were in control of ABC/Disney! If Donald Trump's media presence was replaced by Thich Nhat Hanh! That's my version of John Lennon's Imagine.
Love The Ukulady
ps: I am pleased that blob-writing made me realize I don't just enjoy shows about losing weight because I'm concern-obsessed with obesity.
pps: I like to exercise along with the Heavy Contestants, even at midnight.
Monday, August 8, 2011
UkuAdventures in LA: Velveeta, White Bread & Snickers!
PHOTOS: Cheeses & Wine! Miss Carrot & Green Bug on The Ukulady!
Dear Blob,
Velveeta is the Doughnut of Cheeses. My co-Mexican-adventurer, Miss Jessica Grant, true to her Alabama roots, brought over Velveeta cheese dip and as my new book, Cheeses of the World & Cheese Cookery, encourages, I enjoyed a glass of wine with cheese. Velveeta and Malbec probably wasn't what 1967's International Cheese Enthusiasts had in mind, nor my inner-snobby voice or innards, however, the Velveeta was disgustingly delicious and like crack, totally addictive.
I felt Catholicishly-guilty nibbling Velveeta! It is sinful. I could never purchase it at the store; I would feel like a teen buying condoms. To some, raising opium poppies for medicinal tea is sinful; to others, eating Velveeta is worthy of confession.
In retrospect, Velvetina Evilwich, like Sandwich, but Evil, is probably named after Velveeta. Much of my childhood was spent hankering for sugar cereal, bologna & white bread.
White Bread was rarely part of my childhood. My parents sent me to hippie-artsy school with avocado sandwiches on wheat-berry bread. Once, before a school-potluck, I begged my mom to bring White Bread hamburger buns, but was insistent she not get the Kilpatrick-brand White Bread, thinking it was made out of dead, white rabbits.
Many years later, I discovered that my older sister had owned a white rabbit named Patrick who had been killed by raccoons. My 6-year-old brain figured Kilpatrick-brand White Bread must be made out of Patrick the dead white rabbit.
In other news, The Ukulad tells me I am not short, but like tiny Snickers, Fun-Sized.
Love The Ukulady
ps: Velveeta is not in Cheeses of the World & Cheese Cookery.
Dear Blob,
Velveeta is the Doughnut of Cheeses. My co-Mexican-adventurer, Miss Jessica Grant, true to her Alabama roots, brought over Velveeta cheese dip and as my new book, Cheeses of the World & Cheese Cookery, encourages, I enjoyed a glass of wine with cheese. Velveeta and Malbec probably wasn't what 1967's International Cheese Enthusiasts had in mind, nor my inner-snobby voice or innards, however, the Velveeta was disgustingly delicious and like crack, totally addictive.
I felt Catholicishly-guilty nibbling Velveeta! It is sinful. I could never purchase it at the store; I would feel like a teen buying condoms. To some, raising opium poppies for medicinal tea is sinful; to others, eating Velveeta is worthy of confession.
In retrospect, Velvetina Evilwich, like Sandwich, but Evil, is probably named after Velveeta. Much of my childhood was spent hankering for sugar cereal, bologna & white bread.
White Bread was rarely part of my childhood. My parents sent me to hippie-artsy school with avocado sandwiches on wheat-berry bread. Once, before a school-potluck, I begged my mom to bring White Bread hamburger buns, but was insistent she not get the Kilpatrick-brand White Bread, thinking it was made out of dead, white rabbits.
Many years later, I discovered that my older sister had owned a white rabbit named Patrick who had been killed by raccoons. My 6-year-old brain figured Kilpatrick-brand White Bread must be made out of Patrick the dead white rabbit.
In other news, The Ukulad tells me I am not short, but like tiny Snickers, Fun-Sized.
Love The Ukulady
ps: Velveeta is not in Cheeses of the World & Cheese Cookery.
UkuAdventures in LA: The Bong District, Burning Man of Book Sales & Highland Park!
PHOTOS: Mista Cookie Jar & Ukulad, Orange-Themed Meal, Meepcake!
Dear Blob,
UkuAdventures in LA Driving:
With 15 million people in LA and the environs, bad drivers are as much a fact of stereotypical LA living as smog, the Hollywood sign and red carpet.
Instinctually, when a bad driver executes some ridiculous automotive move, Lad & I ask, "What Are You Thinking?!"
Ukulad's answers to what Angelenos are thinking while they drive:
1. Hmmm... Should I take the 3 year old to yoga or pilates?
2. Hmmmm... Should I carry the dog or put him in the basket?
3. Hmmmm.... Sushi or Korean Tacos... protein shake?
In other driving-news, I mistakenly honked at a slow-moving mini-van in front of me the other day. I was Mentally urging the fatty mini-van, the blobby, slothy, Sea-Cow of the road, to pick up the pace, when I accidentally leaned on the horn, like a schmucky LA driver, impatient to get 10 feet further, faster.
The mini-van, probably cursing at my horn-honking-douchebaggyness, got in another lane and let me pass. We were at a stoplight and now side-by-side. I was so embarrassed to be one of the horrible drivers of LA, I turned on a side-street, taking a different way home, which, of course, took longer. Instant-driver-karma.
Meanwhile, Ukulad and I had a ukubusy weekend, with adventures in Little Tokyo, Highland Park & an Orange-themed potluck.
Saturday's Little Tokyo adventure included a fabulous Mista-Cookie Jar music show with the Lad playing banjo & mandolin. It was the first gig I've actually watched the Lad play, as he usually plays with me; I was a puffed-up-proud mother-duck, taking photos & being an audience person, a pleasantly relaxing change.
In LA, when one is in a neighborhood far from one's home-hood, it's handy to combine adventure-task-errand-events. Like all cities, LA is full of Pockets; visitors sometimes think LA has no neighborhoods or character, which is ridiculous. LA is dozens of mini-villages, attached by car-byways, rather than subways, which make cities feel more connected, with all the citizens packed into 1 subway car.
LA's disconnectedness comes from our individual car-time; we are not face-to-face with our fellow Angelenos, but far-enough away to say mean things to each other like, "What a Meeping Meep! Learn how to drive, you Meeep!" This kind of dialogue rarely happens on subways. Angelenos utilize the ingrained-politeness & fellow-citizenship-connection less than other city-dwellers because we do not travel together.
However, once one arrives in a neighborhood, polite-fellow-citizenship abounds. After the music shows, The Lad and I walked through the Toy District, stumbling upon the wholesale Bong-district, a street of a dozen shops packed with crates of hundreds of bongs, to historic Spring Street, with it's ornate highrises from the 1930's questing for a purported booksale, which we found in a hot parking lot.
It was the Burning Man of Book Sales: total over-stimulation, with thousands of books on dozens of tables in no particular order, 1 book for $1 or a box for $15. We ended up with packed-box including ridiculous titles like Cheeses of the World & Cheese Cookery (mine), The Encyclopedia of Woodcarving Techniques (Lad) and Christmas in Catland & Fantastic Boats! (gifts for a cat 'n' boat-loving pals). We then carried the box of books 10 blocks. I felt like a New Yorker, walking in the shadows of actual city-buildings, schlepping cheap-used-treasures, until we got in our car and drove 10 miles home to Mar Vista, cursing at the bad drivers.
Sunday's UkuAdventures led us to Highland Park for a brief Ukulad-centric-work meeting, which I combined with a Quest for Handmade Tortillas. Highland Park, a historic,neighborhood of gorgeous 'n' run-down craftsmans, is where the artists are moving since being priced out of Echo Park. It's Mexico/Latin America in LA. We found incredible homemade corn & flour tortillas at the Super A, not to be confused with El Super, down the street.
The handmade tortillas were a hit at the evening's Orange-Themed potluck, complete with Ukulady-made enchiladas in 3 variations: vegetarian, onion/pepper-free & grain-free. Other orange-themed offerings included velveeta-cheese-dip, mango salsa & a Meepcake!
Love The Ukulady
ps: In the car, Lad & I played Boring Reality Shows: Admin Assistants! Paralegals! No offense to my paralegal & admin-assistant readerpals.
Dear Blob,
UkuAdventures in LA Driving:
With 15 million people in LA and the environs, bad drivers are as much a fact of stereotypical LA living as smog, the Hollywood sign and red carpet.
Instinctually, when a bad driver executes some ridiculous automotive move, Lad & I ask, "What Are You Thinking?!"
Ukulad's answers to what Angelenos are thinking while they drive:
1. Hmmm... Should I take the 3 year old to yoga or pilates?
2. Hmmmm... Should I carry the dog or put him in the basket?
3. Hmmmm.... Sushi or Korean Tacos... protein shake?
In other driving-news, I mistakenly honked at a slow-moving mini-van in front of me the other day. I was Mentally urging the fatty mini-van, the blobby, slothy, Sea-Cow of the road, to pick up the pace, when I accidentally leaned on the horn, like a schmucky LA driver, impatient to get 10 feet further, faster.
The mini-van, probably cursing at my horn-honking-douchebaggyness, got in another lane and let me pass. We were at a stoplight and now side-by-side. I was so embarrassed to be one of the horrible drivers of LA, I turned on a side-street, taking a different way home, which, of course, took longer. Instant-driver-karma.
Meanwhile, Ukulad and I had a ukubusy weekend, with adventures in Little Tokyo, Highland Park & an Orange-themed potluck.
Saturday's Little Tokyo adventure included a fabulous Mista-Cookie Jar music show with the Lad playing banjo & mandolin. It was the first gig I've actually watched the Lad play, as he usually plays with me; I was a puffed-up-proud mother-duck, taking photos & being an audience person, a pleasantly relaxing change.
In LA, when one is in a neighborhood far from one's home-hood, it's handy to combine adventure-task-errand-events. Like all cities, LA is full of Pockets; visitors sometimes think LA has no neighborhoods or character, which is ridiculous. LA is dozens of mini-villages, attached by car-byways, rather than subways, which make cities feel more connected, with all the citizens packed into 1 subway car.
LA's disconnectedness comes from our individual car-time; we are not face-to-face with our fellow Angelenos, but far-enough away to say mean things to each other like, "What a Meeping Meep! Learn how to drive, you Meeep!" This kind of dialogue rarely happens on subways. Angelenos utilize the ingrained-politeness & fellow-citizenship-connection less than other city-dwellers because we do not travel together.
However, once one arrives in a neighborhood, polite-fellow-citizenship abounds. After the music shows, The Lad and I walked through the Toy District, stumbling upon the wholesale Bong-district, a street of a dozen shops packed with crates of hundreds of bongs, to historic Spring Street, with it's ornate highrises from the 1930's questing for a purported booksale, which we found in a hot parking lot.
It was the Burning Man of Book Sales: total over-stimulation, with thousands of books on dozens of tables in no particular order, 1 book for $1 or a box for $15. We ended up with packed-box including ridiculous titles like Cheeses of the World & Cheese Cookery (mine), The Encyclopedia of Woodcarving Techniques (Lad) and Christmas in Catland & Fantastic Boats! (gifts for a cat 'n' boat-loving pals). We then carried the box of books 10 blocks. I felt like a New Yorker, walking in the shadows of actual city-buildings, schlepping cheap-used-treasures, until we got in our car and drove 10 miles home to Mar Vista, cursing at the bad drivers.
Sunday's UkuAdventures led us to Highland Park for a brief Ukulad-centric-work meeting, which I combined with a Quest for Handmade Tortillas. Highland Park, a historic,neighborhood of gorgeous 'n' run-down craftsmans, is where the artists are moving since being priced out of Echo Park. It's Mexico/Latin America in LA. We found incredible homemade corn & flour tortillas at the Super A, not to be confused with El Super, down the street.
The handmade tortillas were a hit at the evening's Orange-Themed potluck, complete with Ukulady-made enchiladas in 3 variations: vegetarian, onion/pepper-free & grain-free. Other orange-themed offerings included velveeta-cheese-dip, mango salsa & a Meepcake!
Love The Ukulady
ps: In the car, Lad & I played Boring Reality Shows: Admin Assistants! Paralegals! No offense to my paralegal & admin-assistant readerpals.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
UkuAdventures in LA: Beach Picnic & The Nuclear Meltdown of LA
PHOTOS: My Mom, SF Bellydancer, circa 1962, Ukulad!
Dear Blob,
Being a Date-Night Enthusiast and the seeming-literary-romanticness of night-beach-picnicking, The Ukulad and I ventured through the summer-hordes of sexy-outfit-clad Friday-Night-Beach-bar humans to our neighborhood beach, Venice Beach. We were hoping to catch sunset, but unlike Mexico's 8:30-9pm Sunset, LA sun goes down by 8pm.
We nibbled on a C-themed dinner, chicken, chips, carrots & cookies, discussing the virtues of panko and watching the insane twighlight-surfers and then it got cold. An evening beach-picnic is a much more theoretically-pleasing Date-Night than real life, which is cold, seagully & requires constant sand-in-snack vigilance.
We saw the LAPD in action, driving up the pier, through the freezing-tank-topped-tourists, to arrest a be-hoodied figure. The cops are out in droves in Venice, on bike, in car, on foot and helicopter, as well as beach-driving lifeguards in SUV's; The Urban Beach.
Venice Beach is a fabulous seashellery, with tons of interesting treasures washing up in the mornings and later evenings, with the tides. It's a great swimming beach when the toxin-levels are low, but always shower off the potential toxic-waste afterward.
My mom, who grew up in LA in the 1940's and 50's, remembers riding the Red Cars as a child, down to the beach with her little brother. Kids could take the trolley cars alone, play and swim all day safely; a sense of community-safety with everyone watching out for the children, abounded.
In the '50's my mom's family moved from Mar Vista to Grenada Hills, in the San Fernando Valley. She went to high school with Richie Valens of La Bamba fame, roller-skating with him and Donna. In 1959 there was a Nuclear Meltdown larger than Three Mile Island at Rocketdyne in Simi Valley/Northridge. It was never reported, never spoken of and has never been cleaned up.
My mom suffers from chronic, odd illnesses and when I tell Angelenos, particularly Valley-Dwellers, about the Nuclear Meltdown, they rarely are interested. Who wants to know they are living on a toxic-waste dump? The past 10 years has been a time of Truth-Uncovering and my aunt is a cleanup-activist. The activists pour endless energy, time and their limited money into fighting The Giant Evil Corporation, who just overthrew a court-ordered cleanup.
I hold a consta-invisible balance-scale of Lala Living; one side of the scale holds a deep love of LA's history, culture & industry, the other side is a deep aversion to the enormous cons of nuclear waste, vapid-humanity & overall-difficulty-of-simple-chores, like going to the bank.
In other news, today is a Cultural-History-Fun-Outing day to Little Tokyo where the Ukulad is playing a music show with Mista Cookie Jar! Good times to come!
Love The Ukulady
ps: Apparently Fava Beans cleanse soil of toxins. Everyone in the Valley should plant Fava Beans.
pps: Lad is holding Mini-Oreos because they were on-sale, not because we are frequent-Oreo cookie eaters; in fact, it was my first time eating a Mini-Oreo! Very dangerous.
Dear Blob,
Being a Date-Night Enthusiast and the seeming-literary-romanticness of night-beach-picnicking, The Ukulad and I ventured through the summer-hordes of sexy-outfit-clad Friday-Night-Beach-bar humans to our neighborhood beach, Venice Beach. We were hoping to catch sunset, but unlike Mexico's 8:30-9pm Sunset, LA sun goes down by 8pm.
We nibbled on a C-themed dinner, chicken, chips, carrots & cookies, discussing the virtues of panko and watching the insane twighlight-surfers and then it got cold. An evening beach-picnic is a much more theoretically-pleasing Date-Night than real life, which is cold, seagully & requires constant sand-in-snack vigilance.
We saw the LAPD in action, driving up the pier, through the freezing-tank-topped-tourists, to arrest a be-hoodied figure. The cops are out in droves in Venice, on bike, in car, on foot and helicopter, as well as beach-driving lifeguards in SUV's; The Urban Beach.
Venice Beach is a fabulous seashellery, with tons of interesting treasures washing up in the mornings and later evenings, with the tides. It's a great swimming beach when the toxin-levels are low, but always shower off the potential toxic-waste afterward.
My mom, who grew up in LA in the 1940's and 50's, remembers riding the Red Cars as a child, down to the beach with her little brother. Kids could take the trolley cars alone, play and swim all day safely; a sense of community-safety with everyone watching out for the children, abounded.
In the '50's my mom's family moved from Mar Vista to Grenada Hills, in the San Fernando Valley. She went to high school with Richie Valens of La Bamba fame, roller-skating with him and Donna. In 1959 there was a Nuclear Meltdown larger than Three Mile Island at Rocketdyne in Simi Valley/Northridge. It was never reported, never spoken of and has never been cleaned up.
My mom suffers from chronic, odd illnesses and when I tell Angelenos, particularly Valley-Dwellers, about the Nuclear Meltdown, they rarely are interested. Who wants to know they are living on a toxic-waste dump? The past 10 years has been a time of Truth-Uncovering and my aunt is a cleanup-activist. The activists pour endless energy, time and their limited money into fighting The Giant Evil Corporation, who just overthrew a court-ordered cleanup.
I hold a consta-invisible balance-scale of Lala Living; one side of the scale holds a deep love of LA's history, culture & industry, the other side is a deep aversion to the enormous cons of nuclear waste, vapid-humanity & overall-difficulty-of-simple-chores, like going to the bank.
In other news, today is a Cultural-History-Fun-Outing day to Little Tokyo where the Ukulad is playing a music show with Mista Cookie Jar! Good times to come!
Love The Ukulady
ps: Apparently Fava Beans cleanse soil of toxins. Everyone in the Valley should plant Fava Beans.
pps: Lad is holding Mini-Oreos because they were on-sale, not because we are frequent-Oreo cookie eaters; in fact, it was my first time eating a Mini-Oreo! Very dangerous.
Friday, August 5, 2011
UkuAdventures in LA: King Tut, City-Wide Healing Circles and Lobster
PHOTO: Astrid Strudelman, The Unicorn Whisperer
Dear Blob,
I've become newly obsessed with Egyptology. Last Sunday, I found an intriguing-looking book in a Free Box; Ukulad calls it a Pee Box. The books were slightly dew-damp, mostly discarded plays of a disillusioned former-actor and 1 book on my new friend, King Tut.
Reading Rules! It's so exciting to learn why, how, where, when, what, particularly about iconic topics. I had no idea Tut's assumed pharaoh-father was a religious visionary, parting from thousands of years of Egyptian polytheism to start his own monotheistic sun-worshipping religion. He built his own royal city and shirked all usual pharaoh-duties, like sacking Libya, Nubia and Turkey, letting Egypt fall into disarray.
When Tut's pop died, the court-officials swept Tut and his half-sister, now wife, (eww!) back to the traditional royal city of Thebes, where poor Tut was a puppet of a scheming old dude named Aye, who possibly murdered Tut, married his young wife and became the Pharaoh. Riveting! Drama! It's just like Dallas & Falcon Crest! Humans haven't changed in thousands of years; we are still power-hungry, greedy narcissists. Donald Trump 'n' Paris Hilton would fit in perfectly at Egyptian court.
In other news shifting cultures is challenging on the body. Returning from 5 weeks in Mexico has been draining my energy in a quiet way. Landing in Mexico was dramatic, as everything in Mexican culture is, with extreme dehydration and heat-lethargy saying, "Yo Meep! Rest all day, Meep all night!"
I didn't expect physical-challenges in returning to my busy-bee LA life, but on the contrary there is a quiet, but persistent drain of energy as my senses recalibrate to being surrounded by millions of people, cars, sounds & the ever-present freelancer-make-money pressure-party. Everyone in LA needs to go to some sort of giant healing-energy circle where we all hold hands and look each other in the eyeball and learn to communicate non-passive-aggressively.
Today's "Odd" News, I call it ridic: Tibetan Buddhist Monks purchased 600 delicious New England lobsters and setting them free (the news article doesn't call the lobsters delicious). What a waste of time, money and energy, particularly when there are famine reports on the front page and starving children right in the Boston area who probably would benefit from a delicious 'n' decadent lobster dinner. I'm totally into Buddhist monks, but this story makes them look like schmucks.
Love The Ukulady
ps: The Tibetan anti-lobster-dinner monks should come to LA and conduct the City-Wide Friendship-Healing-Circles.
pps: There will be no traffic that day!
Dear Blob,
I've become newly obsessed with Egyptology. Last Sunday, I found an intriguing-looking book in a Free Box; Ukulad calls it a Pee Box. The books were slightly dew-damp, mostly discarded plays of a disillusioned former-actor and 1 book on my new friend, King Tut.
Reading Rules! It's so exciting to learn why, how, where, when, what, particularly about iconic topics. I had no idea Tut's assumed pharaoh-father was a religious visionary, parting from thousands of years of Egyptian polytheism to start his own monotheistic sun-worshipping religion. He built his own royal city and shirked all usual pharaoh-duties, like sacking Libya, Nubia and Turkey, letting Egypt fall into disarray.
When Tut's pop died, the court-officials swept Tut and his half-sister, now wife, (eww!) back to the traditional royal city of Thebes, where poor Tut was a puppet of a scheming old dude named Aye, who possibly murdered Tut, married his young wife and became the Pharaoh. Riveting! Drama! It's just like Dallas & Falcon Crest! Humans haven't changed in thousands of years; we are still power-hungry, greedy narcissists. Donald Trump 'n' Paris Hilton would fit in perfectly at Egyptian court.
In other news shifting cultures is challenging on the body. Returning from 5 weeks in Mexico has been draining my energy in a quiet way. Landing in Mexico was dramatic, as everything in Mexican culture is, with extreme dehydration and heat-lethargy saying, "Yo Meep! Rest all day, Meep all night!"
I didn't expect physical-challenges in returning to my busy-bee LA life, but on the contrary there is a quiet, but persistent drain of energy as my senses recalibrate to being surrounded by millions of people, cars, sounds & the ever-present freelancer-make-money pressure-party. Everyone in LA needs to go to some sort of giant healing-energy circle where we all hold hands and look each other in the eyeball and learn to communicate non-passive-aggressively.
Today's "Odd" News, I call it ridic: Tibetan Buddhist Monks purchased 600 delicious New England lobsters and setting them free (the news article doesn't call the lobsters delicious). What a waste of time, money and energy, particularly when there are famine reports on the front page and starving children right in the Boston area who probably would benefit from a delicious 'n' decadent lobster dinner. I'm totally into Buddhist monks, but this story makes them look like schmucks.
Love The Ukulady
ps: The Tibetan anti-lobster-dinner monks should come to LA and conduct the City-Wide Friendship-Healing-Circles.
pps: There will be no traffic that day!
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
UkuAdventures in LA: Cuddle Therapy, Soba Noodles & Pioneers!
Dear Blob,
Since detoxing in Mexico from the American Media, particularly The News, I find myself much more relaxed and less angry. I'm a Naturally Happy person, often startled to realize I've been whistling unconsciously in line at Trader Joes or giggling in yoga class during Hanuman, also known as The Spilts. However, nothing makes me not whistle like Hypocrisy in Religion and Politics.
It's certainly important to be aware of what our government is spending the non-rich's money on, but at this juncture it's pointless to listen to NPR's political updates. Washington politics is like Junior High; Politicians are the puppets of the Corporations, like JV Cheerleaders are Varsity's puppets; the American public is the helpless student body and I'm in the nerdy theater-debate AV club. I'm over it.
The only good thing about the News are tidbit gems like this one: Cuddle Therapy for Gay Men by "Formerly-Gay" Men. Ha - Gay men being cuddled to Straight by Closeted-Gay Men. It costs a shocking $650! As the article says, toddle on down to your nearest bathhouse, in the UkuHousehold, that's 1/2 block away at Roman Holiday, and enjoy Cuddle Therapy for much cheaper.
I yearn for a world where people mind their own business and celebrate fellow humans for just being alive and surviving the constant challenges of life. Humans today are so concerned with celebrity cooters, how much sex and what kind of sex other people are having; if half of that energy went towards saying Hi on the street or growing a kitchen-garden everyone would feel a lot better. It would affect the pharmaceutical companies and the religious empires, as their coffers would no doubt, dwindle, as human's natural joy increased. It seems like a no-brainer. It's obvious, yet humans can't seem to do it. No wonder Aliens have no interest in our planet. We are boringly unevolved.
In other news, I cooked a tasty Soba noodle dish tonight with Ahi tuna and Kale! I felt very mature and artisan. The Ukulad has a condition which disallows him to eat garlic, onion, tomato & peppers. It used to be challenging to cook onion/garlic-free, but his meepy adorability is worth giving up chocolate for. Shocking, but true. The Pioneers didn't even have chocolate! Or the Ukulad! (He has Chocolate, but the Pioneers didn't have him). This evening's Soba dish wore a moisture-outfit of lemon 'n' lime juice, accessible from our yard-trees, soy sauce, fresh ginger, sesame oil & the secret magic ingredient, sugar. It was delicious!
Love The Ukulady
ps: I will be bi-weekly blogging about the LA Neighborhoods of Echo Park 'n' Silverlake, focusing on snacks, stairwalks 'n' succulents. Tune in here!
pps: I am totally a celebrity-cooter-news-reader. Everytime I go to the drugstore I head right for trashy magazineland. It's important to know if Lindsey Lohan has been arrested this week or if Brittney is knocked up again yet.
ppps: In audition-waiting-rooms, though, I like to smugly pull out a Harpers or New Yorker.
UkuAdventures in LA: My Gay BFF's!
Dear Blob,
One of the best parts of LA is getting to hang out with my fleet of Gay Men. I'm unsure why I am naturally BFF with virtually every gay man I meet, but generally, I have an insta-connection and am ready to invite every one over for artisan nibblies after 5 minutes. I'm also partial to my gay ladies, BFFing it up within mere moments.
I was confused as to the Bible's vehement dislike of my peeps and an interesting theory from The Ukulad, raised Southern Baptist, brings insight. Generally, all gay men I meet are The Best! They have the best taste, throw the best parties, are the most loyal and wonderful friends; a joy to be around, ready to put on a show, dress-up, socialize, be fabulous but not in a drag-queeny way, in a Enjoy-The-Finest-In-Life way.
I couldn't figure out why the Bible, ridiculously edited hundreds of times, would have such hatred towards the most wonderful race (if it's genetic, which I firmly believe it is, it's a race) of people. They just want to party!
The Ukulad's Theory: The Bible was written in times of consta-warring humans, looting, plundering, murdering, raping everyone indiscriminately. Humans haven't changed too much, we still love to go to war, but hopefully the indiscriminate raping has chilled out.
The Lad thinks the Bible isn't talking about my fabulous friends who can re-organize your furniture and make your house look roomier, lighter & more beautiful in 10 minutes; but the war-mongering rapists who set villages on fire and meeped men, women, animals, anything. The Bible's hypocritical hatred for Gays is meant for the rapists, not the Sassy Gay Friend that everyone needs.
It's human's Hypocrisy that gets me down. I prefer Love to Fear.
Love The Ukulady
ps: I wore a coat and drove 70mph on the freeway yesterday! I am Not in Mexico!
One of the best parts of LA is getting to hang out with my fleet of Gay Men. I'm unsure why I am naturally BFF with virtually every gay man I meet, but generally, I have an insta-connection and am ready to invite every one over for artisan nibblies after 5 minutes. I'm also partial to my gay ladies, BFFing it up within mere moments.
I was confused as to the Bible's vehement dislike of my peeps and an interesting theory from The Ukulad, raised Southern Baptist, brings insight. Generally, all gay men I meet are The Best! They have the best taste, throw the best parties, are the most loyal and wonderful friends; a joy to be around, ready to put on a show, dress-up, socialize, be fabulous but not in a drag-queeny way, in a Enjoy-The-Finest-In-Life way.
I couldn't figure out why the Bible, ridiculously edited hundreds of times, would have such hatred towards the most wonderful race (if it's genetic, which I firmly believe it is, it's a race) of people. They just want to party!
The Ukulad's Theory: The Bible was written in times of consta-warring humans, looting, plundering, murdering, raping everyone indiscriminately. Humans haven't changed too much, we still love to go to war, but hopefully the indiscriminate raping has chilled out.
The Lad thinks the Bible isn't talking about my fabulous friends who can re-organize your furniture and make your house look roomier, lighter & more beautiful in 10 minutes; but the war-mongering rapists who set villages on fire and meeped men, women, animals, anything. The Bible's hypocritical hatred for Gays is meant for the rapists, not the Sassy Gay Friend that everyone needs.
It's human's Hypocrisy that gets me down. I prefer Love to Fear.
Love The Ukulady
ps: I wore a coat and drove 70mph on the freeway yesterday! I am Not in Mexico!
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
UkuAdventures in LA: Green Beetles, Sleepwalking & Avocados!
Dear Blob,
I am a lifelong sleepwalker. Memorable sleepwalking moments relayed to me by the Awake include urgently asking, "What are we doing, eating cookies?!" and getting dressed for work at 3am. I sleep fitfully and sleepwalk when in a new location; last night I slept-walk-awoke several times, thinking our Marshmallow Studiohouse was in Mexico, a confusing Wizard-of-Oz-like concept.
I used to live in Gloria Swanson's mansion in Angelino Heights, a historic LA neighborhood of Victorians & Craftsmans. Mansion life was subsidized by my fab roommate with a real job and my now-gone-7-year regular VO job as a gibberish-speaking-expert. The crashing economy and the Joy of Change led The Ukulad and I to our current UkuHome, which we call The Marshmallow, as it's like living inside an Artisan Square Marshmallow. It's like a Weeble House. My reverse-culture-shock is limited to sleep-talking, wondering if we are in Mexico and minor jet-lag, awaking at 6am and passing out at 9pm, regardless of David Cross's hilarity on computerTV.
Why are Artisan Marshmallows always square?
In other news, the Irridescent Green Beetles of LA are in season, whizzing around like cartoon bugs and reminding Angelinos that LA is actually on Planet Earth and Nature is Here; not just man-made nature, but nature Nature.
The Ukulad and I have inherited a food-garden from our awesome landlords/friendsies, who left LA to be Geniuses at MIT. It's exciting to make dinner from snacks plucked from the yard. The Avocado Tree is a couple weeks away from Guacamole-Every-Day, it's branches laden with hundreds of valuable fruitlets. If we were ancient-old-fashioned merchants, we would be rich! I'm curious if I can sell them on the corner.... Will people stop to buy from a white-ish lady? Will I get a ticket? Will I become rich in money, not just avocados? Is it worth hanging out alongside traffic? Will I get sick of Guacomole? These are the important questions!
Love The Ukulady
ps: I've emailed the Mexican Bug Repellent company, YA! questing for their awesome, all-natural-pleasnt-smelling bug-repellent-wipes in America... No return emeep yet, but stay tuned!
pps: Mexico-Nostalgia has set in...
UkuThanks from The Ukulady & The Unicorndog!
Thank You for Being a UkuFriendsie! To Commission Your Very Own Personal Jingle or a Custom Singing Telegram, Click Here!
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