Facelifts 'n' Fake Lips

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Doughnut Fever!

Dear Blob,
SInce moving to LA, I have marveled at the abundance of Doughnut Shops and wondered how they all stay in business. Like in the South, where there are churches on every corner, LA's church seems to be the Doughnut Shop. Being a voice over talent, I rarely work on set; however, I am now working on the set of a Nickelodeon game show and I now know how the Doughnut shops stay in business. Film Shoot Craft Services.
Love The Ukulady
ps: I am avoiding the doughnuts.
pps: I Love doughnuts and once asked for a box of doughnuts for my birthday.
ppps: I received the box and ate them all wheile writing my 8th grade term paper.
pppps: I can't remember the topic of the term paper, but I remember getting pretty sick.

Anorexia Thrives in LA!

Dear Blob,
I recently spent 10 days in the SF/Bay Area, where I felt healthy, fit and slim. I returned to LA a couple days ago and instantly felt fat again. Most LA white women my age, are ridiculously stick-model slim ; it's not the norm for women to look like US Weekly LA starlets. Blob & Readers, this is just a Ukulady reminder that anorexia and her various food-issue cousins, are definitely alive and thriving in LA! Anorexia Therapists, this is the place to live! I've always wondered who would live in LA, if they didn't work in the Industry, and now I realize, it must be all Anorexia Therapists and boutique mini-doggie-product peddlers. Now I'm going to eat ice cream.
Love The Ukulady
ps: How boring is Brittney these days?

Condoms & Despair

Dear Blob,
I do not recommend The Despairing should come to LA, thinking because the city is usually sunny, happiness will be found. This was one of my Jogging-Thoughts, today, running past Despairing Homeless Person after Despairing Junkie in Echo Park. There are about 6 million people in LA and I think 3 million are probably despairing; 2 million are perhaps slightly depressed and I hope it's not optimistic to think there are 1 million truly happy people in LA.

In other news, I feel mixed about seeing used condoms on the street. My initial reaction is repulsion at being subjected to someone else's disgusting, withered wiener-wrappers; but then I'm really happy and proud of the condom-user, at their thoughtfulness, taking the time to practice safe sex on the corner of De Longpre and Gower, across from Sunset Studios.
Love The Ukulady
ps: I am one of the 1 million; truly happy.
pps: Heal Britney!

Hookers & High-Fructose!

Dear Blob!
It was an exciting weekend in The Ukulady’s UkulUniverse! Not only was it a Magical Slumber Party weekend at Chez Ukulady, with 3 delightful ally/pals, pallies, filling the house with Unicorn Hearts, but I was also mistaken for a Woman of The Night!
Clad in a vintage cotton-candy pink sateen gown, knee-high pink Fluevogs and blue tights, I, my Gexan (Gay Texan) and my Pirate Cheerleader High Priestess, (PCHP ((Not a drug or highway)) sheathed in orange muppet-fur, an orange baby-doll shift and knee-high army boots, were strolling down Western Ave, a seedy fast-food-shack strewn Los Angeles boulevard. It was midnight and we were headed from a Drunken Spelling Bee/Beer Chug to the car, when a man and his son, who appeared to be between 5 – 7 yrs old, approached. As they passed my trio, the boy accusingly squealed, “Hookers!”
Then, seat-buckled in the car, we drove past a taco truck and saw the man and boy, sodas in hand, strolling back from whence they came. While it was exciting to be mistaken for a street whore, I felt concern and sadness for the young city child, who, at midnight, was not tucked into bed, but walked the street-whore streets, drinking a high-fructose addiction-forming beverage, and at such a tender age, possessed hooker-awareness.
My Gexan has a diet Coke habit and needed a midnight thirst-quencher, so we stopped at the Echo Park 711, where we saw a teen mother feeding her baby Slurpee. Again, regret for a soda-drinking youngster surfaced, and I remembered why I think ET’s are totally uninterested in planet Earth. How pathetically unevolved we are.
In other news, if I owned a bakery it would be called Puffy Puffy Yum Yum and I would rename every baked good the Butter Cream Fat Pouch.
Love The UkuLady

LARD #2

Dear Blog,
Again I have been misreading LAPD (Los Angeles Police Department) as LARD. There seems to be an insurgency of LAPD signs in Echo Park and maybe I'll have to get a sharpie and pen the leg onto the P, creating LARD...
Love The UkuLady
PS: It rained last night in LA! It hasn't rained here in months - it's like Dune.

A Very UkuLady Return to LalaLand

Dear Blog,
A quickie review of my first week back in LA after the woods of Northern California:
1. Oh right, I live in Mexico. I remembered this on my way to jog around Echo Park Lake, deftly zigzagging past ridiculous amounts of garbage, which included dirty diapers, soiled prom dresses and human shit, all amongst hot-cheetos bags, and dozens of other miscellaneous plastic bags. The bags are sadly interwined in scrubby dandelions, smeared with car oil, ketchup from mini-fast-food packets and cat, dog and people feces. Good Times.
2. 4th of July in Echo Park this year did not include a palm tree on fire at the lake and the neighborhood youth seemed tamer than last year, setting off mostly legal fireworks until only about midnight, rather than 4am, like last year. There was also a taco party and pre-firework nibblies on my porch.
3. My first week back also included an impromptu Friday nvitation to join '80's party-boy-gay-icon, James St. James, on his 24hour www.RingMyBell.tv extravaganza! Ring My Bell's studio is in an empty storefront on Hollywood Blvd, with all-American fatty tourists gawking at the star-studded sidewalk, the hot dog shacks and the porn-outfit shops. RIng My Bell was a gay extravaganza, complete with me and a soft-core gay porn star, who plays a heartthrob vampire on a show I've never heard of called, Dante's Cove, answering the phones together. Dylan, the soft-core porn star wore no shirt and super low-riders, which showed his yellow and red-starred panties. He showed his ass several times and many times was very close to removing all his clothes for the internet audience. James St. James was harried, but totally sweet. My BFF, D. Black put it well, saying, "It's like you decided you were a gay icon, went to the gay community and all the gay boys are like, 'Who's she? Oh, Ok, I guess so. Yeah, she's funny and cute. Ok, she can be a ga icon!'". It was the first time I've been referred to as a celebrity, by James, as in, he's talking on the phone to a famous friend of his, in prison for murdering his drug dealer, and James says to his murderer friend, "We're having a 24 hour show and I've got all these celebrities here, like The UkuLady and Dylan the soft-core porn star vampire guy."
4. The Neosurrealists Wedding in Topanga Canyon on Saturday; they are the Neosurrealists and The UkuLady played a set and wrote The Neosurrealist Wedding Song (see www.TheUkuLady.com later this week). Best ceremony ever; it included a Cheese Break, the question, Will You Still Love Dan if He Votes Republican (yes) and bellydancers.
5. Psychic Dating pilot shoot on Sunday. The UkuLady had a reading from Psychic Dave, who seems truly intuitive...psychic? Perhaps. Another surreal day, watching 3 sets of psychics, including the Psychic Twins, give separate readings to friends. Interestingly, the readings were similar for the same people, from the different readers.
6. Amidst the oddities of these three events was learning Nicole Richie is pregnant! Oh that poor baby fetus.... Gay Best Friend thinks Nicole may have mistakenly eaten a jelly bean or grain of Minute Rice.
7. Psychic Dave did tell me to write, so Blog, I'll hustle up my blogging this week.
Love The UkuLady

I Heart Yoga!

The Couches of Echo Park

Dear Blog,
I am amazed by the many discarded couches in Echo Park; specifically, on my one-block street. Without fail, there are always at least 2 couches plus, often a medley of mattresses and broken chairs. I can't believe there are enough living spaces to have housed all the abandonded couches. Irritatingly, the seemingly-pee-ridden-couches are apt to linger on my street for weeks, regardless of my good-citizenhood, calling the LA refuse specialty pickup number. Last summer there was a gigantic pile of garbage, including several mattresses, a couple couches and we waited a couple weeks for something to happen to the pile. Nothing did, so we called the special pickup number and went away on vacation. Returned a couple weeks later and the pile was still there, but larger. Finally, I called our city councilman's office. The pile was picked up a couple weeks later. I think it was there for about 2 months. City living.
Once a dead dog was put into a garbage bag and left in front of our house. Me and my duplex neighbors thought it was a stuffed animal, until the flies started swarming. Again, I called a special number. When I lived in San Francisco I never called the police or a special number, in 8 years. Since I've been in LA, 3 years now, I've called at least a dozen times. Someone died in front of our house last year. This person was stabbed at the Burrito King down the street, ran, bleeding and collapsed in front of our plant-filled oasis (totally a paradise, my housey). We were drinking at the oldest French restaurant in LA, staggered home to police tape surrounding our street and weren't allowed past, into the house, for about an hour. And then, only after I threw a mini-drunken-tantrum. We got to our house by climbing over our neighbor's fence. There were blood-stains on the sidewalk the next morning from the dead person. Yikesies.
The couches, however, are really beginning to annoy me. I just can't understand how they keep multiplying. The Couches of Echo Park are like baby mice.
Love The UkuLady
PS: I've developed a crush on John Heder (Napoleon Dynamite) after seeing Blades of Glory. However, his Mormonhood is really un-hot. Maybe I just like his flameyness...love those gay men....