Showing posts from 2005
NO FA LA LA... I'M FEVERISH OK, so the holiday season was going fine, but Joe got me sick with some cold he's been struggling with and I feel that my head and sinuses are going to explode. I've had 2 days off work now and all I do is lay in bed or on the sofas dying -- under the covers sweating or on top of the covers shivering. This would be somewhat bearable except Evadnae is so fucking happy that I'm home near him that he ignores my attempts to keep him from getting some awful mutation of this illness and attatches himself to the top of my head in a state of bliss. Hugging and PURRING. This causes me to wake from a flu-induced stupor covered with drool and sheened with sweat with a cat covering my head like a swimcap clutched to my head so fervently and purring so deeply that he's shaking my fillings loose. In mideaval times if a cure for life-threatening influenza was my intrepid cat Evadnae, the town physician would send me home with the perscription: "Ju
FA LA LA LA LA HERE’S MY CREDIT CARD Ah yes. There are some joys and some pains that go with living smack in the center of Los Angeles and right across the street from The Grove. The joys of walking in bright shiny sunshine across the street and into the welcoming bosom of Nordstrom with its welcoming shoe department. The joys of leaving my car keys at home, slapping my sunglasses on and slipping my American Express into my pocket. Ah, traveling light for a bit of holiday shopping. The pain comes when I’m lugging an insane number of enormous bags back across the street that becomes particularly cruel torture as the handles dig into my fingers and the bags bash into my shins, knees, thighs or wherever the bags can make contact with my poor gams. I was given a secret santa card and noticed that the gift listed was only available at Macy’s. Sorry. Not doing Macy’s this year. The Ivy secret santa isn’t driving to a mall. So it was champagne from Cost Plus World Market. Fa La La La Bubbly
Ivy Revealed! Yes, you can all stop e-mailing me. Dave has shown me how to add pictures to my blog. Now I just need to evaluate what images I am comfortable sharing with you... I think I'll let Joe be the judge since he's much more level-headed than I... ... but here is when I wrecked Joe's bumper on my birthday getaway to Big Sur: All Red Ivy compositions, posts and blog content Copyright protected.
OK, THEN I HAVE PERFECT BLOODPRESSURE I’ve been thinking about this body of mine that I just expect to be healthy and um, yes, I’ll just be blunt – fabulous. What don’t I know about my body? So it was intrepid Lara to the rescue, “Here’s the number to my GP (general practitioner to those in the know) and she’s very thorough, make an appointment to go get a good physical.” Hmmm, excellent advice since I’ve gotten dire news of my sister’s health. How dire? Well, I recently got a call that she’d been in the hospital over the Thanksgiving holiday unconscious for days having convulsions and twice bit through her respirator tube due to the severity of the episodes and once inhaling the broken tube down into her lungs. Now she is out, and while she feels good, she has the husky voice of Betty Davis in her later years - due to all of the inserting of things down her throat and all doncha know. Gee, you think you know what the fuck’s going on with your friends and family don’t you? Here I am
CHUCK NORRIS HILARITY OK, I'm getting used to my glasses, but they almost flew off my face when I got to the one about Chuck Norris' ability to make a woman climax. Help me... I'm hysterical! Top 30 Chuck Norris facts Chuck Norris' tears cure cancer. Too bad he has never cried. Chuck Norris built a time machine and went back in time to stop the JFK assassination. As Oswald shot, Chuck deflected all three bullets with his beard. JFK's head exploded out of sheer amazement. Chuck Norris recently had the idea to sell his urine as a canned beverage. We know this beverage as Red Bull. Rather than being birthed like a normal child, Chuck Norris instead decided to punch his way out of his mother's womb. Shortly thereafter he grew a beard. Chuck Norris lives by only one rule: Pain, I deal it, you take it. Takeru Kobayashi ate 50 and a half hotdogs in 12 minutes. Chuck Norris ate 12 Asian babies in 50 and a half minutes. Chuck Norris won. The original them
THE GLASSES ARE HALF FULL Let me start off by saying what I can’t stop saying lately: But you don’t understand! I have PERFECT eyesight! Yes, I can see a facial imperfection on a supermodel on a catwalk from backstage and I can hear Jell-o hardening. I have super senses people. Let’s just give me a round of applause, shall we? So recently while laboring away at THE BIG REPORT I was scrounging through reams of junk data to find just the numbers I need, but employing a ruler to scan the numbers across the page… and I realized that I was experiencing eye strain. Huh. Odd. But then while driving home in the dark recently I had to squint to make out unfamiliar street signs. Huh. Odd. I mentioned this to Angela at work who promptly replied, “Go get your eyes checked, we have excellent vision insurance and the optician that most of us go to is right here in the building.” Huh. Make an eye appointment. So I did. Hey, I’ve got great insurance and maybe the doc can give me some cute little
A VERY UNEXPECTED BIRTHDAY WINDFALL So Thursday night I came home from work, the plan was to grab Joe and then head over to Dave’s apartment (picking up Chinese food along the way) and watching a movie. But as soon as I walked in the door I knew that something was going on. Joe was up to something. First the place smelled amazing and our entire apartment was lit with candles – candlesticks from all the different rooms were burning tapers in beautiful profusions with fresh flowers with long stems strewn ever which way. Even my candelabra was aflame. A big beautiful bouquet was on the dining room table with a card leaning against it. I was enveloped in a big hug and Joe wished me a happy birthday… 6 days early. The card had to wait while I noticed a large invitation to run away with Joe for the weekend starting tomorrow (Friday) up to Deetjens Cabins in Big Sur! Hell yes! He’d asked me to get Friday off a while ago so we could take a day trip – which I assumed would be a local jaunt
LOOK I’M A BAR! & DRIVING RANT I was flattered to learn that my home town has decided to commemorate me as a favorite daughter of the city with broad shoulders by opening Red Ivy! A pub that is described in this fashion: Red Ivy is a Cub bar with a separate dining room that is part of Palermo’s that features pizza along with traditional pub fare. The decor features loads of mahogany and exposed brick, including a 50-foot curved mahogany bar. And it’s dueling doors on Clark Street – Red Ivy has retractable aluminum and glass doors that open onto Clark, just like they do at Moe's Cantina across the street. But my blushing was cut short when I learned that this establishment isn’t named after me at all – but after the ivy in Wrigley Field. Ah well, I guess that’s fine. Mmm now I’m hungry for a big pan of Palermo’s Chicago-style deep dish pizza. Now, for all of you former fans of my driving rants from back in the day – I got a call yesterday from a friend who was born and raise
HALLOWEEN PARTIES & LIVING WITH RUFUS It’s one of my favorite times of the year. Fall! This is the time of year when I typically would be moved to make big changes: move to anther state, break off a relationship, buy a shiny new car, experiment with frosted green eye shadow, you know, things like that. And while the changes in my life have become less overt -I haven’t moved from LA in 10 years and haven’t ditched a beau in 8 years, it’s also the time of year to dress up! So 2 weekends ago Joe and I cruised into the party store in our farmer’s market and grabbed costumes. Now, let me just say that I don’t have any problem with every other woman on the planet dressing up as sluts – I just don’t prescribe to that particular philosophy myself.* I grabbed a St. Pauli Girl German beer garden dress and while it is quite short, I am not sporting fishnet stockings and stilettos. A) because an authentic beer garden waitress wouldn’t wear them and B) I do happen to own classic black clogs
BACK FROM PARADISE! I’m home and can’t help but feel like one of the people on that Celebrity Cruise commercials, “I was treated as royalty. My room was filled with long stemmed roses. My butler knew just how I liked my tea. I consider this a temporary exile…” We jetted off to Hawaii and upon arrival at the charming outdoor airport we were greeted by a woman from the resort who mothered us by commandeering our luggage, not letting us carry anything, asking us if we had to use the rest room before boarding our car to our destination. What was our destination like? Um, well, I’ve never been to heaven before, but, yeah, I guess that when your mind can’t conceive of anything better – you’re in heaven. We had a big spacious hale “holly” had bouquets, macadamia goodies and a free mini-bar along with Jacuzzi tub and separate shower, comfy day-bed, king bed, chaise lounge, fresh Kona coffee beans, and on our private deck a 4 person hot tub. Did I mention that our private hale and deck had
SO BUSY, SO LONG & KISS MY BACK What have I been up to that I’ve been too busy to blog? Well, as you know, typically Joe and I prize our down time on the weekends and go to elaborate lengths to avoid driving or any obligations on Saturday or Sunday. We mooch around the apartment and local establishments, we nap, we chill, we take long baths, we power lounge (in between errands & house hold chores). Last Wednesday Joe called me in a dither, “Hey! Ivy! You’re not going to believe what I’ve done… I accepted that invitation to the Neon Cruise and that’s this Friday, Jackie’s party is Saturday and Eric & Paige’s wedding is Sunday.” I let my breath out slowly, “So we’re booked solid you’re telling me?” “Yes.” “No chance you got any dates confused and one or more of these events isn’t this weekend?” “No.” “OK.” So Friday night we grabbed our Vince Vaughn twin Nick and headed downtown LA to the Museum of Neon Art. Lovely, great people, sparkly neon. Then we climbed onto a D
TOO SORE TO MOVE BUT I’M LUSTROUSLY GOLDEN Words fail me. My body is so sore that I’m beyond reason. On Monday I tried a new workout that hasn’t hit the market yet. Yes, I do consider myself a bit of a guinea pig when it comes to fitness products. I’m reasonable and not afraid to modify if a move is beyond my ability to perform it properly – true I’ve been on a lucky streak that I haven’t ripped a tendon or caused my knee cap to fly off or something equally permanent. So there I was in the gym two days ago with a couple of workout pals. We’re the hard core gym rats you can set your clock by each day. We are eager to try this new routine. We cruise through the warm up… but don’t feel really warm yet. We perform our first cardio burst and it feels a bit disjointed and odd. We start exchanging darting glances to each other as our bodies weakly protest. By the 30th rep of these sweeping sideways pendulum lunges on each side my body sends a warning signal, “Hey bee-otch grab some floor!”
RICHEST CHICAGOANS & WE’RE DONE FOR Ty Warner is worth $4.4 billion. Hmmm, more than the Wrigley Jr. and more than the Pritzker family (but not combined) who seem to have donated a huge quantity of rare artwork to the Art Institute –which is the only reason I recognize their name. What made Mr. Warner so mind-blowingly wealthy? Beanie Babies. I tell you, I’ve been annoyed by those little things since they came out. Mushy little suckers. Why? Because of the people I’ve seen who collect them. That’s why. Yeah, that’s right, collect them. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I think there is no problem with buying one and handing it to a whiny toddler to shut them up, or adding to the top of a child’s gift to make the package look enticing. It’s the collection part that gives me the willies. Kinda like when you’re invited into someone’s house on a cold winter afternoon while selling Avon and you suddenly find yourself surrounded by themed salt and pepper shakers teamed up in little twosomes all
JEFKINS IS THE NAME & THE FERTILE POSSIBILITIES This morning I entered the elevator and was confronted by, “I can work your body.” I wasn’t quite processing what he said. “Wa huh?” “Names Jefkins, I’ve been up since 5:30 this morning working out. I’m a trainer and I promise I can work your body. You know being fit isn’t just for the moment… it’s for life.” Why do I live in LA and work in Beverly Hills? Is there anyplace else in the world where you get pushed up on by personal trainers? I smiled at Jefkins and took in his mac daddy persona. He looks just like Bobby Brown, only in shape, and was all tricked out in nylon workout togs with bling around his neck and on 7 fingers (I counted) and both wrists. He smiled at me as I smiled at his bling. I was contemplating the kind of mother who would name their child Jefkins, clearly someone who aspired to have their son placed in a household that needed a gentleman’s gentleman. I mean, come on – is there another name more suited to b
SCARY HAIR & SCARDEY CATS This morning we’re having a bit of rain and last night we had a bit of a storm. This morning as I made my way to the car I watched a woman hunching and attempting to cover her hair with her hands as she ran for my building. What was striking about this is that the do she was sporting on her head was the most gobsmackingly awful abomination. Truly I couldn’t even conceive of a coif like that, and my mind stopped short of why someone would want to shield its catastrophe from the elements… …perhaps she is about to appear in a conceptual play as a poodle? That’s the only explanation I could come up with as I slowly walked to the happy clown car. Yes, that’s the best my brain had to offer. Why? Well, because I’m tired. Why am I tired? Well, Evadnae and Hannibal are frightened of thunder so while sleeping with 2 big cats on my head is something that I’ve become somewhat accustomed to, it was a whole other Oprah to attempt to get a modicum of sleep with them s
MR FLOP SWEAT & OUR PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE NEIGHBOR You might not recall the little blog item months back where I got on the elevator at work and a man climbed on with me. He was soaking wet and wheezing so badly I was overcome with contriving a plan for what I’d do in the next few seconds as he keeled over. Well, déjà vu this morning when I hop on and in comes the wettest man in LA. How has he remained alive for lo these past several months? He clearly is suffering from something deadly. But I do stand by my suggestion -- from last time I studied how he has sweat clear through his shirt and suit coat – that he should wear fabrics that do best when wet like a nice Egyptian cotton suit with a terrycloth tie… On to our neighbor, Mrs Morston. It must be exhausting to be her. She is a lonely widow who is never without her dour expression and prickly behavior. MM will pretend to ignore me when we both pop our heads out of our apartments to grab our Sunday paper. She’ll make odd comments l
A LITTLE EAVESDROPPING MYSTERY & WHAT THE FUCK TO WE KNOW? You all know about my penchant for eavesdropping, well here is one that I overheard while standing next to a man at the deli counter. In an exasperated tone he harshly whispers into his phone, “The only thing I’m uncomfortable with is your lack of confidence.” Why would someone else’s lack of confidence make someone uncomfortable? I mean, doesn’t someone’s lack of confidence cause THEM to be uncomfortable themselves? Then I started thinking, what if this guy, Mr. Gimme A Chicken Salad Sandwich, was a criminal master mind who had set up an elaborate caper and now one of his henchmen was starting to waiver. I mean, don’t most capers need good confidence men to pull the deed off? Where would Danny Ocean be without his confidence men? Certainly not divvying up millions! No sir! Where would the Usual Suspects be without their confi…oh, yes right, they’re all dead. But you get my point. I don’t have any more information becau