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Showing posts from 2010

HALLOWEEN GORE... or NOT

Two weeks ago Hudson and I attended a film festival in Beverly Hills that was featuring his documentary. I hate schmoozing and hate crowds, so I perched on a little settee in the corner and let Hudson and his team mingle. I had several creepy individuals sidle up to me and ask if I was an actress. I shouted (over the roar of voices and music) that my husband is a director and his documentary was being screened. I guess I'm never ready for the depths to which some people will stoop, but their responses were basically, "Well, if you'd come back with me behind the VIP room, I could work on a development deal with you... you know, for a movie." What? People puh-lease! How drunk or drug addled do you have to be for that line to work? The evening was looking up when Hudson came back and announced that Gore Vidal was there. Dang! Not that I've ever read any of his screenplays or novels, but Caligula certainly left a mark on me - and it was pretty cool the way he squa

NOW THAT'S LITIGIOUS

I had to rub my eyes and take a second look a NY Times article stating that a Judge has allowed a lawsuit to move forward against a 4-year old girl. What is the precedent you ask? Well the legal precedent is a 1928 case in which the US allowed a 5-year old to be sued. The current-day judge called to attention that the little tyke in this 2010 case was only 3 months shy of her 5th birthday. Right, why quibble? What could a 4-year old do that is worthy of a lawsuit? I mean my ex-husband talked his little brother into getting into the driver's seat of the family car, and while playing like he was driving, the little brother put the car in reverse which was enough to get it to roll backwards down their driveway and graze 2 parked cars before coming to rest against a tree and a telephone poll. Or maybe this little girl is like one of those evil little villains in horror movies like The Omen and was apprehended in her evil plot to overthrow all government so she could make way for

WHATTAYA WANT ON THAT?

I just wanted a sandwich and now I feel all sad and conflicted. As I stood at the Ralph's deli counter hoping to beat the lunch rush (I tell ya, it gets CRAZY around noon!) I was pleased that there was only 1 person ahead of me. He was being deftly helped by an older hispanic gal and there was plenty of staff available to take my order. An older black gentleman with a hairnet (stupid health code rule since he was bald as a cue ball) smiled and me and nodded dismissively a few times before a young asian man also in a hairnet asked "How're ya doing?" I said "Fine. I'd like a veggie deluxe sandwich please." His response was to look at the black gentleman and say "Stan, why aren't you helping her?" to which Stan replied "I thought she was with him" and gestured to the man in front of me. I figured that couldn't have been the case and wondered why Stan would fib to this younger man who appeared to be his supervisor. Stan: What

TOO RICH?

I don't know, you tell me. Can people have too much money? I'm not even sure people can have too little really. I mean remote civilizations know how to feed themselves off the land, enjoy life and each other -- not to say that they don't experience the ups and downs of the human condition, but I don't believe that an influx of money would improve their existence instead of just complicating it. However, looking at Chicago's wealthy Pritzker family and doing some quick math it appears that the average worth of a Pritzker family member in 2010 is roughly 8.6 B ILLION dollars. I just can't wrap my brain around how many hundreds of millions of dollars that family has -- or how each member of the family could still have that many billions personally without figuring out how to give back in a way that would change the world. Hey, they're from Chicago -- how about they rebuild the "L" and subway system as a gift? Or how about they personally pay to re-p

RACHAEL RAY MAKES IT LOOK SO EASY... DID YOU HEAR THAT?

Hudson loves my cooking and I freely admit that I learned to cook from watching Food Network. So the other day he heard that Food Network is looking for new talent and he got the idea to submit me. I've been told by a few people that I should have a cooking show, and well, fast-forward to last night: I stood in our kitchen and whipped up polenta with sautéed mushrooms and onion marmalade while Hudson captured it all on video. OMG! Really? How stressful can you get? Talking while cooking and stirring and chopping? And 3 minutes just evaporates in a time warp so with an economy of words I tried to be instructionally sound. I tried to convey a sense of myself while being concise at the same time, plus remembering to sell my culinary point of view and cover any mistakes with a natural flair that everyone would forgive. Whew! Hmmm, typical Monday? Get home, feed dogs and cats, prep ingredients for dinner, write a food review to meet my Mid-City Press newspaper deadline, then chang

GOT BRAINS? AND STILL TOO MUCH CHI?

OK, I was doing online research for some new recipes when I came upon this item and figured, heck, I already blogged about Poop Pig , so why not continue to share? An Indiana delicacy "Fried Brain Sandwich" caught my eye. I understand that inhabitants in certain geographic regions develop tastes for old time fare that their forefathers ate, but how some of these 'delicacies' survive is astounding to me. There was even a pretty good photo of said sandwich. No real recipe, it just says Cow Brain, oil for frying, bun, pickle and onion. A cow's brain is quite sizable because the bun looked pretty large and there was so much brain making up a large margin way outside the bun. Apparently they don't do a 1/2 order, nope, whole brain. OK. There is no need for me to go any further with this information other than to say that I applaud the "waste no part" philosophy, but even if I was on Fear Factor and looking at a hefty check -- I couldn't get down

Ah-CHI! AND POOP PIG

Let me explain. For about 5 years I've found that every time I take a shower I sneeze approximately 40 times. No kidding. I'm pretty used to it now, but it is alarming to people who hear me in the throws of a sneeze-fest. How do I know it's about 40 times? Well, a gal's gotta do something while she's hanging onto the shower wall trying not to slip and fall down while rapid-fire sneezes rack her body... so I count. I also reflect on why the sneezing is in the shower. What is the cause? Perplexing. Hudson has urged me to see an allergist, but I've refused because even if they figure out what it is, I'm not going to take shots or medication for it. I'm stubborn about medication, what can I say? The other day I wondered if I'm the only one who has this condition and typed "sneezing in the shower" into the Google search window. Plenty of people have this and they were all over medical posting sites looking for a cure. Some doctors dismissed

POT POURRI

I'm thinking of secretly submitting the forms for Cheryl to be a contestant on one of those design stars shows. Here's what I've admired since the 'tank top' sighting: At our recent company beach party most of us were dressed in shorts and t-shirts -- all the better to play volleyball or sit in the sun. But Cheryl appeared in an old white vintage Victorian dress that buttoned snugly up under her chin and dragged the ground as she drifted about like a ghost wearing an enormous white gauze and net wrapped bee-keepers hat under a big white umbrella that she carried and twirled. I didn't see her eat anything (bummer cuz the food rocked!) but maybe that was because it would be difficult to maneuver things like salad and chips with guacamole up under the hat netting to her mouth... Last week Cheryl capped off her slutty 80s phase with a strapless black spandex ballerina top, a belt that was kinda like a corset -- easily 6 inches wide -- plus a pair of hot pants th

I GOTTA SEE MY PORES

You may recall that when I last visited my mother's home, she had a 10X magnifying mirror in her brightly-lit bathroom that I couldn't look away from. She had to distract me from non-stop cleansing and inspecting and masking before I did some major damage to my skin. Well I just read in the Chicago Tribune that there are two main obsessions that fuel the beauty industry: acne and pore size. The other day I bought a 10X magnifying mirror of my own and used it to tweeze my brows... but then couldn't step away from the mirror. I mean, it's like discovering things under a microscope that you'd suspected existed, but had never seen before. Now I have to fight the urge to take the mirror outside sit out in the sun staring at my face under magnification. Holy shit! Am I one of the women who has created the over $40 billion cosmetic tidal wave that perpetuates the unachievable goal of perfection! Thank God I don't have acne, but I've just realized that I'm f

IS IT SIZE OR SOMETHING ELSE?

I know I've been too busy to blog, but let me just tell you: Today I had a DAY. Not anything I couldn't handle. Nothing anxiety-inducing. But I had a day. You know, the kind where you wake up and you know that you can't hit the snooze due to the conspiracy of Outlook Calendar? Right. Well. Yes. You know what it's like to have a DAY. Oh, dang, it's only 7:55 PM as I write this, but already I'm completely cached*. Now, where was I? OK. I had a DAY. Got out of bed, cleaned myself up, fed various animals, watered various plants, smeared organic peanut butter onto bread, cleaned cat boxes, administered veterinary-prescribed medications and raced off to work. Ah. Work. We're making room for lots of new employees and there is a domino effect. All of those of us with offices (as apposed to cubicles I guess) are moving down an office or two and sharing with new colleagues. Rather like the first day at camp, except I've been at the office since 2004-ish.

I'M CRUSHED and ALMOST A MILE HIGH

Yup, look out young ladies, there's a new young man with an eye for blondes. I was flopped on the couch last week wearing not much when the doorbell rang. I yanked on pants and ran to the door. It was the little boy next door. Wilmer: Hi Ivy. I brought you a card I made. Me: Oh. Thanks Wilmer. (heading down the driveway to the gate where he stood) Wilmer: Here (thrusting it at me) Me: This is cool. It's not my birthday though. Wilmer: That's the only card we had. Me: Yes. Very nice. Have a great night. A few nights ago I was sprawled on the couch writing when the doorbell rang. Then it rang 3 more times in quick succession. I raced to the door to sign for a package or let in the electrician or something... and it was Wilmer. Another birthday card was in his hand. Me: Wilmer. You scared me. You don't have to ring the doorbell more than once. Wilmer: OK. I won't. I have a card for you. Me:  Oh boy. Thanks Wilmer (I said as I approached him) Wilmer

CARS AND CRAZY DON'T MIX

Friday, February 05, 2010 What's up today? I woke up and scrambled around doing the usual morning chores when I noted that it was lightly raining outside. Yay! Strike watering the outside plants off my list! But an hour later, the rain got a BOO! from me because LA drivers can't navigate in moisture -- being that it is all, oh, let's see, wet, and droppletty and slick, and not dry, and reflective, and wipers are involved. Such babies these LA-ites.* But then I read about 2 car-related stories today and realize that sometimes cars just make people crazy. Exhibit A) Charlie Sheen's car called him on his cell phone after it plummeted to the bottom of a ravine near his home. "Hi! My airbags have been deployed. Are you in the car and need assistance?" He says it was stolen. Really? Really? Want to think of any other statement to make before we ask you to sign this one Charlie? Good heavens! Call up Martin, he'll get the straight dope from his kid. Martin&
WHAT HE SAID I know I rail against people ruining their own language on occasion, and I have that adverb thing, but I just can't help it. There is a song that plays every morning and every afternoon on my commute that is like an ice pick in my brain. "Nothin' on You" is a song by Bruno Mars and I can't get away from it. Question: How do the words 'Wondering' and 'Redundant' rhyme? I'll tell you. Answer: When you sing "I was wundrent if it's redundant..." Ah yes, Bruno only thinks he has the English language in his grasp, so he's rhyming all kinds of things that DON'T rhyme just by mispronouncing them. Unfair I say! Poets MUST rhyme. It is their job. They produce what is called prose . Why does this guy get a hit song just by fucking with pronunciation? Well, he also says this beautiful girl that he's singing about is so awesome he can only describe her like this: "Girl you're fantastic and you pay y
THE ANGELS REALLY WORK! I've been the lucky host of angels who arrived at the house at 11:30 on Saturday. I was instructed what to say to welcome them as I opened the front door, I had my 3 wishes in an envelope that I placed an apple on top of and a white flower next to and lit a white candle near. It's been a wonderful experience and next Saturday I'll open the door and tell them the specific addresses and names of the 3 next people they'll be visiting. But I feel kind of greedy because I was granted a wish that I never would have dared hope for. No, it's not making me a kinder person, no it's not freeing me of my demons, no, it's not making me a more generous person (those were my 3 wishes)... I've learned that The Food Network is launching The Cooking Channel this month! Now I'll have cooking shows available 48/7! This is such a blessing I just don't know what to say! Do you think "Thank you angels" is sufficient?!?! Come to
BACKYARD TAILS AND A SOCIALIZING PLAN This weekend was lovely in the back yard. Planting, watering, the swishing of cat's tails as they lounged in the shade... and Babette's appears to be growing back. Yes, Babette. She's the chicken that we're fostering. A really gorgeous gal. She's red and golden and cream colored. Hudson found her walking down the street and when he couldn't find her owners, he brought her home. She nibbles cracked corn, coos, and occasionally stretches out her wings in a spectacular fashion. Sadly, the life of an urban hen is fraught with danger and something got a hold of her tail. She only has 1 tail feather and upon further inspection, did get a bit of a bite on her hind quarters. Why is it that being around a hen and the cats and having my hands plunged into potting soil was so relaxing this weekend? I don't know, but I'm not going to think about it too strenuously. After another faux-pas at an open house, I confess again t
FASHION NEESTA BABY! My favorite co-worker strikes again. Cheryl has moved beyond her Carmine Miranda phase, beyond her prom-dresses-with-aprons experiment, and I know that I speak for everyone when I say that we miss her ABBA-inspired 70s dresses with massive platform boot period. But today I was so captivated by her new look that I walked almost a city block further than I needed to just so I could follow her to the far mail room and get a better understanding of what she has created for her Spring 2010 oeuvre. Let's call it 'Plastic'. Cheryl was wearing clear plastic booties with no heel or sole whatsoever. Now, I admire feet. I think they should be well-groomed and hers appeared to be nicely cared for, but no body's feet look good squished into plastic up to mid calf. They were like pink fleshy things gooshing up against the inside of the clear surface like sausages or jellyfish. I was repelled and yet I couldn't stop watching her walk. Then I couldn't fig
OH SHIT It happens every few months. Everyone on the airwaves and online are going into elaborate details about a NEW HEALTH STUDY. It generally starts with a Top 10 list of the dirtiest places or surfaces. I personally posit that these "studies" are where The Clorox Company spends all of their money. Quarterly they float these reports to boost business. Tell me I'm wrong. The list I heard this morning: 10th - Computer keyboards! Hard to clean and can house up to 200,000 particles of Ecoli and fecal spores! Arrgghh! 9th - Reusable water bottles! Covered with mouth germs and fecal spores!!! 8th - ... on and on the list went. Really people? REALLY? Why are our frail human forms still on the planet? I mean, if carpeting can house 9000,000,000 particles of the most dangerous bacteria on the planet and is nothing but fabric to hold feces, why haven't we expired as a species? Because of Clorox! That's why! Thank our lucky stars for Clorox! It kills! KILLS! Oh, don
SHE'S INTERESTED... BUT I'M NOT THAT INTERESTING So I've got a pal that I see a few times a week and here's our typical exchange: Bev: So good to see you Ivy! How was your weekend? Me: Oh, really good. I went to the beach. Bev: Which beach? Malibu? Me: No, I don't think so, further up. Bev: Paradise Cove? Me : Um, no, I don't think so. Bev: Was it up to Point Mugu? Me: I'm not sure, it was really nice and empty, the sun was perfect. Bev: Was there a state park nearby? Cuz if so, it was probably Point Mugu. Me: Not that I noticed. Bev: How long did you drive to get there? Cuz you may have been all the way up by Point Hueneme. Me: I stopped and got my nails done and I did a couple of errands in the Palasades and then I had lunch on PCH so I'm not sure how long it would take to drive there. Bev: Did you come back down the 1 or were you able to cross over to the 101? Ah. That's Bev. She's interested so she needs clarificati
YOU'RE GUNNA GO FAR I was just sitting at my desk listening to Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon", enjoying the vibe while the office is swirling around me. It's really a feat for any of us to go far isn't it? We have unique talents and strengths, but then we have so many weaknesses that drop you down into the category of "marginal-at-best" . How does one go FAR as opposed to the curb? Personally, I struggle every day with my weaknesses. I'm not social, I have a fear of answering the door, and I have to get into the right mental state to open mail. True. I've been served court summons when I opened my front door, and I've received some pretty fucked up mail in my life... so now I don't just accept a doorbell or envelope easily. Most people would never suspect these aspects of my personality, but that's just because my more outward personality traits seem more resilient. Monday through Saturday I play games with myself at the
I SHOULDN'T DOUBT MYSELF... EVER! This morning I was thinking about my finances, the new book, and other endeavors that will hopefully allow me an early retirement. Gosh, will they be successful? And then I saw on the Chicago Tribune site a list of Forbes' billionaires. Yup, there he is again, and I know I've blogged about him before... Ty Warner who made 2.9 BILLION dollars with Beanie Babies . Fuck! It is a sad statement of our country. Now, America, GIVE ME LOTS OF MONEY! Ivy All Red Ivy compositions, posts and blog content Copyright protected.
CARS AND CRAZY DON'T MIX What's up today? I woke up and scrambled around doing the usual morning chores when I noted that it was lightly raining outside. Yay! Strike watering the outside plants off my list! But an hour later, the rain got a BOO! from me because LA drivers can't navigate in moisture -- being that it is all, oh, let's see, wet, and droppletty and slick, and not dry, and reflective, and wipers are involved and general rain-related stuff. Such babies these LA-ites.* But then I read about 2 car-related stories today and realize that sometimes cars just make people a bit crazy. Exhibit A) There is moisture on the 10 freeway so I'll adjust my driving plan to only allow my foot to press down on my accelerator enough to move my automobile t-minus 1 MPH and counting. Whew! Welcome into the big warm commuter hug that was 8:00 AM on 2/5/10! Exhibit B) Charlie Sheen's car called him on his cell phone after it plummeted to the bottom of a ravine near his
FIGHTING THE GOOD FIGHT Ah, yes, it's again the time of year when my immune system deserts me, and all I can do is the following 3 things in no particular order: Produce mucus Sweat Sleep Due to my general need for extended hours of sleep, this has left me in real danger of developing bedsores. OK that was just gross -- but seriously! The more pleasant aspects of fighting a cold for as long has I have been recently, are the punctuated bouts of exhaustion-induced grumpiness, rapid-fire sneezing and experimentation with medications. I was shclumpfing around the house yesterday when Hudson said, Hudson : Hey, Doreen mentioned that you may need Xanax. Me: What? Why?! Why would she say I need Xanax?!? Does she think I have a panic disorder?!? Hudson: (clearly confused) No! No! I think I got that wrong. (although you could tell that my panicked reaction caused him to reconsider that maybe I did need Xanax). Me: That's some pretty heavy shit. Hudson: No. I've gotten i
RRRRRRRGK! GAME OVER! Hey, I'm not one to get on a soap box and preach. I'm more the gripe and bitch type unless I'm slow on the uptake and then I just blog about what I should have said in a moment that slipped past while I stood there looking stunned and dumb. But I'm a vegetarian now. OK, I'm a pescetarian because I eat fish (thank god!). True, it's been quite a while since I've purchased meat to cook at home, but I've enjoyed gyros pizzas at Papa Cristo's and kept going for the chicken asian salad for lunch at the salad bar. No preaching... I didn't even expect anything world-changing last Friday when I curled up on the couch to watch my Netflix delivery "Food, Inc." Within 10 minutes I became a solid vegetarian in America unless I'm on a farm that raises animals healthfully and happily and then kills them humanely. So unless I'm on a lovely farm in Vermont and meeting Bessie the pig who then becomes a pulled-pork dinner