Hilarious

Not sure if any of you watched the Sarah Silverman video I posted here a while ago. (Yeah, I know everything was a while ago because I haven't posted in forever - but that's a discussion for another time.) Anyway, this is the video response Jimmy Kimmel had to Sarah's "Im F*ing Matt Damon" video. Stick with it. It's hysterical.

It's Over

The Writer's Guild strike is over. Today the membership voted unanimously to go back to work. As much as I need the paycheck, I will really miss this weird time. I told Sam today after I cast my vote to lift "the restraining order" (that's what they call a strike in the Constitution apparently), it was one of the best times of my life.

I know I bitched about it while it was happening but I met some great people on that picket line. It's amazing what 3 hours of walking in circles can do for a friendship.

I report back to The Game tomorrow at 10am. It seems impossible. I pouted about it today but I need to shake out the sillies and realize that I am one of the luckiest motherf*er's on Earth. A lot of people aren't going back to work tomorrow and I should count my lucky stars that I'm not one of them.

How's that for a positive attitude?

For Patriots' Fan

Ron Weiner's Ode to the Patriots

Rick - The Pickle Man

As a lot of you know, Rick of Rick's Picks (aka The Pickle Man) stayed with me & Sam this week. He was in town because his delicious product is being carried by Whole Foods now and he had to do some in store demos for the Los Angeles crowd. Rick is an eccentric dude who spent years as a television director doing, among other things, those totally addictive 100 Greatest Video shows. He then got sick of the business and decided to follow his passion: pickles. I'm not exaggerating when I say I can't open a jar of Windy City Wasabeans without eating every last green bean. (Uncle Balls can attest to that. I eat all of his every time I stay with him in New York.)

Anyway, I'm proud to say I can now buy these awesome snacks at my local Whole Foods. (But you can get them online, too. Awesome Valentine's Day pressie. I'm just saying...)

Here's some video of Rick on Martha Stewart. Oh, and did I mention how awesome the Smokra is? Today I re-purposed (Rick's word, not mine) the brine from the Smokra to make some ass-kicking pinto beans to add to my Huevos Rancheros. Delish. But I'll let Rick tell it.

Rick & Martha make some Phat Beets

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LOST

If you read any of the comments that are posted to my entries, you might have noticed someone named Meredith complaining that I haven't blogged about this season of LOST. You see, Meredith worked on the show this season. Yes, she got to live for 6 months in Hawaii coordinating one of the best shows on TV. It sounds all glamorous and whatnot until you ask her how she liked Hawaii and you realize that she saw not one inch of it. She pretty much never left the production office. It was grueling work -- long, long hours and wicked amounts of organizing, hand-holding, and track covering.

I can see all that hard work on the screen. I really can. LOST is a very complex, ambitious production. It's why I love to watch it. That said, I'm a little disappointed this year. I'm lost. I don't really understand what's going on. I also can't stand when things aren't logically connecting and "supernatural" becomes an element (or a crutch?). Once you go all sci-fi on my ass, anything can happen. Some people love this aspect of the show, I don't. I need things to make sense in order to feel connected to the story. But rest assured, I am not giving up on the show. I still love it. I'm just waiting for the light to go off in my head and I understand it all.

I interviewed for LOST once. It was before it ever aired and I was writing drama with a partner, Stephanie. Stephanie and I were scheduled to meet Damon Lindelof the Friday before Memorial Day weekend which is traditionally the last day of hiring season.

When you go on these meetings, you usually wait about a half hour to be seen. Not this time, I was shown right into Lindelof's office. Problem was, Stephanie wasn't with me. She was running late. So for about fifteen minutes (which of course felt like 6 hours) I entertained this little dude with as many stories as possible. In these kinds of meetings you can usually trot out a Paul Simms/NewsRadio/Crazy Hours story and people lap it up. Dude wasn't buying my schtick. I think the thing that really turned him on me was the fact that I was about a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than him. I felt like a monster when I was shaking his hand.

Anyway, after doing the song and dance bit, Stephanie finally showed up. Like always, Steph and I had talked previously about what we would say when we got into the room. She liked the pilot much more than I did and had lots to say. My only stipulation was that she not mention the polar bears. I didn't get that part of the show. It was a little too supernatural for me. If we got on the topic of the bears, I wasn't sure how I was gonna fake my way through that part of the interview. So what happens? Steph walks in, shakes Lindelof's hand, sits beside me on the couch and I immediately jump in with, "So what's the deal with the fucking polar bears?"

End of interview. End of partnership. End of drama writing career.

The Face Pose

Awhile ago I posted this picture: It's the "chin-down, eyes-up" pose that guarantees lovely bone structure and optimum thin face in a photo. Everyone always makes fun of me for doing it. Thats what my mother and Colleen are doing in this picture -- making fun of me. I always take the ribbing in stride because I know how bad things can go in a photo when you don't prepare.

Take a look when I'm caught off guard:




Awful. Simply awful. I look like I just got caught off guard hopping off the short bus. Take your chances, ladies, but I know of what I speak.

Carrot Cake

I used to only love chocolate desserts. Now, as I get older, I'm finding a palate for other sweet things. The weekend before last when I went away to Tahoe, we made carrot cake from scratch for Kathy's birthday. I wasn't as jazzed as everyone else was about the cooking project (and it was a project -- we nearly burned down the log cabin cooking it), but in the end, I think I ate most of the cake. It was out of this world. It was the richest, densest thing I have ever eaten in my life. I ate a huge piece after dinner and then polished a few more pieces off the next day for breakfast. I wouldn't normally admit to that kind of compulsive eating but there is evidence of me doing so. With an accomplice.
Happy belated birthday, Kath.

p.s As I look at the picture more closely I see that it was taken at 12:04pm. Then it was lunch not breakfast and that makes everything okay.

I Love Sarah Silverman

I do. And it makes me crazy that I do because I pride myself on not really liking other woman. But she's so funny she's like a dude.

Stacey sent me this clip of Sarah Silverman singing a song on Jimmy Kimmel. Stick with it even if you're not a fan of hers.

Step Monster

That has to be the title of the show since that is what my step kids call me. I'm touched by the thought people have given my request and I appreciate the free ideas. My biggest problem is how do I get the kids in the same house as the stepmother. I know this seems like a totally easy thing to do but since I need to be able to write from my own experience to make it real, I need the living situation thing solved. Or maybe I don't. Long distance step-mothering? Communicating via IM, video conferencing and blog? Maybe I just keep the kids in the same city as the stepmother and not worry about being in the same house. Some times getting together when we are in the same city is just as hard as getting together when we are separated by a country.

(Having reread this post about 10 times it seems like same city, different town is the way to go. Then you can still incorporate all the technology if you wanted. You don't need to be all that separated to IM. Sam & I have video-conferenced one another from different floors of the house. But the city/suburb thing seems like a direct rip-off of the 1998 Julia Roberts/Susan Sarandon classic, StepMom? ** I'm not being ironic. I love that movie and I will watch it anytime it's on. Sort of the way I will watch Bridget Jones or Die Hard over and over again.)

Anyway, I know this is all a little boring and I apologize for trying to work something out on the blogosphere. I should probably just go back to doing my "Morning Pages" (from The Artist's Way) instead of treating my blog like a brainstorming session. But, come on, what else you got to do today?

Blogger's Block

I've had a bit of blogger's block this week. Before I left for my weekend in Tahoe, I linked all y'all to my sister-in -law Michelle's blog. The things she writes about and the way she writes has blocked me a bit. I was so impressed by what she had done in a quarter of the time I've have had this blog, I was intimidated. Then I became blocked. Everything I wanted to write about seemed stupid and then I realized that I couldn't even remember the stupid things I wanted to write about.

On top of that, I went away this weekend with my friend who is also my agent. Like any good saleswoman, she pushes me to write something. In order to sell me, I need to give her something to sell. She wants a show about me being a step-mother. My problem is that I don't really feel like a stepmother. I feel like a really cool aunt. I'm not part of the kids' everyday life. Which is normal since they live in Brooklyn.

I've told Ivy I need her help with this and she is totally on board. She is acutely aware of all the teen angst around her and is always willing to offer it up. (Proper discretion is always practiced -- so I'm not putting you on blast, Dogger.) Problem is, I don't know what the story is if these kids aren't in your life everyday. I see them grow in tremendous increments because I don't seem them so often but it's the excruciating, day-to-day details of that heart ache that make a show great. (Think: My So Called Life.)

My point is: anyone who has any thoughts or ideas, please comment. Or tomorrow I'm gonna start posting my character breakdowns for my show based on my experience at Vito. (Think Cheers set in a cheesy Italian restaurant. Sells itself, right?)

Tahoe

I'm off for the weekend. Going to Lake Tahoe with a group of girls for a ski weekend. (Yes, another all expense paid ski weekend. No, I don't know why your friends aren't paying for you to fly all over the country to ski. Ask them.) Only problem is, I can't ski. I threw my back out on Monday lifting a case of Concannon Cabernet Sauvignon at Vito. Kerri has given me a shot of anti-inflammatory in the ass twice this week. It helps but I'm still not right.

I look forward to sitting in the log cabin all day on Saturday while everyone else skis. Maybe I'll even write something. Maybe not.

Plugging Another Blog

My sister in law Michelle has decided to enter the blogosphere. (I know she just read that and regurgitated her coffee -- or martini, depending on the time of day.)

She started the blog as an exercise to write everyday. Some entries are straight up writing chores (you can play along at home and do them, too -- she explains the exercise at the end of each entry) and others are just funny (really funny) glimpses into her life.

Be sure to read her entries entitled "Guilty Pleasures 1-4." Here's the link to Michelle's blog:

Scenes From A Notebook

Portrait of the Birthday Boy

Michelle was kind enough to send me a new photo of Larry. This picture is from Garrett's birthday party not Larry's which if you look closely you can tell from Larry's seemingly forced smile. My guess is that he's having a nice time posing with his kids but really, he can't wait to get out of where ever they were so he can go home and watch SportsCenter.

Happy Birthday, Larry!

Today is my brother Larry's birthday. I don't know how old he is. 44 maybe? I never remember my brothers' birthdays (as I posted about once before) but my brother Jimmy commented on my 4:44 post and sent along a birthday message to Larry with the comment. (Thanks for the heads up, Jim.)

I know Larry doesn't really read my blog because as he told his wife, he reads enough unedited material everyday. (He didn't say this about my blog but about his wife's blog which by the way is awesome and if she allows me I will put up a link to it here. What says you, Michelle?)

I couldn't find a picture of him that I haven't already posted so instead I will throw up some pictures of his children celebrating Garrett's 6th birthday.

Happy Birthday, Larry!

4:44

For years now I've seen 4:44 on the clock. Night or day, I inevitably look at the clock when it's 4:44. The haunting of 4:44 has progressed beyond just digital clocks, it has now spread into house numbers and license plates. It's even been passed down a generation. Ivy now sees it all the time, too. She'll often call me just to tell me it's 4:44. I've been waiting for years to figure out it's significance. I'm hoping that Pami's baby being born at 4:44 is the end of the cycle. As I told Pami, maybe it was Gus that I was waiting for all this time.

The whole 4:44 thing began when I was in 8th grade. The boys in my class started saying "four forty four" to each other and then they would proceed to laugh their asses off. This, of course, drove the girls in the class crazy because we had no idea what it meant and assumed it had something to do with us. When the boys realized this was driving us crazy, they just increased it's usage -- working overtime to work it into their already lame conversations. The girls retaliated by claiming 2:22 as their own which I thought that was totally lame, but I didn't have a better pitch for Joanne Sallese (unofficial 8th grade girls' spokeswoman mainly because she had huge boobs and it gave her a confidence none of us had, yet).

It wasn't until Mark Gillis (or was it Mark Olivieri?) yelled "four forty four" out-loud in the middle of Ms. Meade's math class that the tried and true catchphrase was finally put to rest. The boys were not allowed to ever say it again. If they were heard saying "four forty four," they could count on detention. With the steam taken out of the phrase, Mark Olivieri (or was it Mark Gillis?) finally told me what it meant: The boys in my class had a sleepover and apparently Marc Rodney woke all of them up at 4:44am by farting incredibly loudly.

And that was the day I learned then that nothing boys talk about or laugh about ever has anything to do with girls.

Introducing August Amiram Grimstad!

For about a month now I have had a picture of my friend Pami on my laptop. In the picture she's about 7 months pregnant. I wanted to post about how great I thought it was that she was going to be a mother. She had had a hard year and having a baby is something she's wanted for as long as I've know her. (Which is about 15 years now.) Of course, I got lazy and didn't post. But on Wednesday, Pami had her baby so I thought in honor of August Amiram Grimstad's birth, I thought I'd show his before and after pictures!

BEFORE:


AFTER:

Is it me or is that little dude actually smiling?!

SIDE NOTE TO DOGGER: August was born at 4:44!!!! Can you believe that?!

More Ski Stories

THIS IS THE POST I WAS WORKING ON WHEN MY COMPUTER DIED THIS WEEK. I AM NOW WORKING OFF MY BRAND NEW MAC BOOK! I CAN'T BELIEVE I WAITED THIS LONG TO GET A NEW COMPUTER. IT'S AWESOME! UPLOADING THE PICTURE OF SAM WAS THE FINAL STRAW FOR MY OLD WORKHORSE. SAM'S JUST TOO HANDSOME FOR MY OLD HARD DRIVE.


When Sam & I were skiing in Park City it started to snow really hard. Dottie and Eric were going to meet us at the bottom of the lift after skiing their blue runs. As Sam and I slowly made our way down the mountain on our green runs, it started really dumping. When we got to the lift we waited for Dottie & Eric. We waited so long we assumed they had got down the mountain and went back up for another run. We waited some more. Finally, we got a call from Dottie. They had gotten lost. They took a wrong turn down one of the blue runs (because, due to the wicked snow, they couldn't see the signs) and ended up in a remote part of the mountain. The blizzard-y, white-out conditions spooked Dottie and they were going to head back to the condo.

In a true example of ignorance is bliss, Sam & I headed back up the mountain to take advantage of this awesome weather. Here's a picture of Sam's on the lift.

Computer Down

My computer broke the other day when I was trying to download a version of Scrabbulous in order to play Scrabble online against Paul. Now my computer won't open any version of an Internet browser. I'm dying. I was in the middle of an awesome post about our skiing trip -- dynamic pix and all when the little f*cker finally shit the bed for good. It's in the shop now. I thought I had loaded all my pictures onto a jumpdrive before I brought it into the shop, but of course, I managed to put everything else on the jump drive except my pictures. So frustrating.

So my awesome ski trip post will have to wait. As will all other posts until I get my computer back.

I'm on Sam's laptop now and I can feel him giving the back of my head the hairy eyeball as he waits.

Tlapazola 1 - Ellen Bean 0

My mother came out the Saturday after Christmas and stayed for a week. I think she had a really good time. My mother is always game for anything so it doesn't really matter what I plan for her, she's happy to do it.

But one day I took her by surprise. Sam, Elzo and I were poking around for second-hand skiing gear for our impending trip to Park City. My mother loves to go to thrift stores so I knew she'd be down for the task. We didn't find anything. (We were looking for suspenders to hold up the oldy-time ski pants I had bought him.) As a reward for our unsuccessful bargain hunting, my mother and I went to a lunch at Tlapazola Grill.

The little dudes who work there know me. I often come in alone before I go in for my shift at Vito. I have their delicious salad and their even more delicious, bowl-size margarita. Lately this one waiter, Ambroscio, has taken to bringing me a second (smaller) margarita and then whether or not I finish that drink, he brings me a shot of some sort of almond-y, tequila-ish after dinner liqueur. It's too much and I have been able to stop the last shot from happening but not the day I brought my mother there for lunch.

Ambroscio pulled out all the stops for Elzo-- salsa fresca with out asking, margaritas, dessert and no just one but TWO after dinner liqueurs. My mother was stuffed to the gills and a little tipsy. I took her home so we could rest up and get ready for the dinner party we were expected to go to that night.

My mother never made it to the dinner party. Here's a picture of her after her lunch at Tlapazola.

Tlapazola 1 - Elzo 0

Park City, Utah.

As I mentioned Sam & I were treated to a trip to Park City for Sam's friend Eric's birthday. The long weekend was a present to Eric from his wife Dottie. I not sure how we lucked out but we did. I love my generous, rich friends. It was living. I'm telling you.

Eric and Dottie snowboarded while Sam & I stayed on skis. Those guys are better athletes than us so we would take the lifts up together and then separate (us, green circles - them, blue squares). We would meet again at the bottom. A couple of these paths intersected before we hit the bottom which enabled Eric to get this picture of me skiing.

I look like I'm standing still on a perfectly flat run but to my memory I was motoring down that super steep hill like Suzy Chapstick.