Merry Christmas!!!

Who sings "Blue Christmas" and makes toy guitars?

Elfis!


hehehe hohoho!

Salsa! AyAyAy!!!!!

69 years old. My Father just turned 69, like yesterday.
The man is taking Salsa lessons and KILLING it. So much so that recently his ballroom school put on a showcase for the holidays. All of their star performers got on stage and showed their stuff, from salsa to bolero to swing and tango. They asked my Dad to do a 4 minute routine as well. Big Stuff for a man who just started taking lessons a few months ago. Apparently he is the most improved student with the most natural dance ability.

My best friend Colleen and I attended the show.  We were eager to see the man we grew up with be the one on stage instead of in the stands cheering. We were there to support him, in return for the many years of clapping, yelling, and pushing us to be our very own personal best.

He was very serious when he danced. Very intense and immensely engrossed in what he was doing from his head to his feet.  Every now and then a huge smile graced his tan face below his salt and pepper hair.  Even the special felt bottom dance boots that he purchased just for his classes were shined up so meticulously you could see your reflection in them. 

He practiced with his partner during the open floor dance, I even had the opportunity to hit the floor with Dad. 
Then it was go time!  The entire school sang him a big, loud Happy Birthday to his surprise, then the music started. 

I cried.
I was in awe.

It was as much a defining moment in my own life as it was in his.
One of my closest friends lost her father recently, anothers has a degenerative disease. The infallible men we knew as little girls are becoming frail and sick. It is a huge encumbrance but inevitable. My Father is dancing salsa and I am so incredibly grateful for that.

He was so nervous. He wanted it to be perfect. It was.
I cannot seem to explain the feeling....but the best I can do is to say that it was really inspiring. Truly inspiring.
Not like loose definitions of the words amazing and  inspiring. Truly fucking inspiring.
If I have half the energy, chutzpa, pride, youthfulness, courage, dedication, and passion for something new  in my entire life, let alone at 69 I will be lucky.
If a kid can be proud of their parent....I guess that's what I am.




Dad and his Salsa partner Liz





Dad teaches me to Salsa



The Cavalli Family Christmas Tree

Merry Christmas everyone!
My fondest memory of this particular holiday stems from our yearly tree. You see, unlike most children we weren't allowed to decorate the tree, ever. Yes, I said..."weren't" as in were NOT allowed.
Upon strict instruction by my Mother, my brother and I were summoned to drag all the dusty boxes of decorations up from the dreaded haunted basement crawlspace but that was about it.
Oh! Until january 7th when it was clean up time. 
We were allowed to WATCH my Mom decorate the tree but HANDS OFF children!
You see my Mother is quite particular about her Christmas tree. It has to be total and utter perfection and it seriously comes out better than a tree in the window of Saks Fifth Ave.
It is breathtaking. 
She is even a pro at choosing the consummate bare shrub itself........ shape, smell, width, and height.
Vicki places each ornament with intense precision all the while presenting itself as an interesting whimsicial jumble with little effort.
Every now and then she would put a few candy canes on the sapling. My little brother and I would occasionally steal one of the tasty treats from the very back in hopes she wouldn't notice.
She would, without fail and she would scream her head off with that sharp British tongue,
"Who touched my bloody tree?!!!"
Sometimes we would even move ornaments around just to grind on her nerves. I kinda of wish I video taped her reaction.
From the moving angels at the very top, to the white glittery old fashioned sleds in the middle, to the hand painted Santa and village she personally created that lay on the white fur tree skirt, every single inch is flawless.
It was her project. We didn't miss out a second on not decorating. In fact, it still wows me to this day to watch her fluent cleverness throw the last bits of shimmering fake snow precisely on particular branches.  I am always ever-impressed.
There are quite a few remnants of my childhood left hanging up there, a 1978 reindeer that looks like its been dragged all over the world for 32 years......a silly little girl mouse in a green gingham dress that makes no sense at all....and a pair of gold ballet slippers.
I only hope to give the gift of such a brilliant, flawless creation to my kids. One that they can be quite proud of and I may even let them place an ornament or two up there, as long as I am in charge of where they put it.



True Romance

I don't have a washer dryer in my apartment. I got the apartment 7 months ago because it had a hookup for a washer and dryer. Specifically.

And I still haven't gotten one yet. 

So I've been going to the laundromat. 
My favorite part of the laundromat is the old people. Its like a casual meeting place 
for them. They chat and wash, and chat and dry, and chat and fold. They try to 
chat with the young people there as well. 
I find them so interesting. I imagine that they have some incredible stories to tell.

Today there is an old married couple here. They are folding thier crisp white 
sheets together. Teamwork at 88 years old. They are strangely silent and 
methodical about it. Looking into each others eyes and predicting the other's next arm 
movement to fold the queen size bottom sheet. They know each other so well they 
don't even need to speak. They are content in their silence and the constant 
swishing of the washers behind them. 
I want to take their photo so badly but I thought it might infringe on their 
laundry date. They leave and I am lonely for some strange reason.
Sometimes I think of the laundromat in a negative way.  I am not sure why but I

feel like it has a strange stigma attached. Am I right?

The thing is the laundromat is awesome. It actually takes the edge off a bit. 
Makes me calm. 
The constant sound of the dryers humming soothes my nerves in this insane town. 
It forces you to breathe and relax and wait. 
You certainly can't leave with a hamper full of soaking wet clothes. 

Wait. 
Wait. 
Wait. 
Calm down. Relax. You release yourself to the Maytags. 
You have no control until the cycle is done. 
Its quite refreshing. 

And romantic. Old couple is back...she in her hot pink fleece with bifocals 
hanging on a multicolored string around her neck. He, in a zip up grandpa sweater and loafers. Both with 
tufts of grey hair atop their heads.  They are folding the small stuff now. 
Silently. 
She just took off her fleece to reveal a denim jacket with kitty cats 
embroidered on it. Awesome. 

I keep contemplating trying to talk to them and find out their story. But I 
chicken out. Then she speaks to me!!! She asks to borrow a quarter because her 
husband took her pink coat w the change in it to the car! 

I of course lend the change. 
And she insists I NOT leave until she gives it back to me. "A quarter is a 
quarter. I owe it to you." she exclaims.
I say no worries and insist she would do the same for me. 

I am a bit embaressed because I am dressed like a slob. My Nana would totally reprimand me for my outfit 

and I am sure this Grandma was thinking the same thing.

"You are such a pretty girl, why are you dressed like a bum?"
When her love returns she requests that he re-pay me. He reaches into his sweater pocket and pulls out 

a dime. "Whoops, I don't want to shortchange the lovely young lady" he says. 

I want him to be my Grandpa. 
They are standing watching the dryers now. Kind of impatient for old people I'm 
thinking to myself. But I guess the minutes matter more to them. 
They stand there. Staring. Watching the clothes go 'round and 'round.

IMPROV Dating....

I am a genius!!!!
I am currently taking an improv class.
HotHouse Improv- John Thiess, my teacher...he is a genius, for real.
During this last class I realized this:
Most of my classmates are strangers as I just started taking Improv.
I have to do RIDICULOUS things with them and in front of them with no inhibitions.
Bark like a dog, speak fake German, act like a spastic clown in a wind tunnel..etc etc.
I have to fully commit to these things therefore intimately revealing personal things about myself.
Sometimes on purpose, sometimes by accident.
(for instance, my "go to" every time I am stuck in a scene is something perverted and sexual. Very telling.)

So I have decided that it would be genius to implement Improv games into people's dating lives!
There are all these wonderfully embarrassing games.
One of which is a game that requires you to have a full on conversation with a partner in nonsensical gibberish.

Try speaking in pretend Chinese or Italian gibberish with a someone. It is not only hilarious but really breaks the ice.
You feel like a child again, with every ounce of "maturity" and adulthood stripped off. Your walls come tumbling down and you actually play with someone. I am talking play with your clothes on at the dinner table or in the car ride home.  Don't get saucy people.


Remember when we were kids? There was no problem accepting someone new and totally getting silly with them right off the bat. "Let's pretend we are samurai warriors in ancient China and we need to defeat our evil ruler!"
When we were kids it was uncomplicated to knock on someones door and say "want to come play?"  Somewhere along the adolescent steam powered locomotive we lost the ability to accept the rejection and/or have the BALLS to even blindly ask someone to hang. We were ourselves, tride and true.

So I by order of royal decree I propose that we all play Improv games on first dates!

Everyone's 'too cool for school' affectation will be dissolved and we can easily find out who our date truly is! Instead of 6 months down the line. Yikes...yeah.

.

"In This House"

With Reality TV completely taking over our televisions, air waves, and lives I would really like to challenge you all to count how many time you hear these 3 magic words:
 "in this house".

There is always some dirty chick with really bad exposed extensions in a cheesy cocktail dress complaining about how ......

"I am the only one IN THIS HOUSE who has any integrity", 
"I don't trust anyone IN THIS HOUSE",  or
"I never had sex with anyone IN THIS HOUSE".

YEAH OKAY!!!!

All pretty much false statements but regardless....STOP saying "IN THIS HOUSE".
Frankly, its annoying.
I am not sure why this bothers me so much.

REALLY?????

I have a degree in Broadcast Journalism. I studied my ass off at a really competitive University. I have struggled for years in NY and LA auditioning, taking classes and honing my talents as a Host/Reporter/Correspondent for many years.
So will someone tell me WHY I have agents telling me to go on a reality show to get a job?

I have to get smashed in the face with a watermelon to get a job on the sidelines?
I have to make out with a slimy Guido in a jacuzzi in order to anchor a morning show?
I have to waste 3 months of my life in a house with idiots and eat slop so I can announce who won the disco ball trophy?
I wouldn't mind spending a few months on a deserted island ....great diet.
I have to date some average looking Midwestern dude who producers totally made seem way better than he is in REALITY and share him with 27 other insane desperate hairballs with sequins on?

No Thanks.

So do I keep up the struggle and hustle this educated Host ass in Hollyweird?
Or do I give in and get some loser to surprise dump me on national tv after he proposed a month before?
Well, that one hit a bit close to home.

So my friends......what are your thoughts?

Sick and twisted...and amazing.

I am back in the saddle my friends. Back on the dance floor once again. I have taken a bit of a hiatus from the dance world. I have missed it dearly.
I rehearsed yesterday with two of my girlfriends, two extremely creative and talented dancers, for a show we are performing in on Monday. We are to be.....very innocent fairytale princesses of a specific kind that I cannot mention.
We salaciously rip off our royal gowns and disrobe to reveal tawdry, burlesque lingerie.
Innocent.....turned cheeky and naughty. Big surprise.
I hung up my fishnets thinking my Bombshell days were over and done with but hey, I still got it!!!
(I cannot move my neck to the left because I am so sore.
I can barely move to sit into my vehicle because my legs have not been used in those ways for quite some time. I know, not so sexy.)
It did feel good to dance again.
It is also really empowering for a woman's sensual being to feel sexy. I felt sexy.  I really encourage you my friends to go out there and take a cabaret class. Go for a spin in a pole fitness class. Writhe to the rhythm of Zumba without reservations.
It is an awesome workout and it may just spice up your sex life.
Not that any of you slutty little minx's need it.

Pics of the show to come next week.

Bad Mamma Jamma

I am getting really good at racquetball.
I even have the hand blisters to prove it.
I actually won a game today.
I now have a glove and special protective eye wear.
Like a PRO.
I am B.A.D. A.S.S..



PS. Ladyfriends.....GOOD way to meet guys. Not that I am looking...but There are never chicks playing. Only athletic, fairly good-looking albeit extremely sweaty men.  They may have some sort of aggression issues to work out but hey at least they are taking out on the court.

The Scotsman

I hold a flame in my fluttering heart for Sean Connery.   I caught a glimpse of him recently in the movie "The Rock".  Flanked by gorgeous, young actors he still managed to pull focus completely.  I cannot pinpoint what makes this epic legend so sexy....his charisma? his accent? his black eyebrows?
I can't smell his pheromones and he could be my dad....or grandfather even. Gross.
But boy, I wouldn't throw him outta bed for eating crackers. or Biscuits.
Unless he hit me of course.
He has apparently made comments in the press about women who want a smack.
Okay, let's pretend he never said it and imagine hearing his grisly voice saying, "Have a Nishe Day".

1999, at age 69, he was voted "Sexiest Man of the Century".  Enough said.

Look at that chest hair. Its delectable. I want to be blondie.

Ramen Noodles

Ramen Noodles....

How do I love thee?

I love thy 29 cent price,

your luscious slippery pasta,

the powdery Beef flavor adds a punch of deliciousness.

I suffer from saliferous bloating for days after...but still

I yearn for thee.

My BEAU!

Okay, so my Beau brought it to my attention that I often Blog and refer to him as my "beau".  I personally like the word. Noone really gives it the attention it deserves and it's under used. Except as a name. Which also strikes my fancy should I be blessed with a child in the next few years- as my Mother prays for every night.

I had my own ideas of what it meant but if you look it up....as he so fastidiously did..the definition is as such:

1. A man with a reputation for fine dress and etiquette; a dandy or a fop.

2. A male lover, or boyfriend.

3. A male escort. 

So for those who don't know me that well......I MAY hire an escort to help me play raqscketball and build my new website. I MAY hang around a man who is well dressed, has a set of manners Emily Post would be proud of and is a FOP. Which I find hilarious because that word means:

A man who is excessively vain and concerned about his dress, appearance, and manners. 

DING DING DING!!!

Or I MAY have a boyfriend.  I think "male lover" sounds so much more interesting.

From now on I will tell my friends.....

"Sure, I would love to go to the concert tomorrow night. Let me ask my MALE LOVER if he is available."

OR

"I speak Spanish but not French. My DANDY speaks perfect French"

I am about to start a trend people. Get on board.



Athlete?

"That's Gunna Leave A Mark"

Racketball.
This is what happens when you try and play with the big boys. I got whacked in the nose. Not once, but twice.
By my own serve.
I have decided to embark on some new athletic endeavors lately. The beau introduced me to racketball.
one word? two words? Racket ball? Racketball? Who knows.
It was a lot of fun. Until I got nailed in the schnoz.
I would hit that ball with such force, an amazing shot of course, and relish in the moment until I realized that that very impressive serve was coming right back at me.
It is like you are a mouse in a closed in shoebox that cannot get out and a blue bullet is coming  100 mph straight for your sweet mousy face. Unfortunately my attempts at shielding my face with the racket didn't work and the rubber bastard got me. I am quite sure this was amusing for the meatheads lifting weights in the gym behind us that could see the entire "match" through the giant glass wall. Especially when I squealed like a skunk trapped in a bear claw in the woods. Whatever, they need to work on their calves before they make fun of me for one measly second.

I recommend this exciting sport to anyone interesting in sweating and re-learning how to master hand eye coordination in a gym rather than on your couch with a controller and the cyber world.
Consequently, I have not been able to move my right arm for the rest of the day. I am typing lefty only. HA. Just kidding.
Anyway, my nose is A Okay thank goodness. But boy did it hurt like a B$%CH!!!

PS> YES I am wearing a t-shirt with 'Lady and the Tramp' on it. Shut it.

PPS> Racketball is spelled :

rac·quet·ball

   /ˈrækɪtˌbɔl/ Show Spelled[rak-it-bawl] Show IPA

–noun

a game similar to handball, played on a four-walled court but with a short-handled, strung racket and a larger, somewhat softer ball.

NOT SO SOFT PEOPLE!!!!

The Reality Bash!!!

This past tuesday night I attended The Reality Bash with my bestie and former co-host Miss Chelsea Cannell. We went to support our former "That Morning Show" co-host Mark Long because he was hosting the thing.  Chels and I got all dolled up to hit the red carpet.  I cannot wait to see the video interview we did because it was hilarious. We made no sense and giggled like we were 12 years old and in line for a Bieber concert. Regardless, we couldn't have been the biggest train wrecks....it was a gathering of Reality show people for crying out loud.
There were a ton of old Big Brother veterans there, some Amazing Racers, RON JEREMY, even Frenchie from Rock of Love and the amazing villainess Angelina from Jersey Shore. 
There were enough sequins and clear heels to fill Vegas and more Blondes than in the country of Sweden. Except these were mostly made of extensions.  I do have to hand it to em tho, those Reality Kids know how to throw a party.
Nice work Mark Long. Check out his bizarre but incredible hotel interview show on nakidreality.com.

Yes, Larry.

So this week I had the opportunity to work on "Curb Your Enthusiasm" as a featured background actor. Basically I did a lot of pantomiming and pretending to eat the gross mashed potatoes they put in front of me that smelled like Gravy Train.   Aside from the stinky carbs the experience was amazing.  I recently started taking an Improv class which I adore and watching Larry David just go off over and over again was a marvel and quite pertinent to what I am being taught by my instructors at Hothouse Improv.  No take was the same.  No laugh was from the same joke, and the laughs were a plenty.
It was tough to keep a straight face when I heard the insults flying so close to me. (I was lucky enough to be put right between Larry and his manager Jeff for many shots throughout the two day shoot.) 
Funkhauser was even there!!!

Boas and Beads and Feathers..OH MY!

There is a little girl who means more to me than I can even express. She is not my niece but I selfishly announce that she is a part of my bloodline...often.  This precious cherub with a sassy mouth just turned 4.... going on 17.  Her birthday was last Sunday. I have never been to anything more fun in my entire life.  About 10 little girls had the opportunity to attend this shin-dig (sp?) at a party hall called "Lollipop Dreams"...plus one really big girl(me).
I think I had more fun that they did.
This place is heaven for princesses in the making. This Italian Princess was in awe. I would really like to have my next bday there....but with Cosmopolitans and Mojito juice boxes and prizes of Hanky Panky thongs to whomever wins a very competitive game of Freeze Dance. 
And I am telling you, my crew of friends will thrown down to win that game.
So.....Lollipop Dreams is basically a magical land of dress up.  Kids have parties there chaperoned by awesome women with an intense amount of patience and enthusiasm and an awesome yet strange choice of 90's 'Pump Up The Jam' dance music. 
There are hundreds of fairytale dresses (and pirate costumes for boys- BOOOOO!) , boas, pearls, fancy hats, gloves etc. etc. etc. The kids get decked and all hell breaks loose.
Karaoke happens, a coloring book break, duck duck goose, this weird sorta game that eerily resembles beer pong, and PIZZA! Yum. 
Of course, I wore my fanciest lace princess dress and an old rhinestone crown from my personal winning collection. I had to get in the spirit, thinking everyone else would as well.
Wishful thinking.
I did not care.
Upon arriving at Lollipop Dreams, I immediately donned a bright electric blue boa but unfortunately one of the cutest little blondes you ever did see (who attends the birthday girls' ballet class) decided her Ariel mermaid costume needed MY crown. Yeah, cuz mine was the bestest. 
I reluctantly gave it up to the kid. ARGHHH my outfit was so perfect. Then she wrecked it. DRAT!
Whatever, she has good taste. Can't knock her for that and I must enable her possible future beauty pageant queen urges.
By the way, she traded me my amazing, sparkly tiara for her flimsy, paper crown. Hers was so LAME. I had to wear it for the rest of the party. It's the one in the photo. Lame.
I had to remind myself that I was an adult. Often.
SOOOOOO....If anyone who knows me feels like secretly throwing me a surprise party.....on MARCH 27 2011 RUN to the Fashion Square Mall in Sherman Oaks with the Boxed wine.
No Ariels allowed.

There is nothing like feeling like a kid again. But loaded.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY  to my sort of niece!!!  You are a breath of fresh air that has come into my world like a Tasmanian devil with chocolate covered fingers.  I am so grateful that we share so many things including a terrific fashion sense and a love of dance- regardless of who is watching.

Be fearless, forever.

Growing up....and growing old.

I attended my best friend's father's memorial service last week.  I have never been so blown away with the strength and elegance of someone so young and so clearly heartbroken.  She stood in front of 600 sullen people in that warm glow of the welcoming Episcopal church and made them laugh.  She reminded them of how truly wonderful, giving and brilliant the man whom raised her and touched all of their lives truly was. 
In that moment, she was as brilliant as he.  She didn't write a thing down....ironic considering her father was an award winning, world-famous, genius scribe.  He would have been so proud- and definitely more impressed by it than anything he had ever put to paper.  It was sentimental, sad, hilarious, sweet, touching, silly, capricious and passionate.
I was supposed to fly to NY the same day to assist my own ailing father just recovering from heart surgery.  Ernesto insisted I stay to be by my bestie's side.  It was the best decision I have made in years. 
As I approached the church and my friend....she saw me and hugged me.  Not an ordinary hug, a hug I will never ever forget.  She broke down in tears...tears of sadness about the death of her patriarch, tears of nervousness for the speech she was about to attempt to deliver and tears of gratitude that I was there to support her.  I hate to make any of this about me, but it made me feel more important to another human being than I had in a long time. 
That hug has resonated with me for days. It will resonate with me forever.
That day I truly, concretely realized that we never stop growing and never stop learning, whether its about life or relationships. I grew as a woman that day, watching my peer do the hardest thing she has ever had to do in her life.  I grew by learning a bit more about how to be a good friend to someone.
Just being there... is crucial.

The sun will come out...Tomorrow?

Why must we look so scary as we pursue ultimate beauty?
I am officially a REDHEAD.  And really loving it.  It is truly amazing how people treat you differently based on your hair color. 
As a blonde, you get whatever you want.
As a brunette you get respected............. and ignored.
As a redhead everyone thinks you are unpredictable. 
I am still deciding which treatment I like best.  In the meantime, pray that my hair doesn't fall out completely from all the chemicals.
Here is a shot of the finished product.  The pic is dumb. Don't make fun.

Yes, I am a lumberjack.

It's V.O. Time!!!!

So I managed to kick the New Yawk accent for a few hours as I recorded my voice-over demo reel with  the genius soundboard master Ben Bledsoe.  It was the most challenging thing I have done in a long time.  Ya think its easy? It ain't.
Hopefully this will lead to another form of cash flow in this insane LALA-land of Hollywood.  Also, no one can see your wrinkles.
 When the MP3 is done I will post for y'all to hear.

Bah Hahbah, Maine

"The Buzz" on Outside Television

This past week I traveled up to Bar Harbor, Maine to shoot a series of shows for Outside Television.  We shot 7 episodes of a show called "The Buzz".  I hosted 56 segments in and around the Acadia National Park which was quite possibly the prettiest place I have ever been in the good old U.S. of A.  Day 1 (pictured above) was shot at Sand Beach.  Day 2 was at the summit of Cadillac Mountain- the first place in America that you can see the sunrise. Our last day I balanced on the rocks of Jordan Pond. (which features a pair of mountains that look like breasts, boobies, jugs, tatas.) So naturally I had to dumb down my abundance of cleavage a tad.  I will include a shot of that as well. I found it hilarious.
This trip really reminded me that I am in the right place in my life. I love to host.  Pursing this dream has been really, really difficult but oh so worth it.  When I get the opportunity to travel to interesting new places and do what I truly believe I do best it validates my never-ending battle with the idea of Hollywood.
Plus, I get to mimic the locals and their amazing accents.  Bah Habah. HA. so awesome.
The crew was terrific; true professionals every moment. They set up a huge jib camera every morning and took it down every night. And in the most impossible places, outdoors in 35 degree weather!!!!
"The Buzz" starts airing November 1st!!!!  As soon as it is up on http://www.outsidetelevision.com/ I will keep y'all updated.


See!!! Told you so!!!!



Shooting in LA!

Just thought I would show y'all a little bit of my work.
As a stylist/host I often get asked to speak on camera about fashion and trends. This time I was in full support of Cynthia Rowley's briliant new Retail Truck concept.
Cynthia Rowley has a truck that travels around the country popping up at boutiques, charity events, shopping centers, and even in people's driveways if requested! The entire 2010 Fall line is being sold out of the back of this super chic, sassy store on wheels. It even has a dressing room, great music and even better lighting! (which as we all know if crucial)
I was in LOVE with so many pieces in the collection....from clutch bags to cocktail dresses with cobalt blue feathers lining the hem and obsessed with the colorful fringe mania!!!!

I was invited to an event being held by Cynthia Rowley in conjunction with Project Angel Food; an amazing organization that feeds 10,000 men, women and children stricken with HIV, AIDS, cancer and other life threatening diseases every week. 10,000 meals a week!!!! These selfless volunteers nourish the hearts and souls of people who are in need of a noutritious meal made with love and have been doing so for over 20 years.
I met so many lovely people, noshed on cupcakes and made small talk. ABC News interviewed me as well as E! News. I will let everyone know when the E! piece will air.

Backyard Shenanigans!!!!

I live in a small complex  made up of 5 apartments in Los Angeles. Well, the valley. Yes, I am a valley girl and damn proud of it.  Young working actors, makeup artists, a filmmaker, a social worker and I have no idea what the nice dude who lives below me does....but he is quiet and that's all I really care about. He probably would not say the same for me. Take that as you will. Winky emoticon.
At 6 am bright and early tons of little birds come flocking to my window into this tree right by my bedside. So do these very very aggressive and noisy squirrels. Not because I am Snow White....because some mystery bandito keeps FEEDING them.
I swept up the birdseed and peanuts a few times already, we have asked him very politely to stop feeding the animals because rats, raccoons and possums also live back there, along with our vehicles that we have to get into and out of often.  The last thing I need is a racoon bite on my leg with no health insurance.
Mr. Mystery Bandito Animal Feeder IGNORED us.  Mind you, he lives in the adjacent building and responded a such, "the people in my building didn't like the birds pooping on their cars so I figured you guys wouldn't mind if I fed them here."
That was around the time he was dumping loaves of Italian bread in our yard and on the garage roof.
MISTER...Oldness is not an excuse for being a jerk!!!
So I once again set off to ask him NICELY not to do this. I wrote a sign and put it against the feeding grounds. 

Today- there was about 5 lbs of bird seed and enough peanuts to feed a pack of Asian elephants out there. Right under my sign.
THIS IS WAR MR. MYSTERY BANDITO ANIMAL FEEDER.
(He's not so mysterious by the way...hes about 83 years old, basically bald and kinda frail.)
The noise is one thing...especially so early but the real problemo is that when I moved in there was some large dead animal in my heating duct that was decomposing. The exterminators could not get it out. YEAH- so I had to live with it til it decomposed fully.  The smell was delicious, especially when I brought home my date (now my boyfriend) for the first time.  Try explaining that and not feeling like a weirdo.
Anyway...I will keep y'all posted on my war with the neighbor.

I need a job. Bad.

vintage Karla host footage.

Giggle. giggle.

Stop Peer Pressuring Me!!!

IM not on facebook. It frustrates most, if not all of my friends to no end. I am getting peer pressure from everyone to join. Even my Mother and Father have FB accounts!
I'm not even sure why my aversion to it is so strong, I just don't want to be a memberr. After the disaster my myspace account created I just have no desire.  Although aafter a few glasses of wine I have been known to waver and be on the brink of signing up.
There was all sorts of drama with my space but most of all.....Yes, I was lame. I had a bikini picture in one of my albums on myspace. A few years ....YES years later after I totally came to my senses and canceled my account I went on a few dates with a guy who was initially a friend. Well, 'said guy' had that very bikini photo SAVED on his desktop and showed it to me.  The social networking world (and blogs) can permanently brand anything and everything you decide to be public info into the universe FOREVER.
Am I alone in thinking that this concept is insane?
Hear that next Miss USA? FOREVER!!!!! You think its cute when you are 20 to upload the photo of you doing saki bombs and body shots off of that sweaty dude at Senor Frogs? NOT so cute when a  few years later.
Crap- I should probably erase any and all photos I put on this blog before its under my google images.
Like the recent photo of a brunette woman labeled "Karla Cavalli" giving some naked, ripped dude a hummer on her knees. I am sure the possible employers interested in me as the host of their new family show loved that one.
Anyway, Jersey Shore is on tonight. I'm busting at the seams. I bet they have lots of FB friends.

I will intently listen to every one of you say  "I told you so" when I decide to admit defeat and join the cult.



photo courtesy of www.marriedtothesea.com

Me.

Off On A Quest!

OK- I have discovered I cannot remember how to be a girlfriend anymore.


In fact, I think I am kind of bad at it. Sort of how I was horrendous at calculus.

Two years of being single really messes a gal up.

I used to be a terrific girlfriend. Many bad dates and a plethora of lame pick-up lines and I am jaded and cranky.

3 Months in with a fantastic man- will I mess it all up? Geez, I hope not. Its funny though, the grass is always greener I think.

The entire two years I yearned for a hairy man to cuddle up to and someone to spoon me at night, now I got one and he elbows me in the head every single night while he sleeps. Accidentally of course- or maybe not.

Take the good with the bad?

He is terrific...opens every single door, cooks chicken picatta, compliments me constantly, even washes the dishes....without me asking!

He is my prince charming. Yet- I am a picky brat. DO NOT mess this up lady. You have been waiting for a man like this one forever.

When are women truly happy? I think I may be a bit like a man in this sense. Insatiable sometimes.

Does being single for too long really destroy your ability to be a good partner?

I sit here and write this and feel like I sound like Carrie. God forbid I read it out loud to myself- wearing some overlystyled outfit. Scary.

(Although I am satc fanatic- from day 1 mind you....not some newbie)

Well, I am off on a quest to re-learn to be a good girlfriend again. Any suggestions would be fantastic my friends.

Teach me how not to care if he leaves the bathroom rug in the wrong place, or if he forgets to turn the lights off.

Remind me to be grateful for how handy he is with a hammer and nail; how he fixes every minuscule detail that has been waiting for some testosterone to turn a wrench to it and how he has such an amazing sense of exactly where I need to be touched.

Grateful, grateful, grateful...be grateful because you have been busting as the seams for some holey boxers to fold again.

Went to bed hungry.


Trying to shed the extra 8-12 lbs or so I've gained in the last 3 months. Ya

see- I've fallen in love which means I'm becoming a fatso. Yeah- no wonder

newlyweds r so happy. They don't give a rats arse what they're eating and just

pound food like they'll never see their spouse ever again if they don't.

I've been totally blind to my nonexcercising- non light beer drinking- bacon

blue cheese and disco fry eating ways for the past 3 months. Geez Karla- get it

together. Even though you have decent metabolism cuz you've been an athlete your whole

life you canNOT eat like a 200lb man. You will get a muffin topper.

Anyway- its go time now. Ipod is charged and I'm ready to rumble. Hike, sweat,

and starve myself. All hail Los Angeles.

My Talented Friends at Wheelhouse

Wheelhouse Creative

My friends are genius.
I attended the screening of "All I EverWanted- The Airborne Toxic Event Live from Disney Concert Hall..blah blah blah. Long Title" last night.
My great friend DJ-JD Jon Danovic directed it and my wonderful friend, the infamous Brian Girard produced it.  They leave for London next week for the European screening. I have always been impressed by their work, always. I am officially floored now. These two gentleman are so dedicated to making beautiful schtuff on screen that of which I have had the pleasure of being a part of many, many times. This time they out-did themselves. I am so proud to know them.
Best of luck my friends.  You make beautiful music together. xoxoxoxo

Bon Bons

This is not Bob.

As a stylist I have a side gig where I do something called "Closet Consults" at peoples homes. I live in Los Angeles so many of my clients are unknown actors/actresses that are trying to brand themselves or hone their look. I help them find any look....basically make them more current. I also make them throw out all the terrible, terrible things that exist in their closet they thought were cool five years ago in Middleofnowheresville.
I never have any idea of what I am in for when I step through the door. Sometimes its a fairly good situation when I pass through the messy bedroom to the closet. Sometimes its a total disaster and I have no idea how the hell I can even help this person. Thankfully....my expertise has helped me to take the worst of the worst and make it work- as Mr Gunn would say.

So recently I visited this lovely young client for the first time, let's call her Sarah. Sarah needed help with her hair, makeup and clothing.

She was a plain jane of sorts with a very simple but very pretty face and an outstanding body hiding under her dowdy corduroy skirt.

At first we chatted on her couch about makeup..and I recommended some good colors and products for her that she went and purchased immediately after our session and thankfully loved. Then about her hair, which needed a serious Va Va Voom bombshell boost. It was boring brown and shoulder length. It made zero statement. Just there, so boring. I suggested she but it a bit shorter and layer it up and go darker with the color. again, she did and its amazing.

The important part comes next....the closet visit. For about two hours we dragged every item worthy of daylight out of her closet as her cat Bob laid in my path. He hated every second. I put together outfits on the floor including jewelry and shoes and made Sarah take photos so she could replicate them when her personal stylist was not at home with her as she gets ready.

Now my challenge with Sarah: she said a few people told her she needed to lose weight. Her tummy needed to be trimmed. A doctor and an acting teacher told her to get rid of her pooch so to speak. The problem: almost everything in her closet was tight fitting. By the way, this supposed "pooch" wasn't bad at all but she was  pretty self conscious about it.
I toiled and trudged through every item to try and make stuff work to hide her belly.....but quickly realized that wasn't my mission. I wasn't there to make her feel like she needed to HIDE her flaws. I was there to empower her. I was called upon by the style gods to make her flaunt her better assets, not enable her insecurities. I decided to focus on her ammmmmazing supermodel legs and her 22" waist. By the end of the consult she had 15 outfits focusing on her gams and her Grace Kelly midsection ready to roam the streets of La La Land.

Teaching this pretty Plain Jane...who isn't so plain any longer....I learned a great lesson myself. My expertise is never to make anyone feel bad...although its not in my nature so I don't think I ever have done so- at least not on purpose, my mission is and will always be to make women feel better about themselves in their clothes.
Sure, I will poke fun of you if you still have a pair of wedge heeled sneakers in your closet but if that's the case you totally deserve it. But, Sarah was made to feel bad about herself and instead of retreating she went above and beyond to better herself. She hired a stylist, she changed her hair completely, she has been working out like crazy. She took the criticism with true grace and tried to better herself all around. I am thankful that my session with Sarah taught me something about my own work. I am also thankful I was able to help her realize how to use her best assets.

Okay Miss Longwinded......Point of the story is.....when someone says something negative about your body .....tell them to F- Off and hire a stylist.

And with that I am signing off....and eating an ice cream Bon Bon from Trader Joe's.

OKAY::: ADDENDUM here. One of my best friends brought to my attention how the wedge sneaker is HUGE for fall. (which I am aware of) The hiking boot with a stilleto is also apprently being sold again. NEITHER of which I support anyone wearing. I don't really care how many runways they are on for NY Fashion Week.  I personally hate them. 1999-JLo maybe. But....to each his own.

Bookmarks! Yay!

Happy Birthday Momma! Buon Cumpleanno Mammasita!

So its my mothers birthday this week. She could be the most difficult woman to buy for....ever. She is impossible.

Vicki will NOT hesitate to tell you she does not like a gift. Promptly telling you to in her snotty upper crust accent "Return it and save your money".

She is British- enough said.

You can imagine my excitement when I found the perfect Bday gift for her last weekend at the Santa Monica Flea Market!!!

My mother reads a lot of books- like real books with pages in 'em, not a computer version. (especially when she is at work and supposed to be ..ummmm uhhh working)

These are bookmarks created by the talented jewelry and bookmark designer Miss Kelly King of K Bird Designs.

Those are buttons! Vintage buttons! How cool is that? They are made of elastic and wrap around the cover and hold your page. Perfect for reading on a beach or in a windstorm!
They are gorgeous and terrific little gifts for your favorite readers.

Go to www.Kbirddesigns.com or www.etsy.com and find Kbird Designs store to get your Mommas some bookmarks too!

Or Grandmas....or Aunties....or little biddie kiddies. She does children's bookmarks also. I'm so gunna read a big fat novel now,

The Count Of Monte Christo....just so I can use a bookmark.

YOU have to watch this new show I am obsessed with: "RU Paul's Drag U".
I watched one episode and I am hooked. Its genius. Not only because they dress up real women and make them look like fabulous drag queens. Feather boas, wigs, bad gowns, lip syncing, nose shading and all...
Also because Ru Paul has his own language. He says things to his "students" like:
"ConDRAGulations" and "Let's see how you scored on your DRAGxamination?" or my personal favorito:
Ru refers to them as the "DRAGuating class of 2010".
I am not sure why I find this Ru drag-language so funny. I think its kind of why I am also still (as an adult) so
obsessed with America's Funniest Videos.
I sort of want to make up so many words with DRAG in it but all of mine sound stupid.
WHY can't I be that creative? and funny? and witty? This is DRAGdiculous!
HA

PS: These are the camp counselors.

This Is Why I Have Rules!!!!

I have a few rules when it comes to dating/seeing men/boyfriends......for example.

NO BBM with a boy I'm involved with. It always creates drama. On both ends.

every time I've folded and said "okay, we can be on bbm it smacks me back in the arse". 

NO BBM.

They get mad cuz I receive but don't respond...I get mad cuz they bbm me constantly...and on and on....

Another example: NO exercising with boys. I have a friend, let's call her Melanie. She always hikes with guys.

She LOVES hike dates. Me- NOT so much.

Why? cuz ur sweaty, and in ugly workout clothes, and smelly, have swamp crotch and do not look cute. It also doesn't help that I huff and puff and wheeze like a 90 year old biddy who smokes two packs a day.  

(disclaimer: melanie always looks cute on a hike- no bra cuz her nice fake tits stand up straight and perky. a teensy bit of mascara, hair down, and some just see through enough and loose enough shirt that you can tell how "please eat a burger" skinny she is. Yes, I'm jealous)

ONward......So I decide to hike this morning with me new beau.(no I'm not Scottish but sometimes I make a typo like this one and kinda like it, so leave it) 

We are a little over 3 months in...big mistake. Too soon basically.

You see, I get overheated very very easily. It was probably about 89 degrees and the blazing CA sun was beating down right on my head.

Now, there is no..cute hairdo, flushed pink cheeks or pheromones pumping at this point.

Just tomato face, underboob sweat and hairy pasty white legs coming out from under my old faded jazz pants that I have to fold above my thighs I'm so hot.

When I say tomato face I mean like...it looks like someone just smacked me across every inch of my mug with a 2x4 about 150 times.

Or maybe I walked in the Sahara desert for 5 days straight with baby oil on my face.

Or maybe, my friends 3 year old daughter asked me to play circus and she painted my face with dancing poodle blood.

Okay- that was dark.

Moving on......I was hot and bothered and struggling and we had not even gotten to the difficult part yet- the stairs.

Shit.

"Okay Karla...don't embarrass yourself. You are not THAT out of shape. Pretend your fine. Its almost over. Keep pushing."

I wasn't fine.

I needed to stop over and over again in shady parts of the trail. At this point I am mortified and may just throw up the sunny side up eggs he made for me for breakfast. Ketchup and all.

Gross.

So we are up the stairs at this point, albeit slowly. I tried my best to push through and act like I can easily handle all this but I am pretty sure it was written all over my face that is throbbing and scarlett like a skinned cat.

ok Gross again. Sorry.

 Let me inform you that this new beau....is 7 years my junior. 

Clearly in shape and having an easy time of what seems like MT. Kilimanjaro to me. 

Crap Karla!- you broke another rule.....no dating younger men. I was waiting for it to bite me in my over sexed ass. Our libidos are in perfect harmony. Clearly our stamina for work outs was not. 

How unsexy, how unattractive for me not to be able to hang on a simple hike. 

THIS IS WHY I DON'T HIKE WITH BOYS!!!!

I am NOT that out of shape, I just smoked like a chimney and cannot deal with the blazing hot meteor that was sending me into overload like Drew in Firestarter. But an old lady version.

Anyway....We got to the water fountain, I doused myself. Putting mildly cold water on my wrists like my father to cool myself down. Then gulped so much water that I was pretty sure the drive down the canyon was going to make me yuke in his BMW. Again, even sexier.

I warned him not to come near the bathroom in case I blew chunks really loudly. I was mortified for him to hear. Too soon, Too soon.

I took a frozen shower. Wet my hair but didn't bother to actually wash it because my arms were like limp spaghetti. How lazy.

I then laid down in my bed naked and again too exhausted to put any clothes on. I included a photo of that for your viewing pleasure.

Face still piercing red like an orangutans ass.

My loving new beau brought me some water and a cold compress for my forehead.

I rested while he showered off his cherubic glistening sweat.

I have NO idea why, maybe because I was naked but he returned to the bedroom and seemed like he wanted to "get busy".

Did he forget about the near pukefest that almost happened? Or about my inability to keep up with him because I'm old and am on the brink of emphesyma. Does Demi have these issues?

I was immobile and pink faced. Not exactly the Pussycat Doll I used to be.

But I needed to redeem myself. Didn't I?

This young stallion adores me. NO matter what.

Well.....20 minutes later I felt a f&%k of a lot better.

Moral of the story- stick by your own rules.

No hiking with boys.

Okay...scratch that. Its not the moral of the story. I always get my morals f-ed up.  Below is a convo regarding this entry between me and my friend Jhari who is way smarter than I. (her name is Shari but I call her Jhari- private joke)

shari: but edit the moral of your story

shari: haahaha

KARLA: hahaha what's the moral?

KARLA: i don't even know

shari: well you basically tell everyone that you shouldn't exercise with boys but at the end of it, you get sex and feel better and he wasn't at all put off by you

KARLA: ya

shari: so i'd say the moral is, breaking rules is sometimes more rewarding

KARLA: ahhhhh

shari: its the opposite

shari: because you end up with something satisfying, why would you NOT want that result?

KARLA: ur smart

shari: gracias

shari: it confused me at 8 am but once i had time to think about it

shari: hahaha

shari: i mean, i'd say its pretty fucking awesome if you are in a panic about how you look, smell, etc. and your guy doesn't think anything of it, he just wants to bone you.

shari: like you were all worried for nothing, he loves you for exactly who/what you are

shari: it's pretty great

KARLA: yup

KARLA: it is

shari: moral of the story should be something more like, if you make rules for yourself, you might miss out on learning something much more impressive about your partner

shari: or somethign

KARLA: god ur genius

KARLA: i cant figure out my own morals. shit

shari: hahahha