Monday, December 5, 2011

Yup, Im a Video Ho once again! 'ALL AMERICAN REJECTS'

'Somedays Gone'
I shot this with my great friend, filmmaker , editor and director Jon Danovic this past weekend. He called me at 9pm on Friday and asked if I would be in a shoot for him. As always I say yes because anything Jon does is magic.
He is pure genius and will be very famous one day. I can say I knew him well.

I ran around the AAR band house for hours as we did take after take trying to get this perfect. It WAS NOT easy. I had about 100 things to remember and could not be the weak link, especially considering it was driven by me and the lead singer, Ty. (Who is super sweet- I had to punch him, kick him in the head and throw multiple dangerous items straight at his head ex: spatula, beer bottle, shards of records, etc. I am sorry Ty.)
There were like 15 people hiding in all sorts of corners of the home helping with props and such. It was a really, really kick ass experience. I busted my rear running across that bed but it was so worth it.

Thanks AAR.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

and now that I know how to post videos to my blog......

Presenting the 'Paseo Colorado Chalk Festival'!
This event is WAY freaking fun. Like WAY. Go next year if you can, I promise its awesome for the entire family. Please watch and enjoy but ignore the fact that I was Sick. As. A. Dog. on this day. And that's an understatement. But the show must go ON!  (a true professional)

Miss Paseo Colorado

Sorry to disappoint you but I didn't win another beauty pageant. I did however land the job of official correspondent for the 'Paseo Colorado Shopping Center' in Pasadena California.  In this little segment I interview the proprietors and staff of The Bodega Wine Bar and El Cholo Mexican Restaurant. I was boracha by the end of the shoot. Had to taste test lots o' wine and margaritas! BEST JOB EVER!


I gots a jobs peeps. YAY! And it's a steady one at that. Can you believe it? I actually go to an office every day. So bizarreo. How does America do this?
I am officially the writer/host of The Huffington Post and AOL's "The Celebrity Daily". It has been about a month now and I am finally in the groove. I often write offensive scripts and have to be toned down, cuz I'm a jerk. But I LOVE every second of it.
I wake up nice and early (not today- I was late..shhhhh) and get to work.  I am my very own Glam Squad so I spend way too much time getting my face painted and hair did. Then I get my story from the NY offices and get to writing.  As soon as my "masterpiece" of nonsense is done I send it back to NY to get their feedback. Sometimes I am tame in my scribing, sometimes not so tame (like today's piece).

It's approved and my producer/editor Raj and I head to the studio to shoot this shiznit and the magic happens. Unless its Monday. I am far from magical on Mondays.
I often tell Raj that my entire performance from the writing to the hosting is all dependant on how well my eyelashes go on. Kind of a rule of thumb for life actually. If the lashes go on seamlessly it will be a great day. If not, I'm F-ed. I will most certainly imbibe my future children with that food for thought.
(Did I use 'imbibe' correctly? Kind of an awesome word.)
I have found that is my best friend these days. Never thought I would say that out loud but I just did. Actually I didn't, I wrote it. Okay, just said it out loud so now it's official.
I also like to use words such as "deets". As in " we will get you all the deets." Yeah its gross but I kind of do it ironically. Kinda.
I also like the expression, "cray cray".
I really have NO idea why/how they keep me employed. I guess I am good on camera but I am pretty silly. I feel as though celebrity is insane; so why can't I be insane when celebrating the insanity of it all?

That's me! Conducting the "Two and a Half Men Orchestra".  Those boyz get us the most views. Now if only I could say the name Ashton Kutcher without my teeth getting in the way.

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Look Ma!

I Finally made it in Hollywood!
(Well, this was shot in Vermont but close enough)

Monday, July 18, 2011


It never ceases to amaze me what things make me insanely happy.
America's Funniest Home Videos Marathons,
my dog sneezing,
old family photos of relatives I never met,
baked hand crab rolls.....etc, etc.
I have 2 more things that make me joyful.

First, a stackable washer/dryer!!!!
I moved into this house because it had a hook-up.
I was scared to commit. I waited over a year.
I have done loads upon loads in the past 2 days since it's move in date.

I could write poetry to this pristine white tower I love it so.

Again, afraid to commit. I figured window treatments meant I was officially living and staying on the West Coast.
The hardware seemed so permanent. I was upset that every neighbor could see me in a robe yet I fought buying them.

I recently stopped fighting myself.

After living here for two years I have conclusively embraced California with a drill and dirty laundry.
Now, I look at my new drapery and appliances and realize I was being a big chicken. Bok Bok.
Sometimes the things I am most scared of end up fulfilling my life.
I need to keep that in mind.

My Break-Up Jeans....

I split the ass. Yup......from one cheek straight through to the other. They were unwearable and I cried. We shared so many moments, so many breakdowns, so many special days together. We grew as a team and got through the worst of times and the best of times.
And now they were more broken than my heart had been some of the days I wore them.
There was no way I was going to let my jeans down. I had to find someone to save them, mend them, put them back together like Humpty Dumpty.  After scouring all of Los Angeles, I finally did.
For an over-the-top, atrocious fee.
I didn't care. Why you ask?
Because.......these jeans........mean a lot.
I went through a really sad time in my life a few years back.
I think I wore these jeans every single day.
I moved across the country.
I moved back home, crushed, devastated, destroyed. More destroyed than the softest 12 year old worn denim.
In order to get past the heartbreak I needed intense therapy...that therapy was diving into mindless projects to ease the pain. I painted my Mother's entire house from top to bottom..... in these jeans.
They still show signs of white splatter. If they didn't dry so quickly they would also show the many tears cried upon my knees.  That may be why both were torn right the way through.
Disintegrated in fact.
I decided to have the tatted up, specialist denim tailor only stitch up one knee; I wanted the other as a reminder of the endless stomach aches I endured. The restored knee was to remind me how you can be damaged but with a little help and some time the pain heals. Or so my Mom insisted many times as she cradled me when I cried.
Oh, how love can cripple the mighty.
I paid $90 to fix one knee and the split rear end. They technically aren't even worth half that.
In my heart they are worth thousands.
The best part about these jeans.....there is something quite magical about them.  They mold to my body, regardless of my weight. At my skinniest from the stress of the sadness they fit perfectly. Plump with happiness from a few months of a new love and yet they still fit.  There isn't another pair that has the ability to make my derriere look so delightful. Or so I have been told.
My Break-Up Jeans.......they look good as new. Well, maybe not new. But I don't want new.
I want sincere, experienced, flattering, comfortable, fun, trustworthy...I can always count on them to make me happy.
They love me for me, all tears or all smiles.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Monday, June 20, 2011

Pasadena Chalk Festival 2011

Interviewing David, Artist.
Yesterday I had the opportunity to work with MyLocalBuzzTV to host a show for the Paseo Colorado Shopping Center in Pasadena, CA.  This particular episode was about the 19th annual Pasadena Chalk Festival.  Over 600 artists participated and graced the sidewalks of Pasadena with the most beautiful chalk art I have ever seen and over 100,000 spectators attended!  It holds the Guinness World Record for the largest display of Chalk Art.
I walked around for hours with my head staring at the concrete totally floored by the masterpieces that would be washed away by the rain and wind within days. How sad and freeing at the same moment.

I spoke to people from all over the world, the artists themselves and admirers of the art alike.  One Japanese man chalked a perfect, blonde, lifelike cherub praying with a peaceful dove floating above her. He dedicated it to Japan and asked for donations to help them rebuild. It was gorgeous. Another young 11 year old little lady named Kimberly delicately painted her favorite story on the sidewalk, Alice in Wonderland. Right next to her father's Chalk Art titled, "The Last Kiss"- he was a veteran of the festival and won awards for his use of color.
These dedicated artists toiled on their hands and knees for two days straight to entertain our eyes for a weekend. We had the chance to see each work of art progressed, the process was incredible. So many layers to each piece as well as each artist.

My favorite part of the day was hanging with the kids at the KidsChalk Corner.  One little girl really blew my mind....Delilah.
I thought she was shy.
Lovely 5 year old Delilah she was just sitting quietly waiting her turn to color and have a giggle with me. The other kids were practically pushing each other out of the way to get in front of the camera.  She was patient, not shy. I was mistaken.
Well, she sure showed me. Delilah gave me a TERRIFIC interview. Great sound bites and some fantastic footage. She was fun and silly and funny and smart and sweet.   We created chalk dolls and I wish I could've stayed with her longer.

The photo above was taken by a gentleman who attended the festival and tweeted it!  The power of social networking.  I love action shots, and this is one of me at work. So Thanks bud! I rarely get candid shots like this of my work.
David the artist, excuse me for not remembering his last name, created a chalk piece that had a Mexican flair! His son was depicted playing an accordion and his nephew was playing this other interesting instrument. They were floating above an open heart, half cartoon, half realistic heart. David knew and wanted everyone around him to see how important music was in his life and the lives of his family members, it is their epi-center- their beating heart.

What a fantastic day! I will definitely go next year as a spectator if I am not working the event. When I get the footage I will post it here for y'all to see!

Sunday, May 1, 2011

Ohhhh YEAH!


"Joo wanna play rough?! Okay! Shay ello to my lil frien!!!!!"
I went to college in the Bronx, NY and literally heard gun shots every night lulling me to sleep but other than that I have never really been close to a gun before.
 This weekend friends and I ventured to the gun range. I almost chickened out when I stepped out of the car. The sound was deafening and  Nervous Nelly over here jumped every time there was a loud pop.
First up was skeet shooting with a 20 gage.  I desperately needed help loading the thing. I became very "girly" all of a sudden and quite nervous. Not a good combo.
I thought my fingers may get caught while loading the shells because the metal snaps back so quickly. My friend, Biddy, assisted me and instructed me as so....
"just slide it a tampon."
Only then did I truly understand the process.
So I was loaded. (loaded gun, not loaded wasted) Safety was off and I was prepared to yell, "PULL!"
I managed not to hit one flying orange skeet all day.
I did manage to bruise my shoulder, face and deafen my ears.
Boy, was it worth it.
The power behind that machine is unfathomable. The fact that human beings can go to a range as such and pay 20 bucks to "rent" a giant powerful man and beast killing machine, then you are driven up into the woods and they just leave you on the mountain top, 
absolute INSANITY.
Aside from how totally not okay it is that our society allows this, it was SO fun.
Then came the handguns.

I HIT a target the first time I pulled that darn trigger.
Handguns are way more my speed.
How bad ass is that pic?
SO Charlie's Angels.
I could totally play a cop on TV.
Although I was petrified at first I was pretty proud of  myself in the end. To be honest it really put the power of these instruments into real perspective. How they get into the hands of children is unfathomable. How anyone thinks its fair to "hunt" an animal with a shotgun is gross. There is absolutely no "fair game" in that. Put a spear in your hand and ride beside the beast on a horse and then I will agree that you have the natural right to hunt for food.
OK, getting off the soapbox now.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Follow up: to addiction.


Whomever came up with this idea is a genius. I literally picked it out of the freezer at the supermarket unconsciously. It was as if I was a zombie and Mr. King Ralph chief CEO of the ice chests called out to my subconscious to buy it.
Or maybe it was just my hormones.
It is a chocolate ice cream bar called Magnum....Double Chocolate. and the box's description is...
"Chocolate Ice Cream dipped in a Chocolatey Coating, Chocolatey Sauce, and Belgian Milk Chocolate"
Sex Bomb on a stick Tom Jones take that!
When women hear the infamous word Magnum they think....
H U G E.
Only select few.
Many women never experience a Magnum.
But now every woman can.
A massive hunk of frozen deliciousness that will satisfy your ever desire.

When I first busted open the opulent package I danced around with one of the 3 Magnums inside....I held it between my legs and romped about as if I was a 13 year old with a dangling hose, or in reality a grown woman thoroughly embarrassing herself in front of her younger beau.
He had to tell me to stop.
I was so anxious and thrilled I could not help myself.

Finally a Magnum you won't gag on.


I had a thought today...could I be addicted to chocolate?
I love it. I have to have a little, or a lot every single day.
When I had a chocolate ice cream pop for dinner last night I decided I needed to take a closer look at my situation.
Today I pranced into my kitchen singing like Mary Poppins. I opened all of my cupboards and my fridge so that I could see just how much chocolate inhabited my home.

This is the result:
 Hagen Daaz, numerous types of Reese's, cakes,

Hershey kisses, cookies, Easter eggs, cake,

Junior mints,  Dove bars, Lions Bars, Susans,

Hob Nobs (British) etc etc etc etc.

Here's a closer look.......

Does it look more manageable from a different angle?


Basically I filled the entire counter space with sweets. HOLY MOLY!
I SHOULD be embarrassed. Operative word here is should.

And this was the healthy stuff in my fridge:
A half eaten avocado, cherry tomatoes and a lemon.
If the world were to end I could sustain myself and the village of Studio City, CA on chocolate.

Nothing is More Funner.

HUZZAH!!!!! Our Knight of the Joust, Britannia's Knight WINS for his wenches!
(So what he is closing his eyes. It was bright out. He still beat the other dudes)
The Renaissance Fair.
I suggest everyone go.
It is amazing.
I have been quite a few times to the Faire, Fair NY. Last weekend I went with friends to the one here in Socal.
We basically guzzled beer and cider, launched spears, threw axes, cheered, laughed, screamed, taunted witches, fed the geese, and ate enough meat pies for the village of Cornwall.
Anyone who dares to make fun of people that go to the Ren Fair are L A M E O S.
The Queen's Beer. Old Beer. Really Old.

Yes. My undies are pink. Now, Look at the damn spear!

Just casually chatting about the Reformation with a man in a dress.

Alas, the lady is sad the day is over!
HUZZAH! Long Live the Queen.

Dear Diary, Who is Mr X?

I have had a request by a reader for more. So more I will bring you! (said with a British accent)

I was petrified that my mother would read my diary. I did NOT want her to see the salacious things I was admitting to.  Apparently I didn't think that putting a list of explanations or codes on the inside cover would throw her off the scent.
I clearly thought Vicki was a total idiot when I was 10.
I was the idiot because as I grew older I slowly learned that my Mother knew everything. Like EVERYTHING. She was freaking psychic.
She knew what alcohol I drank- even after I threw it up, who I was out with and what time I snuck out of the house.
Here is a photo of Karla's Brilliant Diary Key:

notice the beautiful cursive.
Yup- that says.....Mr X = domonic
My readers.....They are one in the same.
Like "Mr Big" before Carrie/the writers came up with that iconic term.
I was way ahead of my time.
It also describes how my diary broken up into 3 sections via page color was:
yellow- regular section/everyday
green- private
red (pink)- problems

I also had stuff that was "private".
I also thought I may forget who I was referring to when I wrote about Mr X because with the plethora of  boys mentioned I may get confused.

Dominic was the new kid and I had to make him my boyfriend.  He had gorgeous black curly hair that had me in lust instantly. I love men with black curly hair to this day because of him.  Of course I NEVER let on that I liked the cocky kid. It would ruin my bad ass, tough girl rep. I wasn't going for the lesbian thing but friends tell me I was a bully and the "block protector" so I went with it.

Below is the excerpt from an event with Dominic:

June 2, 1986
Dear Diary,
Sorry I wrote so late but now I'm going to write in you every day. Even at camp.
Now to talk about more exciting things. 
A few weeks ago Mr. X winked at me and challenged ME, the fastest runner in the class
to a race!!!!
I just cannot believe that he didn't show up.
But neither did I.

So modest.
and so weird.
Who taught him to wink at girls? Probably Dominic's grandpa and it sure worked on me.

From a young age I was quite the athlete.  I am also an Aries with Leo rising and born in the year of the Dragon so I am INSANELY competitive. Probably the worst combo ever for a woman any man would ever want to be involved with hence the lesbian vibe.

I took Dominic's challenge.  At a later date we both decided to actually show up. We met after school in the parking lot and I beat his ass. Unfortunately besting my one true love in front of the entire 2nd grade wasn't the thing that was going to win his heart. I embarrassed him thoroughly.
I distinctly remember lunging down on the rough, hot blacktop. Placing my hands on the gravel preparing to fly through the alleyway the crowd made for us. I could hear my breathing... heavy because curlyboy was super close to me.
I was nervous. I was fast though. Really fast.
Running from the cops/gangs/ mean, older sister of my best friend Danielle honed my skills. 'Steal the Bacon' helped a lot with my training as well.
My muscles converse were sliding and trying to grip the floor for take off.....Stray blonde hairs escaped from my headband and flew in my eyes obstructing my view of the chain link fence in front of me that I HAD to touch first.
I had to.
I had to impress him.
I had to make him finally see me as something other than a ponytail to pull. The surrounding kids cheered for their respective favorites. That's what we did in Queens, NY. We raced on foot for glory in the parking lot after school. I was challenged by a BOY.
One that I longed for....I had no choice, no other option.
I had to win.

I won the race.
I lost the boy.

Hiding behind a coy giggle was not my version of flirting.
Whooping his ass and emasculating him was.

Its okay. Don't fret.
Mr X eventually moved to Florida and John, the Greek came along.

The British Invasion

FORGET the royal wedding! My grandma is guest bartending! My little brother decided to make the above flyer for her big night tonight! Apparently the more people she packs in the bar the better her chances of winning the bartending challenge and the grand prize of 500 bucks. Clearly my Nanny, which we so adoringly call her, has a young spirit.

Saturday, April 16, 2011


How can anyone think its okay to only have ONE person on duty for the overnight shift in an airplane tower?
The lives of thousands of people are in their hands....directing flights to land safely.
We have to pay to check a suitcase now and they have the audacity NOT to have a backup dancer in the tower?

Someone tell me where all of our money goes?
They want us to pay for a ticket. Then for a "preferred" seat. (meaning an exit row which used to be doing them a favor offering to lift the door)
Now we have to pay for gas, and food, and a for the toilet.
And they can't pay some dude a couple hundred bucks to keep the other sleeping dude awake?

Come on America. Let's get it together.


Okay....every now and then I have a brilliant idea. Less often than more often.

This popped in my head whilst spring cleaning my apartment spic and span ...and at the same time avoiding running into the murderer who was literally on the loose today in my 'hood'.  Now I live in the 'hood where 'ghetto birds' as my lovely neighbor calls them hover overhead for hours interrupting my cleaning playlist. Cher- "Strong Enough"....Celine, Babs, Liza...yup everyone thinks a gay man took me hostage and not the gang banger the cops can't get a hold of on Ventura Blvd.
Holy quotes Batman.

So...back to my idea. If the public will actually become obsessed with The Housewives of whatever city that lends a cute logo to the title then why wouldn't they be obsessed with my new show...
"The Unemployed Actresses of Studio City"?
Instead of fancy dinners at sushi restaurants the wives/actresses will have dinner parties at their respective studio apartments or 1 bedrooms they can't afford and serve Ramen noodles and Franzia wine.
For dessert they will dine on miniature snickers and Parliament cigarettes!
Easy to stay skinny when you can afford food!

Instead of lavish vacations to Cabo they can take their VW Jetta's to Venice Beach and flirt with men to score some drinks.
Shopping at Loehmann's and the Rose Bowl flea market instead of Barney's and Sak's.
I honestly believe it is way more interesting to watch hot chicks trying to figure out how to pay the bills than watch these overbleached, non-working, over the hill spoiled brats spend their ex-husbands cash.
Anyone with me?

Sunday, April 10, 2011

This Cat is a Jerk.


From now on I will call him Jerk. In my book "jerk" is a really bad word. As a kid if I called my brother a "jerk" I got soooo yelled at. "Asshole" was okay but "gaylord" and "jerk" were totally unacceptable in my house. It was the 80's people.....yes we used that strange word, gaylord.  I didn't know what it meant then and I still don't. But it was totally off limits and apparently highly offensive which I why I used it often.
Jerk, the black stable cat.
How sweet, how cuddly! The stable got a new kitten! After a lovely day of riding we all stood and watched the new kitty play.
There had to be at least 5 of us standing around chatting and oohhing and ahhing at the new fuzzball the stable had adopted.  Being that I was the only one in the group allergic to cats he naturally decided to make figure 8's rubbing and curling himself around my legs, all the while looking up at me all sweet and demure.
Instead of purring at me graciously because my boots were acting as his scratching post he decided to lunge his entire body from the floor onto my quadricep.  Like a broke Vegas stripper to a pole.  Like an exotic dancer....he had claws, but real ones- that hurt...not french tipped acrylic ones. His sharp claws sunk into my skin right through my jeans.
He hung on for a few good solid seconds while I mentally attempted to grasp onto what was happening to my soft skin underneath the denim. I usually like to brag that I have reflexes like a cat, not so much this time. Ironic.
After a few moments of pain I finally figure out I should probably shake the fucker off.
I did, furiously, as everyone stood around in horror that I was being so mean.... then they laughed at me. Apparently it was hilarious.
That was our first meeting.
I have avoided that bully since.

Every time I go to the stable I am usually with a few people. Today I was alone. Perfect for Jerk, fully grown now, to get close to me.
He did.
Except this time he was like Anthony Hopkins in the Silence of the Lambs...taunting me.
He wanted to break me down mentally.
As I was tacking up my horse he decided to bring me a present.
A dead mouse.
A really cute, grey and white, fluffy one. Like Despereaux but dead as a doorknob. Floppy and dead. In his mouth.
What a jerk, right?
See!!!! I told you he was a jerk.
At this point I fully expected this lunatic to fling it at my head.
Instead....he swatted it around...threw it in the air like a volleyball, whacked it with his paws, rubbed it in the dirt, launched it skyward like pizza dough. Poor little mousey.
(Don't tell anyone but I sorta threw some rocks in his direction...I swear I didn't hit him. I just wanted to make it stop.)
Stop he did not.
He ate it.
In front of me.
Well, he ate the head and left the guts.
He gnawed off the head I should say. Thanks Jerk! You really made my day.
This photo is Jerk cleaning his paws and licking his chops after the murderous rampage.
Why do people like cats?

Wild Mare

It has been about a month...maybe more since I went riding.  I finally got to the stable today for a long overdue lesson.  I usually ride once a week and have a lesson with the most amazing and patient teacher. I am re-learning to ride English.  As a child I was fearless and riding often. Not quite the same situation these days.

Even though I am an Aries, I am no longer utterly fearless.  I guess with age comes sensibility. Being sensible is boring and clearly holds me back from doing anything exciting and/or worthwhile.

Today the beautiful Selle Francais horse that I have the honor of riding was "high".... she had not been exercised very much the past few days because of the rainy weather.  So this resulted in a horse that was very, very excited and wanted to RUN.


She was a bit ornery with me even though I tried to butter her up with some peppermints and animal crackers. It's not her fault really. She was thrilled to finally get out of her stall and get some exercise.

I was quite nervous today. I thought she might actually throw me off this time.

I have been anxious the past few times I have ridden thinking each time that would be the day I was catapulted into the air like a piece of rogue popcorn who escaped out of the glass at the theatre concession stand.
I find myself anticipating it.
When I was a child the thought did not even cross my mind. Falling off was not an option. I do have terrific balance, if I say so myself.....but a Cirque Du Soleil tightrope walker couldn't stay on this mare if she was feeling randy.

I need to forget the fear.  Get on and ride. Concentrate on my lesson and stop the worry wart act that is running through my brain like a skipping record. If I do not, I will not make progress.

Kind of sounds like this could apply to most other areas of my life as well.
This wild mare is teaching me more about life than just staying in the saddle upon her tall back.
Merci Madame Selle Francais.

Saturday, April 9, 2011


I love the dog park. I have an obsession with the dog park. It's my safe place. I go there to be one with the universe, even thought it's distracting because it stinks like dookie.
I probably go more for me than my dogs but they do really love it there as well.
At least I think so.
Regardless...every single time I go, there is some jerkwad who opens their big mouth, sometimes more than one jerkwad.
My dogs are Pekingese, and ancient breed of Chinese dog that is sort of rare around these parts. They have very long beautiful hair that has taken me years to grow. I mean, them years to grow.
My dogs are beautiful, especially the female....she is so darn pretty it hurts my heart to look at her sometimes.
It never fails that each and every time we go to the park that some douche has to blurt out that they look like "wigs", or "hairballs", or "rugs", or "walking pieces of furniture"- whatever that means.

They ask me things like "why don't you give them a haircut?"
or my personal favorite.....the real assholes decide to talk to the boy and say....
"you need a set of braces little dog."

At that point I want to kick them in the balls/vagina and let Jake lift his leg all over their face.
In my own sicko world he would whizz on their heads and exclaim "get yourself on a treadmill fatso and I'll run to the orthodontist."

I don't cut them into a lion cut or buzz their hair short because that would then ruin the integrity of the breed. Plus, I'm not a lazy cheapskate so I pay to groom them and brush their hair often so I don't need to shave an idiotic mohawk into my dog's heads.
People in LA think that's cool for some reason. It's not. It's lame.

Anyway.....It's mean to say things about people's dogs.
I wouldn't tell you that your kids eyes are too close together would I?
Or suggest that you not feed her/him carbs anymore.
If we were waiting in line at the supermarket I wouldn't yell out that your wife can carry the milk in her saddlebags now would I?
I wouldn't just blurt out that your husband looks like he has a thyroid problem.
I also wouldn't ask why you didn't encourage him to just shave his head instead of opting for the heinous plugs instead.

So jerk wads at the park....stop insulting my dogs.
Or we are all gunna pee on your head.


There is no one more annoying than the grown woman sitting beside me requesting the nail technician "be creative" with a design on her toenails.
First of all, she couldn't make up her mind or be "creative" enough herself to come up with a design to request.
Secondly she's pushing 40 and she wants flowers on her electric blue polished toe nails?
There goes my relaxing Saturday mani/pedi.

I truly wonder what things I do to people to warrant them writing a ranty blog. A plethora I'm sure.

Friday, April 8, 2011

Ex and the City

By far the best moment ever for 'Sex and the City'.

"Your girl is lovely Hubble"

I am going to rent 'The Way We Were' tonight and have a glass of red wine.....and eat the rest of my cookies. Babs and Bobby Redford........TLFE.

2 hours and counting

"This is America. We shouldn't be in this predicament,"  A lovely working class woman exclaimed on the 6 o'clock news tonight.
While those assholes in tacky, expensive suits bicker about our budget, our brave soldiers in camouflage thousands of miles from home are worried their families in the very country they are risking their lives for might get evicted and go hungry.
Is that a run-on sentence?
I'm sorry....I am really not well versed in politics but this is a little insane isn't it?

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Long Distance Love

photo courtesy of The Silver Fox
Yearning. Pining, 
coveting you.
aching for you,
desirous of, eager for, passionate for,
I'm cravingdreaming of you,
hanker, I have a crush on you. A Major one.
I have a yen for you. No one says that anymore.
hunger for you, an itch I can't scratch,
languish, long, lust, I set my heart on you.
thirstwantwish for........You.


My Dad was cool before "cool" was cool.
Hipsters of LA, you have been schooled.

C is for Cookie

Dear Vons Cookies,
Why are you so delicious? Why do I feel the need to eat one, or two, or three of you after each and every meal including breakfast?
You're kind of breakfasty right?
You are delectable though! If I could marry a cookie I would marry you.
No prenup. Promise.

Dear Vons,
PLEASE STOP selling these delicious cookies. I BEG OF YOU!
I am gaining 4 lbs a week purely because of these treats.
I bought 2 boxes this past trip. I live alone.
Many thanks,

Dear Karla,
Karla FattyBoBatty

Yes, my friends. This was my dinner tonight. The most delicious Cookies on Earth and a giant glass of cheap Chianti.

Dear Diary

June 2, 1986.....

My first entry in the Diary above. I have been recording my thoughts, feelings, happy moments and crushing heartbreaks in some sort of journal since 1986.
Inside you can see plenty of little sparkly notes from random testosterone filled boys, candy packets pressed flat from years between these pastel pen, purple pen, pink ink...tear smeared writing,  excited teen tummy butterflies as well as teen angst,.....loving my parents..and two pages later hating them. I even attempt to create some sort of code so that if my Mother happened to find my beloved confidant she wouldn't be able to decipher my mysteries.
Except the code wasn't all that elusive. It was downright easy to figure out once you look on the back cover to find the "key". Silly girl. What was my 10 year old self thinking?! You are smarter than that Karlita! Argh.
Okay, back to the boys thing. Yes I had love notes from boys when I was 10.  I'm flirty now, I was flirty then. In fact I was quite a tease leading to endless pages of a distraught teenager desperate for Phillip to come back to her, among others.
You see....good old pimply faced Phil dumped Karla because she didn't french him at the roller rink. I swear people. It is written in baby blue ink right on these pages.


As I go through the thousands of pages in journal after journal I learned my lesson from that situation. Easy became my middle name. Thanks Phil.

JOKE. geez. Don't get your Thursday panties in a bunch.

I cannot thank my young self enough for being so diligent about writing each and every night. I would have zero memory of my childhood had I not.
It drums up so many emotions going over my old scrawl.  It is quite amazing how hurtful things can be at 12 years old. How 1 event can change the course of your life for the better or worse. How 1 snotty blonde popular girl can ruin your 11th birthday party by telling the entire 5th grade not to go, then only a year later end up as your best friend for the next 20 years.

My favorite quotes from my My Melody Diary...

I like this kid in my class his name is Dominic. He likes me too. What should I say to him? He has black hair, brown eyes, nice teeth, but a very stinky personality."
Well that explains a lot.

I'm so glad that I'm going to camp cuz my bratty brother won't be there to bother I want to meet some guys."
Yes, I literally wrote those words. I was 10 people.
Madonna was my idol so I guess this is not surprising.

My personal favorite....
Mr. X likes me because in class he always gets yelled at for staring at me. I feel so embarrassed when he does that."
Embarrassed? Yeah right.  Holy ego Original Batman Show.

Oh and there are soooooo many more where those came from. Please comment if you would like to see more.

I have slacked on my Diary writing  the past few years.  I guess blogging is sort of a journal, right? Thing is......a true Diary is not meant to be read by anyone else. A diary is meant to be private so I feel as though I was more honest with myself than I could ever  be with the rest of the world. Precisely why the writing was so pure and unself-conscious. (yes, that's a word.)

All this blogging, and twittering is so narcissistic really. We all think we are so witty and clever. So funny and irreverent. Its so self serving in a way. It has not much to do with sharing our thoughts with others but to make ourselves seem interesting.

I digress.

Yes....the photo above includes a TELEGRAM. Or what was supposed to be a telegram.
Yes, I'm ancient.  At Mineola Middle School On Valentines Day students sent Pink telegrams to one another to express their love and affection.  We didn't have texts, or emails, or twats...well we sorta did have those. We didn't have immediate gratification. We had lined paper and pink telegrams. We had Hello Kitty Diaries. We had pens.....and paper and heartbreak.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011


YAY! I booked my very first Voice-over Job!
I am so excited about this new adventure and realm of show business. I am going for it full-throttle my friends.
I started small, booking a commercial and a show intro for a theme park in Malaysia but it can only get better from here.
So strange, I hosted a show called 'Hollywood Burn' a few years back and that was a massive hit online in the Philippines. They like me over there for some reason. 

Internet Presence=Employment

If one more person tells me I need to twat or get on Facebook I will kick them in the belly.
Recently I heard that I basically lost a job to a woman who has a better "online presence" than I do.  She has like a million followers so she is clearly more talented than I, right?!
Can someone please tell me how we got to a place where living your life on your portable device makes you more qualified for a job?
I have my face buried in my Blackberry most of my day answering emails, work and personal.  I have no desire to then add to that beloved b-berry face time social networking sites where I have to tell everyone I know, and don't fucking know at all, that I just picked up my dog's poo, bought a loaf of french bread or hate Chris Brown.
Am I a hypocrite because I am blogging right now?  This is much more cathartic for me than a short status update that's supposed to be witty and clever in 180 letters.
Maybe I am old fashioned and need to get with the times but I have a severe aversion to the very things that producers are saying I need to do in order to get a job as an anchor/host/correspondent these days. (The very things I have been working as  before FB was even invented)
Now you are no longer simply a host but the show's PR department as well.  They are too cheap to hire a publicist to get the word out about the show they need the talent to do the work.
My friends....what to do?
Do I get on my twitter and friend everyone I possibly can? Send totally insincere messages about how beautiful life is....and how the sky is blue, and how I knew all along that insane Charlie Sheen was?  It is really so self- indulgent that we actually think other people want to know what we think every second of the day. Oh wait.....they do.
It all boils down to the fact that we are all basically voyeurs. We are all cyber stalkers who don't want to admit it. There is no room for mystery anymore. No subtlety.
My problem is that I thrive in those worlds.  I find them much more attractive in many ways. Personally and professionally.

Not W i n n i n g.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Tax time=Happy?

March rolls in like a lion and out like a lamb....
March is the month of my Birth.
I love the month of March.
Except for that fact that it means I have to do my dreaded taxes. I am very, very organized for a freelance stylist/actress/host/dancer..etc.
Still, every year the onset of panic starts around Feb 27th.

Most people don't really enjoy doing their taxes. I am sure there are exceptions to the rule....if you know anyone who loves it I would be curious what kool-aid they are drinking because I need some.

I, on the opposite side of the spectrum despise doing tax stuff. It is really not all that bad when all is said and done but while I am crunching numbers and unfolding 365 days worth of tiny, crushed up receipts that have been squashed at the bottom of my purse for 6 months it is pure Hades.  I hunker down for hours and sometimes days hiding behind a mound of paper and confusion.

My poor, poor accountant has dealt with me and my paranoid mania for many years.  This year he actually paid me a "compliment".  He said it seemed as though something was different. I wasn't wound as tight! So nice of him to notice.
I said.....well Mr. Reliable Audit Protector, "I didn't have the best year financially but on a personal level it was a damn good one."
 He responded with, "Well, Client that I usually dread sitting down with each and every year, you can't have everything."

He is 100% correct- not in a literal sense....on a larger scale I mean.  Looking back over the year, through all my disaster of chewing gum wadded torn up tiny receipts and 1099 forms I was fortunate to have worked at all. The money, as long as I was supporting myself was inconsequential because I was... happy.

Finally, truly, undeniably, beautifully, sincerely happy.

Happy is not always so attainable especially when things are tight on the fake Canal street Chanel wallet.
So 2010, thank you for being a great year....I was and still am, to say it simply, happy.

If it takes me going through the history of my life via small payments I made for anything and everything I needed for the year, to realize how great you were, then so be it.
So receipts, Thank you too.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Doobie Brothers!

"Old Black Water.....Keep on movin
Mississippi moon won't u keep on shinin' on meeeeee

Pretty Mamma come and take me by the hand....."

I was so fortunate to have the honor of styling the world famous, legendary Doobie Brothers recently.

They are releasing new music in 2011 and I dressed them for their new music video "Far From Home".  We shot it at the historic Orpheum Theatre in downtown LA.  The song was particularly heartfelt for me as it's written about Pat Simmons' daughter leaving home.  It is sweet and nostalgic. I shed quite a few tears off stage as I watched them perform in awe.  These guys are rock stars, tried and true.   I was barely born and they were busy touring the world and drumming up debauchery.
Now, they are writing songs about their very own daughters leaving the nest. I guess time goes on and even rock stars grow up, huh?

I have NO idea how I could possibly wardrobe anyone as good as how they are dressed in this photo. Almost everyone I know is aware of the fact that I am obsessed with vintage clothes from the 70's.  This photo makes me swoon.
I worked to the best of my taste maker ability and shopped my tail off for these guys.
My stock of options was plentiful; from new to vintage, to vintage that wasn't too vintage that they would feel old when they tried it on.
Regardless.....they loved my work on the video and I have been asked to personal shop a little bit as well.  I have done some pretty cool jobs in my life, this definitely rates up very high on that list.
I mean, who doesn't love the Doobie Brothers?!!!!
That's me! Fixing drummer Tony Pia's jacket.
Freaking good times.

All Of My Love, All Of MY Love.

I wrote this a few months ago...and was too chicken to post it for some reason. Bok Bok!
Maybe it was too personal? Maybe it struck up too many bad memories. Now I am saying....what 
the heck.

Have u seen the show "Married to Rock"? On E!?
Its my new favorite thing. I want to bleach my hair blonde again and wear 
a massive padded bra just to fit in with them. I can find myself an over the hill rocker! 
Right? This is LA. 
Anyway, one of the girls is basically experiencing exactly 
what I did with her boyfriend. He refuses to marry her. And is quite frankly 
pretty mean about it. He is even a jerk about attending other weddings w her. 
She's always a bridesmaid and never a bride and has to be supportive of her 
friends getting married and smile thru her tears. 
She tries oh so hard to be enthusiastic for them  and does a great job of it 
even tho she's clearly pretty heartbroken. 
It's a cheesy show but there was one very genuine, tender moment 
when she watched her friend's first dance with her new husband.
Her eyes were so sad. She was broken. I could relate completely. 
I've been there sweetie. Quite a few times in fact. 
Try being a bridesmaid and 
making a speech about 'true love' at your best friends wedding a few days after your own 
long awaited engagement was broken.  Hiding the broken promise from all of your 
friends during the weekend of festivites
and wearing your diamond ring just so as not to create a stir.
Mind you, you and your ex (a groomsman) were the ones who set up the bride and groom
3 years into your own relationship.
Yeah, that's a blow.
This chick is actually one of the women that's quite stunning. Blonde, tall and rock 'n 
roll but not over the top.  Modelesque actually. She could walk the VS runway in my opinion 
and this curt, rude, wrinkley snobby, jerk won't make her happy and just marry her.  
Fine, he doesn't belive in marriage but stop being a downright asshole about it.

She's absolutely the most beautiful creature that man will ever find and she's 
really good to him. He's irritable- watches soccer and ignores he 
really that bad? Or is the reality tv world just making him out to be so crabby. 
Regardless, I had it that bad. I lived the reality of it. I kinda wish I had cameras following me. 
My agents would be happy- cuz I would be a reality star and then could actually get a Host job in this business.
It seems as though you need to be a train wreck on reality to tv to host anything anymore.
That's a whole other chapter.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

This is My Fav new thing ever...

Has anyone seen this show??? It is genius.

In their quest to have a supermodel body before they are hitched and an incredibly fabulous dream wedding 12 engaged women are competing in various "reality show-esque" wedding inspired challenges on "Bridalplasty".  It happens to be hosted by former Miss USA (and Miss NY) Shana Moakler, who directly affected my life many moons ago.  She inspired me to win Miss NY USA; it's a long story but I thought she was awesome, still do.
I have seen quite a few episodes of this show and each time I cannot believe it is actually happening.  Young women today are so completely insanely obsessed, fanatically at that, with having a gigantic and expensive wedding they will do anything to look the impeccable and entertain their guests to a flawless Utopian fiesta.
You get the picture right? absolute FAV part of this show is the last five minutes....
the elimination.
As each contestant(bride) is voted off....Shana sadly exclaims, 
"You have been eliminated. I'm sorry. Your wedding will still go on, it just won't be perfect."

OMG!! HAHAHA  That is the meanest thing I have EVER heard. They are sending these poor, insecure, infatuated and irrational women home, with few of or none of the plastic surgeries they went on the show praying to get....AND she says YOUR WEDDING WON'T BE PERFECT!!!! That's worse than telling these girls that they have a terminal disease.
The finale is coming up soon. Please check it out. At least just to hear that last line.