I'm an Ass, Or Why a Christmas Party on a Wednesday is a Baaaad Idea

8: first drink of the night
8.30: it's my jam! britney plays for the first time
9: i find out the waiters' names and try to decide which one i'm going to make out with later
9.30: can no longer use brain for things like counting drinks. only works for putting drink to mouth and swallowing drink, and dancing
10: tell friends to get on the dance floor or they will be layed off
10.30: move on from mixed drinks to shots
11: don't remember
11.30: don't remember
12: don't remember
12.30: remember one of my friends grinding on me??! she will not look me in the eye today...
1: have decided to make out with the waiter with the parted hair, but now i'm thinking he might be gay?
1.30: dancing to britney again, another round of shots
2: i'm in a cab on the way to another bar?
2.30: my friend is pretending she's french and i go along with it. i tell the bartenders that she's from paris and that if they play their cards right that she'll give them a beej in the bathroom later. they seem intrigued
3: got in a fight with a cab driver regarding who should get dropped off first. i lose.
-----------------
7.20: oh fuck, i'm going to puke
7.25: am i still drunk?
7.30: please stop spinning, earth!
7.35: i'm going to puke!
7.40: mmmm. bananas make me not want to puke anymore.
8.05: fuck, i should get up for work now
8.10: hmm. i don't feel so good, despite banana
8.15: whyyyyyyyyyyyy god are you makinggg meeee puke in my sinnnnnnnk
8.20: i hate bananas
8.30: the subway is even worse when still drunk and sorta nauseated
9: i can't believe i made it into work on time!
9.30: everyone loves my stories about how i told the waiter he was cute and that he and i should make half waiter/half donkey babies together
10: everyone is so impressed that i'm still at work and yet i puked only 2 hours ago!
10.15: hell yes, work-sponsored mcdonalds is here! i take two hashbrowns and begin to love life again
10.30: oh, no wait. yep, want to die.
[repeat 10.30 until either dead or leave work early to go home and crash on the couch to episode 6 of True Blood.]

IMPORTANT NOTES:

-It was a theme Christmas Party - we had to come as "Winter Festive". I was a donkey, not a Christmas mouse, not a rabbit, and not Eeyore. A generic (albeit adorable) donkey, made famous by the fact that Mary rode me to the inn in Bethlehem where she popped out that kid. It would have made more sense had my Mary and Joseph not gotten the stomach flu and cancelled out on the party at the last minute.
-No waiters were actually made out with during the making of this blog
-I'm not naked in the second to last picture, I'm wearing a strapless dress. Just so you don't actually think I take this cougar thing for really reals serious.
-I'm never drinking again

California: The Rest of the Rest, Minus Michael Cera

I think the timing is just about right to finish up my grand California vacation wrap up: it's cold, dreary, dark, snowy, and frozen here in Toronto and I think we all (mostly me, probably) could use a little written sunshine.

So, drop the parka, spit out your hot chocolate, close your eyes, and picture yourself in a studio on the Culver City lot, about to see a taping of The Bonnie Hunt Show. And wouldn't you know it, but I end up sitting beside another Canadian! And for those who have never travelled internationally with me, as soon as I leave the country I become obsessed with being Canadian and try to work my quirky foreigness into every conversation I have. Obviously this strategy was slightly thwarted with my new friend.... until I realized we could team up and be doubly-Canadian/interesting together. So when the warm up dude asked if anyone had travelled for the show I of course shot my hand up right away and proclaimed proudly that I was from Toronto, knowing full well that I probably was from the farthest away and thus 10 times more interesting than everyone else. Things were going great for a while, until I dared to mention gay marriage into the microphone (well, the warm up dude asked me what the differences were between Canada and the US and with it being the day after the election I couldn't help myself but to mention it... And don't worry, my other answer was poutine. I know my priorities!) and he quickly lost interest in me. I mean, we're so open with stuff like that here, I didn't realize it would be taboo... Though, I probably should have guessed given the overwhelming abundance of white hair in the audience.

Anyways... The show itself was funny and - dare I say it - way more interesting than Ellen! The best parts were when Bonnie interacted with the audience. She is a freaking riot and so witty. And watching her try to sing and keep screwing up a song for like 1/2 an hour was definitely the highlight of the whole experience (she does have a lovely singing voice, by the way... the band just kept throwing her off). And, unlike some other hosts coughEllencough, she came out to the audience and thanked us all and took pictures with us post-show.

Behold, continuing the tradition of awful faces I make in pictures with celebrities, my photo with Bonnie Hunt!


I feel slightly less bad because she also looks a little off.

Oh, also interesting was that after all the Canadian stuff, it turns out that my new friend Michelle was from, of all the places in the world, SUDBURY! How crazy is it that two former Sudburians ended up in the same audience at a Bonnie Hunt show in LA??! And yes, the first thing I asked her (after how she is able to legally live in LA, which is the same question I ask every Canadian living in the US. Yes, I am desperate for a work visa....) was which high school she went to. Answer, Lasalle. (We didn't speak much after I found this out. Cough.)



Continuing with the fabulous comedy-themed day, I hit up a show at the Laugh Factory, which lucky for me just happens to be down the road from my cousin's place. Jon Lovitz was headlining a show, and we all know I'm a sucker for the Jewish folk so I had to hit it up. The Laugh Factory is also home to the infamous Kramer racism rant, so I was eager to check a notorious piece of pop culture. Sure enough, Jon actualy referenced the incident in his bit, after he noticed that someone was videoing his set. Things got really awkward for me when they girl proudly told him in response to his asking her to turn the camera off "But I'm from Montreal, I came all the way here to see you!" This was one instance where I told no one I was Canadian and tried to look like I fit in by drinking my watered-down Bud and looking like I was loving it.

As a bonus to the legend that is Lovitz, I also got to see Ashley Hamilton bomb as the emcee (just FYI, jokes about your brain injury and how orange your dad is aren't funny, dude...) and - wait for it - James motherfucking Van Der Beek! I guess Dawson likes him some random Wednesday night comedy and he showed up with his really really exuberant wife for the set. She kept laughing EXTRA loud during the show and clapping really loudly, even when no claps were necessary. I have a feeling that she really really likes being Mrs. Dawson's Creek and likes everyone to notice her. I actually made eye contact with the 'Beek during the show and didn't recognize him at first. His creepy "I'm a celebrity, please recognize me" stare tipped me off though so by the time the show as done I had put two and two togeths. FYI - he has a lot of facial hair now (I assume this is a rebellion against playing a teenager for half of his 30s).



Okay so on to Thursday! I lazed around during the day (and by lazed around I mean went on a mini-shopping spree at Target!) and then headed back over to Hollywood Boulevard and hit up a couple of shows at the iOWest. I also got to try out valet parking for the first time in my life ever! So that combined with the Purple Haze beer I was talked into ordering combined with some of the most mind-blowingly amazing improv I've ever seen made for a pretty motherfucking monumental night, let me tell you. So the first set was a rep group, and they were pretty funny - they did this bit centered around a hobo and let me tell you, nothing much is funnier than a hobo who'll blow a dude for a can of beans teaching kids at a Catholic school about sex. If that doesn't say game of the scene, I don't know what does.

But the second show, oh the second show... it was a thing of beauty, quite unlike any other thing I've seen before in my life. Dasariski may be awkward to say, but trust me when I say it's funny as shit to watch! It was basically three dudes on stage for 45 minutes straight, riffing off of one suggestion and creating some of the most detailed, thoughtful, and fucking hilarious shit I have ever seen on stage. Gushing? Why yes, but most deservedly. I dare you to go up onstage and do what those dudes did with the suggestion "The Dance of the Midnight Swan". It totally made me want to step up my improv game (how making up scenes about my jugs was supposed to accomplish this, I know not... but that's a story for another blog). If you are ever in LA on a Thursday night, see this show. Trust me.

So after the crazy week I had, it was time for a little R&R, a little sand, a little sun, and a little try-out-my-new-bathing-suit-in-public so I headed over to Venice Beach. Actually, first I headed over to Samuel French to pick up some scripts (American Beauty? Yes please! Superbad? Duh.) and then I headed out. Of all the beaches in LA, be sure that it was no mistake I chose Venice Beach. How could I not visit a city that was designed after Venice, complete with canals? And I figured that this Venice would probably smell better and be less pigeon-poop-filled than the real thing, so it was a no-brainer, really. And, well, a single lady such as myself could not resist the allure of that mysterious creature that is Muscle Beach... so I decided to try my luck and hit the road.

The canals were lovely and, as I predicted, much less stanky than the ones in Venice.


The beach was, you know, not bad too......


Ah, who the fuck am I kidding. It was magical. God, I love the beach. I could seriously move my entire life and just live there every day, subsisting on the pity of strangers and any scraps they might leave behind... Uh, okay. Maybe not. But I'm about as close as I could ever be to that vision when thinking about the beach. So whatever.

So I basically just sat around baking in the sun for like 3 or 4 hours. My new bathing suit is decidedly more boob-y than I normally wear so I can safely say that some of my body was seeing sun for the first time since I used to swim naked in my parent's pool in Oakville when I was a babe. Sunscreen is a fair gal's friend though, as I didn't burn at all and even managed to tan a little (that truly is a victory all things considered).


I even went for a little dip by myself - I buried my bag in the sand and put my towel overtop (god, I'm crafty! Or, um, you know, crazy.) and then hit the waves. It was cold, but not January in San Diego sans wetsuit cold, and actually a little refreshing after sitting in the sun all afternoon. Mission: test new bathing suit in the ocean for top stay-up-ability completed!

After my swim (well, it was really more of a bob and jump) I walked around and enjoyed the sunset and pretty sunset lighting and snapped some photos of the beach, the people on the beach, the surfers on the beach, and the crackheads who make up Muscle Beach.

Yeah, can you say let down? I wanted hot, tanned bods pumping iron, sweating and grunting and being manly. Instead I got smelly, old, errant hair (no one should have a freaking mop of hair growing out of their ear... seriously), and addicted to many many kinds of dirty drugs. Damn you and your false advertising Muscle Beach! I haven't been this disappointed since finding out Lance Bass was not simply " super sensitive" but in fact " super gay".

I did, however, manage to find this and sneak attack a couple of good shots. I mean, they are kinda old, but when you're faced with them or Juan the 250lbs homeless dude pumping iron in a cut off tee with a picture of Winnie the Pooh on the front, it was an obvious decision.


Not surpringsly given the caliber of athletes that frequent Muscle Beach, the rings remained unused.


On an adorabler note, isn't this beach couple cute??!



I hope he doesn't give her VD and break her heart like all men tend to do. (Let's not talk about it.)

On a for-serious-now positive note, check out the pretty sunset!


And once the sun goes down, all the surfers come out to take advantage of the sweet swells (I guess surfing is sorta like photography that way - it's best at dawn or dusk, but not so good in between). Note the decided lack of crackheads surfing. Apparently they stick to their free weights and lunges?


So that pretty much wraps it up... I was off to the airport and back to the cold and reality (boo!! reality!! boo!!) the next day. Honestly, if it wasn't for the glorious vision of Michael Cera in that airport, I might have cried the entire ride home...

Next up, the retelling of the fateful Cera airplane ride (Ceranide?) and how sometimes opportunities aren't meant to be freaked out on a plane while filling out their customs forms, but rather just appreciated for what they are (ie adorable).

The Beginning of the Rest of California + An Apology

Dear Blog,

I am sorry for being such a bad writer and not updating you, linking to pictures of vaginas, and posting pretty pictures all over you. Life has been crazy and I've let myself fall behind. I know that in I promised you late last summer that I would spend more time with you and that I wouldn't get sidetracked... but I got, well, sidetracked. I promise I won't abandon you again and - even better! - find even more dwarf porn for you to enjoy. I have a tonne of stuff to write about (two subway delays in a row! improv shows where I managed to do a whole set of scenes about my jugs! the Midwest!) so I promise I'll be around more. For you, and for the kids. And for the fame. And the money.... and the blog-f*ckers.*

*some or all of these things may not exist.

So, on to business. I'm sure you remember, fair Blog, that I was in California at the beginning of November. Last we left off, I was describing for you my VIP experience at the Ellen Degeneres show (meh, not VIP at all really), an awkward encounter with Kyle Riabko re: humping (yep, still embarassing 2 months later...), and Rikki's parking skillz (major improvements in the midwest, I have to say!). So now we cut to Tuesday at 4.45am where I'm driving back to my cousin's house from LAX, having just dropped Rikki off so she could go home and vote.

Frankly, I'm pretty bummed that I'm flying solo so the minute I get back home I crash so I don't have to think about how lonely it is. Except in my early-morning stupor I manage to finally figure out how to work the heat and in my zeal turned it up to approximately 100 degrees (F or C, it matters not... it was bloody hot!). So of course I woke up not only lonely, but sweaty and grumpy... There was nary a moment to waste, however, so I got up and headed over to the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf at Sunset & Fairfax, enjoyed a pumpkin latte and wrote this blog. Then I hit up The Griddle again and enjoyed one of the best grilled cheeses avec a side of steak fries I've ever eaten. For a city that has so weight-obsessed, they sure do serve the best (read: fatteningly delicious... fattenlicious?) food. I assume that this is like the fact that I am not a lesbian, despite my haircut and fondness for sweater vests and Rosie O'Donnell - ie another of life's little ironies.

So apres eating, I hung out with my cousin and her super famous friend (not mentioning any names... God, I'm so LA...) and - in what is possibly the highlight of my entire trip after freaking Michael Cera out in the airport - got papparazzi'd. I mean, I doubt that they were there to film me, but you never know how many Los Angelenos read my blog (shout out to my WeHo peeps!) and might want to see the face behind the brilliant words. Cough.

So, on to the evening. Like any Canadian in America on the biggest election night in history, I decide to do something very patriotic and saw my 7th performance of Wicked. I am happy to report that there were no shoes lost or fellow musical theatre patrons harmed in this particular viewing of Wicked. Yes, it makes for a less interesting blog, but on the flip side it makes for a more wants-to-die-less Melissa. So it's sorta win-win.

The theatre Wicked is playing in just happens to be in the tourist epicentre (epicenter for my Yank friends) of the city so I was able to stroll (stroll = walk really really fast so I don't get mugged) along Hollywood from Vine to Highland and take in the sights.


Man, is that street a fucking trip. You've got everything from Beso (owned by Eva "I'm not pregnant, just fat. And by fat I mean 1/4 of Melissa's goal weight" Longoria-Parker) to boarded up store fronts with some of the bummiest bums I've ever seen in a city. In other words, it's very much a street of extremes.

(I'm loving the juxtaposition of the I LOVE AMERICA stickers beside the literal translation of the boot of Italy.)

So all along Hollywood (beginning at Vine, actually) is the walk of fame. Now, most people would assume that you're walking along and it's a fairly small stretch of street with the names of the most famous and notable people in Hollywood through the years.

In reality? The street goes on for blocks and blocks and you maybe reconize every 6th or 7th name (and that was me, and I care about things like Hollywood and movies and which celebrity couple has a transgendered son - I'll never tell! - and so would probably recognize more names than the average person). I'm sorry Joe Fitzstevens, but I don't know who you are and why you deserved this star in front of a store that sells crack pipes and bobblehead kitties. Again, another one of Hollywood's many extentricities.

Most notable on this swath of street, however, is the following:

1. the Scientology presence
2. the lights
3. the Kodak/Grauman's theatre/mega shopping complex at the corner of Hollywood and Highland

Did you know that there is such a thing as the L. Ron Hubbard Life Center? Oh yes there is! And it looks just as creepy as you'd expect it to look. There is at least 2 Scientology centres on Hollywood that I noticed and, as compared to the Scientology Centre in Toronto at Yonge & Bloor, those bitches are swaaaanky in LA. I'm talking chandeliers and ornate furnishings and pretty buildings (Toronto? Crappy building that's 50 years old and hasn't been kept up in the last, oh, 47). Dang, LA, you win this round, even if it's just for the creepy "religion" factor.

And, like the rest of the street, there are crazy giant lighted signs prominently announcing the Scientology presence. In fact, it felt like every single store/theatre/restaurant/souvenir shop/sex toy depot had a giant, lighted marquee. So in case anyone asks why California is having an energy crisis, you can confidently answer that "Ron's Dildo Emporium" is probably partially to blame. (Sorry, no pictures of Ron's. By this point I was practically sprinting down the street to avoid altercations with the many colourful locals.)

I am happy to report that I felt marginally safer at the corner of Hollywood and Highland. There was a GAP there, and I figure that muggings are statistically less likely to occur within eyesight of a GAP (mostly because who would want to take down a yuppie who has a penchant for khakis and overpriced sweaters??! Any mugger worth their corrugated cardboard knows that these things have no resale value on the streetz). Before arriving at this corner, I expected there to be a prominent Kodak theatre presence - like it would be obvious that I was staring at the place where the Oscars are held annually. But.... not so much. I think that without the 45 foot tall gold men & star-studded line up, it's less, um, clear.

I did hit up the Grauman's Footprint Yard (<-- best made up title ever?) and marvel at the teeny tiny starlet feet and the presence of Eddie Murphy's footprints (really??! Sorry, I just figured that they'd be a little more discriminating than to let legends like Judy motherfucking Garland hang out beside the dude who sang "Party all the Time"). Highlights were the aforementioned Judy Garland prints (I really should have been born a gay man), Meryl Streep's super skinny feet (or are my feet just really really fat?), and the Harry Potter kids' prints (oh, Daniel Radcliffe! They called me creepy when I said you were hot at 14, but look at you now!).


Gloria Swanson (ie the "old" Rose from Titanic) had the world's tiniest feet.

*insert joke about the size of Daniel Radcliffe's feet here - note that he was only a teenager at the time of these prints and thus still growing!*

(God, I am so creepy.)

My hero Meryl Streep and her skinny skinny feet. Note my adorable shoes, however.

RIP Paul Newman. I enjoy your salad dressing daily!

So that was my Tuesday, Blog. It was a pretty fun day all things considered (even though in addition to the loneliness I also lost my debit card by leaving it the ATM machine... eep!). I'm going to try my best to condense my Wednesday (highlight: running into James Van Der Beek at the Laugh Factory!), Thursday (improv at the iO West!) and Friday (Venice Beaaaaaaaach!) into one post. Mostly because I don't want to rub my awesome adventures in your face and also because I have Chicago to get to yet, plus all the other fun things that have been happening (think: Christmas family portraits with my cats!).

I hope this makes up a little for not posting in forever and also shutting you down for a couple of days. And if you'd like to get me a welcome back present, may I suggest diamonds or a crisp new $1000 bill.

Just saying.

All my love,
Melissa

PS I don't want to ruin the surprise, but I picked you up something from "Ron's Dildo Emporium" that I think you'll really enjoy.

Whoa, That Took A Left Turn....

Below is an actual conversation, transcribed verbatim, between myself and the adorable dude at Global Pet Foods who sold me my kitty litter:

Me: Do you mind if I get a loonie (that's our dollar coin, for you yanks reading my blog) for these 4 quarters?

Him: (flirtatiously) Yeah, I do mind... But I'll do it for you this one time I guess.

Me: (flirtatiously back) Well, thank you. I know it's a huuuge inconvenience so I really do appreciate it...

Him: Yeah I mean, it's really putting me out. But I'll do it. I just won't, you know, like it.

(He flashes me a sly grin as he's dropping the quarters in his till, but mistakenly drops one on the floor as he's putting them away)

Me: Oops! Man, I'm making you bend over now even!!

Him: (without missing a beat) Oh, I always have to bend over!

(pause)

Me: Oh. (Awkward laugh.)


(And yes I do know I owe this blog a proper post, as well as a recap of the rest of my California vacation AND a recap of my most recent vacation to Chicago... But it will have to wait just a tick tock as my evenings and weekends are filling up fast and I intend to ride the wave of fun for as long as it lasts... You understand, don't you?)

Motherfucker.

So I think most of my readers know that I always try to find the silver lining when bad things happen to me.

Losing my Ipod in a sewer? Hilariously random.

Losing my glasses in a cemetary? An excellent opportunity to talk about The Vaj and innapropriate porn.

Losing my adorable in a freak encounter with scissors? Compare to mushroom cut and let giggles ensue.

But today I've met my toughest match yet. Picture it:

At about 9.02am I get an email from a colleague about going to get gourmet poutine for lunch. Clearly, this set my day off to an awesome start (fries + poutine + gravy = Jesus' special gift to me) - I attack my to-do list with zeal, make some challenging phone calls I've been putting off until I was in a greatest-ever-nothing-can-get-me-down mood, and had a mini-heart-to-heart with a friend in need so I could pass on some of my poutine-inspired positivity.

So lunchtime rolls around and we set off with zeal for the Gilead Cafe, home of the city's trendiest and (apparently) most delicious poutine. We were discussing taking the streetcar over when my pal Erika realized she didn't have any change for the TTC. Because I was in such an amazingly good mood, I offered up a tradesies - her bills for my tokens. We did the exchange, I put her crisp fiver in my wallet, and put my wallet away in my bag. About 5 minutes down the road, just after we exited the sketchy stretch of street outside my office (I call it hobo-ville, and I actually think I'm describing it kindly) and entered the swanky Victoria & King swath of stores that sell expensive things I'll never need, I realized my purse was feeling really light. I scanned my brain thinking about what I might have forgotten at home this morning that normally would weigh my bag down (book? keys? vitamin water?)... and realized I had forgotten nothing.

And then a wave of panic hit me: where's my wallet? Do I have my wallet?

After a frantic search, examing every pocket, every nook, every cranny, even my friend's bag I realize it's gone.

Motherfucking GONE.

I deduce it must have fallen when I put it back in my bag. I was in such a poutine-induced trance that I wasn't paying much attention and might have done the old mistaking-where-the-actual-hole-is game (that'swhatshesaid) and missed the gaping mouth of my purse and it slid to the ground.

Or I got pick-pocketed.

In which case, have fun QuickFingers fucking MacGee because I had $5 in there and cancelled my cards within 5 minutes of realizing the wallet was missing. So, you know, enjoy my fucking pocket change. I hope it buys you your dreams. Or at least 1/2 a latte from Starbucks. Asshole.

I see no silver lining, just a lot of really fucking annoying bureaucratic red tape. And no ID for my trip to Chicago next weekend (aside from my passport, which is at home THANK GOD). And a new health card that expires every 5 years. And a lot of missing shit that I can't remember I had in there and probably won't remember until I get to Blockbuster to rent Superbad for the 50th time and realize I no longer have my Blockbuster card.

And honestly? Not helping that it's freezing and rainy and dark already and it's only fucking 4.53pm.

I want to be back in California, land of light and sand and beach and James Van Der Beek. Land of places my wallet was. Land of tan and giant pancakes.

Land of Britney's vagina.

(Hey, at least I tried.)

This Is How We Roll VIP Stylez

Rikki & I were exhausted after a weekend full of friends, fun times, and a funny man named Mraz, yet we got up fairly early and hit a local WeHo (that'd be West Hollywood for you non-LA types) hot spot called The Griddle Cafe (you may remember I mentioned in an earlier post that I had recently been reading about it in Kevin Smith's diary "My Boring Ass Life" - not going to lie, I was hoping to run into him and tell him the segment from An Evening with Kevin Smith wherein he regales the audience with the story about his wife cut his peen open with her gyrating changed my life - in a bad way - forever).

I'm not exagerating when I say that the portions at The Griddle are ridiculously big. Like, I-can-only-eat-1/4-of-the-plate big.



My peanut butter crunch french toast........ swooon!


After we've eaten our body weight in batter and bread, we head off to the WB Studios on the other side of the hill just off Olive. It's here that we find out that VIP essentially doesn't mean anything except that you get sat directly behind the camera and never get seen on air (I blame my haircut).

The show itself was.......... interesting. Mostly because OF COURSE the day I go is the big Ellen Election Special where she chatted about issues that I have absolutely no say in. I gamely tried to look as American as possible (it involved not mentioning poutine and pronouning sorry "sawry") and be on my best behaviour (the audience was given a stern lecture that we were not to touch Ellen at any point when she danced around us).

The highlights of the show for me, in no particular order, were:

-Bill Maher calling Sarah Palin a bimbo. I'm not sure if that made it to air (doubtful), but it was hilarious and kinda true?
-Anderson Cooper & The Case of the Bad Satellite Link In: they had to film his section twice because the first time the audio kept cutting out and we couldn't understand him. It was the only time that Ellen was really "off book" and not going off a teleprompter for her jokes (I was surprised, actually, how scripted the show was) - and she was actually pretty funny with her ad libs.
-the apres-Halloween segment where she went through clips of her staff trying to scare her and her trying to scare unsuspecting audience members by waiting for them in a bathroom stall. Note to readers: if it involves anyone falling, anyone being scared, or cats doing anything cat-y, I will love it (I thusly assume Ellen must read my blog so she knew what to show to make me laugh. Obvi.).

All in all, it was a pretty cool taping to be a part of, but it felt kind of lifeless on the whole. It was like a little machine plugging away and it didn't seem spontaneous or fresh. I have a feeling it once was, but since she got insanely popular she's had to cater to the suits and "deliver a product" (that's LA speak for shut up and bring in the big bucks, biatch). I did appreciate that she came out after the show to thank the audience for coming in and for any travel anyone did (cough TORONTO cough).

Tired after dancing and staaarving despite the biggest breakfast known to man, Rikki and I decided to hit the town and look for some Mexican grub. After poo-pooing a place called Greg's Tacos (uh, no thanks, Greg...) we settled on Pink Taco, which we had passed the day earlier on the way to the beach in Santa Monica.

I'm not going to lie, I had serious doubts about the quality of the Mexican food at a place named after The Vaj (uh, sorry - named after an actual type of taco??! yeah....) at a restaurant that is owned by someone who has been all up in Lindsay Lohan.

But...

It was actually fucking delish. I have dreams about the carne asado mini taco I had, they were that good! And I tried Mexican coke for the first time and I have to say it's much MUCH more delicious than regular coke, and it is "healthier" for you, too (I use the term loosely, obvi). So if you are in Century City at all in the near future RUN don't walk to Pink Taco. Oh, and if you can buy me one of the Pink Taco hats while you're there too that'd be great..........

That night we headed out to catch Kyle Riabko's set at The Mint.


After hearing such good things about him from my music friends for so long, I was excited to check him out. I thought he sounded great in Spring Awakening so I knew regardless I was in for a treat. And even with these high expectations, I have to say that he blew me away! He plays guitar like a fucking champ! He is far and above one of the best guitar players I have ever seen play, and he can sing and act to boot (not to mention he's fucking adorable!).

After the show Rikki & I decided to grab a drink while Kyle was chatting with some fans who came out. Rikki challenged the bartender to surprise her with a bevarage and so, feeling adventerous, I jumped on that train as well.



... And then I got sorta drunk? Which made me just stupid enough to have the following conversation with Kyle when he finally came over to Rikki & I:

Kyle: Heyyyy, Rikki!
Rikki: Hey---
Me (interrupting): You're a very good humper! (Touches his arm casually.)
Kyle (awkward): Yeah.
Me (realizing I'm a total fucking idiot): I was, uh, just joking! (Touches his arm again, awkwardly)
Kyle (to Rikki): I thought you lived in Chicago?
Melissa (dies).

Ha. I really should get a shirt made that says "I say inappropriate things. Feel free to ignore me", just so people know what I'm all about before I can open my mouth.

I didn't feel too badly about myself afterwards, though, because I rememebered Rikki's "awesome" (I use that word loosely) parking job outside The Mint earlier:



There was literally less than an inch between my beloved rental car and the van we parked in front of. While Rikki congratulated herself on a parking job well done, I said a few Hail Marys and thanked my lucky stars that we didn't hit the car.

And with that, Rikki's portion of my Big California Adventure was just about over. We were up at the ungodly hour of 4am the next day to get Rikki to the airport in time for her to get home to Chicago and vote.

Up next? What does a lonely Canadian do when her friend leaves and she has to fend for herself in LA?

(Hint: it involves her 7th viewing of Wicked and trying not to get mugged at Hollywood and Highland.)

THE MOST IMPORTANT BLOG POST I'LL EVER WRITE

Holy.

Motherfucking.

Shit.

The entire reason for this blogs existance - nay, for MY existance - was just validated today by one of the best and absolutely least expected things to ever happen to me.

You should probably take a minute now and sit down for this.

Are you sitting?

Good, cause I'm about to blow your motherfucking mind.

OF ALL THE PLANES IN ALL OF THE WORLD, MICHAEL "MY MOTHERFUCKING BOYFRIEND" CERA GOT ON TO MY PLANE FROM LA TO TORONTO TONIGHT.

Let's do that one more time, just to be sure we're all on the same page:

OF ALL THE PLANES IN ALL OF THE WORLD, MICHAEL "MY MOTHERFUCKING BOYFRIEND" CERA GOT ON TO MY PLANE FROM LA TO TORONTO TONIGHT.

I'm not joking, not even a little bit.

Michael Cera.

My boyfriend.

Was on a plane with me to Toronto tonight.

Seriously??! Seriously. What are the freaking odds??! It blew my mind.

Me and my boyfriend Michael Cera and our sweet 6 hour journey to heaven are proof that God exists and has heard my prayers (ie reads my blog!!!). Dreams do come true, people. Miracles happen.


I'll be back to fill in the details (do you want to know what colour socks he wears? what he watches on tv? I have all this and more to tell you!) once I get through the last week.

In the meantime, though, let's just all rest easy with the fact that this miraculous event happened at all. It's like the second coming, only more adorable.

Cougar? Swooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooon.

What Do Teenage Sex and Losing a Flip Flop Have in Common?

No, not Britney Spears!

The right answer: Rikki & me!



Sunday and Monday were busy days. We checked out of the hotel (and Rikki scored us free parking, proving yet again that you don't mess with Chicago............ unless you want to pay to stow your car) and headed downtown to see the LA stop of the Spring Awakening tour.

I have been a little, um, obsessed with this musical since it was recommended to me. It combines everything you could want in a musical: good lyrics, good music, and lots of sex. More specifically, illicit teenage sex! It's like every cougar dream I've ever had come true in musical form and needless to say I've been looking forward to seeing it for quite some time.

I am happy to report that it didn't disappoint. The staging was really unique and the cast universally phenominal. The deal was even sweeter as Rikki knew the male lead, Kyle Riabko (confirming that Rikki is the most musically hooked up girl in Chicago). He's actually from Saskatoon, believe it or not - and I don't think I'm exagerating when I say that he's probably the best thing ever to come from that town. Not only is he adorable but he's got the voice of and angel and the acting chops to boot (and I haven't even told you about his incredible guitar skillz yet!!).

......... and we got to watch him hump his onstage love interest. Like, hump. No "creative" staging, no expressing sex through song, or lighting, or innuendo. I mean full on exposed breast, hiked up skirt, pants down, I see Kyle's butt kind of humping. Cougar? Swoon.

He's 21 in real life, so it's totally legal in case you're wondering. (Even cougars can't be too careful!)

So after what was clearly a great afternoon, we headed to Santa Monica beach for some quality be-one-with-the-water time. We missed the majority of the sunset but I broke out my tripod and did a mini-photoshoot with Rikki. She was thrilled:

Rikki: Are we going to have to do a photo-shoot?
Melissa: Yes.
Rikki: ... Really?
Melissa: Yes! Now go and walk over there.
Rikki (silently walks over there): Okay? Done?
Melissa: No.
Rikki: You're going to have an entire album on facebook about me, aren't you?
Melissa: Ha! ... No?





Rikki got her flip flop stuck in the sand and like a good friend I took pictures of the drama as it went down instead of helping.

I also got some group shots out of the shoot. It was a very intricate process whereby I framed the shot ever-so-carefully, set the timer, and then booked it over to Rikki (who was pretty far away since I was using a zoom lens) just in time to get my adorable face on before the camera clicked.

The results were, huh, varied.



I fared slightly better at capturing some of the details of the Santa Monica pier.



The last one is actually the reflection of the ferris wheel in the sand/wave. I know, I know: photographic genius. And I didn't even lose my glasses this time out!!!

So that was Sunday. Ells Degens is next up, along with a review of Pink Taco (the restaurant not, uh, the lady-thing).

Oh, and before I go, check out this interesting storefront on Fairfax, south of Santa Monica in Little Ethopia (yes, they have one of those here. Along with a little Armenia??! I thought that that existed only on 30 Rock, but apparently not?).



Firstly, and I'm just going on gut instinct here, The Magic Comb seems like the kind of reputable hair establishment that would not give a lady a mushroom cut when she asks for adorable. And if the worst did occur, the situation would quickly be remedied with some of that hair they have for sale or via magic (it says it right in the title!).

However, I have one lingering question: what and the sweet fuck is "Indian Hair" (quotations theirs, not mine!)??! I mean, I can guess what Indian hair might be, but "Indian Hair"? Is it not real indian? Not real hair? And why is it $400??!

If you have any ideas, pleeease enlighten me in the comments section of this post.

(And yes, this is just a shameful way of me asking you my lovely reader to post comments. They make me feel happy and you want me to feel happy, right? RIGHT??!)

You Like My Moves, David Archuletta?

Today the road trip moves north from San Diego to LA. After de-glitterizing ourselves and peeling off the spandex, Cheryl, Rikki and I piled into the car for the 2 hour drive to Hollywoodland. It was a fun ride full of good tunes and good laughs. Did you know that Rikki can fly like the wind? 'Cause she can. And, for the record, it makes me laugh so hard I cry.

Did you know that the only thing as good as seeing Jason Mraz in San Diego on Halloween is seeing Jason Mraz in LA the day after Halloween? He played to a sold-out 5800 capacity Greek Theatre, and it was one of my absolutely favourite shows (he played Bella Luna and I STILL loved it, that's how much fun it was). We had pit tickets, so there were only about 100 of us crowding the area around the stage. It felt more intimate than any other concert J concert I've been to (well, except for our LRCs... you can't really get more intimate than our living room...), and yet it was the largest crowd.

If you've ever been to a J concert with our crew you know that we have a lot of coordinated dance moves. We do it because they are fun and because we like to piss off the aggressive teenagers behind us by blocking their camera shots. Unbeknownst to us at the time, however, a few celebrities were in attendence at the show (David Archuletta + family, for one) and were probably wondering what and the fuck we were doing. Or thought we were groupies (it's called SUPERFANS, people. Groupies sleep with the band and we just....... make up dance moves at the shows. Ha!). Whatever, David Archuletta, you're just jealous because your biggest superfan is your DAD.

Anyways, it was a great show, capping off a great run of shows, and I had a blasty with my girls. Cheryl was off to Berkeley the next morning, Cat was off to New York, and Rikki and I were off to see Kyle Riabko humping onstage.

More on that (and my embarassing Kyle Riabko humping story) later.

Today is my last full day in LA and my heart is a little sad about it. I'm going to go drown my sorrows buying screenplays at Samuel French and then reading them at the beach.

No big deal. Beeeeeeeeach.

Trick or Treat! Or, Halloween Is More Fun with Poofy Hair.

I have some extra time tonight so I'm going to get started on the beginning of the trip....

After what seemed like 5 hours on the plane, I landed bright and early in sunny California, picked up my rental car, and headed south for San Diego. I was still pretty sick and sounded like a man but soon realized the curative powers of taquitos and started to feel better. My buddy Kat had a colour guard practice so I headed out for Jamba Juice, Target, and the Beach. In other words? The Holy Trinity of What California Means to Me.

I got to the beach a bit late so the sun was pretty much down by the time I arrived. It was also super cloudy so my shots are all a little... mysterious looking.



After some quality time communing with the water and the strange asian dude who skated by me with his leg up in the air whilst listening to techno beats, I headed over to Target......... and got totally lost on the way and ended up at Jamba Juice. Lemons? Lemonade (smoothie)! After some hardcore sipping and shopping, I headed back to the high school to pick up Kat.

FIRST MAJOR DIFFERENCE BETWEEN CANADA AND THE US: The football field was fucking triiiiiiiiiiiiicked out! Lights, bleachers, scoreboard, you name it, they had it. It looked like Raptor's Stadium, only outside and with less purple dinosaur. I can say with outmost confidence that we in Canada do not supe our fields up that much. I blame it on the snow and our and love for anything indoors covered in ice.

After practice Kat was nice enough to take me around for a mini-tour of downtown San Diego and can I just say? ADORABLE! I know I use that word a lot lately (I blame the recent, um, interest in Michael Cera for it), but I really mean it this time. And plus the downtown core was crawling with nasty girls not wearing pants for Halloween so you know that if I can overlook that little tidbit I truly think something is beautiful. I think what won me over was that they had actual gaslamps lighting some of the streets! I liked the vibe, very old-timey, very Interview-with-the-Vampire (have I mentioned that I am sorta obsessed with vampires? I blame Twilight and True Blood.... swooooon).

We finished up our tour just in time to pick up Cheryl & Rikki from the airport and then head over to In&Out for some burger animal style. (Didn't know that there was an animal style optsh? I guess you have to be in with the Cali crowd to know that. No big deal.). Deeeeelish. Then it was off to bed for me while the ladies chatting with our sexy friend Conor in Australia via Skype. Because they are true friends, they took pictures of me sleeping and sent them to Conor. (But don't worry, I am plotting my revenge.)

Now, Halloween! I haven't dressed up in YEARS so it was a nice change to get gussied up with the girls. Even better? We got to go to a Mraz concert afterwards and celebrate in style.

And without further adieu, I will reveal the much-anticipated Halloween costume idea:

I dressed up (if you can call it that, I call it simply being true to the voice in my heart) A COUGAR.




Ha! It was like my every dream come true, from the blue eyeshadow to the leopard headband, to the creepy homemade t-shirt. We went with a Mraz-theme so we ironed-on different saying to our shirts for the various band members/instruments. And, because we like to go whole hog, we even made up personas to go with our shirts (and by we, I mean me and I forced said personas on my ever-so-patient friends).

Rikki was Argentina, where the g(spot) is silent. She had "sTRUMPET" on her shirt.
Kat was Vienna, sausages (no big deal). She had "HIT THIS" on her ass.
Cheryl was Asia, where this is always a happy ending. She had "saXXXy" on her shirt.
I was Venice, take a ride down my canals. I had "Master my low end" on my shirt.




The show itself was lovely. I had never seen J outdoors so it was a real treat. We sang, we danced, we did not steal things because it's wrong. We also took some group pics but as I was weilding the camera I am not in any of them. A kind stranger offered to take a picture with me in it but, well, judge for yourself how it turned out.


Here's the one I took. Much better!



Post-show we all ran out to grab some Denny's and I discovered the most amazing thing: potachos. It combines my two very favourite things in the world into one exciting dish: pot and achos. It's also described as having "lots of cheese" so I was very down with it. I ended up doing a bacon-hashbrown combo though as I needed my protein/grease fix to better fight my cold. The potachos had to wait.




All in all, it was a great first 2 days to the trip. And lucky me I still had the LA show and 2 extra days with my girl Rikki to look forward to.

Big shout outs go to Philly & Jon Koch, the SoCal Mraz mainstays and all around cool folk. Both of them were kind enough to pose for pictures with us, despite the abundance of spandex and glitter.

Also mad propz go out to Tab & Kevin for being adorable and awesome and to Kevin espesh for looking most like the person he dressed up as for Halloween (next time I vote more underwear, though).






Alright the Laugh Factory and Jon Lovitz await! I'll be back with more later!

Dude, I'm JUST Like Perez Hilton!

Whoa! EVERYONELOVESMELISSA coming at you live from the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf at the corner of Sunset and Fairfax. AKA Perez Hilton's old "office". I never thought I'd be here, it's kind of blowing my mind.

Let me give you a visual. I'm outside on the patio in the shade sitting beside an adorable guy (probably gay, he's too well dressed to be a straightie) wearing jeans, a tight black shirt, and a cute fedora. He's on a Mac, and I'm jealous. I'm staring out across Sunset Blvd at the Director's Guild of America. If I see Steven Spielberg I'll shit. Seriously. I look slightly to the left across the street and I see the Griddle Cafe, which I recently read about in Kevin Smith's memoir My Boring Ass Life. I ate there the other day and saw the lead singer from Fall Out Boy (he's short and has weird hair) and ate the bigest portion of french toast I have ever seen or put in my mouth in my entire life. I'm going to head back over there after I finish my Pumpkin Iced Latte and this blog.

Down the street a ways is the famed Chateau Marmont. I say it the french way, but if you want to sound very LA you should say "Maaaarmooonte". I haven't seen Lindsay Lohan coming out of it yet, but I hold out hope. I'm thinking of planting a baggie full of white powder by the foot of the mountain to see if I can lure her out...

Past the Marmont is Avalon, Skybar, and a bunch of teensy taco places. And this resto/bar in the theme of the wild west... ??

Basically everything here is over the top. Nothing is quiet, or subtle, or normal for that matter. I think this city's motto is go big or go back to Canada.

I've been to the beach a couple of times (once in San Diego and once to Santa Monica). The beach in LA was.... different. It had all the beauty but about 100 times the strange. There was a dude on a bullhorn screaming about Jesus and how gay marriage was an abomination under God??! I wanted to shove a hot dog in his mouth to shut him up but he had these 2 tough guy thugs protecting him from the wrath of passerby. I was about to risk it but then I remembered that this country doesn't have universal health care (...... yet! GObama!!).

I've decided I'm going to start at the beginning of my trip and fill you in day by day. I've been ridiculously busy and expect to remain so until I leave Saturday afternoon.... So I'll try to post again ASAP but I make no promises....

Just to whet your appetite, though, here's what I have on tap for the rest of the week:

TODAY: a taping of the Bonnie Hunt show this afternoon followed by a show at the Laugh Factory (a 5 minute walk from my cousin's house!) starring Jon Lovitz.

THURSDAY: a taping of the Craig Ferguson show followed by a show at the iOWest (yay!!!).

FRIDAY: a taping of the Jimmy Kimmell show and a trip out to Venice Beach to take pictures of all the shiny muscles

SATURDAY: squeeze in one last breakfast at the Griddle Cafe and celebrity spot before I head back to reality.

Oh? And just in case you think that this is it for trips for me for the rest of the year....... I'm going to Milwaukee, Chicago, and St. Louis in 2 weeks.

Ha!