Hello 80’s My Old Friend, I ‘ve Come to Talk With You Again

One week and one day to L.A. I love L.A.

I want to look sharp when we get there so I bought some new clothes. Stove pipe jeans and ankle boots.

Hello 80's?  Yesss 80's come back, I missed you, I still love you, let’s make up for lost time.

Now, where did I put my pink eye-shadow and blue mascara???

Don't worry I'll find it.

Maybe they're hiding under my shoulder pads!!!!

Tire Kingdom

Nothing like a new job to make the dryer break, the dishwasher act up and the rear passenger side tire to go flat two blocks from a tire store that you don’t know is there so you wait an hour in the rain for AAA.

However, there are always little gems waiting for us in the fray. Such as?

I think of myself as a panda. Panda with aardvark tendencies but I digress. Apparently late 20’s, new to the big city, born and bred Florida cracker tow truck drivers find me rather cougar-esque. (Suck it Courtney Cox)

So back to the flat:  la la la singing in the rain, not!  Afternoons in Central Florida the ocean breezes collide with the gulf breezes and it rains like hell for a brief time. Roughly just long enough to put a doughnut on an Escort. The cracker and me got right soggy. Then we got in the tow truck and he got a little salty.

He took off his wet shirt! It was approximately 97 degrees that day, but when he said he didn’t want to get pneumonia, I took him at his word. He said he didn’t think my doughnut would make it all the way to my house, by the way, what was my address? They need to know that for the AAA records don’t they?

“Well alright then”, he responded to my rejection of his offer to follow me home, “lemme just show you where the tire store is”. Then it moved! Now maybe I’m getting a little weirded out.

He had dropped the truck into gear. “Don’t worry I ain’t kidnapping you.”

Okay, passing weird headed right for OH SHIT!

“No, I can find it don’t worry about me.” I paused for response.

“Alright then,” he grinned.

 I slid out of the truck, the pelting rain drenching the top I was still wearing.

“Look here now, don’t tell your husband I was flirting with you alright?”

Oh, is that was that was!  Sigh of relief.

“Don’t worry,” I told him, “ it’s been so long, I didn’t even know it was happening.”

Look for my new video on DVD:  PANDA’S IN WET SENSIBLE POLYESTER BLOUSES GONE WILD.

Lesson from The Range

I won’t go into whether or not people should own guns or even whether or not we do.  The fact is you can rent them at most gun ranges. I will say knowledge is power. To know your way around a gun, how to operate it, and general safety is important in making your point whichever side of the 2nd Amendment fence you’re on.

With that little disclaimer out of the way, let me tell you about my day at the gun range.

When you go to a range as an inexperienced shooter, they will briefly instruct you in gun and range safety.  Hopefully you are with someone who is experienced and can educate you further.  I was and they did, but there were a few things that nobody mentioned.

Lessons from the range:

Usually indoor ranges are not air conditioned. This can be a problem if you live in Florida, it’s high summer, and you’re wearing mascara.

Safety dictates eye protection. It looks like a clear version of the cataract sunglasses your grandma wears. The glasses cover your eyes, wrap around the sides and keep out projectiles... and air.  So when you sweat like a… well a fat chick in a gun range, your mascara will run like coal tears.  (Extra precaution must then be taken that you are not mistaken for a raccoon by the frustrated hunter in the next stall, and get shot.)

Don’t wear your flip flops, bedazzled or not. When shell casings fly from the business end of a 9mm they are hot. When they land on your flip flopped foot they will burn your French tipped tootsies for a fairly well. This could cause you to jump. One should never never jump with a loaded 9mm in your hand, it’s bad form.

When at long last you finally do hit the target, or at least the paper the silhouetted bad guy is drawn on, don’t cry out, “eat that mother f-er”... again, bad form.

And last but not least. If you want to be treated with any respect whatsoever, don’t let the range master see you cry.

Chariots of Fire-y-Thighs

Last night I dreamed again of running, but not like the dream that has haunted me my life through, this dream was of a far far better run than I have ever done.

For years and years and years I have had a recurring dream. (Not the one where I am naked in the halls of my high school, I don’t expect to ever get over that).  But a dream where I am trying to run and can’t. I’m not being chased, it’s not a nightmare, I just can’t run.

My slumbered attempts at a gazelle like gallop have hence forth been thwarted. I managed only a slow motion lumber, often resulting in dropping to my hands and feet as I try, in heart-wrenching vain, to crest a hill or a crack in a sidewalk. On occasion the dream-me turns and runs backwards, seemingly her only choice to make any progress as it were.

But last night I ran like the wind. Call me Mariah.

Seriously though, I ran. I passed people, then they passed me, but I did not give up. I dug in and tried to pass them again while I plotted my next move. I ran.

Does this mean anything? Am I turning a page? I think so!   There’s a new sheriff in dream town and she’s kickin ass and takin names.

California Here We Come

Three weeks to go for our return to LA. I am starting to feel like I belong there… well, sort of. There are a few things I really need to do before I make my awaited by no one return to the City of the Angels.

Hollywood Wendy To Do List: 

Color hair, whiten teeth, fake tan, get push up bra and suck in Spankx, shave and/or wax everything including upper lip. (forget Brazilian, I need the whole South American), go to Drag Queen store in search of  heels that fit, get fish pedicure and French manicure, pay way too much for jeans that are marked two sizes smaller than they really are, (but they make me feel pretty) and call everyone I know and chat lightly about how we’re jetting out to LA, yes again, but it’s no big deal really, you know we just have some business to take care of, no I can’t say what.

I hope the Screenwriting Expo is ready for me, cause I’m gonna be ready for them.