California - Here I Come!!!
I was raised on television. From Rona Barrett’s gossip on Good Morning America to the 11:30 PM reruns of “Good Times” – I saw it all. Really not as hard as it would be today, but remember – pre-cable there were only three networks…and PBS. Yes kids, I am dating myself. I was born in 1965, making me, well, ancient. But G-d knows they were simpler times. Not only was there no cable – but – imagine life without fax machines! GASP! PDA’s! NO! And you sure as hell wouldn’t be reading “blogs” in the seventies – when blackberries were meant for preserves.
The AirTran ride was entertaining to say the least, thanks in part to our lead attendant, Valentine. He was clearly either a notch above his co-workers in tenure or he raised his hand the fastest when they asked who wanted to be the “star” attendant and who simply wanted to be mere peon attendants, relegated to demonstrating seat belt procedure, snapping open soda cans and handing out the smallest bags of pretzels ever created. Yes, our star Valentine was better looking than his peers and spent 90% of the flight entertaining a handful of first class travelers. I can see him now up there in his velvet smoking jacket and bowtie, doing stand-up routines and passing out gold to the privileged flyers fortunate enough to warrant such service. Valentine did venture back to our AirTran “commoners section” one time, to offer up coffee. However, unlike the lukewarm coffee I had been handed earlier, Valentine pronounced his coffee as “fresh, fresh, fresh”!! To me, that meant “hot, hot, hot!”, and, indeed, his coffee was magically delicious. Served up “fresh” as advertised – and with the smile only Valentine could have offered up.
Then Valentine did the unthinkable. Our hero...the attendant whose teeth sparkled as he tossed a baby in the air for all to “ohh” and “ahh” over – he made us “close (our) shades and open the air vents”…supposedly in an effort to keep the plane cool for the next passengers. But- be real- you know that there must have been some dead body being trumped across the tarmac and they knew that Valentine could come up with some lame ass excuse to keep us entertained so we didn’t catch on. Oh- one more note about valentine. Of questionable descent, his accent changed mid sentence. I remember thinking I hoped he wasn’t hiding bottles of hair gel or devising ways to blow up airplanes with his coffee
.
So I arrive in California in a convertible with Lucy and Ricky and Fred and Ethel.
http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n39/CASALESTRIP/CA-welcome.jpgWell, technically it was a red Sebreng hardtop and my co-stars were Emily and Vickie, but it felt just as glamorous driving around Hollywood and Vine. STOP! Is that the guy from Entourage?!! We’ll never know. He kind of looked like a tourist- but you see in STAR Magazine how the celebs dress themselves down to blend in with us little people. And by little people I mean us gawkers who fly in pray to have a “sighting” – perhaps a picture? Autograph? French kiss? Really- when I tell the story it will be the way I want it to anyway – my fantasy run-in. I’d be running down the street after some “D” lister and run smack into Angelina Jolie – who would be oh so kind and gracious and I posed with baby Shiloh and asked about Brad and the two ugly kids she adopted before she knew she would marry the most beautiful man on the planet and produce what will without a doubt be the most beautiful child ever consummated. She’d toss back her head in peels of laughter at my great humor and drill holes into my eyes with her piercing gaze – as if to inquire about the ring on my finger and wonder how happy my marriage is – or if I could be stolen away as easy as Brad was from Jennifer. Sigh.
So I see not ONE SINGLE celebrity.
However – the weather girl on the local FOX station gave me instant erections. My chin is literally bruised because my jaw hit the floor so fast. What a knockout!
http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n39/CASALESTRIP/CA-WeatherGirl.jpgEven her name was exotic: Jillian Barberie. If she were Paris Hilton she’d pronounce herself “Hot”! Picture this: long blonde hair – awesome rack- long flowing halter dress floral print – braless!!!!! OMG!!! She clearly could care less about the weather and much prefers to banter with the anchor, or the male model helo-traffic dude.
Rick Dickert - could I even make up that name if I freaking tried???
So as we drive around from LAX to the hotel we get in some sight seeking. Rodeo Drive. Hollywood and Vine. Hollywood Sign. and the Chinese Theatre, where there are any number of movie and tv characters to pose with. You know, since it’s Hollywood after all, and as we already discussed, the real celebs are hiding out from the everyday freaks taking back staircases and secret underground tunnels from venue to venue. Of course there’s nothing like a bogus Homer Simpson with the word TIPS sharpie’d onto his big yellow palm to scream nostalgia:
http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n39/CASALESTRIP/CA_HomerMarge.jpgAt least this one can’t ask for tips:
http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n39/CASALESTRIP/CA_DavidElvis.jpgWaittttttttt!! Anna Niclose Smith’s decorator!!!!
http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n39/CASALESTRIP/CA-BTrendy.jpgRemember his license plate was B TRENDY and he got into huge arguments with Anna’s “lawyer” Howard Stern? Hysterical!
There is a Shakey’s Pizza! Stop the car!!! Yes- the lunch buffet was miraculously still available at 3:00..I already love Cali! I will say this. The best baked chicken I may have ever had the pleasure of eating - Shakey’s Pizza. I know. Screw the pizza and pile on the protein- oh yeah, and garlic bread – mmmmmmmmmm.
We have to get to hotel to unpack. It’s beautiful. Crowne Plaza Irvine. The rooms were spectacular and the staff was great. And since we were checking in for a full week- especially helpful to enjoy your home away from home. So we unpacked, explored (Jacuzzi and sauna!!) and then we headed out to dinner. Z’mario’s ROCKS! If you live here and are in the Irvine/Tustin area – go there NOWWW! In fact, we loved it so much we ate there twice.
One of our culinary highlights was our breakfast at IHOP, Yes, The International House of Pancakes. The sheer memories of the baby blue roof from my childhood- the boysenberry syrup, (which I am sad to report isn’t on the current syrup line up. Sniff). So what does a man that used to weigh near-400 pounds order? Freaking country fried steak, of course! What a lard ass I (still) am! Jesus- I will NEVER learn. It is so hard to explain to people that have not undergone weight loss surgery that obesity is a disease like alcoholism. Just because I have not ordered a short stack in two years doesn’t mean I won’t fall off the wagon and order some up and stuff em down with an oj chaser! Oh! Our waitress on this fine CA morning was Kelli. Let me try and explain. Kelli might brush her teeth now, but she clearly didn’t bother when she actually had teeth, so now there are gaping holes in her mouth with dark rotton roots showing. Kind of like that girl with the bangs and pigtails on Hee Haw with the blacked-out teeth. Except that was grease paint, and Kelli’s issue was tooth decay from multiple obvious years of sugar abuse and/or terrible dental hygene. Here is the best I could do:
http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n39/CASALESTRIP/CA-Kelli.jpgAnother thing about Kelli is she is obviously easily rattled. Asking her for separate checks was a tall order. After the initial shock she announced” Ok, I can do that.” But she wasn’t very convincing and we knew then and there we were asking for an additional 10 minute wait while she sorted out my fat ass order of fried grease and eggs from Vickie’s “just a few pancakes with fresh fruit’ or whatever it was that someone skinny orders in an IHOP. Topping off the morning’s dining was this gem. You know how you scootch forward on vinyl seating just so and it sounds like a huge fart? Well, apparently I did this. I only know because Vickie and Emily were literally in tears. Not so much because of my “fart”, but from Kelli’s reaction to it. She was taking the order at the adjoining booth when I let it “rip” and she nearly dropped her pencil as she looked over in horror. OK. She has no teeth and my “fart” horrifies HER? Humph. Some nerve. All in all though, Kelli was a treat – like a big fat squirt of whipped cream with a cherry on top. Of course her cherry would have a big black hole where the stem should be – lol.
So when you make sales calls, you really never know what kind of reception you will be receiving. Yes, we have traveled literally across the county and yes, we are bearing Virginia peanuts! And yes- the travel agent that brought tours to the East Coast and would love to see us has decided to wake up with a chip on her shoulder the size of Texas…’What exactly is it you people want with me?” one barked at me and Vickie in San Diego. “Why, we came to give you peanuts –but we have decided to give you peanut butter! Then Vickie body slammed this demon onto the concrete floor and I pried open her mouth with the letter opener from her desk drawer and ripped open my bag of Virginia peanuts with my teeth, then pouring them down her throat as Vickie opened and closed her mouth violently mashing the aforementioned nuts into a paste suitable for spreading on Wonder Bread and serving my pre-schooler for lunch. Oh. Wait. That’s what I wish happened to her. Instead, being a professional sales person, I overcame all obstacles and managed to get the name and business card of her absent co-worker who actually did bring tours to the East Coast. What a bitch. I soothed my ruffled feathers by purchasing a personals tabloid for fifty cents in a paper box outside of the travel agency. Had I seen that on the way in, I may have skipped the call all together and been spared the mental anguish. I wish I hadn’t left it in the trash in the hotel room and instead had cut all the heads off the models and mailed it to the nasty bitch in lieu of a follow –up thank you. Oh well, maybe next time. At least we had time for some r&r between appointments in the San Fernando Valley area:
http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n39/CASALESTRIP/CA-Massage.jpgAnd let us not forget Gloria. She would be the travel agent that – dead in the middle of a sales pitch by Emily about East Coast destinations she throws up her hand “talk to the hand” style and turns her attention to me. Gloria stared at me – which I could not miss because she had a stylish way with her eye shadow applicator – her powder blue sparkly eye shadow was all around her eye. 360. Full circle. Actually she wasn’t entirely unattractive, and as she clearly had incredible taste. Ha ha. This happened to us twice last year in Michigan too. I never cease to amaze and embarrass myself. For example, only I would spend five minutes playing footsie with a beautiful tour operator thinking it was the leg of the table. Intense in conversation, I realize what’s going on and rather than maintain composure I blurt out “Oh my G-d! Am I playing footsie with you??!!” Wink and smile baby…wink and smile. This was the same day we encountered an office whose air conditioning had gone out. It was a balmy 108 degrees in the board room that day as we sweat like pigs, yet that didn’t deter the tour operator from stopping Vickie mid-sentence – turning to face me and saying – “I really want to know about you David. Tell me about you!” I feel like meat on these sales trips, but have decided they must not get out much if they think of me as eye candy.
It is thanks to Gloria that we came up with a name for Vickie’s GPS. Thank God for “Gloria” as she became lovingly known. We’d have been lost without her – literally!! If I can find my way back from Cardiff By The Sea to Irvine without assistance she was worth whatever Vickie’s husband Elwood paid for her. We shared so much with Gloria: our road weary stories, our sales call triumphs and bad calls. We laughed. We cried. Gloria. We love you. Muahzs!
Laguna Beach:
http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n39/CASALESTRIP/CA_LagunaGroup.jpgWe managed to wrangle the appointments so that we had off a few hours on Thursday afternoon and we hit this incredible restaurant at Laguna Beach. It was very exclusive – and perhaps the best Mexican food to be had on Laguna Beach. You have heard of it.: taco Bell! Yes, only the the classy east coasters would travel to Laguna Beach for a hard taco and a diet cola. If that weren’t enough, we further humiliated ourselves by using a beautiful fountain outside a tres exclusive art gallery to wash the sand off of our feet:
http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n39/CASALESTRIP/CA_washfeet.jpgAnd of course, no trip to the beach is complete without a gratuitous shot of me posing “Ah-nold” style for my paparazzi:
http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n39/CASALESTRIP/CA_DBLAGUNA.jpgOUR LAST DAY – wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
Twenty five sales calls later – we take a full free day to explore. Vickie is off with cousin Sue-Page to see Billy Idol at the race track (it would only later be revealed that he wasn’t playing until almost sunset) and Emily and I visited with her old roommate and her husband of less than a month. We stop at an Einstein Bagels for lunch before going to meet her friends. I order soup and a philly style panini with a large diet coke. Emily orders her sandwich – we are pulling away before I notice an Einstein cup in her cup holder that would hold a watermelon. Then I look at my cup. It’s a “large” alright- a large COFFEE cup!!! GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!! Anyone who knows me knows that diet soda plays a very important role in my very well being and sanity. In other words – don’t mess with my soda. The only thing you can do worse to me is to mess with my food. As an addict – I still know and love my food. Sooooo as Em & I dine al fresco by the pool I glance over at her sandwich. Only Dagwood himself could have layered the meat and cheeses on so thick, My panini had ONE thin layer of roast beef. Clearly my charm was sucked dry by Disco Gloria and I had nothing left to give. I was defeated, and at the same time secretly thrilled that I had stashed a bag of the Virginia peanuts in my back pack “just in case”.
Then we hit La Jolla. Of course I pronounced this LA JOLLA, and it’s really pronounced LA HOY-A. How the hell was I supposed to know that!!?? Anyway- here I am at La Jolla:
http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n39/CASALESTRIP/CA_DBLAJOLLA.jpgEm & I walked out forever and the water still only came to our knees – very fun. But we have to pick up Vickie at the race track – say bye to Sue-Page and tell her we’d see her next week at the Rock-A-Hock (don’t even ask) and head back to pack. We grabbed a late dinner at the Macaroni Grill. The mushroom ravioli appetizer was more than enough for my meal – so having to deal with the meatball lasagna too was a true challenge. Defeated again…lol.
The couples next to us helped entertain us throughout our dinner. Both couples featured Asian women with white guys. Maybe the Chinese restaurant next door was a cover for some exotic prostitution ring? Anyhoo- couple number one (see picture below, far left) was interesting because he kept telling his “date” that he was an abused husband, how his wife threw things at him, etc. We could have heard more- but sitting closest to us was couple number two, who ordered a salad with a bowl of lemon wedges on the side and immediately began squirting the hell out of them onto their salad, which she then proceeded to feed to him with a pair of chop-sticks. Hello! This is the Macaroni Grill- not fucking Chinatown. What the hell???
http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n39/CASALESTRIP/CA-MacGrillPPL.jpgAfter drying our tears of laughter over the bashed hubby and the stick eaters, we threw on our best fake smiles and posed for a final family pic in California - phony because inside we are upset we had to return to the hotel to pack and leave for the airport by 4 AM to make our flight out of LAX:
http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n39/CASALESTRIP/ca-triopic.jpgLAX at the butt-crack of dawn. By 4:40 we were in line:
http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n39/CASALESTRIP/CA-llaxlines.jpg, but having to look at this scene:
http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n39/CASALESTRIP/CA-KISS.jpgUGH. I am far too busy secretly snapping cell phone pictures of this scene as it played out and using my best brain power to will him to grab her chest or for them to start out and out humping to yell “Get a room!” In addition, on less than three hours of sleep, my pic snapping was occupying the hand that should have been holding a hot coffee. I guess it was too much to ask to request Valentine bring back his fresh fresh fresh coffee for me at this hour. Besides, business class attendants never stroll up to the gate to board until show time – never at the butt crack of dawn like us peons. Where do they think they are? Hollywood? LOL.
