Love you people!!!  Mmmmmmphhhuuuhhhhh!!!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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But first – if you are new here – WELCOME ABOARD the Ms. Cheevious Express – heh heh. Once you board, you will never get off (no pun intended)! 

This blog serves up a weekly yummy Hollywood dish:  the inside scoop on what real – life hollywood actors, producers, entertainment sorts and the people they hang with do on a daily basis.  I just happen to find myself involved (sometimes accidentally) much of the time.  Are you old enough to remember the Lucy Show, or young enough to have seen it on Nick at Night? Well, think the Lucy Show for 2009, and add a few RockStar beverages in there, and you get the idea.

Plus, my relationship with my boyfriend, M.C. Nugget (an actor who many of you have seen – you just don’t know it, because hey, someone’s identity has to be protected on this zany blog) has only helped to fuel my already juicy life!  But I do protect the identity of the people in my life and in this blog. 

HOWEVER, if you are famous and carrying on in public, and if I see you, or happen to have some interaction, then guess what?  You don’t get an alias or protected identity here.  Your real name will be used, because hey – otherwise, why would people read this blasted thing?  Now, on to the story. 

As you know, from the story of my trip back east in “Manhattan Transfer,” I accompanied my man Nuggie back to NYC and then to his home town of Manchester, Massachusetts to spend the Fourth of  July with his family.  We did, and as you know, it was a blast.

What you don’t know is that on the Fourth, Nuggie’s mom, Spicy Nugget (I call her Sporty Spice though, for her total dedication to staying athletic and in shape, even in her 70′s) had a little party for her brood, and for their best-friend family, the Catson’s.  She made lasagna, and there was so much food, we all ate and just rolled around the patio, then rolled back inside for cocktails, or cake or whatever else our heart desired, then rolled back outside for family pictures and good times.  Fun fun. 

Then it was time to trek over to Beverly Farms to watch fireworks on West Beach. 

When we got there, however, Kitty Catson (Kit Cat, of course) and I realized we were thirsty, and we hadn’t thought (like all the other revelers there) to bring a cooler of refreshments. 

Now, if you know me, and if you have read my blog long enough, you can guess what happened.  I saw this as an opportunity to meet new people and – BONUS – get a glass of wine or something in the process. That’s how it works in LA LA land, anyway – at least in my little, tiny world. There were TONS of people having their little parties on their little balconies that lined up the little street along the beach.  I thought at least ONE of them had to have some extra wine or something, right? At the very minimum, they would offer me a Diet Coke or something, certainly!

Everyone – I repeat – EVERY ONE of the Nuggets and Catsons doubted my ability to make friends and get any sort of libations or even regular beverages out of them.  I decided they might be onto something, being natives of the east coast and all.  So I asked Nuggie for cash.  I figured money talks, and I could offer to buy a glass of wine, if necessary. Then I set out on my little adventure.

I have to tell you people – believe it or not, I got discouraged at first!  Yep.  I visited THREE HOUSES.  I received wicked, holier-than-thou or at the very least “I’m from Radcliffe and graduated from Harvard, dahhhling.  And who are you?” looks, from the plump, frumpy women leaning over the balconies, sloshing their over-filled wine glasses in my face.  I could see that their men were bored out of their minds and wanted to say “YES, YES, somebody please give this girl some WINE!”  if only to have a good story to tell, but they dared not.  So, I went back to my group with my tail between my legs. 

It was then that Kitty Cat and I became friends for life.  She said, “Follow me.  We’ll find us something to drink.”  And so I did. 

We too went to a couple of different houses, and received some strange looks from people.  She was walking up to them and saying, “Hey there!  Can we buy a glass of wine from you?” When I had this BRILLIANT idea!  I decided we needed to be damsels in distress! So I said, “Hey, don’t offer to buy so quick.  Let me handle this!” 

So, we walked up to our (now) good friend Max’s house and looked up at this little group of stylish women talking to him.  “Pardon me,” I said demurely, “I wonder if you could help us.  We completely forgot to bring our cooler with us, and we would be so grateful if we might be able to get a glass of water or something else to drink from you folks?”  Immediately, Max said, “I’ll be right down.” 

He greeted us at the front door of his lovely home and walked us straight into the kitchen and his bar.  “So, what made the two of you come over here?” he asked, and I proceeded to tell him the story. 

We all laughed, and I asked, “Well, what made you say yes?” and he said, “I just had to give a drink to someone so gutsy as to ask for it!” And that was it!

Kit Cat and I walked triumphantly back to our group with two giant red cups filled with Grey Goose Vodka and Soda — enough to share with everyone. 

Now THAT put a little spark into our fourth, for sure! 

I am off this evening to the Hollywood Bowl with Nuggie who was invited by Venice Magazine!  Then, tomorrow is our ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY of meeting each other!  Can you believe it!  Craziness, eh?

Have a fabulous weekend everyone!  And don’t try to hunt the Goose.  It will find YOU!

Love you people!  Mmmmmmmphhhhhuuuuhhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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12 noon – m.c. nugget and i hop a plane to jfk.

8:30 pm – rainy big apple.  arrive jfk and proceed to the airport “air train,” then the long island railroad into penn station, then a cab to our hotel – m.c., lugging the ms. cheevious luggage entourage up and down many many flights of stairs — it must mean SOMETHING, right?

10:45 pm – our cabbie, one block from hotel in downtown nyc, rolls down his window to ask another cabbie for directions to our hotel (at least he asks for directions).

11:15 pm – dinner in hotel bar. friend of friend joins us for a drink. we close the place down at midnight, and hop in another cab to ulysse’s bar.

12:15 am – our cabbie is lost on the way to ulysse’s — hey, that downtown nyc area is tough to navigate! this cabbie actually pulls over and asks the security guard of a parking lot where our street is.

2:40 am east coast time – we get back to hotel and go to sleep.

- next day -

12 noon-ish – hello sunshine! apparently it’s been missing lately in nyc. glad it shines for us as we eat lunch in rockefeller center!

7:00 pm – dinner with friends ricky & lucy and another fantastic couple down near 14th street.  arte cafe.  yummy.  learn something: as ms. cheevious gets lighter for summer, she cannot hold her liquor very well.  i hear myself struggle to speak clearly, as i sip on my glass of instant inebriation – ha ha – not funny though!!  i am officially a lightweight. 

- next day -

11 am – nuggie susses out neighborhood so “we” can lug our luggage to the subway without too much trouble, and make the journey back to jfk to board a plane to boston.  there i will meet his family.

11:15 am – “we” lug luggage through a couple blocks of downtown to the subway.  okay — nuggie lugs ms. cheevious’ entourage of luggage through a couple of blocks of downtown to the subway, then up and down subway stairs (again, whattaguy), and we board the subway to penn station.

12-ish – we arrive penn station, go up and down more flights of stairs, and board the long island railroad to jamaica station, where we catch the jfk “air train” to the airport.

1pm – arrive at jfk for 2pm flight.  we see it’s delayed an hour and have lunch in terminal 5 sports bar. (terminal 5 rocks).  our flight gets delayed, and delayed, and delayed (thunder storms in boston).

7pm – we board flight five hours after original departure time and taxi for 50 more minutes before taking off.

9 pm-ish – arrive logan international airport – FINALLY. WE MADE IT!

- next day -

HeLLO beautifuls!  I am writing from wet and drippy Manchester, Mass – a quiet, beautiful little suburb of Boston.  M.C. Nugget brought me here to meet his family and spend the Fourth of July together.  What a treat! 

We stopped off in Manhattan on our way over, and spent a couple of days traversing the Big Apple, via cab, train and subway (exactly as depicted above). 

I just gotta say – you’d think with technology today, the powers-that-be could figure out a way to get air traffic down to a REAL science.  Wouldn’t you?  Thunder storms, sunshine, sleet, snow – whatever.  If a thunder storm moves into an area, isn’t there some way they can make sure the planes stay on schedule?  Like can’t they use magnets or tethers or something?  I mean, puhhhh-leazzze.

Nuggie’s family so far (mom, dad, brother, fiance and niece) are delightful dahlings.  I still have one more sibling and some adoptive family members to meet, and of course, I’ll report on them some other time!  But I couldn’t ask to meet a nicer family.  Well — I guess I could ask, and god knows I’ve been known to ask for some unfathomable things — but that doesn’t mean it would be granted – ha! Besides, in this case, it is not at all necessary.  They are awesome.

Today Nuggie and I are heading via train back into Boston to take the famous Duck tour (look it up – it is suppose to be very cool), and watch the rehearsal of the Boston Pops Fourth of July celebration.  If it rains, things may change.

What a fabulous summer so far!  Normally my little guy would have hopped his own flight to come and stay with me for summer by now, but he – believe it or not – is entering HIGH SCHOOL and has football practice that can’t be missed.  Even so, he arrives into LA the day after I get back, when he and I will BOTH celebrate our birthdays (his was June 29 – when he turned 14, and mine will be July 8 – when I will turn 29 for the i-don’t-know-how-many-times-now-because-I’ve-lost-count).

So that is it.  I am off, you beautiful people!

Have a spectacular Fourth of July weekend.  Remember that we live in the greatest country around, even if a bunch of other countries hate us.  Tough.

Love you people!  Mmmmmmmppphhhhuuuuhhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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Sadly, (sniff, sniff) I learned to do this at an early age, when a little incident crushed my heart on a visit to Santa, his elves and the “North Pole”  at our neighborhood mall one Christmas, long ago. THAT visit went over REALLY well!

I was just a wee bit precocious, and I remember asking my mommy how on earth Santa and the North Pole were going to possibly find their way to our mall, and – by the way – how did Santa AND his elves find the time during toy-making season to stop by our mall anyway?  My mommy assured me that with Santa, anything was possible.  I was cautiously optimistic, but that didn’t last.  One look at that fake, cotton ball snow, and my hopes and dreams were dashed forever.  I knew then my mom was delusional.  She really believed this stuff!  I also knew then, I could never trust someone else’s experiences to come close to the expectations created when I believed what they said. I was shocked that my own mom was so fooled, but true to form – even then – I chose to remain silent, “allowing” her to continue living the dream.  HA!

So now, I still protect my delusional, yet well-meaning and lovely friends, who when visiting some hot spot, find themselves buying into all the hype and becoming willing advocates of the weird, crazy, kooky, “out there”, or just plain DUMB things Hollywood dishes out.

If you are new here, welcome!  Glad to have you!  But hold onto your chairs, ladies and gentlemen, I am about to rant!  And we know what happens then, don’t we?! 

So, just one week after my girlfriend Sheila (no worries Sheila, you weren’t the only one to rave, I just knew you could handle the abuse! ) told me she’d been to an event at this new hotel, SLS, in Beverly Hills – and after I listened to her rave about it “probably being the most gorgeous hotel in Los Angeles” and after hearing about the unique “gallery” they have, where patrons can actually BUY some of the exorbitantly priced items to have for their very own – After all of that, M.C. Nugget (that’s the alias for my boyfriend for you newbies out there – and no, he isn’t really a famous rapper, he just likes to think he is) and I had this “networking” event to attend at the very same SLS.  Let me say this though:  I call it a “networking” event, because I actually DO network everywhere I go.  Here we were, surrounded by scantily clad women, and men in their dapper threads, and I was busy talking “techno-babe” to a beauty at the event.  Turns out that beauty is also a web designer/geek, so we chatted about synergistic possibilities for our respective businesses, sipped on our cocktails, exchanged email addresses and each went on our merry way. Can you say “WRITE OFF?” Gotta love it. Fun fun!

But I have to say, I did not understand much about the whole chic uber cool reputation of the SLS.  Okay, so the owner of the hotel owns a Bugatti, and parked it in front of the hotel.  And, okay, there were about six other cars parked out front that were priced over $250,000 (the Bugatti is more like a million buckaroos or something crazy like that, baby dolls) – but then, walking into that hotel, and exploring its inner passageways, and common areas was like being transported to a real-life version of “Through the Looking Glass,” but add a little absinthe and crack to it.  There were these framed “portraits” on the walls, which looked like they could be paintings.  They were strategically placed around the hotel, and depicted famous celebrities or dignitaries — at first — but then morphed slowly into various primates. I’m absolutely positive there was some political or social significance to famous people turning into orangutans, but it was lost on those of us who were there to simply enjoy a night out on the town.

True to form, however, Nuggie and I had a fantastic time at the place, and at all of the events, which coincidentally were not at the SLS (except for the Saturday by the pool, which was my favorite).  Upon returning to the hotel on Friday night after the first event, we went into the bar at “Bazaar,” apparently the newest hot spot in LA.  We sat down and our server proceeded to inform us of their coolness.  She stated oh so demurely, that reservations for the restaurant were on a minimum of two months waiting list just before scampering off to gather our cocktails.  When she returned, of course I had to ask, “So tell me, what is so special about this restaurant? Is it the Chef?  Is he or she famous for some sort of cuisine?” 

Okay people – hold onto your drinks – or your diet cokes or  mouse pads.  This is where I am going to BLOW YOUR MINDS with the newest technology in culinary arts.  The chef, Jose Andres’ specialty is — get this — Molecular Gastronomy.  What IS Molecular Gastronomy, you might ask?  Well, I’m going to enlighten you as our delightful server did for us.  It is where they sort of mash up the food – they crush it – so that it maintains its full-bodied flavor, but is liquefied. 

Okay.  Stop the presses.  I just about fell out of my chair when she told me that.  I SO wanted to rant and yell out in laughter, “GET OUT!  I cannot believe there is a two month waiting list to dine at a restaurant where the menu is virtually LIQUID! I mean, I’ve heard of all the fad diets in Beverly Hills, but what did I miss here? Had the liquid diet become so popular that people would pay untold dollars to have it served via four star service?” 

Instead M.C. or I – I can’t remember which – managed to mutter our best, “And people — p-p-pay for this?”    

“Oh yes! ” Sally Sanguine surmised, “And it sort of explodes in your mouth!” 

It gets better.  We were kind of dumbfounded.  No kidding.  Speechless — almost.  MC said something like, “Well.  Not — literally  –  Right?”

“No,” she went on, “It’s just that the flavor is like an explosion.  It’s so delicious – almost better than the solid food!  He does this thing with an olive – and we put it in our martinis (of course, I had to steal a glance at my martini).  We call it the Liquid Olive. It is SOOOO delicious!”

When she trotted away, MC and I burst into laughter.  We could NOT believe what hoops people would jump through to participate in what they perceived as valuable!  Well, okay – I admit, there was that time in Vegas – but I digress.

It was so funny to think about people panting after these hard-to-get reservations, finally securing a table for four, getting all decked out, ordering car service to deliver them in style to the door of the restaurant, and to sit down to a liquid meal, created with this new “thing,” Molecular Gastronomy. 

That just SOUNDS bad.  It sounds like it’s gonna’ give me a BUBBLE!  Like it’s time to pull out the Metamucil! 

Too funny.

Okay – so now I’m going to bed.  I’ve had my real popcorn and my real rice pudding, and my real chocolate (So?  It was desert!), and now it’s time for sleep.

Next week I am off to New York City and Boston!  I am going  to M.C. Nugget’s home town and I am going to meet —  drum roll — his FAMILY.  Fun stuff, baby! I promise to fill you in on all the details.  I’m sure all the other Nuggets are very cool people!

Before you go off to enjoy your fantastically sunny and glorious weekend my beautiful men and women, please try to remember to put the families of Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson in your thoughts and prayers.  I am sure these people are hurting – and the media circus around it  is shameful.  We can make things better by staying grounded and remembering what’s important – to show respect for those who’ve lost loved ones.

Love you people!  Mmmmmmmphhhhhuuuuhhhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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Blog content copyright 2009, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious 

If you are new here, welcome!  We have a TON of fun in here, dishing on the latest blunders, fantastic achievements, celebrity events, and zany-in-general things I find myself involved in.  There is all manner of name dropping, sexual innuendo, or what-have-you, and it’s a place where people come to let their hair down, and live vicariously – through – ehem – ME.

So, back to the idea of a SHOW about  – well – ehem – ME:  Of course the potential for internet was always a part of the mix, and an obvious option, but neither one of us were aware of any one online show or series that particularly excited us.  Plus, M.C. is use to doing things the traditional way.  You know, putting together a pitch, kissing ass and hoping someone sees the beauty, coolness, edginess, raciness and/or incredible potential in your little project — which apparently doesn’t always work — BASTARDS.

It was then (last Sunday) that our trusty bartender-(from the World Cafe in Santa Monica)-turned friend Miranda Allgood told us all about what she and her partner, Helenna Santos have been working on (I always use aliases to protect the identity of my peeps in Ms. Cheevious-land, but their names are real here, people. They want you to know about their fantastic project – and so do I).

Nuggie and I were just a tad skeptical about the whole thing when Miranda invited us to the launch party for the premiere of their baby, The Day Player.

Promotional photo for The Day Player

I’m not sure what we expected, but it was probably somewhere along the lines of the quality of the M.C. Nugget reveal video – (damn teamsters)!  Instead, we were pleasantly surprised, inspired and thrilled, to say the least! 

I could spend numerous key strokes telling you about the little webisode, but I’d rather just send you there.  GO.  It will be worth every minute (and there are only four of them).  Nuggie always says, “The more you rave about something, the less people like it.” So just GO — it’s F-O-U-R  freakin’ minutes! Here’s the link: The Day Player (www.thedayplayer.com).  Plus, if you want to help this endeavor, which I HIGHLY SUGGEST, and you want the potential of being a type of “producer” of the upcoming web series, go here (or follow the link www.indiegogo.com/thedayplayer).  I did, and you’ll want to once you see it.

Tune in next week for more funny tales with tons of chicks, drinks, fire trucks & hot guys doing — for goddsakes people, it’s Ms. Cheevious!  Just tune in, would ya!?

And, whatever your plans, have a fabulously fantastic weekend my lovely men and women (after you watch The Day Player, that is)! 

Love you people!  Mmmmmmmmphhhhhuuuuhhhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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Blog content copyright 2009, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious 

Small Gestures Make a Big Difference
Common Courtesy

We often feel that we don’t have the time or energy to extend ourselves to others with the small gestures that compose what we call common courtesy. It sometimes seems that this kind of social awareness belongs to the past, to smaller towns and slower times. Yet, when someone extends this kind of courtesy to us, we always feel touched. Someone who lends a helping hand when we are struggling with our groceries makes an impression because many people just walk right by. Even someone who simply makes the effort to look us in the eye, smile, and greet us properly when entering a room stands out of the crowd. It seems these people carry with them the elegance and grace of another time, and we are always thankful for our contact with them. Common courtesy is a small gesture that makes a big difference.

An essential component of common courtesy is awareness and common sense—looking outside yourself to see when someone needs help or acknowledgment. As a courteous person, you are aware that you are walking into a room full of people or that your waiter has arrived to take your order. Then, awareness leads to action. It is usually quite clear what needs to be done—open the door for the woman holding the baby, move your car up two feet so another person can park behind you, acknowledge your sister’s shy boyfriend with a smile and some conversation, apologize if you bump into someone. A third component is to give courtesy freely, without expecting anything in return. People may not even take notice, much less return the kindness, but you can take heart in the fact that you are creating the kind of world you want to live in with your actions.

When you are out in the world, remember to be aware of others, lend your hand when one is needed, and give this help without an ulterior motive. Through these small actions, you make this world a better place in which to live.

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Wasn’t that lovely, and yet so very true?! 

Sadly, there is ONE thing I take issue with – the fact that they call it “Common Courtesy.”  Courtesy is anything but COMMON!

It is that rare jewel we are pleasantly surprised by — often times when we need it most — and sometimes when we are least deserving.  We stumble upon it if we are lucky enough to be graced by someone who gently wields it, or if we are aware of our surroundings, looking into the world with hope and gratitude.

Like they say “What goes around, comes around.”  This weekend, my pretty people, I’d like to challenge you to become a commoner .  Yep – me – Ms. Cheevious – the very essence of all things uncommon – is asking each and everyone of you  to become a purveyor of “common” courtesy – and do so with grace, kindness and an overall positive attitude.  I promise, if you bestow just one small gesture of kindness upon a perfect stranger, you will shine like no other, and be nothing less than uncommon and priceless.

Have a beautifully common weekend everyone!

Love you people!  Mmmmmmmmphhhhuuuuuhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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On a side note – here’s a SHOUT to all my hot mommy readers out there.  You ROCK. 

But after a lovely brunch, M.C. Nugget took me to the Sagebrush Cantina.  I went last summer with him as well, and I tell ya – there was some MISBEHAVIN’ ’ going on for sure! 

This time around, it seems we hardly even scratched the surface of being MISCHIEVOUS.  I was too preoccupied to be my old fun self.  M. C’s attorney friend was there, and I had to give him a hard time about his philosophies on tipping – namely to hard-working single moms – which is a subject dear to my heart.  Mr. Attorney doesn’t think he should “have” to tip more because some lady decided to get pregnant out of wedlock, or get divorced, or whatever.  I know.  Simple minded.  It’s his prerogative to not tip more, true, but his reasoning was asinine.  Believe me, I could have spent all day giving him other sides of the coin — things like “what about the moms that are deserted?”  — or whatever.  It didn’t warrant the energy, however.  Another time perhaps. 

This post is extremely short, however, because:

1.  I have been crazy busy over the last three weeks. 

2.  It isn’t going to let up any time real soon, because I scrambled all last week to fly to Chicago.  That’s right. Chi-town.  Randomesq (a very bright and witty blogger friend) and I were all set for a reunion of sorts.  A client of mine is holding a conference for the second May in a row, and last year Random and I met for the first time, after “meeting” on the blogosphere, for dinner and drinks.  It was divine.  I said it then and I’ll say it again, “That Randomesq is a real lady killer.” Last minute changes to my flight, however, prevented our getting together.  Sniff Sniff.

3. I am now sitting in Chicago, about to attend the conference Day 2, and have had my fill of Twittering for them. (Is it possible for me to get sick of technology, I ask??) I don’t know how some of these social media companies do that.  It is really exhausting!

Okay lovely ladies and gorgeous gentlemen, it’s time for me to fly. No pun intended.  Tomorrow M.C. and I fly back to Los Angeles.  Off to a crazy fun Memorial Day weekend! 

I will try to send up a smoke signal again!  If not, I’ll get back on track next week and fill you in on my exciting adventures at 1) the Bad Girls party, 2) a fabulous celebrity party thrown by my celebrity friends, and 3) all those other fun little things I have been doing to warrant the new nickname: Ms. Behavin.

Have a WONDERFUL weekend everyone!

Love you people!  Mmmmmmmphhhuuuuhhhhh!!!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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It was my first time seeing The Boss live.  What can I say?  He IS the Boss – and I was a Boss virgin. 

Prior to the show I remembered that back in my MTV production and Super Bowl half-time show days, I interacted with a member of the E Street Band, named Nils Lofgren.  I was working the CBS Superbowl Bash, and managed to score he and his wife box seats for the game.  He gave me a cd of his, and told me if he could ever return the favor to let him know.  I wasn’t a die-hard Bruce fan, and had never really gotten into the music, so I never gave it another thought — not until I mentioned it in passing to McNug, that is.  Nuggie is THE BIGGEST Springsteen fan on the planet. 

So, I retraced my steps back in time and somehow managed to get in touch with Nils, who happily got us band seats at face value, and threw in free passes to the “E Street Lounge.”  Don’t get too excited.  The “lounge” was actually a large empty room, with a bar and a bartender in it. Drinks were NOT on the house, and there was nowhere to sit.  What we thought would be back-stage hob-nobbing, was more like a scene where we “unimportant” folk stared blankly at each other, wondering how we ended up in this thrown together pup-tent. Pfuhhhh!! 

Okay, at first I was shocked and somewhat disappointed.  Imagine my surprise when I walked in, thinking we’d be getting some sort of special treatment, at least comparable to BOX SEATS at the SUPER BOWL in NEW ORLEANS, and there we were in Sports Arena wasteland?  To top it off, the drinks were tiny, and ten bucks each. But, true to form, McNug and I made the best of it.  We found an ATM (of course, all vendors accepted cash only), had some drinks, grabbed some grub and found our way to our fantastic seats – SECOND ROW, stage left! They were AWESOME.

And after hearing from others in the industry who frequently get special passes to the Boss shows, there was really no special treatment to be had.  What we got – the good tickets and the E Street Lounge – was IT.  So in the end, we felt sufficiently special.  And I tell ya – those rappers – they are HARD to please.  So I suppose I staged a MAJOR ku in that case.

I snapped a few shots of MC and Bruce for everyone – just to show how great our seats really were.

I don’t know who was trying to grab Nuggie there, but it was a feeding frenzy as soon as we took our seats.  Concert officials almost asked us to leave because he was stealing all the attention away from Bruce. HA!  Just kidding, of course!

That night I realized what a truly special guy M.C. is.  He could have complained about the “Lounge,” especially given what kind of star treatment he is accustomed to – and I am not just joking here.  Let’s not forget, all kidding aside, that the REAL guy I date has done some incredible things in entertainment, and been treated pretty special.  But he was so great, and we had – as always – a really FANTASTIC time.

Gotta run kiddies.  I’m off to the start of a crazy week of incredible adventures. MC Nugget and I are attending the infamous annual Half-a-Ween party this weekend, where we’re sure to resurrect our sexy pirate costumes!  Ahoy Mateys! Arrrrghhhh! Then we celebrate his birthday on Cinco de Mayo, and next weekend we have celebrity parties to attend, and – well, the list goes on.  Try and keep up.

Love you people!  Mmmmmmmphhhuuhhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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You are FINALLY being treated to the real and true identity of my boyfriend!

Watch and learn!

Tune in next week when I actually dish on my Boss (Springsteen) experience! 

Love you people! Mmmmmphhhuhhhh!

xoxo,
Ms. Cheevious

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They call New Mexico the “Land of Enchantment.”  I have never been so sure what they meant by that -  and who are “they” anyway?  I grew up in New Mexico, and I never felt that enchanted.  From as early as I could articulate it, I insisted on living elsewhere.  I’m not trying to come down on the place, I swear.  I know, there are many merits to living in the high desert, I’m sure.  The skies are blue, the air is clean, the mountains and plains are breathtakingly beautiful at times, yada yada. 

I guess it just never grew on me.  At the age of ten, I begged my mom to let me move to Pontiac, Illinois to live with my grandmother.  For some reason I saw more chance of excitement in Small Town USA  then I hoped for in The Land of Entrapment (a name created by those of us who lived there our entire lives).  But my mom (of course) would have none of it. You were trapped there because you either wanted to be there, or because, well, for some reason you just couldn’t seem to get outta Dodge.

So, this past weekend, Fred the Wonder Chicken and I ventured out to the desert to pay a much needed visit to my beautiful mother, Nereide Frances Padalino (her real name).  She had a stroke last year, and is still in rehab, recovering.  I was a little sketchy on traveling back to town on my own, because, well – for one thing, the last few times I’ve gone, the accommodations were not all that comfortable (I couldn’t stay at my mom’s house, because other siblings had moved in to help out, and the places I ended up staying were either unfamiliarly uncomfortable or I froze to death – thanks Wackie – ha ha!). And for two, frankly, I’ve lost touch with most of the friends I knew growing up, or they moved away long ago, so there was rarely much to do on visits with my mom out of the social picture. The remaining sisters and brothers in town were all leading their own busy lives, and it just always seemed to be an exhausting prospect to have one – more – sibling come to visit, than it was an occasion to get out and do things.

This time was different.  FWC and I stayed with my girl Prissy and her dog Skimpy.  If you are new to my blogs, welcome!  I am so glad to have you!  But you should know that everyone here, aside from me, has an alias, even “Prissy’s” dog!  I’m all about protecting the identities of those I write about! 

Prissy and Skimpy live in a beautiful loft-style condo overlooking the sprawling beauty of Albuquerque.  It is most beautiful at night, when the view of the city lights is unparalelled. 

We arrived to town, and here is what we did and where we went:

Wii Bowling. On Friday night, after dining someplace nice, FWC and I unloaded our bags at Prissy’s only to find she had just bought and installed the Wii in her living room, with her big screen plasma tv.  BONUS!  We played Wii Bowling and drank wine and tequila (FWC and Prissy drank the tequila – I couldn’t stand the stuff) until 3 o’clock in the morning.   

Zinc Cellar Bar.  On Saturday, FWC and I tooled around after visiting my mom.  We bought ourselves some tasty cigars (mine was White Chocolate Truffle Irish Cream flavored!  ha ha!), and then got ready for our big Saturday night.  We started at Zinc Cellar Bar.  This place was cool!  The upstairs housed its fine-dining restaurant, while the basement – the Cellar Bar – was a venue for some of the southwest’s greatest eclectic bluesy musicians.  It was also the setting for FWC’s first introduction to my crazy, zany family.  What a fun evening that was.  We drank wine, shared appetizers and listened for a moment to the blues band they brought in for the night.  Of course, FWC was a hit with everyone.  They all wanted to touch his feathers (HA). When everyone else left, FWC, Prissy, my brother Odee (named after the cool purse company he has – Odechala – where they make purses out of very cool cigar boxes) and his adult son (my nephew) determined we were not quite done for the evening.  So we moved on to the next happenin’ spot. 

Below are some of the family, with FWC sandwiched in.  Prissy is at the forefront, then my little nephew, me, FWC, and my brother Odee.

Here is a nice shot of the Cellar Bar:

Imbibe.  We didn’t want our evening to end so early, and we certainly didn’t want our brand new cigars to go to waste, so we walked next door to the popular cigar bar, Imbibe.  It had a really cool atmosphere, and big screen tv’s so we could watch the final four games that were on that night.  We sat at the bar, sipped cognac and B&B, smoked our yummy cigars, and hob-nobbed with the rest of Albuuquerque’s elite. 

 The outside of Imbibe, shown below – shows what is very common architecture in this part of town called Nob Hill.  It is a traditional Southwest adobe, with some neon accents:

Here is one side of the bar at Imbibe (there are two rooms).  I never realized how the inside of the building is kinda cigar shaped!

I have to say, it was FUN, and dare I say it?  I left Albuquerque feeling just a little enchanted.  Yup.  Me. 

Just goes to show, perceptions and feelings – no matter how strong – are not always accurate, nor are they permanent. 

Stay tuned next week kiddies, when I bring you some news from the glitzy side of life in Hollywood.  I’ll be dishing on my backstage frolicking at my first ever Bruce Springsteen concert.  The Boss can’t have any idea what’s in store!  Hee hee!

Have a sunny and spring-ish weekend everyone! 

Love you people!  Mmmmmmmphhhuuuhhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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When Fred and I walked the boardwalk yesterday, we couldn’t find Vector guy, but we found plenty of other interesting folks.  And here is my summary:

 1.  Venice Beach is way cool.  I am not cool enough for that place.

2.   You will notice, and I hate that I feel compelled to say this, but uhm – I dressed down for this – okay?  No glam stuff here.  As a matter of fact, you may not even recognize me.  HA!  But it was fun.

3. Watch it for yourself, and give us YOUR summary, why don’t you? 

After viewing this, I hope you can go out there and have a TOTALLY COOL weekend boys and girls! I am off to Albuquerque, New Mexico for yet another adventure!

Love you people!   Mmmmmmmphhhhuuuhhhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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I met a grandpa sort of guy there, sitting next to me at the bar.  I like to sit at the bar in those types of places.  You never know who you’ll meet.  It also makes for an excellent inside view into the inner-workings of the restaurant.  You wouldn’t believe what goes on. 

As soon as I sat down with my Financial Times, Weekend Edition, I could see out of the corner of my eye that Grandpa was ogling it, enviously.  It was hard to miss. I couldn’t help but notice him trying to read the orange rag from his seat.  I had two editions, actually, stacked on top of each other.

“Are those your papers?” He finally asked. He must have realized he was far too obvious. 

“Yes, they are. If you’d like, you can read this one,” I said motioning to the week-old issue, “I’m pretty much finished with it.”

“Well, that’s the old one,” he said, obviously disappointed. 

“Well, yes it is,” I agreed, “Sorry.  If I finish it while I’m here, you’re welcome to it.” 

That began a brief relationship that lasted, oh, about an hour or so – over the course of which, we commented on the economy, the stimulus package (I learned this old Jewish grandpa was a conservative, and in addition to asking for my fax number to send me an article written by Michelle Malkin on the stimulus, also wanted to know my blog address, so he could check it out), and I learned that he was the proud grandpa of some very industrious kids. 

His grand-daughter Coco wanted to buy herself a horse, and in order to do so, decided to sell the eggs that her chickens were laying on a daily basis.  She made a real business out of this.  She sells to neighbors and nearby markets, and had to turn down an order from a five star restaurant in the area, because she just couldn’t boost her production!  It’s based out of Sonoma County, California and it’s called Coco’s Cluckers. 

Pretty industrious, indeed.  The website, it turns out, was put together by her slightly older brother.  Check that site out!  These kids are doing things you and I never dreamed of at eight and ten years old! 

What a cool world we live in!

It occurred to me today, that I may have never been graced with such ingenuity, had I not been willing to 1) go to a restaurant by myself (something that actually bothers some women I know); 2) sit at the bar next to a somewhat odd looking, (interesting in my book) person; and 3) converse with this old grandpa. 

But I like people.  Not only that, I like all kinds of people – old, fat, skinny, messy, dressed-to-the-nines, and uptight kinds of people. I am not intimidated nor do I shy away from expanding or extending my circle just a little more, to include a quirky old grandpa, and his precocious little grand kids. 

Pretty cool that I met him, and was subsequently encouraged that our nation of youth are not all playing video games all day long, and wasting away their formative years, eh?

This week, my younger son is visiting me from New Mexico – where he lives with his dad.  He is thirteen.  He is interested in some cool things too.  He lifts weights, rides motor-cross,  snowboards, and plays the guitar and the drums. 

But I hope some of me does eventually rub off on him.  I want him to realize the value of discovering every single diverse, unique and quirky kind of person that crosses his path.

Tomorrow we are braving the wilds of Six Flags, Magic Mountain.  I’m sure we’ll have our chance to extend our circles there!

Have a fantastic weekend everyone!  And please – really DO enjoy every person, and every moment! 

Stay tuned next week, when I dish on life in Venice Beach!  If I am feeling really “industrious” like Coco, maybe I’ll even shoot some video for you!

Love you people!  Mmmmmmphhhhuuuhhhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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Fred the Wonder Chicken had a friend in town from Pennsylvania last week.  That guy is one big FUN event after another waiting to happen!  He was like the Ever Ready Bunny (or is it Energizer Bunny?) of good times! 

Now, I’m only telling you this, because I know some of you think I am a goodie two-shoes.  Well, I’m not.  Okay? Let me set the record straight. 

I am cool.  I am a bad ass, dancing fool.  I love to get out, flutter around the bar or restaurant, say hello to everyone, and if necessary, cause trouble.

So, guess what?  FWC, his Pennsylvania trouble making friend and I got kicked out of a bar on Saturday night.  Yup! Me, Ms. Cheevious – the Goodie Two-Shoes of Los Angeles got BOUNCED from a BEACH BAR! 

Okay, so to hear them tell it, I gotta’ say (because it sounds better), that our departure from the premises was a mutual decision between the management and our party.

But here’s the low down: 

We all know how I like to get my groove on, right?  Well, I was the one who begged to go to this particular dance club on Main Street in Santa Monica.  It just looked cool.  From the outside it looked like I could groove all night long, and love every minute of it.  But looks can obviously be deceiving. 

As the evening progressed, and I was dancing, minding my own business, having a nice little time – the music began to get progressively more difficult to dance to. It became sort of that whole “techno” music vibe. I hate techno.  I hate dancing to it. You can’t sing to it.  What is the point?  I think techno was invented to drive people crazy, and make them want to kill themselves.

So after a few songs that all sounded exactly the same, with that same stupid, annoying beat, and after I’d had a few cocktails, I approached the DJ to ask if I could request a song.  

That was the first mistake. 

He was NOT happy I was asking.  As a matter of fact, he was just plain mean about it.  To my surprise, however, he managed to growl in his cockney, British accent, “What you want to hear?” 

So – have I told you that I am blond?  Of course I have – to those of you veterans, reading this.  But to you new folks – have I told you that I’m blond? 

I could be convinced to REALLY think it is something in the dye.  I’m sure there is some way for it to seep into the brain – and right at the moment when you are trying to pull up something really clever, it steals your thoughts from you.  Gone. 

Particularly on days when you’ve just had your hair done.  Saturday was one such day for me.

So, I stuttered and stammered a bit, before blurting out, “Brittany?” only to feel the urge to dodge a spit wad from the guy.  He was that kinda guy.   “NO!  I’m NOT PLAYING ANY BRITTANY!” 

Ya’d think the guy would at least have a smile on his face as he rejected me, especially since he was jabbing a sharp, steal blade into my soul with his evil eyes.  But no.  This guy was ANGRY. 

So, of course I thought I just had to do better.  So, what did I suggest?  “Madonna?” 

That was the second mistake.

Can you  BLAME ME?  I am BLOND, I had some drinks, and in trying to be COOL for the COOL BRITISH BLAH BLAH DJ, I was just pulling up anyone out there that I knew had a new album out! 

“I’M NOT PLAYING MADONNA!  NO! GET OUT OF HERE.  GO AWAAYYY.” 

So, have you ever seen a baby deer – a doe, freeze in front of a car?   You know how they get those big saucer eyes? 

Well, that was me, after being punished by the DJ.  Only my eyes welled up with tears to boot.  HA HA!  What a wimp! 

I moped back over to our little corner, and immediately Fred the Wonder Chicken knew something was wrong.  I told him what had happened, and before I could say anything he jumped up to go tell that guy how to talk to a lady.  My hero! Awe!  Ummmy, yummmmy!!!

I suppose push came to shove, (not literally), but FWC – after calling the guy a “DICK” or something of the sort – asked to speak to the manager.  Guess what?  The DJ just so happened to be the manager.

So, as we were leaving, with a couple of nicely dressed bouncers kindly walking alongside us, we made sure to say how sorry we were that they had to work for that DJ – and as FWC put it, “Such a DICK.”  One of the bouncers said to me, “Tell me about it.” 

So, I got bounced from a bar – but have a great story to tell because of it!

I hope you all get out there this Spring, get your grooves on, and get bounced from a beach bar as well!  Ha ha – Jussssst kidddddding!

Have a great weekend everyone!

Love you people!  Mmmmmmmpphhuuuhhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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Okay – so I am a little weird when it comes to commerce and society. I notice unique things about how businesses choose to promote themselves. I study the sides of 18 wheelers on the highway. I notice the color schemes they choose for the bed of their trucks, and the slogans they choose to use. Some would say it’s because of what I do for a living – marketing and publicizing everyone and everything – but I wonder about these things often.  So, I also notice the trends – for something even as basic as the names of businesses.

For instance, have you noticed for the past eight or ten years now, that the very trendy thing to do when naming a restaurant was to choose one word that described it – preferably something clever?  So, FOOD says it all doesn’t it? Although, one could argue it’s just not that clever.

Not too far from where I live, there’s a breakfast place called Toast, a fantastic steak house called Cut, and another called STK. Even the Japanese have joined the ranks of trendy restaurateurs. There’s Koi, Nobu, Matsuhisa, Katana, etc. There is Fig, Taste, Seed, Casa – oh the list goes on, and these are just the places I can rattle off which exist on the west side of Los Angeles. I’m sure there are thousands.

I think I have a pretty good track record of noticing or at least predicting that moment just before a trend reaches over-saturation. Ask any of my sisters who use to ask me to help them change their decor at home or come up with some new style or whatever. Maybe they were just being nice, but I tend to think it was because in my younger days I always tried to stay ahead of the curve. At my wedding, so many people thought it was absurd that I chose teal poofy bottom strapless dresses. They’d never seen them before. Well, they saw plenty after my wedding, but I was first. HA!  I don’t mean to sound egoccentric or anything.  I’m just giving you some background here.  It didn’t do so much for the longevity of my marriage, but my girls LOOKED MAHVELOUS!!  Ha!  But I digress — again. 

So, with all this in mind, FWC and I were talking about this very subject – restaurants and their short names.  I was stating how you can tell when something is well PAST over-saturation when EVERYONE and their MOTHER has jumped on the band wagon. Here’s a news flash:  The one-word trendy restaurant name, my friends, hit over-saturation long ago.  If you are looking to name your cute little corner of paradise, serving up only the yummiest of baked goods, something like “Dough” – don’t do it, unless it has real meaning — like you plan to charge an arm and a leg for every item as well, and eating there will cost your patrons tons of DOUGH.  I’m telling you that trend is OVER.

As we mused about this very thing, FWC came up with the brilliant and humorous next trend: exceptionally looooonnnng names for restaurants.

He said, “Yeah! The next hot spot will be ‘Our Place is the Best Restaurant Ever [pause], Because [pause] We Serve The Best Food. [pause] So You Should Only Eat Here. [pause] Okay? Okay!’”.

We cracked ourselves up on that one.  But then we decided, people are now trained to the one-word names, and would shorten it to “Okay,” which would be the end of that restaurant. 

They’d say, “Want to go eat at that new place, Okay?” and their friends would say, “Okay!  What’s it called?”  They’d answer, “Okay!”  Which would elicit the response, “Cool.  But. What is the restaurant called?”  

You get my drift. 

But I’d venture to say the trend for longer, more complex restaurant names is definitely on the near horizon, if not already in existence. And I say, GOOD RIDDANCE to the one-word anomaly!  Enough of this simplified life, already. We get it.

The same over-saturation point has happened for those long sleeved shirts that have that sort of tattoo look to them. You know the ones I’m talking about. They sport either an intricate tattoo design, fine art, or are “Indian chakra” inspired (just to name a few styles).  They’ve got everything from Celtic crosses to beautiful women with a third eye staring out at you.  I absolutely love them, and will continue to wear them, because – hey – I like them, and I don’t care if they’re hot and trendy or not. 

I’m not sure where these shirts got their origin, but I remember first buying them up at Nordstrom back in 1999 or 2000.  I remember the feeling of hitting “pay dirt,” fashionably speaking.  I knew I’d be one of the first to sport them, and it was such a thrill.  HA! As a matter of fact, I still have one of those first shirts – a short-sleeved rendition.

Now you can’t go to ANY store without seeing those very shirts, a knock-off , or some interpretation of sorts on the racks.  Even Target and Walmart have gotten into the game.  It’s enough to make Ed Hardy start drawing pencil sketched stick figures (heyyyyyy – that’s not a bad idea)! 

But you see?  That’s what we need!  I know society and trends go in cycles on their own.  People do eventually get sick of seeing the same thing over and over.  Then somehow, even though all we like sheep, who’ve gone astray, suddenly take our rose colored glasses off to take a look around, lay our eyes on all those other sheep in tattooed clothing, and wonder ‘where is the individuality?  why do we all look the same?”, we are still individualists at heart.  So we venture out to find that NEW Ed Hardy type-person, who is a renegade, and goes out on a limb to create some other COOL shirt.  Like maybe plain, solid white tees.  And the cycle starts all over again.

Remember when Michael Jackson donned the one-gloved hand, and suddenly every guy out there (if he had the guts to do it) was wearing one glove, a black leather jacket with an up-turned collar, and patchwork jeans?  Some paradigm shift in the universe had to take place to make that one go away, but it did happen.  One day, all those MJ look-a-likes got wise to the scene, and sought out the next new thing. Thank GOD it wasn’t SPEEDOS!

Okay – so what is the point of all this nonsense anyway, you may ask?  Why, to fill your brain with useless information of course!  Besides, how in the world could I sleep at night if I thought my readers were not aware of when a trend was about to hit over-saturation?  Oh my GOD, help! We can’t have THAT.

But the truth is, I think we should all wear exaclty what we want, never caring whether too many other people are wearing the same thing. We should name our restaurants or businesses whatever the hell we want, and be GLAD we have the freedom to do so. Listen – I do love those trendy shirts, and you will see me wearing them – because they just seem so, well, ME.  If you want to be a true fashionista and only wear what is hot and trendy, then do it! If you want to wear cut-off jean shorts and a ratty tee shirt with paint splattered on it, I’d applaud you. But this whole thing was a simple exercise in the contemplation of trends and how they reach over-saturation, un-kay?  So, don’t get all up in my grill if you see me wearing something passe and making an over-saturated fashion statement!  I know some of you.  You’ll do it.

Now, go out there and have a fabulously trendy, or an incredibly mundane fashion weekend you beautiful men and women! 

Love you people!  Mmmmmmphhhuuuhhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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I missed you last week! I apologize.  I was exceptionally busy with work last week, and as much as my blog was on my mind, there wasn’t a SINGLE moment to spare to get a post out to you! 

But I have to say, it was probably a good thing I was working.  The way CNN and MSNBC and the whole lot of them are talking, I am the only one out there who is!   But hey – I’m here to help.  Just plop that big ole mess of an economy on my desk.  You, me and all my friends will spend as much time as it takes (since none of you have anything to do now) to figure it out and settle this thing once and for all.  Ha! We’d probably do a pretty damn good job of it too.

If you are new here, welcome!  I’m so happy to have you!  Please – enjoy your stay! 

So – since I feel compelled to keep the nation’s workforce of ONE busy working, I thought I’d try to do a quickie this week, so I can get back to my other job.  I decided I would jot down some of the things I’ve been musing about – as they have occurred to me recently.  As you’ll see, I didn’t do a great job of being quick or to the point.  But hey, it’s FUN.  So here you go:

1.  I think our President is the most natural, real guy who’s been in that office in a very long time. (This one is serious.  I observed it during his State of the Union Address).

2.  I am really TICKED OFF at the airlines.  Yep.  At the Delta curb just about a week ago while checking in, the sky cab said just their desk had made over a MILLION dollars in revenue in the previous month.  Do you know what that revenue was from boys and girls?  You know those BAGGAGE FEES the airlines instituted back in June because they couldn’t afford to pay for fuel – back when some of us were paying over $4.00/gallon?  Yep.  That’s right.  Just that ONE sky cab station earned over a MILLION buckaroos in baggage fees in ONE month!  Here I thought they’d be cancelling those fees now that gas is HALF the price it was back then.  HA.  I think we should organize a boycott. From now on, it’s Amtrak or Greyhound for all of us, kiddos.

3. Which brings me to my next musing:  Fred the Wonder Chicken said this half jokingly, when Captain “Sulley” from US Airways landed the plane safely in the Hudson river. I fear he was hauntingly accurate.  He said “Next, the airlines will be making money off the good pilots!  They’ll say, “Well, Captain Sulley is flying this particular flight.  We can sell you a seat, but it’ll cost ya.!”"  He was RIGHT.  Just Tuesday (2/24/09), the airlines, in a bold move, brought Sulley in to testify before congress.  Those congress-people thought they were getting a pleasant visit from the flight crew of that US Airways flight.  I don’t know where the airlines get off, but they sent that heroic pilot in there to complain that they don’t have enough money to pay good pilots!! What kind of nonsense is THAT?  He said that the airlines can’t AFFORD  it.  He said that 3000 hours or more of flight time use to be required to get hired (way back when), and now they’ll take someone with 300 hours.  Okay people.  Am I missing something here?  Is it OUR fault they’ll hire pilots to fly their 500 million dollar planes who graduated from Joe’s School for Flight Training & Cosmetology (and Hot-Dog Stand) in Guthrie, Oklahoma?  GET a GRIP!  Does NO ONE out there know how to run a business, and make it WORK?  What the HECK is going on over there?  And the GALL of them turning around and charging us extra baggage fees on top of giving us SECOND RATE pilots!!  But hey, what about that prediction by FWC?  Be careful what you say, that’s all I’m sayin.

4. OH!  I almost forgot!  This one is probably the most important!  Especially to you girly romantic girls out there!  Fred the Wonder Chicken gave me DIAMONDS for Valentine’s Day!  Can you believe it?  Yep.  I know.  Took him long enough, right?  There were two of them.  Two BLACK DIAMONDS.  Yep.  While skiing Ajax (in Aspen, Colorado) over Valentine’s Weekend he accidentally led me to a ski run called something like T-1 or T-3 .  Isn’t that just so wonderful? He’s such a romantic.  The cascading cliffs with their jagged rocks, protruding out of the snow for me to see as I stumbled toward them.  The dense foliage and trees, with the beautiful giant white moguls in between.  And it wasn’t just beautiful for the eyes and mind to see, it was an incredible experience.  I can’t tell you how incredibly pristine it felt getting in there with nature, rubbing my ass down the side of the hill as the snow slowly crept up my back and down my pants, clinging to my skin, turning it a beautiful shade of blue.  But seriously – as hairy scary as it may have or could have been, we had a FANTASTIC time!  I laughed so much, at one point I wanted him to video tape it for all of you to see.  But, I got down to the bottom of the hill and decided to sit at the bar while FWC got in a few more runs.  Do you blame me?  The locals there said those runs are really DOUBLE Double Black Diamonds. So see?  FWC really DOES care!  He gave me FOUR big giant diamonds! hee hee!

5.  Okay – I’m a pretty good skier.  At least I think so.  Plus, I’m in pretty decent shape.  I work out five days a week, if at all possible.  I try to eat right.  But that trip was EXHAUSTING.  Was it the altitude, the fun and revelry every night, the skiing or the combination that made me want to sleep for three days after that trip?

I’m ready for some down time.  How about you?

Have an incredibly beautiful weekend everyone!

Love you people!  Mmmmmmmphhhhuuuuhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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Have a heart, though.  I have to do it.  It really IS Valentine’s Day weekend coming up.  Can you blame me?  But since most of my readers tend to be Ms. Cheevious proteges, ascribing to my personal mantra: Enjoying Every Moment - I am posting something for them.  It’s a little something I wrote last year for Be Three - a website for hot, hip, and healthy chicks. My piece was called “Solo Girl’s V-Day Survival Kit.” The wonderful folks at Be Three didn’t post my piece as it was written (they edited it to suit their girls) – and that was their prerogative. So I’m giving you guys the unedited, unabridged, XXX rated version. 

HA!  Just kidding. 

Here’s to YOU – all of you incredible, single, lovely girls (and boys, of course).  If you are new here, welcome!  We are so glad to see you!  And, if you aren’t single, share this with your single friends.  They’ll get a kick out of it! 

I dare any one of you people who are flying solo this weekend to take me up on these survival tips:

Single Girl’s V-Day Survival Kit

Valentine’s Day is just around the corner. Sigh.  It’s not that you’re anti-romance.  It’s that you’re one of 89 million Americans who aren’t “coupled up” this year. Tired of seeing cheesy expressions of love plastered on every form of media known to man? Afraid you might launch into a wild, frenzied attack on the Hallmark shop lady? Stop yourself.  Try these bold alternatives and keep your pink, candy-hearted butt from going to jail:

·         Host an Un-Valentine’s Day Party:  Leave it open to all singles. Themes like As Single as I Wanna’ Be (about the bliss of single life), or I’d Rather Be Single Than with My Ex (an ex-orcising party) will change your opinion of “Love-Day” for good!

·         Eat a TON of Chocolate.  I’m not kidding.  A TON. Test all the theories about chocolate’s health benefits.  Begin eating at 9 AM and don’t stop ‘til 9 PM. Video tape everything. If you come out alive, post your video on YouTube, and proclaim once and for all that SEX really IS better than chocolate. Everyone will applaud your “no guts, no glory” approach, and you’ll get your 15 minutes of fame. Especially if you video tape the sex part (ha ha!)

·         Get out! Take your single friends to all the dating hot spots.  Smile broadly and toast the freedoms of being single in front of all those ball-n-chainers! You’ve always said you don’t have a chance in hell of meeting the perfect guy anyway.  It’s good to be proven right. You’ll also prove to yourself that you’re fine just as you are!

The end result? Pure satisfaction at being “un-coupled” and a deeper appreciation for freedom and friendship.

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Have a FABULOUSLY FREE weekend everyone! 

Love you people!  Mmmmmphhhuuhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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Blog content copyright 2009, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious 

Shake your groove thing, shake your groove thing, yeah yeah. 

Show ‘em how we do it now!

Hello there you incredibly beautiful, vibrant people!  I trust after my  “Brand Spanking New – Year” post, you’ve had an incredible week, commanding your world.  Am I right?  I certainly hope so!

It has been a FANTASTIC week for me.  And I mean that in the true sense of the word:

Merriam Webster defines the 14th century word, Fantastic as:

By fantastic – I mean definition “c” above:  My week was so extreme, as to challenge belief. 

Ya’d think that someone who wrote with such conviction about not ascribing to the whole worry and fear campaign sweeping our nation could go on from that and have a phenomenal week – one without drama or circumstance, wouldn’t ya?

The truth is, the drama was mostly within ME.  But hang on a minute with me here.  This story does have a point – and you’ll know why I’m saying to shake your groove thang in a bit. 

It’s not that I had such an unbelievable week.  I had a week of incredible extremes – emotionally. And no, I don’t mean the girly “Do I look fat in this dress?” or “Why don’t you ever tell me you love me?” type of emotional extremes.  Those are girly extremes. I guess I don’t DO girly.  No, for me it was emotional on that same level I warned about last week.  I was extremely worried in one moment, and on top of my game in the next, fearful the next, but happy and content most of the way through.  I woke up not just one morning, but a few mornings with a feeling of incredible fear of what might happen.  I had thoughts that somehow I was not good enough to be where I was financially or professionally, or whatever. That I didn’t deserve my reality, as good as it was, and perhaps the challenges I was facing were deserved, and life as I knew it was about to change.  Everything I thought about was the antithesis of my reality, and of my normal thought patterns. It was stupefying and ridiculous, I know. 

So why would I be singing “Shake Your Groove Thing,” you ask?

All I can say is the one thing I did NOT do was lose my grip on the sense that I am better than “all that.”  On the fact that I know I attract what I want, what I do, what I say, and what I am determined to be.  I really do.  I always have.  I have watched it happen time and time again in my life – almost as though I were watching stop action film footage of the events. 

I knew all along that no matter what I FEEL, I AM the one responsible for what my world has become.  I knew I just needed to continue to stay focused, to put it out there, and to TRULY know it to be true.  I needed to be strong and make things happen.

So when I was faced with my own final challenge this week I did it.  I pulled myself up by my boot straps.  I pumped my brain full of all the things I needed to be armed with.  I surrounded myself with influential people – who would remind me of how to think.  I put my armor on (in my case it was a hot little business suit) and I went in prepared, knowing that everyone involved would be fortunate if I chose to be involved. 

Things went so well – it was everything I could have asked, and more.  So, on Thursday – the day I normally write and send this blog off into cyberspace – I went from tenuous soldier to champion within a matter of hours.  But I tell ya – it feels good to be a champ. 

And THAT, my friends, is why I am saying to “Shake Your Groove Thing!” 

You are incredible. You are dynamic. And I am thankful for you and your thoughts. 

Have a FANTASTIC (And I don’t mean extreme – unless you want it that way) weekend everyone!

Love you people!  Mmmmmmppphuuuuuuhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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Blog content copyright 2008, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious 

If only we could grasp the power of one little statement. 

Think about it.  If someone had intervened – and made a statement of protest – when a little Serbian company (called Zastava) decided it wanted to make cars, and then chose the name Yugo, perhaps they would have come up with an altogether better name – something really cool like Autobahn, or Millennium Cars.  And after such an intervention, just MAYBE that little company would have sold millions of cars in the United States – all because of one little statement like “Uh, hmmm.  That’s kind of a dumb name.”  Who knows?  Maybe they would have gone back into their focus groups.   That’s all I’m sayin’.  Instead the Yugo was voted Car Talk’s worst car of the millennium, and never made it past 1991 in the U.S.  When the plant closed in Yugoslavia, in November 2008, they had only sold a total of 794,428 cars.  (Of course, this is all from Wikipedia.  One can never trust that as a viable source).  But I digress.

I told my girlfriend Brit the name of this post yesterday (Brand Spanking New… Year).  She, being the bright, witty individual that she is, made this little statement, “Isn’t it a little late?” 

Whatever.  I’m not changing my post’s title.  That focus group stuff only works on big companies with no real connection to the real world!  Do you really think I’d succumb to the pressure?  PUHHH-LEEZ.  

If you are new here, welcome!  Happy New Year!  Happy Brand Spanking New Year!  These posts are normally fun, I promise.  But don’t let that scare you away. You may find this one fun, in its own way.  But we, as a collective community, DEFINITELY have a lot of fun here.  Posts tend to be a little flirtatious, flippant, frivolous — anything but ultra-serious.  But today is a little different.  I’ve been away for a while – traveling for the holidays and for business.  My last post was some time ago, and somehow I am back with something that is very important to me – so I am going to address it.  Here.

I realize it’s nearing the END of January, but I’m just getting started in this new year, and from the looks of things, we all need a little mood BOOSTER.   ALREADY!

So, here I – Ms. Cheevious – am coming to the rescue, with not just ONE, but SEVERAL little statements that are meant to remind you of how GOOD you have it, and perhaps provide you that little mood booster and motivator you’ve been looking for.

It’s the New Year, and it is TIME for some house cleaning people!  You know what I mean?  New Year, New Time, New President — and now — it’s time for a New Attitude.

Think about just this:  Every day we get ANOTHER BRAND NEW set of opportunities to make something happen for the better (for ourselves and for others)!

I’m on a mission.  I would love to get a consensus of all you lovely people reading this – but I know better.  Life is short, and busy, and we all get way too many e-mails, text messages, snail-mail, bills, voicemails and every other type of communication (on multiple platforms) – it’s just not right to expect people to take a survey or answer questions in their very valuable spare time. 

So, instead of asking what you think, I am going to take a huge leap here and assume I have the answers.  Did you expect anything else?

So, what happened people? 

What has happened to our overall sense of pride and ambition? 

What is it that caused this overwhelming sense of fear, and worry and dread that seems to have permeated our beautiful country, and why is everyone succumbing to it?  Don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about.  It’s so obviously present, you can almost touch and taste it.

What made you lose your nerve – your jutspa – your moxy? 

When did you lose the gumption to be determined to succeed, in spite of or regardless of what your friends, the economy, your co-workers, the DOW is/are doing?

THIS IS AMERICA – remember?  Regardless of what economic state, or what state of mind our country (or the rest of the world, for that matter) is in, this country – THE USA – the land of the free and the home of the brave – is STILL the best country in the world to live in.  I don’t care what other people (even famous celebrities) say or think.  We still have more opportunities, and enjoy the freedom to succeed and become whomever, or whatever we want – whatever we put our minds to – more than anyone in any other country in the world. 

How can we so easily fade and crumble?  Why does it seem like everyone is perpetuating this negativity that is invading our consciousness and our psyches?  It seems you can’t go to coffee, the drug store, stand in line at the grocery store without someone shooting a statement like this out into the air, and into my ears: “Yeah.  They probably won’t be able to hire me. It’s a tough economy! ”  Here I am.  Little ole’ me, minding my own business, trying to remain positive and determined to succeed, and I am being verbally, mentally and emotionally accosted by statements like that on a CONSTANT basis! 

Is it the rising tide of economic doom that floods our airwaves everyday? Or was it simply 2008?  Was 2008 a bad year for you? 

Awe.  I’m so sorry.  Poor Baby.  Get over it.  2008 is gone.  Bye bye. 

Okay – so I may sound like your mom, or my mom – well, hell, SOMEONE’s mom – but I remember the stock market crash of 1987.  Black Monday, October 19th.  Stories started circulating about stock brokers jumping out of their windows when the market crashed.  I was oblivious to the financial consequences, in a sense.  Okay – I was like 22 years old and had no money to put into the stock market. 

I wasn’t oblivious to the worry and fear that laid like a thick blanket over the country, though.  But hey, I was a single mom.  Allowing fear of the stock market crashing and jobs being lost to slow me down or inhibit my ability to provide a nice life for my son was not an option. 

I was in business for myself, and believe me – I started to notice.  I felt the pinch.  It took a while.  It was more like 1988, but my clients started combing over their invoices to see if I just might be over-charging them.  If there was some way to pay me less.  Some of my biggest clients really suffered and eventually even went out of business.  But guess what?  I found a way.  Things changed, and I had to adapt.  I ended up giving that business to one of my employees, and moving on to other things.  But my life went on, and things turned out okay.  I wouldn’t trade those experiences for the world, as hard as they were.  They led me to who I am today – to where I am today.

You’d think with that experience under my belt that I would be telling you a different story today.  You’d think I would be on the side of the gloom and doom that has infiltrated our minds.  I have the right to do it I suppose, if anyone does, because I have been there before.  I lost business over it before.

But I won’t promote those things.  The bad economy and all that entails has absolutely nothing to do with my own personal happiness, success, health or well-being.  It has nothing to do with yours either.

Remember those people from a few paragraphs up – the ones who said “They probably won’t hire me because it’s a bad economy”? I so want to say to them, “Yeah – you’re right.  They probably won’t hire you.  You’ve already decided your fate here. Why WOULD they hire you? Why don’t you just give up and quit talking and bringing everyone else down with you?”  I don’t mean to be harsh – but GEEZ. It isn’t just the economy, people.  WE have something to do with it – with our lousy attitudes, and the things we so readily agree to.

So – okay people.  It’s time for a reality check.

I saw a movie today that reminded me of how good we have it here.  It was based in India.  Those people live in slums.  Real slums.  And yet, they have joy.  They keep going and living, and making a life for themselves.  Sure there is poverty and sickness.  There always is, when humans are involved.

It’s just that I am awaiting the grand entrance of HOPE.  I am waiting with baited breath for the moment in time when we all feel the veil of mental worry lift from our homes, communities, cities and country.  It will be a truly incredible day when we can look back at this time and be glad we stood strong, and didn’t let things bring us down. Better yet, how much better it will be if we now, somehow find the focus, strength and determination to succeed and do exceedingly, abundantly better than ever, in spite of the current situation?  That my friends, is something I plan to do.  At least I’m working on it. 

You can do it too.  And you won’t be alone.  I tend to agree that smart, vivacious, lovely people like yourselves can accomplish anything you put your minds to.  So, do you care to join me?  Let’s conquer this, and move on to bigger and better things.

Love you people!  Mmmmmmphhhuuuhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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Blog content copyright 2008, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious 

Matt was a little pissed off at Santa, whom he said “hadn’t come through for him in a long f-ing time.” I paraphrased that just a tad.  His complaint? That “Santa’s fat ass had been getting lazy and given him nothing but gift certificates” over the last couple of years.  This made it perfectly acceptable for Matt to buy himself a gift on a recent visit to Sports Authority – even though he was there to buy gifts for his family.

SO Funny!  Welcome to Christmas in single adult world.  HA!  Oh sure, there are the gifts we exchange with friends, family and such, but it’s not at all like it was when we were kids, and mom and dad asked what we wanted.  Usually they asked with the actual intent of getting us at least one item on our list.  It started out when we were really young and could barely write, and mom would remind us to write our letter to Santa so he’d be sure to know what we wanted.  The disillusionment started then.  Santa just never seemed to get it right.  Then when I learned the truth about Santa – that he is just the guy to take pictures with at the mall, I realized my mom and dad were the culprits at never getting it right. There were multiple let-downs, because mom or dad thought they were satisfying me with a Barbie “look-alike” or some kind of nonsense like that.  I got pretty good at crafting my “Christmas list” as I grew up.  I got to where I was providing the manufacturer’s name, and store location where they could pick one up.  Little did I know that my determination to get what I wanted would be the driving force in developing some keen management skills in me as well.  HA!

By the way, who said Christmas is not about the gifts?  Well, whoever did clearly did NOT know what it was like at our house.  Listen, we were taught the true story of Christmas – how it was because of the birth of Christ and that it was suppose to be about giving rather than getting.  My mom and dad made sure of that.  And believe me – all that giving they did to me and my siblings rubbed off.  Just ask anyone that I care about around any sort of gift-giving time. 

But just imagine a home with a minimum of eight or nine kids (I am one of eleven kids, from the same set of parents).  My younger brother Johnny and I are the “babies,” and we were pretty spoiled around Christmas time.  Although, I am absolutely certain every single one of my siblings felt the same.  It’s because my mom had this fantastic way of making everything look so ultra festive and our living room – where the tree was always housed (apart from one trial year, where some artsy-fartsy sibling convinced mom to move it to the den for a “change” which really sucked, because of the hard marble floors), was like a department store – the Christmas tree was INCREDIBLE.  Our living room became un-walkable because of the PILES of gifts under and surrounding the tree. I remember Johnny and I sneaking out after midnight one year.  We even sat in the hall and waited for our mom and dad to finish their Christmas business, before we snuck out and counted our presents.  It was a good year.  We must have been around 5 and 7 or so, and we each had over 100 gifts!  This of course included every single thing, including the 24 Crayola Crayons wrapped alone, and the six little coloring books that were also wrapped individually.  My mom knew.  Perception was KING.  She wanted us to wake up in the morning, and see our eyes pop out of our heads at the fantastic sight.  And we did.  We knew not to let her down.

Anyhow, since then, growing up, going through marraige, divorce and raising my own kids, I’ve learned that the only way I am going to get exactly what I want is to buy it myself (okay – that’s not always the case – sometimes if I focus REAL hard, someone else gets me just what I want! HA!).  So, I’m sorry Santa, but I’m taking your job – at least in my own personal world.  Sorry.  I’ve just proven to be indispensable to myself, and well, let’s face it. You’ve been slacking on the job lately!

On another note, this year I took my older son to New York city for Thanksgiving.  It was his Christmas gift.  Next year, I’ll be smart.  He has a birthday in early January.  Next year, I’ll let him know it’s a COMBINATION Christmas and Birthday gift, if we are lucky enough to do something so extravagant again.  I just had NO idea how much money I would spend showing my son a good time in the Big Apple.  It was a small fortune.  Let’s just say his car cost me about the same.  It’s not an expensive car, as cars go, but hey – it’s an Infinity, and it ain’t half bad. 

On one of my days while in the city for some important PR appointments, I found myself on 5th Avenue.  Need I say more?  Probably not.  I could probably end this post right here and now, and you’d know what happened.  That’s because you are so very smart.  But, hey, I will give you the details nonetheless.

You see, there is this clothing designer called Free People.  I discovered them for myself this past summer, while “just browsing” at Bloomingdales.  That little browse cost a pretty penny too, but I LOVE those clothes.  One thing I learned, after my 5th Avenue experience is that buying these things at department stores is the way to go.  They are the only ones who mark things down as much as like 60%. 

So, I’m walking down 5th Avenue, minding my own business.  I had just finished my last appointment at Forbes Magazine, when I realized what a PRETTY street 5th Avenue is!  At least where I was between 14th and 15th streets.  It called to me.  The beautiful shops with their wood framed windows and majestic entrances.  I was doomed.  I simply HAD to explore – if only for the sheer architectural beauty!  As I meandered down the block, I was JUST about to hail a cab, thinking my browsing was over, when I saw the FREE PEOPLE store.  These people know how to make clothes, and they know how to LURE people like me into their store. 

I went in. 

I tried on.

Everything looked AMAZING.  I am NOT kidding.

Will someone please tell me?  Just WHEN does a female EVER try clothes on and say that everything looks AMAZING? Most women NEVER utter the word “amazing” in reference to ANYTHING about their body!

Never.

I even tried on these spandex leggings with gold zippers at the ankles.  They rocked – just before falling into my basket.

Many many dollars later, I was walking down 5th Avenue with my new Christmas gift to myself!

Done. 

The only people left to shop for were my younger son Graden, and a few good loves.  Now that I was out of the way, I could get some stuff done.

So Matt, I TOTALLY get it.  I bet after you bought yourself that workout bench, you were able to focus on everyone else!  Am I right?

Have an INCREDIBLE, LOVELY weekend everyone.  Don’t let the Grinches out there rob you of your sheer and utter JOY.  Just smile at everyone and tell them to have a beautiful, wonderful day.  And have some eggnog if that doesn’t work! Some good – strong – eggnog.

Love you people!  Mmmmmphhhhuuuuhhhhh!!!!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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Blog content copyright 2008, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious 

It’s sad, really.  Not because I have the fever, but because I only get like this around the holidays.  Nothing else gets me going like this.

Any other time of year, if I am busy at work, that’s what I do, and then I collapse in front of the television or curl up to read a good article or book in order to recuperate.  Not so during the holidays. 

I can be on my way to the airport, scrambling to catch a flight, and somehow manage to work a run to the drug store in (to shop for that perfect item that will finish off the perfect gift).  And it doesn’t frazzle me one bit.

It’s like I have this extra dose of adrenaline or something.  Perhaps I should call it Holiday Adrenaline. 

Here’s a little peek into my world over the next two days: 

Today:  Crazy busy with work. Somehow have to manage a run to the hardware store, and wrap some presents. Oh, and I want to go and do the “stairs” in Santa Monica, since I didn’t do pilates this morning.

Tonight – Hellooooo – it’s Thursday.  And it’s Thursday Night Football.  And the Saints are playing.  And they happen to be Fred the Wonder Chicken’s favorite team.  So, you know where I’ll be –  here at home, watching football – uh huh!  Eating Turkey Tacos!  YUMMM

Tomorrow – costco run, more work, Pilates at noon, hair appointment at 3PM, then a meeting with the guy who’s providing all the alcohol for my holiday party on Saturday!

Saturday – errands, decorating and set up for my holiday cocktail party.

Saturday night – PAR-TAY!!!

So, there you have it.  I won’t be surprised if I manage to add a few dozen other items to that list!  It’s pure mayhem I tell ya.  Or as FWC might argue, it’s a melee.

Well anyway – I just wanted to check in with you all, because one thing I am NOT able to do when I’m spinning a thousand plates, is muster up the creativity to write a proper blog!  At least not this week! 

But tune in NEXT week when I promise to serve up a fantastic Holiday DISH.

Have a wonderful, eventful weekend everyone!

Love you people!  Mmmmmphhhhuuuuhhhhh!!!!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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I love W Hotels, don’t you?  So, warm, sleek and inviting.  Only the pretty people go the W.  I guess I am lucky they let ME in! ha!  You know, on a side note, the W Hotel goes down in my own personal history book as THE major influence on current day home fashion.  For me, it was the W that blazed the trail in the simple and refined look of today.  The dark woods, ambient lighting, lounge style, simple sofas and tables.  And the guest rooms as well – with their over-stuffed, high-lifted feather beds.  Those things looked like giant pillows of comfy clouds just waiting to be climbed into and snuggled.  But I digress.

Anyhow, on this most recent trip (when I had my flashback), my friend G-love and I were sitting in the lounge after watching my nephews band “Ruffian Arms” play at a place on the lower east side called Arlene’s Grocery.  I mentioned it to an old friend of mine (an ex), who is/was a band and music artist manager and use to be an exec at several top record labels, and upon hearing that my nephew’s band was playing there (I suppose he thought my nephew might be playing the bar mitzvah of the singer’s cousin’s son, or something), he said in a somewhat surprised tone, “Oh! That’s a GREAT venue!”  So, needless to say I was a proud aunt.  And let me just say, it was AWESOME!  The band takes risks – all the guys dress in stripper red platform, high-heeled lace-up boots, and my nephew wore a black Tina Turner style wig, and some other funky stuff (a carpenter apron with red paint splashed on it, and not much else, I suppose), and the lead singer wore a black sequined sort of one piece swim suit, a big bouffant red wig and a tiara.  But they were SUCH a FUN and talented band.  It reminded me of a cross between the B-52′s and the Talking Heads – then throw some punk in there.

Anyhow, we watched the show, had a couple beers with my nephew, then headed up town to the W.  When we walked in I was transported to another time and day in NYC, when I was at the Blue Fin bar in the W Hotel Times Square.  At that time, I was sitting there having drinks with a friend, minding my own business.  I didn’t think I was looking all that “hot” that evening.  I wore my hair curly, because I was running late, and in order to keep warm, I was fairly bundled up with my jeans tucked into my boots.  All of the sudden a couple of guys stopped by our little corner, the cute one, sitting himself right next to me.  I’ll call him Slick (think ‘Greasy’ – you’ll see why in a moment).

He was quite charming, ole Slick.  And REALLY cute.  We actually had quite a lot in common.  So, we exchanged phone numbers, because one of his “crew” wanted to head out to the next place on their list. 

So, the rest of my trip, Slick and I text-messaged each other, and tried to arrange another time to have drinks together.  He really wanted to see me.  I thought it seemed odd that someone would put so much effort into seeing someone from out of state.  After all, it was New York City.  It’s not like there was a shortage of beautiful women to hit on.  Perhaps it was the challenge of getting a date with someone on a limited schedule.  I dunno.  But it was interesting.

Finally the day came when Slick and I could meet.  He wanted me to come to his place in the West Village for a drink, then go out for app’s and wine nearby.  I texted him that I was uncomfortable doing that – that he might be a serial killer or something, and it just wasn’t something I would do.  He texted me back “nope.  i went to “fill in the blank” Italian market and bought the ingredients to make my famous crustinis.  It won’t keep.  Just give my address and phone number to all your friends.  If they don’t hear from you by 9pm, they can call the police.”  So, guess what?  I went.  Hey I like it when a guy takes control and bosses me around.  HA! 

Slick had a pad that was only fitting for someone like him.  It was REAL slick.  It was three levels, wood floors, was impeccably decorated, with artwork and artifacts, and it had a FULL back yard, with brick planters that wove through the yard, and an ivy covered wood fence with permanent imbedded twinkle lights.  VERY cool.

We had a bottle of wine, and his crustinis – which come to think of it, were just “okay” – they were actually soggy.  All through the night, as we chatted, and he gave me a tour of his place, explaining the artwork, etc. I felt like Slick was just too close.  He was very touchy and feely, which is normally a GREAT thing for me, but this just felt rushed.  We’d walk into a room, and he would try to grab my hand (which I would ignore, and swing my arm away, nonchalantly).  We’d be standing there, while he explained a painting, and he’d touch his hand to the underside of my ass – you know what I mean – right above the top of the thigh (and I would move ever so slightly).  First of all, that’s where all my cellulite is.  Why would I want ANYONE to focus on that area – let alone touch it affectionately – and WHY on earth would I allow some complete stranger to grope there. Ewww.

So, I said to him a couple of times, trying to be nice, and flirty “You are a very familiar person, aren’t you?” To which he would say things like “I think affection is a good thing, don’t you?” Don’t get me wrong.  He was never threatening to say the least.  And he was not that big.  I was a bit taller than him, so I felt very confident I could kick his ass if I needed to.  Ha ha!  It just never even came close to coming up, so it was not a big deal.  I always felt in control, which turned out to be a GOOD thing.

Anyhow – I’ll wrap this up.  At one point Slick started to move into his living room with another bottle of wine, when I strongly suggested, in a sweet, flirty voice, that we go for appetizers and cocktails like we’d planned. So we did.  We walked to one of his favorite places. I couldn’t tell you where or what it was.

We sat at the bar, ordered some more wine and an appetizer, and started to chat.  I don’t really remember much about what we spoke about, but I did learn he was about seven years younger than me.  Ick.  Younger men are just so that – young. I like a man’s man.  I like someone who’s been around the block, knows what he likes, what he’s doing, or at least knows how to put up a good front.  There is nothing sexier to me than someone older than me. It makes me feel protected or taken care of.  Imagine that.  Ms. Cheevious – the wild, adventurous voyeur and fluttering social butterfly wanting to feel protected.  Go figure.  People are complex creatures.  But I digress again. 

Finally Slick said something that was the beginning of the end.  I didn’t know it at the time, but it was.  I think I was asking him about how curious his attraction was to me, and how much effort he was putting into getting together with me, when I was about to leave town.  He said “I just think we could do a lot of fun things together.”  So, I’m thinking, travel, events, movie premieres, what-have-you, but I ask, “Like what kind of fun things.”  Then he said it, and I have to actually CENSOR this, “Well.  (pause) How do you like your BLEEP licked?”

So.

There it was.

The bubble burst.

The guillotine dropped.

My JAW dropped.

I looked at him and said in my very angry and exceptionally LIVID voice (my son’s know this voice – and a few unfortunate employees, and even some friends, sadly), “I CANNOT. BELIEVE. YOU JUST SAID THAT.”  (pause)  “This date is now OVER.”

With that I got up, and walked out.  He said, “Okay.  I can respect that,” as he followed me to hail a cab.  Then of course, knowing that the universe will always return to you what you put out there, I said, “Listen.  I’m a familiar person.  But that is WAY too familiar, and extremely, disgustingly rude.”  and I added, “It’s who you are.  I get it.  But it is NOT me.  Good night.”  And I got in my cab and rode away. 

Later that week he had the gall to text me and say “It was nice meeting you. Keep in touch.”  To which I had no reply.

As G-love and I sat sipping our martinis last week at the W Hotel in Union Square, I chuckled a little inside.  ‘Only in New York,’ I thought.  Then I corrected myself.  ‘No.  Only in my life!’ 

So what was the point of that story?  Well, aside from SHOCK and AWE (ha ha) I guess I am glad for being a strong person, and for the fact the my own self respect and dignity trumped anything that guy had to offer.  I was not wowed by some wealthy guy in New York.  I am quite happy to stay on my own if faced with someone like that as an option.  But believe it or not, I actually know women who will date someone like that even though all the signs are there that he has no ability to treat her as she deserves. Sad.  But you are not like that!  No, you read my posts every week and get empowered to live life on your terms!  Right?  Tell me I’m right, would you?  Ha ha!

With that I will leave you my friends!  As the holidays approach, I hope you have all your priorities in order.  Respect yourself, because if YOU don’t, no one else will.  Be good to your loved ones, the elderly and small children (but not tweens or teens – just ignore them – trust me – they deserve it now and then – ha ha – JUST KIDDING).  It’s the holidays!

Love you people!  Mmmmmmmphhhhuuhhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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I’m here on business and through Thanksgiving.  Forgive me while I am here, because I will be unable to send further dispatches. I’ll have plenty of fun and exciting stories to tell upon my return – and just in time for the Holidays!  Talk about Holiday Cheer!

But before I go, and before the Thanksgiving Holiday, don’t forget:  There are a multitude of things to be thankful for – no matter WHAT your situation.  I am thankful for life, as full and incredibly beautiful as I allow it to be.  For my two wonderfully intelligent, funny and inspiring sons. For my mother, and my sisters and brothers, who continually remind me where I came from, keep me grounded, and offer the unconditional love we all crave. For my friends and loved ones who you’ve all come to know and love as well- Sheila, Stealth, Britt, Fred the Wonder Chicken, Musicality, Ricky, Lucy – and so many more (I can’t even come close to naming them all) who are as close, as friendly, as caring and lovely as they can possibly be, making my life a fabulously outstanding adventure.  And for you!  Without you, there would be no reason for these wild and wacky posts!

Until after Turkey Day, my friends.

Love you people!  Mmmmmmmphhhhuuhhhhhh!!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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Ye come, seeking adventure with a vast array of plundering (and sexy) pirates, eh?  Sure, you’ve come to the proper place.  But keep a weather eye open, mates, and hold on tight with both hands, if you please.  Thar be squalls ahead, and Davey Jones waiting for them that don’t obey!

To learn what the most daring (and sexy) of pirates do to amuse themselves on All Hallows Eve (Halloween for ye lowly scalliwags), read on.  But beware, and sit tight.  If ye are new to this blog, again I warn ye – Beware!

The daringest (and sexiest) of pirates make the pilgrimage to the city of Gold – that is Las Vegas, of course.  They do it to wreak havoc and cause turmoil, plundering and pillaging wherever their wooden (or sexy) legs will carry them.

My weekend with my pirate mates, Captain Fred the Wonder Chicken and the fair pirate wench Britt, was suppose to commence on Friday morn, half past ten.  (Okay – enough with the pirate talk.  Back to reality now!  ha ha!)

We planned to hop in the car, barring any other issues, and drive to Vegas together, laughing all the way, as we plotted and schemed for our takeover of that glittery fortress. 

On Thursday, however, Britt had the remarkably brilliant idea of leaving THAT evening and playing until dawn.  FWC and I, being the spontaneous and boisterous sort of pirates that we are, agreed it was a brilliant plan.  Even pirates need to have fun before they get to work.

It started at the the Golden Nugget, where we sexy (don’t forget), yet disturbingly SCARY pirates ransacked, pillaged and looted all the way to our room.  I tell ya, the Golden Nugget didn’t know what hit them! Our final resting place for the rest of the weekend, The Bellagio Hotel, hadn’t seen pillaging like that since the LAST time Fred the Wonder Chicken was in Vegas, and THAT day has gone down in the annals of Sin City HISTORY, I’m sure. 

We had an incredible suite with a view that was BREATHTAKING.  I’m sure it was all an attempt by the hotel to get us to behave, but THAT didn’t work!

Room with a view - and what a view...Wonders Never Cease - And I'm Not Talking Chicken Wonders! HA!

On Halloween night, we donned our best dress pirate wears, and I sat down for some photos.  I didn’t want to do it, but I was the Pirate Queen, and a queen’s job is never done.

Beware the Pirate Queen

Suddenly, Captain Fred the Wonder Chicken grabbed me (he’s so manly for a chicken) and put a sword to my throat.  It was really sketchy there for a minute.  But then I reminded him that we still had a full night of plundering and seeking out wenches to come and play.  That was all it took.

Yikes! Please don't hurt me Mister Scary Chicken Pirate!

Though pillaging and plundering was on our minds, our first order of business for the night was to get some GRUB.  And that we did.  We had the most fabulous meal to be had in the Bellagio resort, at their restaurant Yellowtail.  Even Captain FWC ate things he never thought he would.  We seamen and women grow weary of eating fish, and some of us surely don’t want to eat it raw.  But that’s what Yellowtail was all about.  Sushi. YUMMY. It was all good.

So, here’s a question for you.  Where do sexy pirates, once well fed and full of good wine, go to plunder and pillage?  Why to The Bank, of course.  That is the Bellagio’s hot night club.  One of the hottest spots in town. 

We took our swords and daggers and stormed the entrance to The Bank, and look at what we found inside:

The VIP floor was FULL of beautiful, (some scantily clad) people. They corralled them there for the costume contest to be judged later that night.  These girls (Yep.  These very girls were there!) were trying for the big 10,000 dollar prize. I think they should have won.  Me, Ms. Cheevious, never wanting to be left out, scurried down to the VIP floor to dance with them!  The guards to the VIP area wouldn’t let Captain FWC down to enjoy their company as well.  Only women were allowed in, and of course as the Pirate Queen, I was graciously admitted.  Alas, though I enjoyed dancing with these beauties, I had to be mindful of my queenly duties, and save all manner of debauchery for later. Hee hee.

True to form, ladies and gentlemen, I’ve managed to tell another tale of mischievous behavior, as if it happens every day.  I’d like to say it’s just another day in the life, but I promise, I am just another “girl next door.”  Only better.

Have a wonderful weekend my sweet things!

Love you people! Mmmmmphhhuuuhhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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My son – I’ll call him Graden here – was happy and settling in to his new digs, and I was going berserk. So I flew out to visit my son, using his “back to school night” event at school as the excuse. 

I knew it would go over like a lead balloon – Just when Graden thought he’d gotten rid of me, and was fast on his way to living a happy bachelor existence with his dad, there I was to make sure he remembered what it felt like to have a mom around.

So, I decided to keep it a surprise.  His dad picked me up at the airport, and we were on our way to Graden’s school to meet up with him.  It was also to be my grand entrance into the life of Graden’s new teachers.  Now they were all going to know that – yes – my son has a mom – and yes – she still cares.

As we approached the school, Graden’s dad (my ex-husband) called him to arrange a place to meet.  Graden apparently said he was hanging out with Tanya. 

“Who’s Tanya?” my ex asked. “Is that your new girlfriend?”

All I could hear was the sound of my son’s voice, and my ex’s reply, “Friends with benefits?!  What does THAT mean?” he roared, laughingly.

Thus began the lengthy conversation about what it really does mean to have “friends with benefits” in the eyes and psyche of a twelve year old boy.

He of course said that it didn’t mean anything except to hang out and call each other all the time, and spend time together. That they could say they were “hanging out” and not “boyfriend / girlfriend,” “dating” or “going steady.” 

Okay.  I have to pause here and say that first of all, I am not an idiot.  I think my son really DOES know in his head what it means to be “friends with benefits” – at least in terms of in society and in the media.  If you hear that phrase referred to in a movie or television, you know these two people are screwing around, with no commitment.  I get the sense that my son is pretty savvy that way.

But Graden’s explanation sounded awfully familiar to dating among my own peer group.  I can’t tell you how many thirty-something friends of mine STILL avoid the “D” word (dating) or the “BF/GF” i.d. and say “yeah, we’ve been hanging out.” 

Had I heard that about seven or so years ago – just after my divorce, I would have reacted far differently – probably worried that my son wasn’t learning how to be solid, or committed or caring.  Not so now.  I found my son’s comment quite funny, and was proud that he could be so open about himself and his life.

Now, here is where I am going to get a little controversial. 

I  know.  You’re thinking, ‘Ms. Cheevious? Controversial?’  I admit, it’s a stretch. 

But I’ve always thought I was cut from a different cloth than most girls.  I think having friends with benefits is quite healthy.  As a matter of fact, I have always taken that line of thinking further than most.  For instance, when I was married, I use to tell my husband I wouldn’t mind if he had an affair.  And I meant it.  I just always believed very strongly that men needed more in their lifetime.  They can certainly CHOOSE to be with one woman, but that is another matter.  Men are just different.

Okay now.  All you players out there – I don’t want to receive any HATE MAIL, or HATE POSTS for that matter, from your girlfriends or wives.  My observations and beliefs about male/female relationships are NOT a source of ammunition.  They are just my own personal beliefs and preferences. 

Let me break it down for you: 

I love to be treasured.  I think men like to be treasured as well. 

There is a distinct difference between treasure and possession.  I don’t have any interest in possessing – and I certainly cannot be possessed.  But I also can’t be with someone if I am not respected or cherished – if I am not longed for, or in the heart, or on the mind of that special someone.  There is nothing like that feeling when you care for someone, and they reciprocate.

But I am my own person too.  I love what I do, and I love becoming the “me” that I am from day to day.  I don’t need to feel that my man is all mine. 

The fact is, many women are NOT built that way.  I suspect my son’s friend Tanya had NO real idea what she was agreeing to (I’d be happy to be wrong, here).  In her mind, it probably just sounded cool, or made her sound cool to all the other cool kids. 

The truth of the matter is, most of my lovely girlfriends are very possessive about their men.  And that is OKAY.  It’s what they want!  They want their man, and they want him to want them – in a Wuthering Heights, romantic sort of way.  I don’t blame my girlfriends.  I love them and respect them in all their dreams for their lives!  Hey – I love to be showered with affection and attention, and I love to bestow it!  Who doesn’t?

We humans all start out young and vibrant, then we age, and grow older and wiser, and we hopefully learn to appreciate beauty when we see and experience it.  But don’t forget, all things do come to an end.  None of us gets out of this life alive.  If that doesn’t put an end to something, I don’t know what will!

On the Friends with Benefits note:  I’ve been there, done that.  It was fun and adventurous while it lasted.  Then it ran its course and ended.  I am still friends with that guy (or guys), but we’ve evolved to being just that – friends. Like all “things” that must come to an end, so ended our friends with benefits “thing.”

My philosophy?  I love just enjoying every single moment. Enjoy the people you know, and let them enjoy you. 

Okay – whew!  That’s it for now folks.  How was that for a walk through the philosophical musings of Ms. Cheevious?! Who would have thought a harmless comment by my twelve year old son would take me down this path?! Kids are amazing.

Tune in next time when I tell you about  the Pirates Who Pillaged Las Vegas!  Talk about Treasure! ARRGH!

Have a great weekend everyone!  And LOVE THE ONE YOU’RE WITH!

Love you people!

Mmmmmmmphhhhuuhhhhhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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2.  I was thinking about this the other day – and it seems in my adult lifetime, whenever I have been getting to know someone in a dating relationship, the “boy” inevitably has asked the question of toys, with a little twinkle in his eye.  They want to know, ‘do I have them?’ I love when they ask that.  Not only do I love to share secret information, but:

3.  I do.  I have good toys.

• I have a 40 inch LG, flat screen plasma television;
• I have a surround-sound home theatre system with an iPod docking station, and 5-disc dvd player;
• I have DirecTv, with NFL Sunday Ticket, HBO, Showtime and I don’t know what else;  
• I have a Wii with Rock Band;
• And, yes.  I have a few fun little gadgets that I can’t talk about here.

4.  Boys love my toys. 

5.  I love my toys too.

6.  Enough said.

I’m off to Vegas tomorrow with my friend Britt (who is visiting from New York) and Fred the Wonder Chicken.  Now that I’ve revealed Fred’s identity to the whole world, we’ve decided to go in costume to Vegas on Halloween night.  If you are there, look for Fred.  He’ll be a gorgeous chicken in a pirate costume, and Britt and I will be the beautiful pirate wenches.  HA!

I’m sure there will be many a tale to come out of this trip – but you know what they say – What Happens in Vegas –  Didn’t I do a post about that once?

I will be thinking of you beautiful girls and boys this weekend.  Be safe, have a wonderful time, and ENJOY EVERY MOMENT!

Love you people!  Mmmmmmphhhuuhhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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Me:  He was such a solid guy.  He and his wife were married for so long. 
FWC:  Yeah. You know he was the one who coined the phrase, “Why go out for hamburger, when you have steak at home?  He was a great man.”
Me:  It’s so true, though.
~PAUSE~
Me:  But – it’s okay to bring a little shrimp home once in a while isn’t it?
FWC:  (Choked up) Your gonna’ make me cry, now.

FWC & Ms. Cheevious Talk About Paul Newman

Here, FWC is revealed for the first time.  In an earlier shot, I asked the question, “Which one is Fred?” as two chickens were present. Now the whole world knows.  Sorry Fred!

2.  Of course, I had to qualify the shrimp statement by saying ”I’m ALWAYS the steak.” And now that I am on the subject, let me just say, this is not something I’ve ever even done before.  So, you old-school types can rest easy.  I just pride myself in being open to new things, and well – I have a deep appreciation for beauty in women – and wow – there is a lot of it out there!  So there you have it! I’m not crossing over to the other side or anything – just expressing myself. Besides, FWC brings out those quick-witted responses in me.  He is so freakin’ hilarious, I can’t help myself!  Plus – remember – Ms. Cheevious NEVER says anything she doesn’t mean. And hey – I mean it.  I really like shrimp!

3. FWC quickly allayed my dire need to explain myself and be understood by saying, “I get it baby!  Surf and Turf all the way!”

4.  A few days later, I was making my Asian Spring rolls for FWC at my house.  I had the mixture in the pan when he walked in and said with a happy voice, “Awe!  You made shrimp!” and laughed.  My Spring rolls, coincidentally, contain shrimp.  “Of course I did!” I said, without missing a beat.

5. We were at a party another time after that, where a gal and I were having a good time dancing together. I think she was very serious about me – as opposed to me – I just love to play and have fun.  She approached FWC, who exchanged a few words with her.  Later, I said to him, “Just remember: I am always the STEAK.”  He hugged me warmly and said, “You are ALL STEAK, baby.”  Awe.  A man after my own heart – calling me steak.  He’s so romantic!

6.  At the same party was a very cool couple – who I am pretty sure also liked me in that special way.  I said to FWC, “Don’t they know I am always the steak? I can never be the shrimp?”

With that, I will leave you my pretties.  Stay tuned next week when I think I will talk about a little dinner party with Spyglass and company (I haven’t decided yet.  Who knows what it’ll be?  I may even surprise myself!). 

Have a beautiful, lovely weekend everyone!

Love you people!!!  Mmmmmppphhhuuuuhhhhh!!!

xoxo,
Ms. Cheevious

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2.  This week I’ve been helping these same friends (Ricky & Lucy) pack up their place. They are leaving this Sunday.  Not only am I torn up about that, because I’m going to miss them TERRIBLY (plus, they lived in Venice Beach, and um, excuuuuuse me, but where am I going to store my beach cruiser now???).

3.  At the same time they are leaving to NYC, my friend Britt is moving back here from NYC! YAY!  I am so happy about that!  So, I figure it is a trade off.  Ricky & Lucy – for Britt!  Ha ha!  Okay – no one can replace Ricky & Lucy, but Britt coming here (and she will live with me for a few months until she gets settled) will make their moving away a bit easier. Besides, I’ve already booked my flights to NY for November, December, January, and  – 

4.  In addition to a crazy, busy work schedule, and helping Ricky & Lucy pack their home, I am throwing them a going away bash at my place this weekend.  Well, Fred the Wonder Chicken and I are throwing it.  Him, me, Ricky, Lucy and a about a hundred of their closest friends.  Yes, call in the men with white jackets now.  I’m thinking a padded room is sounding pretty nice right about now.  heh heh

5. This week of Yom Kipur I decided to reflect as well (though I am not Jewish).  We throw ourselves into the fire with the demands we place on ourselves – our careers and professional pursuits, keeping up our homes, taking care of loved ones and friends, nurturing and working through meaningful relationships, and all the menial responsibilities of life – not to mention the time we need to recharge and actually enjoy the world we’ve created for ourselves!  Then we wonder why we feel the singe of the flames!  Ha!  I’ll tell you why!  Because life can be tough.  How’s that for a golden nugget of wisdom?  Not only that, but that same fire can burn warm and sweet and remind us of how truly AWESOME life can be.

Well, what do you know?  I’m done for this week!!  Can you believe it people?  Have a really great weekend, and if I come out ALIVE, I’ll send up a smoke signal! 

Love you people!  Mmmmmmmphhhuuuuhhhhhh!

xoxo,
Ms. Cheevious

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Well, there is so much to this particular Aspen trip, I can’t possibly tell the whole story here – BUT – there was ONE incident that is just too priceless NOT to tell.

If you are new here – look out baby.  Things are about to get CRAZY. Glad to have you – but hang on to your hats!  It’s going to be a fun ride! 

So, I showed up at the Aspen Meadows resort bright and early on Monday morning, prepared for a productive week of meetings.  I was there for some in-depth training offered by a marketing and PR client of mine.  I don’t usually attend trainings offered by my clients, but this particular client teaches a business practice that is very intense and heady.  So, basically, it was important for me to dive in head first, learn the process, and participate in the practicum in order to promote the client effectively. Makes sense, right?

Now, let me set this up for you just a bit:

I’ve been to a few of these week-long training sessions offered by the same client, but I’d never been an actual participant until that week.  It happened to be the very same week that my client’s brand new Chief Operating Officer (I’ll call him Mr. Motley – you’ll see why in a bit) decided to come to the training as well. 

Needless to say, there was an air of – how shall I say it – trepidation?  caution?  fear?  among my client’s team members, because of this new guy’s presence. It was interesting to watch.  Of course, I was seated right next to the guy all day in the meetings. 

I quickly decided (dopey me), that there was nothing to fear from Mr. Motley.  He seemed so cool, funny, and harmless enough.  He was from the same town my client (the CEO) was from.  His wife was friends with a friend of mine in that same town in Florida.  He also had a wicked-smart sense of humor. I learned that pretty quickly.  I liked him!

So, back to that first Monday.

Since I’d been to a few of these sessions, many of the resort staff recognized me as “staff.” I made a point of smiling at the resort staff and saying hello.  I stopped each of them and asked how they’d been, how their summer was, etc. 

Hey.  It’s not weird.  I use to work for a 5 star hotel.  I felt a certain camaraderie with these peeps – like we were part of a secret little hotel-workers club. 

Apparently, one of them (I’ll call him Tall Dark & Handsome – “TDH”) was actually new, and I’d mistaken him for our regular event manager.  (Hey – he had dark hair – how was I to know)!?  Needless to say, he didn’t know who I was. I soon learned that he was pretty glad I’d been so friendly.

Later that afternoon, I left our meeting room in search of a cold Diet Coke.  You know? On a side note: that kind of thing gets me into trouble time and again!  I go out looking for chocolate or coffee, and come back with cocktails, and a bachelor party of guys or something.  Okay – that only happened once, at a bar in Hollywood, but it happens, you know?  When you LEAST expect it!  I’m sure that’s a major reason why my single girlfriends love me!  I’m just social like that.

So, as I walked down the corridor, I saw TDH walking toward me.  I smiled as we made eye contact, and as I got closer to him, said “Are you the one that can give me a cold Diet Coke?”  He smiled and said, “That’s me! Come with me,” as he stepped into the employee kitchen. 

Suddenly, he appeared nervous or sick to his stomach or something.  As I waited for him to hand me the beverage, he paused, looked at me, took a deep breath and said as he stuck his hand out to shake mine, “Hi” he said, “I’m TDH.”  As I shook his hand, and looked into his eyes, I said, “Hi TDH!  I’m Ms. Cheevious!” (of course, we used our real names, people.  Try and keep up, would you)!?  

Anyhow, as I shook his hand, I noticed a strange object in his hand.  In my mind, as I was smiling and making nicey nice, I was also trying to make out what it was in his hand.  Some sort of weird, stiff band-aid?  I didn’t know!  But my brain quickly calculated that it definitely needed to STAY in his hand.  So it did.

He handed me a luke-warm Diet Coke, and looked like he was going to vomit.  “Here” he said as he shoved the object into my hands, now short of breath.  It was a little piece of paper, that apparently he’d spent some time writing with the hope of this very meeting.  It had his name and a phone number written on it, with a little heart and an arrow through it. 

So.  I am blond.  Have I told you that? 

I still had a smile on my face from speaking to him, and being glad to safely deliver the weird band-aid thing back into his hands in one piece, when he shoved that thing my way. 

It looked like this (I’ve changed it to protect the innocent – hee hee):

I looked at it.  I looked at him.  My smile was fading – and not because I didn’t want to smile – but I was now concentrating really hard, and obviously very confused – plus, it was super hard to smile and concentrate like that at the same time.  Then I said, “Is this your number?“ 

DUH.  I’m surprised I have ever been able to get a date in my life.  WHAT THE HECK DID I THINK IT WAS?

The poor guy looked green, I kid you not!  He said, “Yes.” As he hyperventilated, and I quickly said, “Thank you so much!” and headed back to my meeting. 

I sat back down next to Mr. Motley.  We’d already bonded on the humor level, so at the very next break, I told him what just happened. 

I know what you are thinking.  How heartless of me!  That poor guy was taking a risk, and here I was joking about him to my coworkers. 

It wasn’t that at all. I was actually joking at my own expense.  I’d been so befuddled by the whole experience, I thought it was hilarious that I was such a dimwit and didn’t know the guy was trying to hit on me!

Granted – he took great risk to do this.  He could have been fired if anyone knew he did that, yet he chose to do it anyway.  Ahhh.  To be young again, and not care if you lose your job for love.  He WAS young too.  I wasn’t sure at this point, but on further analysis (throughout the rest of the day, as I really tried to get a good look) I determined he must be about 23 or something.  He looked sort of like Orlando Bloom, with a very nice, muscular body.

He was probably about 6’0′ at least, since he still towered over me, even though I wore my five inch wedgy heels that day.

Anyhow, as the day wore on I suffered my share of jokes from the rest of the team, who’d learned the story of poor TDH and his failed attempt at getting a date with me. 

At one point in the afternoon, I sat down, and even though I’d put TDH’s paper in my leather portfolio, there it was again, next to my papers. 

I looked again, however, and realized it had a familiar area code – much like my girlfriend’s in Florida. Okay – so this is where I am SMART people!  I am QUICK.  I looked at Mr. Motley and said, “This is YOU, ya big goof!”  And try as he may to maintain a straight face, he caved pretty quickly and fessed up to his plot. 

“I was just WAITING to get a drunken phone call from you at 2:30 in the morning — ‘Hey… (hiccup) TDH? This is Ms. Cheevious…(hiccup)!  What are you (hiccup) doing?’”

“HA HA” I said, with my best motherly tone.  “I outsmarted you!” 

But I have to say I laughed at that (a LOT) and filed it away so I could use it on someone else some other day!  hee hee

Fast-forward to that evening.  Remember it was opening day of these meetings.  It just so happened that Stealth (you’ve heard about him in my “Forget the Love Guru” post), was in Aspen at the same time as me.  He drove out from Utah to meet with some of his own clients and see me.  Since he works with this same client as well, he came to our cocktail reception the first evening. 

We walked into Aspen’s Social - a very cool, hip tappas place, owned by one of my very good friends, Deedee (also not her real name, but I suppose you could look her up! ha ha!).  My friend and client (the CEO) walked in, with Mr. Motley not far behind him.  Mr. Motley didn’t know who Stealth was, so he motioned for me to meet him at the top of the stairs by the entrance. 

I excused myself from Stealth and my client, and walked over to Motley. 

“Have you been playing a joke with me?” he asked.

“Why? What do you mean?” I asked.

“You have been, haven’t you” he said searching my expression.  “You’ve been texting me, haven’t you?”

“No, I don’t know your number.  I promise.  Why?” I asked.  Then it hit me.  “Oh Nooooo!” I said with a laugh.  “DON’T TELL ME – TDH has been texting you?”

Mr. Motley proceeded to show me a series of texts.  “Ms. Cheevious is this your cell?  Is this you?”  With Mr. Motley’s answers to the contrary.

“No way.  He has not.  It’s been you, hasn’t it.  Just admit it.” He said.  “How would he know how to text me?” He asked.

“BECAUSE!  We left that “JOKE” little piece of paper – remember?  The one that had YOUR number on it!  He must have thought that IIIII wrote one out, and left it behind for him to find!  Since it didn’t have HIS number on it, he assumed it was MINE!” I laughed so hard, I almost choked on my cocktail.  But I must admit it felt pretty damn good after being such a blondie about the whole situation, to piece this one together so quickly.

“NO WAY!” Motley said. 

I left him standing there, scratching his head and went to tell my client and Stealth the hilarious story.  My client thought it was hysterical, and said laughingly, “Serves him right.”

Okay – so where does that leave us?

1)  I had a great time in Aspen.  I got to exercise a few times in the mornings, went on an INCREDIBLE hike at the Maroon Bells (one of THE most photographed places on earth);

2)  I learned all about my client’s changes to their processes so I could better serve them as a client;

3) I discovered that I work with a MOTLEY CREW – headed up by Mr. Motley himself.  (Okay – I knew they were Motley long ago, but the name fits him).

4) I was incredibly blessed by the attention of a handsome young guy, who I am sure had the best of intentions.  In spite of all the jokes and shenanigans, his gesture made me feel truly special, and  – dare I say? beautiful? – and I think he will be a very special someone for a lucky girl some day.  What a brave, beautiful, sweet guy.

5) I need to sharpen my brain.  Isn’t their some sort of “here’s how you can stay sharp and alert and not miss it when someone hits on you” self-help course??

6) It’s not nice to fool Ms. Cheevious.  It ALWAYS – repeat – ALWAYS comes right back to ya!  HA HA HA HA!

Have a beautiful, lovely, inspiring weekend everyone!

Love you people!  Mmmmmmphhhhuuhhhhh!!!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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Blog content copyright 2008, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious