Myth Busted

In a radical departure, I'm posting a picture of myself tonight, but just cause I love the other lady in the photo so much. It's Kari, one of the MythBusters, with whom I was out drinking in SF. I'm here on a job, but it's been so much fun that it's hard to call it work. More like, working it.

http://dsc.discovery.com/fansites/mythbusters/meet/meet_03.html

Who Wins? I win.

That's right, baby. I've been scouring the country for a white leather tie to wear with my black button down, jeans and black boots, like those guys in The Vines. But never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined this beauty...

eBay. Five bucks. Who wins? I win.


www.ebay.com

You Have No Idea...

How fun it is to send your friend's film off to the Oscars, cause it qualified to be considered for an Academy Award. I don't even care if we get nominated. It's just cool.

Wait...that's a total lie.

http://www.seattlefilm.org/festival/film/detail.aspx?id=21004&FID=13

Geeks and Movie Stars

See, this is what I love about LA. I talk on the phone all day to the weirdest, brainiest, robot-building, flame-throwing, Burning Man-attending geeks in the country cause I'm doing casting for this new show. Then I go down to my favorite local, La Poo, to have a glass of wine and chat with my favorite bartender, David. The Grey's Anatomy season premiere is on the TV, and I avert my eyes cause I wanna watch it at home, where I can safely cry my eyes out like my mama during The Waltons. Then David tells me that Justin Chambers, the guy who plays Dr. Alex Karev on the show, is sitting outside having a drink with Stellan Skaarsgard.

See, that's just cool. All over America, people are going to their local to have a drink after work. Mine just happens to have movie stars in it.

I may be exhausted. I may be shattered. I may be a shell of a woman. But still, I have the best life.

http://losangeles.citysearch.com/profile/54386

Darcy Bday Karaoke Extravaganza!

I thought I needed sleep, but what I really needed was karaoke. Ten of us crowded into a private room at the Palm Tree to celebrate Miss Darcy's bday the other night, and all I can say is WHO KNEW?

It was so Lost In Translation in LA. First of all, you go through the back entrance of this department store, where a Japanese chick's getting her hair done in an empty salon under a lone flourescent light. Once safely in the private room, the birthday girl starts us off right with an amazing rendition of "I'm All Out of Love" by Air Supply. I take it down a notch (quality-wise) by singing Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" while standing barefoot on a pleather banquette. And Pi takes it right back up with a real-singer performance that ends with "Take that you American Idol bitches!"

And then, one of the greatest spontaneous things I have ever seen in my life occurs. Two of our more lovely and mild-mannered men suddenly transform themselves into a crazy-flowin' Dougie Fresh rapper and a Human Beat Box, and give a performance that shocks us all, reduces us to screaming, howling hysteria, and goes on and on. (Yes, Virginia, 'til the break of dawn.) I don't think I've ever seen anything like it before in my life. It was transcendent, and I felt lucky to be there.

And to finish it all off, the Human Beat Box then whips out his harmonica and leads us in a special, made-up-on-the-spot bday song for Darcy. It was one of the best bday parties in recent memory. Special props to Beat Box/Bluesman Steve and Jeffy Fresh. And of course, to the lovely birthday girl, who brings out the rock star/drag queen in us all.

Coco (Is Fried To A) Crisp

Tired. On couch. Red Sox. Drool. Wake up. Coco Crisp makes spectacular catch. So tired. Ortiz hits homer. Hebrew National. Sox win. Doesn't matter - no postseason. Back to sleep. No. More. Parties. Please.

It's Not About the Shoes, It's About the Girl

So today my post would be all about the sparkly new red Nikes that I scored FO' FREE from my now-favorite friend Lew, but yesterday was The Real Janelle's bday hike and spontaneous backyard tequila party, so it's all about her.

A bunch of us hiked to this beautiful waterfall that I swear is not more than 20 minutes away from LA, provided that the exit isn't closed and you're not searching for phantom 7-11s along the way. Then it's about an hour and a half. Anyway, we hiked the trails, hung out by a natural pool, chomped on stinky cheese and figs, Lew slid down the mossy waterfall on his ass, and I bonded with Rachel over our deep-seated fear of heights with sheer cliffs attached. I also hung out on this beautiful fallen tree in the middle of the pool, then jumped into the water with Gus the Swimming Dog. It was excellent, even though I couldn't feel my legs.

Then we came back to G-Love and The Real Janelle's house, and I was only planning to stay for two beers, but three bottles of tequila, four platters of grilled meats, and one big blanket under the stars later, it seemed foolish to go home at all. Plus I couldn't drive.

AND, right before Lew ran off to yet another arty party, this one for Shepherd Fairey, he busted out a pair of sparkly red kicks that he'd gotten fo' free on a shoot. They looked like something a modern-day Dorothy would wear. They didn't fit Janelle, they didn't fit Darcy, but, like Cinderella, they fit me. So I put 'em on and clicked my heels together three times. They didn't take me home, so I slept over.

We love you Janelle!

Brad & Angie & Keanu & An Elephant

Oh, and Jude Law, apparently.

So last night I dragged my zombie-like ass to this secret pre-party for Banksy, this amazing graffitti artist who's having a show this weekend called 'Barely Legal' that my friend Jesse is helping to put on.

It was by far the hippest party I've ever been to (excluding the one I threw in Prague circa 1995 featuring a whole roast pig with an apple in its mouth). There were beautiful boys and girls and an elephant that Banksy had graffitti'd on and Brad and Angelina, all in one warehouse in LA.

Brad and Angie had left before I got there, but Keanu was still rollin', along with James Franco (short) and that girl Lisa from America's Next Top Model who peed in her pants. Everybody looked great, super-hip (I wore the first dress my mom ever bought with her own money in Flint, MI circa 1963), the art was fantastic, and I thanked my lucky stars that I know Jesse and Jesse knows Lew, because Lew introduced Jesse to the chick who knows Banksy.

Now I can finally get off the merry-go-round of socializing that my life has become and get a little damn sleep. Til I go see the show again on Sunday.

http://upcoming.org/event/102622/

Free Willie

OK, so it wasn't free, but it was only 13 bucks to see Willie Nelson at the Hollywood Bowl the other night, which is pretty darn close to perfection. It was a beautiful night with a beautiful moon and wine and cheese and sushi and olives and chocolate and friends and a crowd of 5000. And we even walked to the Bowl, cause it's so near to my house.

Ryan Adams and Neko Case were also on the ticket, which I'd like to remind you was just $2 more than the price of a movie at the Arclight, but it was really all about Willie (when it wasn't about the assholes behind me talking through the entire show). Willie sang "You Were Always On My Mind" and certain people almost cried. Not me, mind you. Certain other people.

In other news, I've officially moved Ryan Adams off my Gimme list. He's cute, but he's also kind of a dick. And a word to the wise: Never, not even in the spirit of cameraderie, take a hit off something the stranger sitting next to you offers. You just never know. Again, not me. Certain other people.

Me and Naked Models in the Pool

Don't you wish I had pictures...I don't even know what to put up for this.

I was supposed to go to my friend's gallery opening but I got back from SF so late that I just headed straight to the afterparty. It was at this plush house in the Hollywood Hills, full of beautiful people, and before you know it, several hot chicks had jumped in the pool wearing only the tiniest of thongs.

Mind you, I was completely exhausted after a long day of traveling and shooting, but a couple of lethal cocktails perked me right up, and before you know it, my beautiful friends had lured me into the pool as well. As I see it, how the hell was I going to pass up the opportunity to swim half-naked at midnight at a party in the Hollywood Hills? It's a crime that my grandchildren would never forgive me for. Plus, it was hot out.

Friends, I may be broke. But I have the best life.

Special props to Australia for representing as the first guy to freeball it into the pool. With a cannonball, no less. And to Michael for being the first one in, and managing to smoke a cigarette the entire time.

Forget the Suicide Girls - I Rode With the Brown Twins

Dudes, forget the Suicide Girls. Look who I was in the elevator with in SF! The San Francisco Brown Twins!

We had a whole convo in my hotel elevator about my friends Michael and Conchi’s new baby. One of them (Marian or Vivian, I couldn't tell which) asked "What's her name?" and I said "Galicia" and she said, “That’s a very different.” Mind you, this was while wearing matching leopard print coats, furry leopard mittens, and plastic leopard cowboy hats like you see here.

I shit you not. They were lovely.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vivian_Brown

Ridin’ With the Suicide Girls

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Kelly Slater At The Frolic Room

Why would the world's best surfer be hanging out at The Frolic Room? (And I don't mean me. Or Faz. Or Sandow.) Who knows, but there he was, just another bald guy playing video poker in the corner of Hollywood's gankiest dive bar. I didn't even know it was Kelly Slater til the boys pointed him out, but then, of course, I had to go over and introduce myself and tell him that I had just started to learn to surf. A fact that I recalled with great pride last night and stinging shame this morning. Jesus, those drinks are strong.

http://www.bobsfrolicroom.com/

Crikey! Steve Irwin Is Gone...

I always thought the guy was a bit annoying, so I'm surprised at how sad I am to know Steve Irwin is gone. I'm trying to figure out why his death by stingray has affected me so much. Our current Aussie in America reckons that it's because he was an innocent, which is true, and there ain't many of them around.

I was informed of the event late at night a couple days ago by the lovely Bel, who sent the news around the world. And the current update from Down Under from Sha-VAAAWN:

"The country is seriously in mourning. I thought the guy was slightly irritating when he was alive but I found myself tearing up watching the the tributes flooding in for him on TV this morning. I don't think we'll ever get a larriking like that again and he did alot of good for the animal kingdom!"

I don't know what a larriking is, but I think she means they''ll miss him. And as you can see from the photo, Hollywood Blvd. will, too.

http://www.smh.com.au/news/web/croc-hunter-news-consumes-the-web/2006/09/05/1157222114384.html

The Dirt From Duluth

From our friend Avesa, far far away in the wilds of Minnesoter:

Coco,

I've never seen a possum at Home Depot but I saw a bear maneuver a skate ramp last month on my way home from school. The skaters were too lazy to chase him down the street. I wasn't.

My Yoga With Andre.

So the Vincent Chase yoga blog has stirred other Dirt Alert readers to send in their own Yoga With the Stars missives. Tula, for example, claims that she once did yoga right next to Andrae of last season's Project Runway, AND with Raquel Welch, "like, more than five times, and her tits are so huge that when she did Cobra, I don't know how she did it. Her face was like a foot off the ground."

Downward Dog with Vincent Chase

Popbitches - You should know that Darcy and Greg were doing yoga on Tuesday with Adrian Grenier of Entourage fame. That's right, Downward Dog with Vince. God, I wish this were my dirt.

Now I know what to do until next season begins.

http://www.hbo.com/entourage/cast/character/vince.html