A Christmas Miracle

So I walked into JKB's last night after a long, mangy day at work, looking forward to a night of a-beer-in-the-bath and feeling sorry for myself. Instead, Jen and her brother, The Indefatigable Chris Baum!, had gotten a little tree and were decorating it while drinking kahlua, listening to bad Xmas songs, and arguing over the family ornaments. Some of them were hideous (see right), but in the end, the tree was lovely. I swear, in a million years I could not have described just what would have made me happy right then, but when I walked in, there it was. And the shit was free.

Ugly Xmas Sweaters Needed!

The Kids' Table

Jesse wants more bargains. He says The Dirt Alert is less about bargains these days and more about world travel. I say, don't be a hater. And he isn't, cause he was there last Friday when I got invited to a spontaneous crab-fest at The Mayor's house. I called up, got the invite, showed up, and chomped. It was great. And Jesse bought the ice cream that went in our Don Pedros after dinner.

He wasn't there at Thanksgiving, but 17 other people were, so many that we had to put up a kids' table. I got to sit at it, and had one of the best turkey-and-pie dinners ever, just for the price of a green bean casserole.

So here's the bargain: If you've just tumbled into town, work your gourmet friends for Thanksgiving, then call The Mayor for a free crab dinner. And don't forget to make Jesse buy the ice cream.

Don Pedro Recipe

Three On The Tree

Two of the guys on my new show taught me to drive this on Sunday. A '68 Dodge Van, bittshes, with a gearshift known as a three on the tree. It was kinda hard, and they teased me the whole time, but I did good. It's like having a bunch of brothers who will climb trees with you and help you with pull-ups and make stupid jokes and try to trip you as you walk down the street but also teach you how to do things.

When I told my dad about the three on the tree, he told me he that he once had a '41 Ford sedan with one, and that he moved it over to the left side of the steering column. When I asked why, he said, "So I could keep my arm around my date."

Then he told me that he'd painted that car with a vacuum cleaner.

Three On The Tree

Geek of the Week

Goes to Binky, one of my new TV host geeks, who proudly showed off his new calculator watch to me.

I love my new crew.

Casio Illuminator

How You Know You're In SF

The bridge and the fog and the light, baby. That's how you know.

Bay Bridge-ipedia

The Other Pacific

I got sand in my toes again, thank god. Even though it's colder here, it's still the same ocean and it still does the same thing.

Ocean Beach Surf Report

Pictures Not Words

OK, a few words. Here's the rest of my Australia pictures.The dragon from Sculpture by the Sea, beaches, beaches, beaches...

Pictures Not Words Part Deux

...and Harry and Emma and India and the view and bluebottles. That's it!

The Scaly-Winged Ones

Now I'm in SF, having driven the 5 with Terrible Terry, who didn't stop talking for six hours straight. And I so appreciated it. I'm still surrounded by Aussies, as well as my SF posse, and I can't wait to hang out.

These pix are from the Australian Museum, AKA their Museum o' Natural History. If I don't start posting more than one at a time, it's gonna take too long. And I feel like a few of these creatures right now. Especially the scaly-winged ones.

Surf and (My) Turf

This is genuine documented proof that I did, indeed, learn to surf. This is me. Surfing. Standing up, bitssshes.

And this is the fucking bruise I got while learning. In the shape of of a swan. Which is the symbol of my fave Aussie Rules football club, the Sydney Swans. See how I represent even in a state of injury? That's how I roll.

And if you're wondering whether or not I am, indeed, back in LA, I had sushi last night three tables away from Christina Ricci and Adam Brody. That's how I roll Part 2.

NOTE: Oops, Miss Tula just informed me that it wasn't Adam Brody, it was Adam Goldberg. See how I roll Part 3, with people smarter than me?

Surrounded

Dude, I dragged my only-semi-jetlagged ass down to La Poo last night for my re-entry drink with Special K, and I was wearing my You Am I concert tee, and no sooner had I sat down at the bar than some guy came up to me and was like "Where'd you get that shirt?" Of course he was an Aussie, and of course he wanted to chat all about his favorite band. He had seen them at the Silverlake Lounge, and was like, "Not many people know about them", but of course I could majorly trump him as I had just seen them on their home turf at the Metro.

I just can't seem to shake you guys.

Things I am:

- Much more tan than everyone else around me.
- Wanting to live by the ocean now, all the time.
- Driving up to San Fran tomorrow to hang with my SF crew for five weeks.
- Missing my Aussie Paussie, AKA my Other Life.
- So happy to be surrounded by my LA familia. Damn I love you guys.

Many more Aussie photos to come. This one's a pic of my girl Maya, in the swimming pool we dug at the Avalon beach so she could get in it.

Avalon

Home and Safe

i'm home and safe, got business class and the nice man next to me gave me an ambien so i slept the whole way. i've still got aussie sand in my hair and great memories of all of you guys in my head. thanks for such a wonderful trip. now you come see me.

Coco Beach

Where I went swimming this morning before breakfast. Paradise.

Coco Goes Gidget. Plus: Oxtail, Fascinators.

See, there's just too much good stuff going on. First of all, I took my first surfing lesson on beautiful Bondi Beach yesterday. My surf instructor, a perfectly typecast Aussie bloke with blond hair, white noseblock, and a thick accent got me to stand up twice. I managed to fall on my ass many more times than that all by myself. Twice on the same spot on my hip bone, to be eact, so I'm a little sore today. But dude, suring is FUN! We just had to watch out for the bluebottle jellies, which are the prettiest inky blue things you've ever seen, but apparently hurt like hell when they sting. Trust me, my fellow students were much more dangerous...

Then, I ran home, threw on my polka-dot party dress, and skipped over to Bondi Icebergs, where ladies in hats and gentlemen in sport coats had gathered to watch The Melbourne Cup. The Melbourne Cup is an annual horse race, and, in true Aussie style, a great excuse to start drinking in the afternoon. All over the country, companies threw catered lunches and ladies took the afternoon off to meet up with their girlfriends. Half the town was drunk by two.

I squeezed into the upstairs snooty part of the bar next to a man with a ponytail and a lady with an ostrich-feather fascinator that nearly poked me in the eye. (For my fellow Americans, a fascinator is a teeny little hatlike-thingy that ladies pin to their heads with all kinds of feathers and crap attached to it.) The race started, the horses ran, it was over. Everyone continued drinking.

I ask you - why don't we have anything like this at home?

Then I continued on to a little wine bar and had a glass of grenache and worked on my script. Then I went home and read for an hour or so and took a post-surf-and-wine nap. Then at night, we went to this fantastic restaurant called North Bondi Italian Food, where we ate oxtail carpaccio and roast duck, and even though we'd walked there in the rain, inside it was cozy and kind of perfect.

AND, even though we took the wrong keys with us and ended up having to call a locksmith at 11PM, it was still good. I figured that was just the life-tax part of the Coco Perfect Vacation Day: Surfing, horse-racing, nationwide partyin', ladies in hats, time to write and a glass of wine, a good book, a good nap, and an amazing dinner out. Word.

Let's Go Surfing Bondi
North Bondi Italian Food

Sha-VAWN and On 'Til The Break of Dawn

The beautiful Miss Sha-VAWN had her birthday party last Saturday, but it was blecchy and gray outside, so instead of the long-anticipated beach picnic and Aussie v. Brazil football match, we all just went to the pub. Shocker.

We drank, we yapped, we raced toy cars, we got yelled at for not having our shoes on. (OK, me.) And Sha-VAWN, who defines what you want to look like when you're pregnant (hells, and when you're not), got lots of presents, including a fab caftan and a trial baby.

Backstory on the trial baby: Since I'm not going to be here in April when she and Matty Boombatty are due, I decided to snap a family photo ahead of time. One of her lovely friends kindly provided a prop baby; they posed, I snapped, and we laughed the whole time. Then I showed them the photo. Their laughter abruptly stopped, replaced by looks of shock.

Now, I don't want to dis the Aussie public health system, but didn't anyone tell them that this is what happens at the end?

In any case, lucky baby, lucky Matty, and of course, lucky lucky me for meeting one of the best girls' girls I know, halfway round the world. HAPPY BDAY SHOBES!

The Manly Wharf Bar

It's Your Birthday in Australia Dad!

Today (and tomorrow, on the other side of the IDL) it's all about Dad, in his varied and instructive guises:

- The Gambler: Took us kids to the Detroit Tigers baseball games, and the one who guessed closest to how many people were in the stadium won an ice cream.

- The Recycler: Charted our daily water usage during The Great Cali Drought on a piece of graph paper stuck to the fridge. The next year, he flipped the paper over and used the other side.

- The Decider: "Dammit we can't have nice things!"

- The Encourager: "Dad, I'm (in jail/moving to Prague/quitting my job/writing a screenplay/becoming a serial killer)." "That's great, honey. I'm so proud of you!"

And of course:

The Koopon King - Bought our first car on a coupon. Taught me everything I know about how to have a great life on the cheep. And let me tell you, it's because of the Koopon King and Queen Sonda that I have the best life. And my sibs. And you.

HAPPY BIRTHDAYS DAD!

You Am I

So Friday night we went to the rock show, where I saw the great Aussie band You Am I. Why they're not world famous is beyond me. The venue was packed, the fans were devotional, and Tim Rogers, the lead singer, stripped down to his waist, shimmied his hips and howled into the mike as he jumped into the crowd. What more could you want? (He also helped prove my newly-minted theory that all great frontmen are at femmy, femmy boys.)

After the show we met up with a new friend, Dan, at the merch table. He was distraught at losing his Specials pin, but cheered up considerably once I complimented his shoes and he dissed me for being American. With that requisite exchange out of the way, we went on to discuss football and harmonize on his favorite song by the band America.

No irony here. No, sirree. Just a good night of RAWK.

You Am I

Caution - Wet Paint

So last night we went out to dinner with the lovely Miss Josie and Matt, after checking out their new 1950's tropical beach shack. It comes complete with rose bushes out front and cicadas out back, all-grown-up styley, so to celebrate, we ladies put on our best 1950's frocks and the gentlemen served up vodka-limes from a shiny retro cocktail shaker.

Then we all went down to Wet Paint, where the Aussie in the kitchen somehow managed to whip out a Louisiana chicken that was better than anything I've ever eaten in Said Great State. It was so good I actually woke up thinking about it. (As if I don't always wake up thinking about food.)

Then it was back to the bungalow for strawberries, Frangelico and tasteful conversation about literature on the back deck. Very, very proper. Til we started arguing about polygamy and stealing each other's ideas for television shows. God bless the New Domesticity.

Aussie Soul Food Hells Yeah

Bewitched, BeDazzled and Bewildered

Before I unleash the dirt on my sojourn Down Under (beer, bacon and bondi, to give you a sneak peek), I have to give a shout out to Miss Tula, who celebrated her bday the night before I left with a Glam Karaoke party. The woman invited 25 of her nearest and dearest to Parao, then provided props, wigs, candy, and a BeDazzler so we could all make spangled tee shirts while singing bad songs and getting drunk. And she wore a gold lame dress.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Miss Tula is easily the most gorgeous woman I know. I'm sorry, but she is. Not only that, she's one of the best girls' girls around. Happy Bday Miss T!

And a special shoutout to Craig W, who used the props to give himself a hunchback, then sang Cat Stevens' "Morning Has Broken". Too bad Parao didn't have Sonny and Cher's "I Got You Babe" so he could sing it with his second head.

My BeDazzler