I Finished My Script!

The now-ritual photo of the ritual glass of wine while holding the finally-finished product.

Not that I haven't been drinking - it's just that now I can go back to drinking with other people.

Word.

LOPeeps Fly Cheep!

Dudes, unbeknownst to them, Southwest is sponsoring COCOLOPO8 by throwing a super-cheep ticket sale to Sacramento. Check it: $59 each way to Sacto from Burbank. You don't even have to deal with LAX!

Get 'em now and lock that shzit in. Shuttle service available from SMF-LOP. (Driven by super-foxy drivers.)

*Be sure to thank Jackie and his hot-pink YSL. He Alerted me to this Dirt.

I Wear My Sundresses At Night

Saturday night Miss T and I went for dinner at the sushi joint around the corner. Like me, she has also been so incredibly busy that she was kind of beyond speech, but it didn't matter, cause it was one of those hot hot nights where we both just tooled around in sundresses and flip-flops and the smell of jasmine was overpowering and tons of folks were hanging out at the bars around the corner from my house and talking and laughing and smoking and drinking cold beer.

Sometimes it feels like a vacation just living here, and no more so than nights like these. Sundresses at night - so good and completely fo' free.

Love From The Lily Pad

I know I have been extremely girlie lately and posted about flowers THREE TIMES this year, but I am walking around my little hothouse in the sky all drunk off the smell of these amazing giant lilies. I picked 'em up at the Hwood Farmer's Market. (Tip: Go just as the market is closing and they're like $2 bux a stem.) Flowers are the one thing that always make me feel rich, even when I'm broke (and have the best life).

Love from the lily pad.

Ruffled Panties. Cheep.

Dudes, the store around the corner from my house is having a ruffled panties sale! They're just like the pineapple kind I posted about long ago, and they're only $12 bux, which is expensive for panties but cheep for the cutest pair you'll ever rock beneath a sundress. Trust me, you need these.

The ones that're on sale mostly feature cute astrological signs, which for most chicks is super-dope. But for me and anyone else born in June/July, there's a problem, because there's no way I'm gonna clap a pair of Cancer panties with a bunch of crabs all over 'em on myself, if you know what I'm saying and I think you do. So I just decided that when it comes to ruffled panties, my star sign is Honeybee.

If you don't live near me and MUST have these undies, let me know. I'll run around the corner and pick 'em up. Please specify star sign and bootie size and I'll do my best. (Girls only - No way am I sending these ruffled panties to guys, not even "for your girlfriend." Trust me, I don't care what you do on your own time, but there are things I don't need to know about you.)

And big props to Caro for Alerting me to this vital piece of Dirt.

The Earth Is Made Of Dirt

Things to do fo' free on Earth Day:

1. Walk somewhere instead of driving. Check out all the stuff that you don't see when you're simultaneously shifting/changing the station/drinking a latte/talking on the phone/applying mascara. (I have never done this.)

2. Put a seed in some dirt and add water. I'm not gonna tell you what happens, but trust me, it's magic.

3. Wear blue. People across the country are doing this to show that they don't want any more coal power plants to open up. These plants are the largest single CO2 producer in the world. (Much worse than those steaks and SUVs.)

4. Call your senator/rep at 202-224-2131 and tell them you want them to enact some badass climate change initiatives. (Preferably ones that create green jobs for our suckling economy.)

5. Turn off your computer. (As soon as you finish reading this, of course.)

5. Go vegetarian. I won't be doing this, but knock yourself out.

Happy Earth Day, kittens.

A Perfect Storm of Dirt

Sunday was a perfect storm of dirt. Here's how it went down:

1. BevMo 5 Cent Sale - I rocked on down to BevMo's twice-yearly wine sale to get a bunch of cases for LOPO8 Fest. Now, you can get all snarky and Silver Lake Wine Shop on my ass if you want, but twice a year at BevMo, when you buy a bottle of wine for the regular price, they give you the second one fo' 5 cents. Which, as all you heavy drinkers out there know, is practically fo' free.

2. Hollywood Farmer's Market - Fresh cheese, fresh bread and warm tomatoes on the vine, straight from the dudes who made 'em. Not free, but cheep considering that they created the best sandwich one could ever hope to eat in one's entire life.

3. Girlie Clothes Swap #3 (or #4 - I can't remember) - I made sangria with 5cent wine and strawberries from the Farmer's Market and a bunch of my best girls came over and we all ran around in our underwear and got a bunch of new clothes fo' free. So if you see a bunch of ladies running around town looking extra good (especially one named Darcy), that'd be us. Calvin Klein and Geren Ford, yo. (And if you live in the area, come on over - there's still plenty left.)

I Become A World-Famous Supermodel

So I'm walking back to my car from the cafe yesterday when all of a sudden this guy in a Hyundai Elantra pulls over next to me and gets out, saying "Excuse me?" I start backing away while of course maintaining my Midwestern wary-but-polite "May I help you?" face (not to be confused with the CS Look of Death). He says, "I'm a photographer and I'd like to shoot you while I'm in town I love your dress and of course you'd be paid" (cause he could sense that I was not fo' free) and he shoves a business card into my hand and gets back in the Hyundai and leaves.

Now, of course, you know I was looking good, but that is not the point. The point is, he had one of those clip-on police sirens slapped on the top of his Hyundai. And given that, I just wanted to let you all know I'm giving up on the writing and am taking him up on his offer. Cause, you know, I'm gonna be a star.

COCOLOPO8

Yes, it's that time of year again, when I kick my parents out of their home in honor of them giving birth to me and supporting me for more years than I care to admit, so that my friends and I can take over the LOP Lake House for a birthday weekend of ME. And you. And food. And drinks. And the pontoon. And the paddle-boat. And the water worm. And Jake's hot-pink YSL. And all the caftans, cowboy hats, kimonos and cutoffs you can stand.

Let me know if you can come. If you can't, you will be missed, but trust me, I'll feel way sorrier for you than vice-versa. The lake will change your life.

Families with babies get first dibs on the private rooms, and we have plenty of water wings etc. from the nephews.

Dates: Friday, July 18 - Sunday, July 20.

The only rule: Don't touch Coco's grill.

Advice

Big ups to the O.G. jogger who yelled at me this morning, "Concrete is 18-22% harder than asphalt!"

I.e. "Get your ass off the sidewalk and onto the road if you still want to have knees at my age."

Advice. One thing that always seems to be fo' free.

Got any?

Death Metal & Porcelain Panthers

I’m just returning from a weekend of death metal and porcelain panthers in the neo-gothic outpost of Cicero, Illinois. A girl needs a vacation now and then, even if it's not fo' free, and I’m not talking about Palm Springs; I’m talking about an entire change of venue, of state, of wind chill.

So, after a long liquid flight with my new long-haul trucker friends Ed and Bob, I touched down in the alternate Midwest universe of dank, dark rock clubs, deer-hoof coat racks, and the ghost of Al Capone playing cards upstairs. The wind howled through the streets in a dusty whirl of stamp collections and Nick Cave and architecture as we mixed mojitos and new tracks and put more damn vinyl on the record player.

And before I could even think, I was doing shots of Becherovka and eating svickova na smetane while famous Czech rock bands gave lectures upstairs; I was rummaging through bins of exotic jewelry in patchouli-filled secondhand shops; I was head-banging to Dead Child in the Empty Bottle while getting hit on by girls and checking the drummer’s right hand for broken bones. That night I dreamed it was so windy the house blew away.

I flew home yesterday with shadows under my eyes, snakes twisting around my finger and a panther at my throat, thinking of satellites and silk screens, squinting into the sun and wondering how it could be 97 degrees anywhere in the world at all.

Tell Me Baby

Nikki Six had an extra ticket to the AFI Music Docs Series at the Arclight last night, so I fought past the paparazzi screaming outside for Britney (some premiere), and went with her to see the new Red Hot Chili Peppers doc. It was about the making of three of their "Stadium Arcadium" videos, including "Dani California" and "Tell Me Baby".

I like and respect the Chili Peppers, but I've never loved them 'til now. Here's why: In "Tell Me Baby", Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris (Little Miss Sunshine) had amateurs audition to play one of the Peppers' instruments in the video. Then, while they were playing, the other three Chili Peppers would bust in and finish the song with them. You should have seen their faces as they realized that they were jamming with the band.

At one point, the cameraman for "Tell Me Baby" said, "I expected these sad losers and dreamers, but all these kids were really great." And the whole video kind of acknowledged that everyone starts somewhere and comes here with a dream, and just because they're an unknown on an audition, it doesn't mean they're not great. And believe me, these folks were great.

The Music Doc Series is my favorite thing ever (the two best things in the world together), and it's by far the best thing that the AFI has ever done (including educating me). N6 and I have gone a few times over the years, and every time I came out smiling and happy and loving the Rawk even more.

Free. Tibet.

Chocolate and Cheese

It's what's for dinner. At least it was last night. (And wine.)

When you're a grown-up, you can eat whatever you want, whenever you want. I remember plenty of times as a kid, looking forward to the day when I could do just that. (These fantasies often included eating an entire pound of bacon by myself.) But now that I'm an adult, I sometimes forget to.

And, truly good chocolate is cheeep compared to other luxuries. (Just not compared to Hershey's.) So have whatever you want for dinner tonight.

I Dream of Barack

Last night I dreamed that Barack Obama and I were hanging out with a security guard in a building in DC. He leaned in and whispered to me that he had been in love with me ever since in grade school, and then he started singing Dolly Parton's "I Will Always Love You". He sang really quiet, because he didn't want anyone to hear. Because of Michelle, you know.

Hey, I'm not the only one. Check out I Dream of Barack. Cause dreamin' is fo' free.

(And thank god I Don't Dream of Hillary. Or McCain.)

The One Thing That's Been Missing

I've lived in LA for a while now, and I consider myself lucky because I feel like I have it all. But there's been one thing that's been missing, that I start to yearn for every year around this time:

A friend with a pool.

Face it: When it gets really hot in the summer, you don't always want to hike all the way out to the beach and deal with the waves. You just want to jump into a clear cold refreshing pool, then lay in the sun with a beverage. Fo' free.

I figured that sooner or later one of my friends would get a pool, and as it always happens in LA, it never rains but it pours. Not only did the lovely Alex get a condo with a giant one (and a hot tub) in South Pas, but Shaun and G.U.S. and T-Love just moved into a place with a pool over in Santa Monica. Now, no matter where I find myself, I'm never more than 15 minutes and an invitation away from everything I ever needed.

Whorange: The Color Of Craving

Now, we all know that The Dirt Alert is dope, but guess what? There's another sick-ass blog out there, and I'm addicted. It's Miss Tulita's cheeky little Whorange, and it's all about design and decoration and desire. As in: You desire to buy everything that she highlights on her pages. Basically, it's like living inside her head, and let me tell you, I'm just one in a long line of people who would like to do that. She's funny, she's dope, she's sassy, and she's got better gear than you and I ever will. And, at least reading about this stuff is fo' free.

So if you need advice on how to turn your Ikea into I-candy, or you think there's nothing sexier than a squirrel in a suit, go whorange yourself out. Who knows, it may become your new favorite color.

Duudes.

Last night I was throwing back Cracker Jacks and beer with Craig and three of his buddies at Dodgers Stadium (again), when it hit me how much I like dudes. I don't mean like that; I mean like how much I appreciate all my platonic guy friends.

Guys are dope for:

- Shooting the shit
- Not talking, except about pitching stats
- Putting together bed frames
- Going to art openings with you
- Teaching you to surf
- Scratching
- Getting a guy's perspective on that loser you're dating
- Drinking beer with
- And then making sure you get home safe.

Don't get me wrong, I love my girls and they all know it. But man, guys are good. And, as they will be the first to admit, they are definitely cheep and fo' free.