Random Occurances & Traffic Reports

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Last week at the Casting Studios I was in double session working on T-Mobile when I went to the Exhibit E and called out the names of all the actors who had signed in. The last one on the list was IP Dailey. For once in my life I was not screaming at the top of my lungs. I was very calmly and quietly announcing the names and asking them to come into my studio for a group explanation. I kept saying, “Who is ip? Ip? EYE PEE?? Who is ip or eye pee at Priviledge?” An assistant in the studio next to me started laughing and said, “Kathleen, it’s a joke.” “What’s a joke?” “At least I THINK it’s a joke.” “WHAT’S a joke??” It took me almost five entire minutes to understand why it was a joke and that it was supposedly funny.

As it turns out, my friend, Roman, totally Bart Simpson-ed me. Great. I still don’t think it’s funny.

So yesterday, Brad was at the studios for an audition and I was in my office working when he came bounding in. “Guess what? Roman just got another one. Jay Hayden just stood in the lobby yelling, ‘I.P.! I.P.! Come on people! I.P.! Who is I.P.?’ You’re not the only gullible person around! Roman got Jay too!”

And as it turns out, Jay was indeed standing in the middle of the lobby gesticulating with one arm and holding his other with his hand to his heart as if he was indicating that he indeed does pee daily.

At least I’m not alone in this world.

At not only that, at the same time in another studio, there was a little people casting going on. So picture Jay standing in the middle of a packed lobby full of hundreds of people and 50 little people. Jay was a little embarrassed. He came back to the offices and was like, “Thanks alot, Roman. I’m standing out there making an ass of myself and there’s a pack of midgets laughing at me. You made the midgets laugh at me!!”

At least I didn’t make the midgets laugh.

Sorry to my yella fellas but I got hit by an Asian driver today once again confirming the stereotype.  He wasn’t a SOTB Asian, thank the lord.  He spoke English perfectly well although he bitched about the fact that he had just picked up his Mercedes from the auto body shop after they’d replaced his entire front end.  To that I really REALLY wanted to shout, "Then stop fucking plowing into people!!"  Dumb shit.

Poor Chloe…  she looks so sad.  I know this photo makes it seem like nothing, but the damage is pretty extensive.  I hope they can fix her.  They’ll have to replace half the engine, the bumper, the headlights, the front panel, the hood, the wheel well, the axel, the tire, the hubcap and lots of other stuff that I don’t know what is.

On a lighter note, I’m sick of the Friendster ads in my blog, so I purchased www.knewlove.com yesterday and I’ll let you all know when I have it up and running.  Yay!

Today is Michelle’s birthday.  We will be partying it up this weekend - Hollywood watch out.

Gregg posted a comment to my post "Handicapped Restroom" the other day saying something about Larry David suing me.  Please explain.  I do not watch Curb Your Enthusiasm.  In fact, ask people in the know …They will tell you how enthusiastically I will explain to anyone who will listen that I find that show incredibly unentertaining.  However, I will always have a soft spot in my heart for Cheryl Hines.  She is such a nice lady.

We were casting real Home Depot associates today at store #1070 in a galaxy far, far away.  I think I might like to work in a suburban Home Depot.  All the employees were so nice and seemed to have so much fun.

Here are pictures of the disaster now known as our apartment.

 Ringo

Today is Hiko’s 26th birthday!  Check out his blog!  Here

What is up with Friendster these days?  Not only am I pissed about the photo quota fuck-up but now they’re putting advertising in THE MIDDLE OF my blog.  Not in side-bars or banner style across the top but in THE VERY MIDDLE of our blogs between posts.  I am going to have to move my blog elsewhere.  Hmmm…

Ugh.  Where is everything??

I was going to rip up the carpets and refinish the hardwood below them before Brad moves in.  I had all the furniture in the bedroom moved to the kitchen/dining room/living room after the old couches were removed and carted away.  The moving of all this furniture was a big job seeing as how a lot of it is bookcases from which all the books must be removed before you can move it anywhere.  And I have A LOT of books.  Luckily, Mirella and her sister Lety were available to come help me (as my broken butt made it difficult to bend over.)

So everything has been moved around a zillion times and all the furniture has been rearranged and nothing is where it used to be.  I am constantly walking back and forth looking for something.  My downstairs neighbors probably wonder what’s up as it’s normally so quiet up here. 

I will go into the bedroom to vacuum and realize that the vacuum isn’t in there so I’ll set my drink on a coaster and walk out to the living room to get the vacuum when I see a half full bag of papers.  It’s then that I remember that I was going through all the old rolodexes from past jobs and throwing them out.  So I go grab the bag and continue with that when I realize that the shelves next to them need to be taken apart but where is the screwdriver?  So I walk around looking for the screwdriver when I realize I’m thirsty but where is my drink and now the phone is ringing but where is the phone?  Now what was I in the middle of doing?  And it goes on and on.

When I ripped up the carpets in my bedroom I realized that instead of properly replacing bad floorboards, the previous tenants/owners just put down plywood haphazardly throughout the room.  So I tried to see if I could get new carpets but the whole process would take too long.  I put the carpets back and decided to paint instead. 

I painted the bedroom the palest color of blue and the living room a "Creamed Butter" yellow.  It looked great on the swatch but disgusting on the walls - like old, faded 70s yellow all over my living room.  I couldn’t stand it.  I went back to the Home Depot to get ONE gallon of paint in a different color, but had to wait behind a lady getting 25 gallons of different color paint.  This took an hour.  Needless to say, I was slightly annoyed.

The living room is now a very bright "24 carat gold" color that doesn’t resemble its name at all - it’s more of a saffron color in my opinion.  Josheepoo, loveliest of the gays, brought back Chinoiserie prints from Shanghai that he donated to me.  I got them framed and they are now hanging against the golden backdrop in the living room.

Brad doesn’t know about any of this and I can’t wait to show him.  He’ll love this color.  It’s so him.

Tonight I worked an event on Rodeo for Frank Gehry’s new jewelry collection at Tiffany & Co.  The celebrities came in flocks as I’m sure they expected to receive Tiffany’s gifts and whatnot (and they did get jeweled up for free by Tiffany’s.)  They included: John Legend,  Mira Sorvino w/child & husband,  Ellen & Portia,  Christina Ricci,  Patti LaBelle,  Frank Gehry & family,  Felicity Huffman & William H. Macy,  Lawrence Fishburn,  Angelica Houston,  Jennifer Love Hewitt,  Owen Wilson, Andrea Bowen, Samaire Armstrong, Tate Donovan, Doug Savant, Laura Leighton, etc.

I’d post pictures but Friendster has fucked up my account and not responded to my emails with requests to fix the problem.  I am hating Friendster right now.

Last night, Brad was snoring like crazy when I came to bed.  Because my feet were pretty cold, I think he woke up when he felt them on his legs.  He got up and went to the bathroom.  On his way back, I asked him if he could please put on a nose-strip.  He said sure, but dove head-first right back into bed.

I argued with him and begged and pleaded and he kept saying "Yeah, yeah.  I’m working on it."  Meanwhile he wasn’t moving a muscle, except for the one that makes the snoring louder!

I begged him to at least just blow his nose.  Again, "Yeah, yeah.  I’m working on it."  But nothing.  I started to get really pissed off.  I violently reached across him to yank a tissue out of the box on his bedside table and shoved it into his hand.  He whined and complained. 

Then nothing.

"Brad!  Wake the fuck up, blow your nose and SHUT UP for the love of God!!"

Nothing.

So the gentle shaking that became a more forceful nudge then turned into a hard point!point!point! with my finger into his deltoid.  Then he started to get really pissed off.  Keep in mind that he was asleep for this entire tortured hour of my life and didn’t remember anything this morning.

"Kathleen!  I’m trying to sleep!"

"SO AM I YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" I yelled back.  But, he still didn’t wake up.  I was fuming at this point.

So I stole all the covers and let him freeze to death alone in the bed.  I went and slept on my old love seat in the kitchen.  It was incredibly uncomfortable and I could barely sleep as I was so angry at this point and I could still hear him snoring in the other room in addition to the old man snoring downstairs! 

At 4am, he awoke shivering.  A-Ha!  My plan worked!  He got out of bed and went to the bathroom and curiously walked around in the apartment wondering where I could have gone.  He was a little shocked to see me in the kitchen on a tiny love-seat with all the covers, blankets and sheets from the bed.  He woke me up, "Baby what are you doing sleeping in the kitchen?"

"I am not going to sleep on the new white leather so this was my only option to get away from you and your stupid snoring, sweating and slobbering!"

He put me to bed and went and slept in the living room (so as not to bother me) ON THE BRAND NEW WHITE LEATHER COUCH! 

I can’t win.

When I go into a public restroom, I try to use the stall which is furthest from the restroom entrance.  In my logic, most people are lazy and dart into the nearest stall which would leave the furthest stalls less visited and thereby cleaner.  Most of the time, the very last stall is handicapped, which I like because it’s so spacious.  And as Ixel can tell you, sometimes I hang out in a stall like it’s my own private party behind a velvet rope and only people on my exclusive guest list can join me.  (One night, I may have been a little tipsy and Ixel came looking for me in the bathroom.  When she found me, I pulled her inside the teensy weensy non-handicapped stall and we each stood on either side of the toilet and I proceeded to have a long and detailed conversation with her.  No one was peeing.  There really wasn’t any reason to squeeze into such a small space but I guess I just wanted to hang out in there.  Luckily there was no one waiting or we would have had some seriously pissed girls - no pun intended.)

Don’t get me wrong, I would never park in a handicapped parking space but I don’t really think peeing in the handicapped stall is the same thing.  In fact, in my entire life, I have never once been in the restrooms at the same time as a handicapped person.  So it’s not like I’ve ever inconvenienced anyone.  Although, this one time at the Chicago airport, there was a really grumpy old lady in the restroom and she was pissed at me when she saw me leave the handicapped stall.  Apparently she was waiting for it and how dare I?!  I looked her straight in the eye and said, "Calm down, Lady.  Life’s too short.  Besides, you’re no more handicapped than I am so there’s really no point in continuing this conversation."  Kathleen Newlove, coming through!

Last night at Dan Wilson’s birthday party, I went into the restroom at The Spaghetti Factory.  I was blown away for some reason by the fact that the first stall in this bathroom was the handicapped stall.  I’m so used to the spacious handicapped stalls that I didn’t know where to go!  Should I continue walking to the end and pee in a teensy weensy stall that is most likely the cleanest in the room or should I take a chance on this spacious but probably dirty handicapped stall?

Conundrum.