So today was a real red letter Los Angeles day. Not to say it was great or anything, just fairly remarkable. I woke up super early and called Mom at like 3am. I always call home super early cuz of both the time difference and cuz things get pretty hectic at Der Ananian HQ back east. So we chatted a bit about my niece Ashley’s 3rd birthday party this past weekend. I’m sorry I missed it. Mostly cuz I dig cake. The topic turned to television and Dancing With the Stars – have you seen it? Oh my god… so good! What’s remarkable about the show is that it’s a nice show about nice people doing a nice thing. There’s no eating of pig testicles or backstabbing or alliances. It makes me miss my ballroom dancing classes in junior high. Long story short: (1) Joey Lawrence = really hot, really buff and has gay eyebrows despite his absent wife; (2) Mario Lopez can shake it fierce and is my mom’s fave – also gay twinkly eyes (but pretty, not the scary reptilian WeHo crow’s feet type) and a very suspicious headband during the rehearsal footage (Mom calls him “the one with the dimples”); (3) NFL legend Emmitt Smith is the cutest cuddliest guy with a great smile and the bitch can dance. The audience gave him a standing ovation, which made me feel warm and fuzzy. I was surprised at first, but then I thought about how you have to memorize playbooks for football and how that’s kinda like giant choreography. Anyway he is my new favorite teddy bear.

Speaking of teddy bears, you should download the single of the week on iTunes: “Yours to Keep” by Teddybears (formerly Teddybears STHLM). Very freaking catchy. I dunno how much longer it’ll be up, but it’s a free download. I’ve had it on repeat all weekend.

Remember our last chat when I promised you sex dwarves? Musta been a psychic flash. Get this: I am late for a doc’s appointment, but nothing irreparable, when I stop short and tap the bumper of the car in front of me. So the driver gets out, and he’s a little person… a dwarf! Can one say “dwarf” anymore? (Dwarfism.org says “midget” is a definite no-no, but “dwarf” is widely – but not universally – acceptable)

Anyway I’ve had dwarves on the brain since seeing Tod Browning’s 1932 shocker Freaks this weekend. Pretty amazing flick. Also saw Casablanca for the first time, but no dwarves, he/she’s, pinheads or bearded ladies there. So yeah, the dwarf in the giant SUV was part one of my LA day. Only later did I wonder how on earth he reached the pedals and saw over the dash. I am gonna have to do a little research thereupon. I don’t know that he was a sex dwarf, but he was kinda cute. I kinda wanted to pick him up – literally, that is, like off the ground. I have heard there is a sex dwarf that’s the maitre d’ at the Black Angus in West Covina. My knitting buddy Kari told me she- or a friend of hers – saw him at some club and he was sporting a ten-inch cock… swinging the shit around on stage! I wonder if he still works at Black Angus. Been a while since I had steak… or “steak” for that matter. Mmm… dwarf steak. Makes me remember a mad crush I had on an Armenian rockabilly half-dwarf back in Bloomington. Ah, unrequited midwestern punk rock love…

My only other dwarf story is that of a family at the waspy church I went to as a kid: South Acton Congregational Church or “SACC” for short (dirty). The family was comprised of a “standard” sized husband, a dwarf wife, and two adopted Columbian kids – so diverse for the early 1980s. The mom died which was really sad, but the dad turns around and marries her twin dwarf sister! I really didn’t know how to process that one. I wonder how the kids took it. Speaking as an adopted child myself, I can attest to the identity crises that you endure. Throw an identical twin replacement dwarf mom into the mix and you’ve got an after school special. I remember both mom 1 and mom 2 had a thing for shawls over turtlenecks.

So after my dwarf encounter and doctor’s appointment in Westwood, I’m heading north on the 405 to get to the 101 when who should pull up on my driver’s side in a black SUV but the Governator himself – Arnold Freaking Schwarzenegger! He was smoking a cigar. There was another scary black SUV following close, and those bitches had a fucking full-on machine gun on the dash. Eek!

So I finish up my errands and make it back to Horton Hall – my trusty and adorable apartment building. It’s then that I spy actor Anthony Rapp strolling out from beneath the awning nearly arm in arm with a delicately featured Asian companion of the male persuasion. Who is Anthony Rapp you ask? He was the raunchy best friend in my favorite pre-teen movie: Adventures in Babysitting. It looks like I have a genuine D or maybe even C-List celebrity living in my building. Mama’s movin' on up!

Anyway, I last saw Monsieur Rapp guest starring on Law & Order SVU. I love that goddamn show. I love Mariska Hargitay, but I don’t bring it up anymore cuz Sean and Aldo are forever harassing me cuz once I said that she was “astonishingly beautiful” and they don’t agree. Please, bitches, you know you wish you looked that good.

So now I just have to meet Elisabeth Shue, and I will have met the entire principal cast of Adventures In Babysitting. A dubious goal to be certain, but I was born too late to meet the casts of All About Eve, The Women, Gypsy and Auntie Mame. I will never forget her lip-syncing to “Then He Kissed Me” by The Crystals. Man, those opening credits left such an impression on me… I tried so hard to do it just like her, but my hair was never bouncy enough, though I think my boobs are bigger. My band Prettypony covered that song for our very first basement show in Bloomington, Indiana. If Ms. Shue only ever made AIB and Soapdish, I’d be content. In fact, I’d prefer that’s all she made. Her other movies are so stinky. Hollow man? Yikes…

So that was my LA day. Now I gotta run cuz my stories are on.

Xo
Greg

Ok so I think I must be the worst blogger ever. This is my second entry in like what... a month? I think the longer I let it go, the guiltier I feel about it, which makes me not wanna face it, like when you stop opening your mail after a while… yikes! Of course you prolly never do that cuz you’re normal. Ok so now I am back on the blog horse! Hyaah! (Man I sure do love mounting things)

Last time I actually started to write an entry to this thing I was still in Maine with my family. We went to a charmingly mid-priced ovum-themed eatery called Eggspectations. Only later did I discover it’s a Canadian chain. Of course, who would else would concoct such whimsy? Maine is a liminal space where a garcon can bust out some French-Canadian trickery on your unsuspecting ass.

Apparently the Old Orchard Beach chamber of commerce was hosting some sort of ultra hot sexy dad stud festival while I was there. Everywhere I turned I was blinded by the thick, dark, and hairy middle-aged light. That was a nice perk. Thanks, OOBCOC!

So when I got back to LA I was delighted to find my car missing. I thought it had been stolen, but it turns out my neighbors reported it blocking their driveway, which I thought was really sweet of them. I dunno about you, but nothing says “welcome home” to me quite like a 600 dollar impound fee. The experience was enhanced by the lovely gent behind the Plexiglas who, in response to my statement that I’d been traveling for my grandmother’s funeral, informed me that there was “a rush on dead grannies” that week. That’s the kind of personal service you just don’t see anymore.

I’m trying to catch up on all my BazBiz duties now that I’ve returned and settled into autumn (well… soon). This is a kind of tricky time for the organization of Bazaar Bizarre because I wanna keep up the momentum and excitement, but it’s easy to get bogged down in a lot of problem solving that’s not quite as glamorous as poring over all the vendor applications. We’re about to plunge into the publicity phase of the operation. The way it seems to work, and lemme know if you have some helpful advice, is that there is a very narrow window of time in which you need to establish your PR strategy and media presence. It reminds me a lot of when I was booking tours for my old band Prettypony. First, you have to wait and wait and wait. It always seems to be too soon for articles, demo tapes, bookings, calendar listings, and what have you. Then suddenly… bam! It’s too late! Somehow you have missed all the deadlines for submissions. After over a decade of experience in the booking biz, I seem to be only slightly better at this game of hurry up wait… or would it be wait and hurry up?

Aside from the PR shuffle, we have to tackle the assemblage of all the vendor information and photos and listings. There’s a lot of web stuff that goes into this stage, which is kind of a dicey proposition because I am certainly no web mistress. It’s so important because it’s here that we’re really delivering what we’ve promised our vendors. I mean the whole idea is to set the best possible stage for the vendors, and try to eliminate and/or address as many obstacles as possible. I mean why else should people pay to participate in something like Bazaar Bizarre?

So that’s the precipice upon which I am standing this Sunday evening: trying to position myself to take the best possible bite out of the opportunities at my feet. Every year you make mistakes and you learn things and you wanna do your best to improve the experience for everyone – patrons, vendors, volunteers and organizers…

Wow… so what serious-ass tangent did I just wander off on? I mean I know I’m usually a laugh-a-minute gal, but I do have a couple deep thoughts rattling around in my post-tumor skull. I love making yall giggle at work, but I spose I really should take this time to shed some light on what goes on behind the scenes.

Next time I promise it’ll be all mud wrestling and sex-dwarves.

Xo
Greg

Ps: I am still trying to figure out how you insert all the pics and links into these blog entries. More bells and whistles to come!