Thursday, June 30, 2011

We're not holding our breath for a repeat invite to L.A.

Now that the session is over, Big Red and I have been back into training. Me as a Super Hero and she as, well, as somebody who hangs around a Super Hero in Training.

However, we took a break after a rigorous 16 days and made our flagship journey to Los Angeles. As I was writing this, I was thinking I'm so glad we had the foresight to pack workout clothes, which served as very useful swaddling material for the wine glasses we accumulated on the trip.

Anyway, back to L.A. baby, where we discovered we actually like people again, well right after we turned our backs to the airport terminal and waved goodbye to the annoying, uninformed traveling public.

Our first evening in Los Angeles took us to a fabulous awards show. Well actually we were guests of those being honored. Okay more like we sat on the couches outside of the awards show while our new friends attended the event. Okay fine. We had actually moments earlier met the people who were invited to the shindig and they grinned and nodded towards us as we were being escorted out.

Next stop is Phillipe Chow with our new Diva-licious comrade for a birthday party. But not before Diva reveals we must make a pit stop in the Valley for her wardrobe change. Now, most people have no clue what this drive means, but by the time we arrived at our destination most passengers would have received in-flight drink service twice; been reprimanded for having any electronics turned on during takeoff and landing; and been given a pillow and blanket.

So finally we arrive at..... Cedric the Entertainer's house. I know, Shut Up! No. You Shut Up! Lucky for us, our hostess hadn't figured out we are like a couple of toddlers who shouldn't be left alone unless secured in a playpen while she spent an evening shopping in Mr. Entertainer's wife's closet for party-wear.

Hey look here, what's this? A wine pantry - you don't say. Well we were told to help ourselves to a glass of any sweet nectar we could fine. I'm proud to say Mr. Entertainer (not Cedric, I'm trying to be respectful, after all, our fingerprints are all over the place because there were some beautiful wines that were begging to be fondled) has a very nice selection of wine including some from Nevada's own Carano family.

At this point we have emptied one bottle of wine into two wine glasses. Gotta love the big gulp size wine glasses. So, now what? Oh look a larger than life painting of The Entertainer himself. We couldn't help but think, since Mr. Entertainer isn't here to show us around himself, he would certainly want us to photograph ourselves with his (what appeared to be just delivered) painting of The Man himself. As you can decipher from the attached photos, even in absentia, Mr. Entertainer is picky about the photos in which he allows his image. Big Red has a lovely picture of herself with a bright flash of light.

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Monday, June 27, 2011

If Lou Ferrigno can't do it - then nor can I

So I heard from a very reliable source you can't actually reach Super Hero status until you've spent an entire day at The Ivy for lunch. Well maybe I had a dream about it, or fantasized about it, since nearly a year of celibacy has forced my fantasies in a whole different direction. Although I do receive signs in odd forms. For instance, instead of tea leaves, Big Red and I have taken on the art of reading wine sediment. Hey, you take the resources that are available to you. This task has its hazards. Such as last Wednesday it took 5 bottles before we realized there is no sediment in Sauvignon Blanc. Garçon bring out the Cabernet please.

Anyway, as it turns out, The Ivy in Los Angeles is a place where guests are in need of the services of a Super Hero, because they are "Hollywood" and don't have the energy to defend themselves based on their daily diet of 3 grapes a day with Veuve chasers. Now Big Red would like to claim I forced her into "said" diet, however, while she still had all her faculties about her at 1 p.m., she chose to order the Papaya and Avocado salad which was her last meal of the day due to the 5-hour "lunch" which included the above mentioned salad, 18 Gimlets, and Duckhorn Sauvignon Blanc. So by 6:30 p.m. the only source of nutrition she could feasibly consume would have been through intravenous injection, based on the fact her mouth couldn't form any replica of the English language, let alone have the strength to actually gnaw on any type of solid.

I'm no doctor and haven't even played one on T.V. - So she missed a meal. Heaven forbid. She certainly made up for it the next day with a heart-stopping - and I have to emphasize this part,, "AIRPORT" - chili-dog. I know, I'm training to be a super hero and all, so I should have saved her from herself. However, you have to understand, Lou Ferrigno couldn't have pried her hands off that dripping hot sausage sandwich at that moment.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Friendliest girl at the beach

Proceed with caution, because I'm just now hopping back on the "writing" bike with my training wheels on today, after a long composition hiatus. It was a break that was necessary in order to keep a paycheck coming so I could actually keep this laptop, my house, car, food, custody of my child, etc.

After a long arduous, hard working winter that lasted longer than your worst nightmare of a date - you know - the date that forced you to fantasize of a demonized winged creature swooping in to yank him from this universe. Another analogy my sluttier friends (Big Red) will understand better - you know, the date that had you making out patterns on the ceiling as if they were constellations? Okay, so it was a long winter.

With that established, and the fact I spent 120 days with virtually no ability to turn my nose up to an invitation to fatty food and copious amounts of grape juice - you need to know this Super Hero in training's swagger turned more into a lumbering waddle as I returned to a life of normalcy by the Legislative session's end.

So on June 6th, I took a long hard look in the mirror and decided the party responsible for this mess is - NOT ME. No, I would never do this to myself. I place the blame on every Legislator that serves in Nevada. Yep. 63 people should feel very bad for what they've created. Maybe there are only 62 Legislators now, because from the looks of me - I'm can't be sure I didn't actually consume one of them.

Anyway, I have been on a very strict, self-imposed diet and exercise regiment for 12 days and am proud to say, by the time I'm in Hawaii next month, I may be able to reveal my ankles. Actually I can see some remnants of my abs by now and I look great in a bikini in low lighting; and if I stretch my hands way, way, way above my head. I'll be the friendly girl on the beach with a gregarious double handed wave for every passerby.

The good news is I have something like 42 days left to continue the transformation. Or 50 days. I don't really know because that would involve pulling out the abacus.