Airport!

I traveled this week, and while that's nothing unusual, I still never get tired of aiports, flying somewhere new, seeing old friends. I loooove to travel, and now I'm starting to actually have the $$ to do it.

But this was no crazy adventure--I saw my parents (wait...that could at times be a crazy adventure). It was wonderful having some down time with them. Plus, they live in Springfield, IL, and while that sound unexciting, the whole town has been invigorated by the new, gorgeous Lincoln library, and the place truly had small town charm. And it was 79 degrees the whole blessed time.

But back to airports. First of all, there are a few things that the engineers haven't figured out about airports, and airplanes.

1. Airport bathrooms. The womens' stalls have doors that open IN, and the galley of the stall is never long enough to accomodate a typical carry on bag. Plus, most of the toilets are auto-flush, and ocassionally flush early, so they send a huge mist of e-coli filled bacteria whilst you struggle to race out, without hitting your luggage on any of the bacteria-laden containers/toilet in the stall.

In fact, I waited for a handicap stall that allowed for the (small) bulk of my baggage; and when I walked in--I mean the millisecond I set food in the stall--the autoflush toilet went for it. I didn't even get within three feet.

2. Security line. It's a known fact we're more likely as Americans to die from the common flu than from terrorism. Yet when you take your shoes off in the security line, you have to walk barefoot on the disgusting airport floor. Also, when you lay your laptop in a bin to go through security--and we know how we get our hands all over laptops--we are probably putting it in a bin that held someone's germ-encrusted shoes. Several peoples' shoes, actually.

Frankly, I'm more scared of dying from the bird flu passed around in security than a bomb. So, with much aplomb, I throw on a pair of socks to wear with my mules, put my mules in security bin, walk through security, grab my shoes, and take off the socks while turning them inside out. My feet never touch the floor and the now soiled socks are slipped in a pocket in my luggage reserved solely for them.

(This is a) a sign of bird flu hysteria and b) a sign I'm turning into my mother.)

3. Southwest. Listen, I love it--it used to be incredibly cheap and rarely does it run late. But cheap now? Don't count on it. Cheap quality? Oh yeah. Yes, the personnel are very friendly, but you still, despite the extra money, can't reserve seats, so it takes forever for folks to find a seat and by then you nearly run late; it's kid friendly, and they're Eff'ng annoying (you CANNOT find a seat not near kids anymore, I've realized); and unless you're lucky and get an emergency aisle row, there's a horrific lack of leg room.

On top of it, the endless transfers. And now that it's cheaper to fly jet blue? Forget it!

That is my rant. Otherwise...I really had a lovely time this weekend.

Good Friday? How about GREAT Friday!

I remember growing up--during the grades one through four that I was in Catholic school -- that Good Friday always loomed dark and rainy. Sure enough, the forecast this week was sunny sunny sunny -- storms on Friday -- sunny sunny sunny. If you're a spiritual person, you just might think God is being literal--or you may think it's just a metereological coincidence.

If you were raised on three masses a week as I was during my formative years, the dark, gloomy weather also reminds you that someone died for your sins--YOUR sins!--and by gum, if you don't respect that, then you will rot in hell for years instead of eating mass quantities of donuts in heaven. You will also rot in hell if you 1) have had any kind of sex not done within a marriage AND the period of ovulation, 2) use birth control (excuse me...does the Pope know what it's like to raise seven kids?), 3) are gay.

It took me several years of public school (during which I FINALLY learned what the term "hooker" meant) and my mom repeatedly going, "Don't let them make you feel guilty!" to shake the fact that yes Jesus did die for our sins (that has been ingrained hardcore and forever), but that doesn't mean you shouldn't live like a nun, for Pete's sake. Does Jesus really give a crap that you don't want to have 12 kids (the average amount women would bear without birth control) and that you say the "F" word ocassionally, like to party at Rage, and maybe you hooch it up every now and again? Of course not! His best gal pal was Mary Magdalene, remember?

The guilt really falls, if you will, with our offical calendar. Good Friday isn't a national holiday, but it should be. Plus, this year it falls over Passover, which is one of the most--if not the most--important Jewish holidays.

And Easter is supposed to be the most important holiday for Christians, too. Even more than Christmas--anyone can be BORN, but who rises from the dead??? It's a bit more impressive an event than a birth (virgin as it may be). Seems weird we're not given the day off when so many folks have to end up taking today off anyways.

But, no traffic. So that's good. God does work in quite handy ways, I guess...

A Wealth of Goodness

Sunday nights are a veritable pleasure fest. Oh, the television! In order, starting at 7pm PST:

1. 60 Minutes. Airs alongside Dateline, if you want to get a tabloid version of the human-interest and political junkie stories that the venerable 60M specializes in. Me, I prefer Lesley Stahl to Stone Philips, but ocassionally the "gone missing at sea" stories are just the thing for a lazy Sunday night. ("What you don't know about your washing machine can kill you.")



2. The West Wing. Rescuissitated (barely) into a once-again nail biting journey of politics, thanks to a fortuitously timed "TV land" election. And the best part? (SPOILER ALERT)


The Democrats won!!! (Altho frankly, Vinick was a Moderate Republican--better than a full-on bleeding heart Dem, in my opinion--and always took the high road. So either way, it was a fantasy.)
John Spencer's untimely death was incredibly sad, but the writers have turned it into a drama goldmine. I hope Mr. Spencer, up in heaven watching reruns on Bravo, finds that flattering as opposed to tacky.

2a. A cute little show on HGTV which I will not announce here as I work on it and THERE GOES MY SECRET IDENTITY...but it IS the best show on HGTV, hands down!

3. Law and Order: Criminal Intent. Dare I say it, I almost prefer Chris Noth and Anabella Sciorra's wry, under-the-radar duo to Vincent D'Onofrio and Katherine Erbe's oddball pairing, although it's really like comparing Veuve Cliquot with Dom Perignon. Noth is so hardboiled without pushing it, and Sciorra plays her character like a seasoned vet with a peculiar insight into crooks as well as vast knowledge of the most trivial things. Last night's ep was about an opera house that ended up fertile ground for murder, complete with over-the-top characterizations by Alice Krige and Julien Sands. Loved it!

4. Law and Order reruns of every flavor--SVU, CI, and often the mother ship--late into the night on various cable channels. Heaven!

5. And, though I forgot to Tivo it, I hear So NoToriOus, on VH-1, is a crowd pleasure. As if I can fit any more juicy goodness into my Sunday nights. I worship thee, Sunday night TV gods.....

boot scootin' boogie

I am obsessed. It's unhealthy and bizarre.

I'm determined to master line dancing.

It all started when I met a pal who loves country music as much as I do. I learned that if you seperate the wheat from the chaff, you can find some pretty good tunes--good melodies, lyrics, instrumentation. Then, for fun, we went to a gay country bar on Ventura.

We all tried to follow the line dances--to no avail! These steps were out of a britney spears video. Impossible!

Then I went to Dallas just a couple weeks ago, and again, was confounded by the routines. This is stupid, I thought. This is the corniest looking dancing around and I, who took dance lessons from kindergarten on up through college, can't do it??

So now it's V's big 30th birthday party, and she's having it at this huge country and western dance club in Thousand Oaks. Dag nabbit, I decided, I WILL master line dancing.

The Tush Push. Slappin' Leather. The Cowboy Hip Hop.

And so, I bought (bought!) a line dancing DVD and went to town. While I was learning the Grapevine and the three-step, I realized that I have longed to take dance lessons more intensely than I realized. I've been dying to take a 6-week ballet series, I've attempted ballroom dancing - twice--with the boyfriend, but nothing sticks. Then I saw Take The Lead to review, and even though it was pretty cheesy, the dancing was awesome, and I thought, this is what is missing from my life.



But for now, the only excuse to dance on my tight schedule is this line dancing. So dammit, I'm gonna make it count. Kentucky Chug, I will master you!

Hell-Ay

I have this side gig reviewing movies for a network's website, which has to be about the most fun part time job there is; and the screenings routinely take me to L.A. Proper. I used to live in West Hollywood--when you could share a two bedroom for barely $500 a piece, imagine!--but I migrated, first against my will, to the Valley. I used to look down on the Valley in scorn: Too hot, filled with suburban strip malls, no personality. But the cost of living is cheaper there, and once I got settled, I liked it: Wide streets, plenty of parking--no lines at Trader Joe's on Sunday afternoons!

Plus, the early years of living in LA were rougher because I lived in the heart of it; there's a certain soullessness to all the people that inhabit the "cool" parts, the struggling or not so struggling models, actors, etc. Everyone has a certain air of wanting something that's always out of their reach. Of course, there are plenty of enjoyable aspects to "real" LA, the yoga classes, coffee shops, and boutiques; but I always felt a little uneasy.

And of course, I generally came to hate LA in general, valley or no.

Now, after several years, I've come to accept it. I don't plan on settling here for live, and sure as hell won't raise my kids here, but I have a respect for L.A. It is tacky, opportunistic, and garish, and F U if you don't like it! You don't even need a high school degree to make it big out here; just a mix, in whatever percentage, of talent and cajones. Plus it's sunny most of the time, arid, and mild. No warming up the car for 20 minutes every morning and scraping off the windows! And yet, we get an ocassional rainstorm and brisk, fall-like weather.

I think of all these things when I drive home now after the movies, and last night I came up Sunset Dr and had to keep glancing back at the road--looking at the new nightspots open, staring at all the billboards, watching the curve of the street lead to Hollywood. It reminded me that as a child, all I wanted was to come here, and yeah the traffic and smog, and sometimes the atmosphere really blow, but for the most part, L.A. has not disappointed.