Room 1391: The Kennedy Center Honors

They make me cry.

Also, I wonder if Barbra Streisand knows who Ne-Yo is.

Also, I wonder who designed the actual Kennedy Center Honors medal.

Also, I wonder if George W. Bush hates going to these things.

Also, I wonder if Twyla Tharp could look more embarrassed.

Also, I wonder why they didn't honor The Who and not specifically Roger Daltry and Pete Townsend. Just because the other two are dead doesn't mean they don't also deserve props.

Also, I wonder why they didn't say "The Electric Company" or "Easy Reader" during Morgan Freeman's segment. Instead, they said "children's television show" and showed him playing a vampire bathing in a casket.

Also, I wonder if anyone else left the room during George Jones' part.

Amenities of Room 1391: Big Box of Tissues. And a Sense of Wonder.

Room 946: The World According to Gorp

Gorp aka Trail Mix aka Peanuts, Raisins and M&Ms.

Want to know what Gorp means? It means Good Old Raisins and Peanuts. And I knew that. I don't know why. But the big question is: why no love for the M&Ms? Shouldn't it be Gormp? (Apparently, the M&Ms were added later where they quickly out-shined the other two ingredients which led to massive discarding of raisins and peanuts.)

OK. Just checked Wikipedia. It can also be Granola Oats Raisins and Peanuts or Gobs of Raw Protein. The next big question is: Gorp has a Wikipedia entry? I guess it existed for the sole purpose to verify my claims that it meant Good Old Raisins and Peanuts (or Good Ole Raisins and Peanuts back in Dickensian times). For the record, I didn't write the Wikipedia entry.

Amenities of Room 946: Guest Only Reading Pantry, Green Onion Rum Paste, Glass Onyx Rabbit Poster, Ghostly Oil Red Plaque.

Room 768: Girls Just Want To Have Fun

The movie.

It was on TV tonight. And I watched it. Out of irony, I think. I had seen it on cable when I was in junior high maybe once or twice. OK, that’s a lie. I apparently saw it many times because I knew some dialogue word for word. I was simultaneously shocked and embarrassed and a wee bit impressed. Girls Just Want To Have Fun is a simple story: new Girl tries out for dance show, pairs up with Bad Boy dance partner, Rich Bitch rival makes trouble, Girl and Bad Boy win spot on dance show and, not surprisingly, fall in love. With one or two montages thrown in. The Girl who is aching for a little joy is none other than Sarah Jessica Parker in her transition from Square Pegs brunette to blondish Carrie Bradshaw. The Bad Boy is Lee Montgomery who is somewhere trying to not be recognized from Girls Just Want To Have Fun. And the Rich Bitch rival is someone who would later be on General Hospital for a brief time. GJWTHF (it’s the new LOL or LMAO) also features a young Jonathan Silverman and a young and non-angry Shannon Doherty. Netflix-ing yet? But wait! It also stars a young Helen Hunt! She’s the kooky best friend that encourages Sarah Jessica Parker to rebel and sneak out to try out for Dance TV. (Side note: it’s apparently Helen Hunt week in my house. I watched Twister the other day while cleaning. It’s not a great movie but you can Swiffer to it. And speaking of “Young Suchandsuch”, Twisterhas a young Philip Seymour Hoffman in a role where I could have sworn he would be an actor who would annoy me in every film he’s in. Who knew he would be brilliant? And here’s a little “Six Degrees” for you: Twister features Jami Gertz with a bad Southern accent. Jami Gertz’s first big role was on Square Pegs!) So go ahead. Pop in GJWTHF. Take a trip back to a time when synthesizers ruled the soundtracks. Recall the words you didn’t realize you knew to the song “Dancin’ in Heaven” that underscores the big dance off climax. And revel in the glory of the ‘80’s. How ‘80’s? The end credits to Girls Just Want To Have Fun are on a lavender background.

Amenities of Room 768: TV with the Mad About You channel. Wake up call from Cyndi Lauper. And courtesy leg warmers.

Room 1432: The Magic Castle

In LA there is a place...a castle, if you will...where magicians gather. It goes by the very descriptive name The Magic Castle. You have to be a member to get in. Yep, a member. It's a club where people join so that they can do magic or see others do magic. (And there's a restaurant!) But if you are not a member you can go in with a guest pass. And someone usually knows someone who is a member. Seriously, you think there are Six Degrees to Kevin Bacon? I guarantee you there are Two Degrees to a Magic Castle Member. Now if you are like me, your vision of the place is probably like Medieval Times with a some dude dressed like Merlin inviting you into the World of Illuuuuuuuuuuusssions. Turns out there are no strolling characters. Although the bartender tries to keep up the act of a ghost that plays piano but it's not cringe-worthy (In fact, Irma, the ghost, is pretty good. Just give her ghost parrot a dollar and she'll even do Michael Jackson's Beat It). The decor is very Haunted Mansion meets Sardi's except sans fake cobwebs and the caricatures on the wall are of famous magicians (there's a mini-alter to Harry Blackstone who used to be big in the '70s. It was he and Doug Henning that were the biggies that would hit the Merv Griffin Show and the Mike Douglas Show. I also seem to recall some "variety" specials. Now all we have is David Blaine. Oh '70s, I miss your grade of cheese). The layout of the castle is kind of Winchester Mystery House: there's an upstairs and a downstairs and another downstairs and weird hallways and rooms and creepy dolls. Yeah, I couldn't concentrate on some guy showing me card tricks because there was an old creepy doll displayed on the wall. There are a few different show venues within the Castle. A small one had a Fabio wannabe with crazy bling do card tricks up close and I still have no idea how he did them (our theory was that the diamond-encrusted watch was supposed to distract us from his hand work. That's how crazy the bling was!). And I also visited the main theater for a Saw-a-Lady-in-Half type of show. Now I saw The Prestige so I kind of had an idea how things worked. In fact, I'm not sure I really enjoyed the show because I was concentrating so hard on how they did it. Their names were Mark Something and Jinger...that's Ginger with a J. She wore the Vegas Magician's Assistant type spandex outfits and she twirled. She also did these weird interlude pieces where she would "set up" the next illusion with a little speech. Like before the Spirit Box one, she held a candle up to her face and said something semi-spooky about communicating with the dead. It wasn't a long speech just enough to get the Spirit Box in place so that she can get tied up in it and the "spirits" (aka Jinger) can make a ruckus. You know, now that I'm writing this, it looks like Jinger does everything. Well, she was the one getting cut in half and put in a small box and tied up. Not all at once because that wouldn't be magic, that would be serial killing.

Amenities of Room 1432: Vase of dead flowers. Slight of Hand Cream. No TV but Talking Ventriloquist Dummy.

Room 1142: Fit & Fresh

$50 Bed, Bath & Beyond gift card, people. Rumor had it that it was an Amazon card I was to receive but intel was off the mark. Hell. I don't care. I need towels and sheets. But did I end up with towels and sheets? No. I had to dream bigger. Blender! Yep. The fantasy started to come into focus: Me, delightfully dropping fresh fruit into my new blender, pressing a button and pouring into my glass a slammin' homemade smoothie. Won't those Skinny Bitch gals be proud? But do I spend the entire $50 on a blender? I have to admit I am taken with those glass ones. They just seem more sophisticated. Like I am serious about blending. No, I leave with a $20 blender. Hamilton Beach 10 Speed "Wave Action" for less ice chunks. Why the step down to a plastic blender? I had a wee bit of an ant problem so I wanted glass containers (I was going to get a "glass" something!) for my cereal and crackers. Also, I wanted a pitcher for iced tea (glass!). But most importantly, I saw this adorable all-inclusive salad container: The Salad Shaker from Fit & Fresh ("Fresh Ideas for Healthy Eating"). The "fresh ideas" include a place for a baby-sized knife and fork (bordering on spork), a tiny compartment for salad dressing and an ice pack- all in the lid! Tupperware for the anal retentive. ( I also went for the Lunch on the Go from Fit & Fresh. The lid can be used as a plate!) Holy crap. I love things that fit into other things and snap together...I love compartments. So when I saw those pseudo-bento boxes that gift card wept because it knew it was a goner. And I showed it no mercy.

Amenities of Room 1142: Dresser drawers within drawers with a side door. No new sheets or towels.

Room 1462: Long Way Down

Long Way Down is the sequel to Long Way Around.

I feel I must explain further. LWAround (Look! I'm coining a new abbreviation!) was a reality show on Bravo that followed Ewan McGregor (insert lusty growl here) and his Best Bud Charlie Boorman as they went around the world on motorcycles. I'm not big into motorcycles but other than that, it was a near-perfect show. Why? Because it had Ewan McGregor. Well, damn if they didn't listen to my prayers for a followup! LWDown (!) is on Fox Reality (Yep. It's a real channel that shows Temptation Island marathons) and it traces Ewan and Charlie's journey from John O'Groats, Scotland to Cape Town, South Africa. (PS: Hearing Ewan say John O'Groats causes me to ovulate.) OK. So it's not just Ewan that makes me love this show. It's Ewan and Charlie together. I have a secret love for Bro-Mances (Disclaimer: I did not coin this term. And probably wouldn't have, either). Guys that like to hang out with their guy friends and do guy things...in a lovable guy way (some bro-mance shenanigans border on fratty and that is a turn off. Such a fine line). So LWDown is a televised bro-mance. And I'm there every week! I'm very protective of Ewan and Charlie. On the first episode, Ewan's wife asked to join them for a leg of their journey. I took it personally. I know you're his wife and all and I understand that I have no chance but this trip is a Ewan-Charlie thing. Motorcycles only have two wheels, lady! Leave that third one in London!

Amenities of Room 1462: No Girls Allowed.

Room 1185: You Are What You Eat. Great.

There's a wee food shop in downtown LA called Organics To Go. You can get organic food...to go. Truth in advertising, people! You can walk in; pick up some healthy, semi-healthy, and quasi-healthy foodstuff and go. But only before parting with about ten dollars for a sandwich, chips and bottled water. Then they'll let you go. My bottled water of choice is Twist Organics water. It’s water with “Simply a twist of juice”. It’s from a company called Talking Rain so that gives you an idea of the new agey-ness we’re dealing with. My favorite part, though, is the instructions on the side: “As is Life, Chill for Best Results”. Yep.

Now why am I getting all organic-y? I still sort of blame PBS but now it has a new partner is crime: Skinny Bitch. It’s a nutrition book by a former model and a former modeling agent who are both hardcore vegans. Now, being a non-former model or agent, my first inclination was to hate them. But after reading their book, I really don’t think they would care. They tell us to “Shut the fuck up”, “Stop putting shit in your body” and “Don’t be a pussy”. I have to admit that I kind of like them. So I’ll try to listen to their advice. (The chapter on farm animal treatment is way harsh. It was very tempting to slip into fingers-in-ears, la-la-la mode.) But that advice will have to come in baby steps. Because I have two big reasons that may prevent me from being a veg: Thanksgiving and Christmas. I love my traditional turkey dinners. (Well, if you call microwaveable Stovetop traditional…it is in my house!) And I don’t want to be the asshole that holds up the food ordering at restaurant with my “what’s in this?” routine. So I’ll start with incorporating some organic stuff, leaning toward veggie-ness. (Hell, I’ve even been to a vegan restaurant- thrice.) But I won’t worry about it. Instead, I’ll follow the advice of my Twist Organics water.

Amenities of Room 1185: Bamboo ice bucket. PETA approved mini bar. Belligerent wait staff.

Room 956: Passion Party

It's a Tupperware Party but substitute Tupperware with vibrators. I attended one. Willing, in fact. The entertainment value was too much to pass up. Yes, I purchased some items...to be polite. And ended up burning my thumb but picking up a candle from the top of the votive cup. But hey, as I always say: it isn't a Passion Party 'til someone gives themselves a second degree burn.

Amenities of Room 956: First Aid kit with sensual scented ointments. Anonymous Check In.

Room 1046: Wookie Cookies Cookbook

Yes, a Star Wars themed cookbook. The cover features a Chewbacca action figure surrounded by cookies. And many of the recipes are accompanied by Star Wars figures in various poses, illustrating the food. For instance, for Han -burgers, Han Solo is on a toy Millennium Falcon shooting ketchup from his blaster onto a burger while Stormtroopers look on. And there's a group of Jawas carrying a glass of Jawa Jive Milkshake. Inside, you will also find Greedo's Burritos, Boba Fett-uccine, Hoth Chocolate, and Tuskan Raider Taters. And as a bonus, in the back are stickers to label the food that say things like "Use the fork, Luke".

Don't you feel the world is a better place with this book in it?

Amenities of Room 1046: Continental breakfast featuring Princess Leia Danish Dos.

Room 1376: Target's $1 Aisle

I bought a mini globe and three sets of educational flash cards. Four dollars, bitches!

First set was the United States Flash Cards featuring 52 cards (52! Besides all 50 and DC, there is a bonus card with a map of the US and all the states listed on the back. In case you forgot!). Fun Fact from the New Mexico card: its motto is Crescit Eundo which means "It Grows as It Goes". Yes, I giggled. Makes me want to drive to Santa Fe just to make jokes.

Second was the US Presidents. 48 cards. (No response, huh? Well, if you knew or cared about your presidents you would know that there are only 43 so far. I knew. I learned it from these flash cards. The other 5, by the way, are dedicated to president-related landmarks: the White House, Mount Rushmore, Lincoln Memorial, Washington Memorial and Jefferson Memorial. The White House card has a quote from John Adams on it: "May none but honest and wise men ever rule under this roof." Silly Adams.) Fun Fact from the James Madison card: His portrait was on the $5,000 bill. I know! There was a $5,000 bill? Damn. That's a lot of flash cards.

And the third set I bought is the Landmarks cards. 36 of them. Each have a picture of the landmark on the front (i.e. the Eiffel Tower or Machu Picchu) and on the back the name, where it's located, and a brief description. Fun Fact from China: these cards were made there but they failed to include one on the Great Wall. Either someone was modest or someone missed a printing deadline.

Amenities of Room 1376: Next to vending area which takes large bills. Room Service Menu in deck form. It Grows as It Goes on Pay Per View.

Room 992: H & M

AKA Hennes & Mauritz. From Sweden. Like IKEA. Warning: Swedish meatballs are not sold at H&M.

I'm very t-shirts and jeans but every once in a while I aspire to some modest fashion heights. Mainly, a half step up from t-shirts and jeans, which I guess would be a patterned t-shirty blouse and, well, jeans. (Side note: I go through shirts a lot because I get holes in them. Either I lean up against my desk too much or I have daggers in my bellybutton.) I've done the Ross thing, the Target thing and even the Forever 21 thing (but I don't have patience for Ross or Forever 21. You really have to plot out some time and dig through the racks. And frankly, I don't have that much will). So a friend introduced me to the H&M, otherwise known as Inexpensive & Trendy. It's Gap-y clothes mixed in with weird Euro cut numbers. Mostly stuff made in China but surprisingly, also made in Romania and Turkey. Who knew I would be sporting the latest looks from Bulgaria? And honestly, this is about the extent of my relationship with Eastern Europe. H&M shirts and some ball bouncing men. In my sports subset of my lust types are English football players (see Steven Gerrard MBE) and Eastern European basketball players (see Tony Kukoc of the Chicago Bulls circa 1995 and the current Laker whose name I don't remember but he is all lanky and Slavic). Back to H&M. My first visit was at Toronto's Big Ass Mall (I just did a search and it's actually called Toronto Eaton Centre. I was close). I, the style-naive American, was overwhelmed by the random patterns and bright colors as well as my gay male co-worker's attempts to sell me on a dress that was very Naughty Nurse. In the end, though, I came away with a non-slutty dress, a cardigan and a misty glimpse of my fashionista future.

Amenities of Room 992: Separate dressing area complete with long line. Bedroom set with extra screws and multi-lingual instructions. And the NBA on ESPN.

Room 1385: Jolt Cola

"All the sugar and twice the caffeine."

I haven't tasted a Jolt Cola in about two decades but I now own a pair of earrings made from Jolt Cola bottle caps and featuring bright yellow peace signs hanging beneath. Ah yes, Venice Beach. I could have bought a framed pencil drawing of Angelina Jolie or a glass ornament with Chinese Astrology characters on it. But the earrings were only eight bucks and as a Year of the Pig gal, I wasn't loving the hand painted swine. But I don't normally wear earrings. Especially dangly ones. I did wear them the night I bought them. My friend bought a pair of Dr. Pepper ones and I sported mine in solidarity. I was completely conscious of them at all times. And not just because they were dangly. But because I had on a peasant top and those earrings and the feeling that I was channeling Luna Lovegood.

I have a specific memory of Jolt Cola from high school. I was a junior and somehow found myself on the Academic Team. Now at my high school, you didn't "try out" for the team, you just sort of showed up. Needless to say, we were not the top team in our county. I only remember going to one match that year. We lost. But we spent the remainder of the evening driving all over Brevard County in search of Jolt Cola. We went home losers again. No Jolt. (Side note: I was on the Academic Team as a senior, too. I felt the need to stick with it because I was chosen to represent my HS as a student helper at the National Academic Bowl at Disney World. I "helped" with one match and spent the rest of the time at the Magic Kingdom. The other helpers and I also went to Sea World and mocked some poor dude who had to sing Piano Man to tourists. That was one of the few times that I was consciously obnoxious. It felt really good.)

Amenities of Room 1385: Empty mini bar. Complimentary copy of Billy Joel's Greatest Hits. Room located next to gift shop.

Room 1036: No!No!

So you say you love the smell of burnt hair? Well have I got a product for you! No!No! (yep, that's the name) is the at home hair removal system. Sorry, Professional At Home Hair Removal System. I know, if it's "at home", is it really "professional"? I'll take their marketing for it.
I first saw No!No! (isn't that adorable?) featured on Today. And promptly went to Sephora and bought one. Damn you, Today Show! (You can't see me right now but I'm shaking my fist.) The No!No! looks suspiciously like an electric razor (No!No! comes in different colors. I chose bright pink...yep, because if you're going to be vain, make a ChickLit statement. Pour yourself a Sour Apple Martini, discuss length vs. girth, and enjoy the odor!). The fancy little set also comes complete with long hair blades, stubble blades, a "Buffer" for buffing away hair parts, a cleaning brush and a bag to put it in. So you can take it with you and No!No! on the go. Because we often have spare hours in the day to slowly and methodically incinerate hair off our bodies.
Here's the technical lowdown as I understand it: a magic wire heats up, decapitating the hair shaft and a blade scraps the top layer of dead skin while you inhale it all. The instructional DVD suggests that you start with a flat surface. Well, body flat as in legs and arms. After you master the slow glide (watch that indicator light, kids!), you graduate to knees, pits, and bikini. It warns you not to use it on your face (Really? No burning wire on my face? Huh.) as well as your nipples or genitals. And I will leave that last part right where it is.
I've used it twice (it's perfect to use during non-essential TV like tonight's AFI 10 Top 10s where I had to keep putting down the No!No! to write down what movies I haven't seen...like most of the the top ten epics, gangster movies, and westerns). So far it works. It shaves the hair and apparently in a few months it is supposed to reduce the density of the hair. ChickLit moment: Oh my God, my hair is fat, too?

Amenities of Room 1036: Glade candles, Netflix copy of Titanic, and an old unused razor dispenser.

Room 1298: Ditty Bags!

From Merriam-Webster:
ditty bag
Function: noun
Etymology: origin unknown
Date: circa 1860
: a bag used especially by sailors to hold small articles (as needles and thread)

Or used by children in the seventies when visiting relatives in Arkansas for the summer. Yep. I had a ditty bag. I plan on using the term ditty bag as much as possible in this entry. Ditty. Bag. My ditty bag was trapezoidal in shape, dark blue (or was it black?) with plastic handles and a place for a name tag on the side. I used it to transport the cap gun and caps that I bought with my brother and cousins at the Davis Store (which inexplicably became the Davis Monument Store, as in headstones. I guess the cap gun market is rough) as well as a Malibu Ken doll that my cousin Dawn made me buy (she had a mismatched Barbie/Ken set and needed me to right her wrong). I still wish I had that ditty bag. It would be damn convenient. Carry on size and very Pan Am circa 1950. It should have come with a fedora and some horn-rimmed glasses.
I just did a Google image search and could not find my ditty bag! Oh the kids today with their fancy, colorful, designer ditty bags. (Paisley ditty bags go against all of my core values. And I won't even speak of the leather ditty bag with fringe...blasphemy!) They just don't know. Life was so innocent back when a child could carry a facsimile of a weapon onto an airplane in good old fashioned ditty bag.

Ditty Bag.

Amenities of Room 1298: Powder burns from cap "torpedo". Complimentary plastic Pan Am wings. And a free small, zippered container that doesn't have a name.

Room 689: Karaoke!

Yes, people still do this. I participated in this ritual yesterday. I mean actively...as in, I sang. More than once. Questions about alcohol quantity are filling your brain, aren't they? I only had one beer and that was at the sushi place (Sushi and Karaoke? I guess it was Japanese Stereotype Night. But no, I was not dressed as an Anime character). What did I sing? Most people were doing standards and Broadway stuff so I had to be a sliver of rebelliousness and do rock songs. First I sang "Where is My Mind?" by The Pixies (Side note: just saw a documentary on The Pixies reunion tour. After their first show of the tour, Kim Deal came offstage and immersed her hand in the ice tub filled with bottled water. She also had a mean-ass blister on one of her fingers. I feel her pain...sort of. As I'm typing this the tip of my index finger on my left hand is tingly numb from my bass lessons...Bass Lessons! I got my job to pay for lessons as a part of a "professional development fund"...suckers). I then did backup as my friend sang The Dixie Chicks "I'm Not Ready to Make Nice" (More rebellion: Country!) And then I finished the evening (or my portion of the evening that ended at 9) with a rousing rendition of Hole's "Miss World". I hate to toot my own horn but I was pretty good. So toot toot, motherfuckers!

Amenities of Room 689: Complimentary Mr. Microphone. Room Service Spicy Tuna Roll Special. Neck pillow for more comfortable Headbanging.

Room 880: Lucky Cats

Don't know what Lucky Cats are? Apparently, you've never been to Little Tokyo or the Sherman Oaks Curves. Lucky Cats are idols that...well...bring good luck (the Japanese name is Maneki Neko. Learned something new? You're welcome). They are cute and look like they are waiting for a high five (and they wear a "Don't leave me hangin'" expression as well). They are to be placed near the entrances of homes or in shop windows (alas, no luck for the Curves: their cat is stuck in the corner by the stretching mats). I guess the theory is that luck is sucked in by the good fortune-laden kitty statues and then permeated into the house and into its residents. OK, why not? I have two lucky cats that I am sure are very authentic that I bought at Epcot. They are about an inch and a half tall (they can be any size) and come with a little pamphlet describing the types of luck. Different colored Lucky Cats give you different kinds of luck or strength or whatever. "Green will bring strength in academics" (but I'm out of school). "Silver will give you patience" (but I want my luck now). And "Pink will bring you romance and new friends" (new, romantic friends?). And so on, you get the point. My first instinct was to buy one of each because, hey, let's hit this luck thing from every angle. Turns out, that's not very cost effective (this is Epcot, remember). So I opted for the two most general, as all encompassing luck as possible: "The white cat will bring you good luck and happiness" (right on) and "gold will make your dreams come true and bring you good luck in wealth" (double right on). Luck, happiness, dream fulfillment and wealth. Sorry, pink cat, looks like I can now buy those romantic friends.

Amenities of Room 880: Luck. That's all.

Room 599: Burt's Bees Do It...

I've recently discovered a new quirk of mine (and damn if those quirks aren't appearing more and more frequently) which is this: I get excited when it's Pledge Week. I have three PBS stations and every weekend I search them all (I blame Rick Steves and Rudy Maxa and those crazy kids at Globetrekker. I love me some travel shows. And now every Saturday morning I check to see what cities they are in. I call those shows the Gateway PBS. And I'm recording a Frontline tonight. See! I've gone hardcore. Where's my Charlie Rose Bobblehead?). So a few weeks ago, I recorded four Pledge Drive specials: Ten (something) to Happiness with Deepak Chopra, Your Warranty (or something like that) with Dr. Michael Roizen, Change Your Brain, Change Your Life with Dr. Daniel Amen and Detoxify Your Life (again, something like that) with Brenda Watson. (Side note: Even though I don't quite remember the names of these specials, I sure as shit remember what was said. I took notes! And I even had the geek-acy to show my co-workers these notes...somehow I was proud of them.) Anyway, so now, thanks to Deepak, I know that one of the keys to happiness (Ten Keys! That's what it was) is to "relinquish your need for external approval" (I typed that really well, don't you think?). And because of Dr. Roizen, I now know to get the wax out of my ears and floss. And according to Change Your Brain, Change Your Life, I shouldn't do heroin because it leaves gaping holes in your brain matter (Caffeine does, too, but I'm sure you're not surprised to learn that it is not as extreme as heroin. So just cut down to one Mountain Dew a day, okay?). All three of those guys mentioned detoxing. And that was Brenda Watson's whole production. She had her cute acronym RENEW! Reduce toxin exposure, Eliminate toxins, Nourish the body, Energize, Wellness. (I suspect the last two were fill-ins. She didn't like the sound of REN.) So what it boils down to is this: Brenda thinks I need to eat only organic foods, get an air-purifier, get water filters for sinks AND shower (I'll bet the water pressure with those is marvelous!), and watch what personal products I use. So no petroleum. formaldehyde, sodium laurel sulfate, phthalates, parabens, toxic metals, etc. in my moisturizer. Easy as pie, right? Not really, unless you like your pie filled with parabens. Parabens are like the High Fructose Corn Syrup of beauty products. (Side note: I blame Dr. Andrew Weil for freaking me out about High Fructose Corn Syrup. I now spend about ten minutes in the bread aisle trying to find a loaf without that crap. I think PBS is giving me OCD.) So because of those friggin' parabens being in my sunscreen, face wash, moisturizer, body wash, lotion, shampoo, conditioner and lip balm, I had to replace them all with Burt's Bees (now owned by Clorox but the website assures me that the ingredients are still the same old hippie stuff). My bathroom is now a Burt's Bees showroom. And I am all (or at least 98%) natural and on my way to toxin free. I just pray that the next Pledge Drive special isn't Shut Off the TV, Save Your Eyes!

Amenities of Room 599: Complimentary gas mask. Note pad and pen. Room presented in part by the generous support of the Doris Duke Foundation.

Room 1029: Esmeralda's Prophecy

It's on my must-do list at Disneyland (besides Indiana Jones and Soarin', of course). I have to plop in a quarter and get my fortune "read" by Esmeralda in the glass booth in front of the Penny Arcade on Main Street. She is the female Zoltar (weren't expecting a Big reference, were you?) and is closely akin to Catherine Zeta-Jones in the looks department, albeit with head scarf and only her top half. Once the quarter is deposited she makes some jerky movements, turning her head from side to side and then a white card pops out at the bottom. Instant fortune! (And "one of my lucky numbers"! Only twenty-five cents, folks. By far the cheapest souvenir on Disney property.) I currently possess 16 of these babies, dating back to when I first moved here in 2002. I've had some repeats (C'mon give Esmeralda a break!) such as four that begin with the quote "Ideals are like a shining star, which most us worship from afar"...whatever. But every once in a while, Essie gets specific: "You will meet with one who will love you. That love will be returned by you. The first name of this person begins with M and you will be introduced at a place of amusement". Apparently Micky Mouse and I are destined for one another.

Amenities of Room 1029: Coin operated bed. Free Disney Channel. No dimes and nickels, please. Plenty of false hope.

Room 1198: Curves

Yep. I go to Curves. Or Curvin', as I like to call it. And I'm not a stay-at-home mom. I just really took to the idea of being in and out of a gym in 30 minutes. And it's a pretty true 30 minutes. There's a benevolent voice that tells you to "Change stations now" every 30 seconds. It's very Maoist work camp without the uniforms. It's really the exercise equivalent to GarAnimals. Which is exactly what I need: a seemingly pleasant disembodied voice telling me when to move and when to check my pulse. With the soundtrack of jingle singers' re-recorded pop tunes playing in the background. Have you ever ran in place to a jazzed up version of "Send in the Clowns" complete with drum machine beat? I have!
Now the Curves I go to (and it's the only one I've been to) is really girly. As in pastel green and pink walls, holiday decorations and Hello Kitty. Now I have a past with Hello Kitty. She was my first book report in kindergarten (probably my best, too) and I did have a Hello Kitty themed birthday...only a few short years ago. (Side note: not my idea but I appreciated it. Everyone was told to bring HK gifts. And I still wear my HK stocking hat today....I mean, literally today. SoCal is still nippy in the mornings.) So Curvin' with The Kitty doesn't rankle me. The seasonal decorations are a little elementary school but charming. There is also a mannequin set up in the corner that has a very impressive wardrobe of holiday attire (She is currently decked out in a strange St. Patty's / Easter combo: Pink hair, green boa). But the Curvers-That-Be tend to take it too far in the winter: in the storefront gym that is my Curves, they display a giant inflatable Turkey followed closely by giant inflatable Snowglobe come Christmas. That's...extreme. Oh, and did I mention the Buddha in the middle of the room that is currently sporting bunny ears?

Amenities of Room 1198: Free Curves Keychain Card. Drag-Queen Religious Idol Decor. Room only available by the half hour.

Room 1263: Leap Day

At one point today, I was the only one working out and then later I was the only one in the laundrymat. Did Leap Day erase some of the population? Maybe some people can't handle 366. (I just got up to double check if I spelled laundrymat correctly...but my dictionary is useless...laundryman? laundrywoman? but no laundrymat. And then it hit me that I was at a computer and there is something nutty called the internet and it could probably tell me the spelling...and it is laundrOmat. I knew it didn't look right. But now it begs the question: Why the "o" and not the "y"? I don't have dirty laundro...)

Oh, and one more thing about Leap Day: I feel for the people born today and have to suffer the lame you're-only-(insert 1/4 of age here)-today jokes. But I don't feel for them if they are the ones making the joke.

This is the last thing, I swear: Martha Stewart decided to do a frog theme for Leap Day. I didn't watch but I'm sure there was a Frog Leg recipe and a how-to stenciled frog toilet seat cover.

OK, so I lied: I wonder how many of those Leap Day birthies actually calculated their exact age by subtracting three days for every four years of their life. And then celebrate their birthday accordingly. Because, as much as I hate to admit, my younger self would probably be all over that. Me now? Not so much. I'm not a stickler for age or birthdays. I just want to be taken out to dinner. Free Food! (I think I have stumbled upon a running gag...)

Amenities of Room 1263: One Night Free. And this special doesn't happen every year.

Room 1342: Photo Booth

I'm not sure what's worse: Using a photo from MacBook'sPhoto Booth for your Facebook profile or specifically taking a Photo Booth photo for your Facebook profile. Oh yes, I did. And I believe I worked on that photo for more than one minute...more like thirty. Oh Saturday nights! Why must you be so full of time?
A week ago, I decided to join the crazy kids and their Facebookin'. But I didn't have a decent picture. Enter Photo Booth. Because decent picture automatically equals Sepia Tone apparently. (I also went nutty with the B&W and the "Pop Art" feature. And I used props...) The best part (translated: saddest part)? I was thoroughly amused. I even dragged my poor dog into it. She gave me a look like "Shouldn't you be out?" Oh Mallory. Anyway, I took a good twenty of these pics. It really brought out the misunderstood-artsy-only friend out of town-thirteen year old inside me. I was going for "artistic" shots of me looking moody (which were originally intended to be my sexy look but that was not the outcome) and those oh-so-creative half-face shots (you know, the "here's only one eye! I'm edgy!") The whole experience took me back to about two months ago when a co-worker showed me a You Tube video of some preteen in her room singing some High School Musical song. We laughed. We mocked. And in my case, thanked God that I didn't have a video camera and that You Tube didn't exist in Junior High. Because that would have been me. I cringe to think what my "Hungry Like the Wolf" video would look like. I bet there would have been a lot of zooming and slo-mo...and props.

Amenities of Room 1342: Ample closets for wardrobe changes. Track lighting for provocative shadows. And Duran Duran on radio.

Room 833: Ms. Basswoman, the Sequel

Worried, weren't you? Thought I wouldn't do it, did you? Well, in your face! I bought a damn bass guitar. I went to about ten different Targets in the Valley to find one. And I'm on about ten different Target security tapes looking very disappointed in the electronics section. They had regular guitars, acoustic and electric, even a keyboard or two but no bass. They used to have them. I swear. Who would imagine that? More specifically, who would waste a good delusion on that? I thought all hope was lost. (And before you say a word: yes, I've heard of Craigslist. Yes, I know what a Guitar Center is. But I had to fulfill all aspects of my dream...) Hello, Target.com! Oh yes, they had them. More than one kind (which surprised the hell out of me). So I order myself the, wait for it, Silvertone ("Rockin' Since 1949") Revolver Bass & Amplifier in Colbalt Blue! Not only did it come with the amp but also an electric tuner, carrying case, sassy strap, instructional DVD with some dude who is probably in his eighth band, and a tiny little ziploc bag filled with colorful picks! Basically, I bought myself a Bar Mitzvah gift. I am pretty damn sure I'm the only female over thirty that bought this set for herself. (I hope I didn't destroy an eleven year old suburban boy's dream by buying the last one.) So I'm teaching myself to play and I've even told people about it. Hell, I even rocked the C Major scale for some co-workers. And no need to fret, Future Therapist, I'm sure there will be plenty of other unresolved issues for you to tackle...

Amenities of Room 833: Icy Hot for Sore Fingers. Soundproofed walls. And full length mirror for Rock Posturing.

Room 755: Bridal Expo

I'm not making this up. I went this past Saturday at the LA Convention Center. Now before you start congratulating me, just know that I did not have the little "Bride" sticker with the heart on it. I did my good friend duty and went with Krista who is getting married (We think...the ring has not yet materialized. Yes, I know but I'm taking her word for it). And to be honest, I was curious as hell. And she sold me with the "cake tasting" angle (Free Food! Poor Man's Mentality shows up again!). So besides the huge room of various DJ, flower, photog vendors, there was a cheesy fashion show (Where I assume old America's Next Top Model girls go when the show is over) as well as the Embarass the Poor Saps That Were Forced to Come Here With Their Fiance (Yes, they made three of these dudes get up on the catwalk and dance to the cackles and whistles of the ladies...I bowed my head in shame). Thankfully (I guess) all of that didn't last long because Susie Hanson's Salsa Band was setting up for another set and we left. (Another thankfully: Krista was not into all that tacky stuff. She had an agenda and some taste.) And the third thankfully? We were there on Saturday so we would miss the Sunday "Cake Dive". I'm so glad you asked. The Cake Dive is a contest where 5 lucky ladies are chosen to dig through a wedding cake for a $5000 prize (the rumor was that it was jewelry and I don't really wear jewelry and also I would want to eat the cake so...) No Cake Dive, alas. So I spent the day following Krista around and minding the brouchure bag. And also, marvelling A) the big business that is weddings and B) the big business that is cheap looking, tacky weddings. But hey, she bought me lunch (PMM is now a registered trademark)!

Amenities of Room 755: Room decor by The Veil Lady. Your initials in lights on the floor. Dried bridal bouquets adorning the window. Directions to the Elopement Room.

Room 1425: She's Crafty!

Decoupage. That's right, I said it! I bought two plant stands at TJ Maxx a few years ago and I decoupaged the shit out of them! Well, just the tops really. I have mad love for cutting pics out of magazines and making collages. I find it very soothing, weirdly enough. The scissors and glue of it all. I guess I didn't spend enough time in Kindergarten. Anyway, I took these plant stands and pasted down some pictures from travel magazines. SLAM! New furniture! I hope I can stop myself...
Crafts are such a weird beast. You can't force crafts on people. My mom and I tried to teach crafts to kids at church a few times and boy, they weren't havin' it. One actually tried to throw me off the second story of the church. (That's a long story...needless to say, I'm not fond of anyone named Antoinette.) You have to find your own crafts. Because as much as I like pretty paper and can wander for hours in a stationary store/office supply store, I can't imagine me ever scrapbooking. The thought of it makes my skin crawl. I associate scrapbooking with holiday themed sweaters. And I hate, hate, hate the "thought balloon" stickers that they sell to put on your snapshots for "hilarity". I never ever thought the phrase "Party on, dude!" in my head and certainly not when that picture was taken, so why are you making me out to look like an ass? Sorry folks. Apparently these things make me angry. Where are my scissors?

Amenities of Room 1425: Collage Wallpaper curtesy of Budget Travel and Entertainment Weekly. Scattered Glue Peelings. This is a No Thought Balloon Room.