Cuchi-Cuchi, but not in gross way...

It is my life long dream to meet Charo. No reason, I just love her.

The first time I went to Kauai I was SO excited because I heard she owned a restaurant there, really off the beaten path. I was DEFINITELY buying a t-shirt!! I also heard that when she was on the island, she'd totally hang out there... ("I might get to actually meet her!!") It wasn't until I arrived on the island that I found out she had recently closed her place... she no longer was there... I know it seems weird to be on Kauai and depressed over Charo's absence, but I kind of was... I was really looking forward to it.

Recently, Charo did a Sprint commercial both poking fun at herself and being as outrageous and dramatic as ever. It renewed my mission... TO MEET CHARO! I have set up the TicketMaster artist notification alert e-mails... but if ANYONE hears ANYTHING, let me know.

Confessions of a Prairie Bitch...

My partner Jon and I see a lot of theatre in L.A. This said, we do not see everything. I was bummed to recently miss the Nellie Olsens... an improv group whose show is literally in the basement the Mexican restaurant, Casita del Campo (in Silver Lake). The performance space is the Cavern Club Theater and SHOCKINGLY holds 61 people or so... I count every time I go there, amazed there are that many bodies crammed into such a small space. Oh- and you can drink there too!! Grab a margarita or a Corona (or both) on the way down (the stairs are just past the bar of the restaurant). There's also a bowl of candy at the base of the stairs.... my favorite: the flavored Tootsie Rolls (remember those!? Fruit Punch, etc.) I always dig for them.
Once, my buddy Mario and I went there to see the actress who ACTUALLY played Nellie Olsen (Alison Arngrim) on Little House (I live in L.A., so I drop "on the Prairie"). It was hysterical... she does stand up now for mainly gay audiences. Her father was Liberace's manager (swear to God) and her mother was the voice of Casper the Friendly Ghost. So suffice it say, she's knows her audience. The show started unexpectedly as I was, of course, digging for fruit punch Tootsie Rolls and had to run to my seat. In character as Nellie, she yelled at me to sit down! It terrified me. She later asked for a volunteer and I was "chosen" (uh... forced). The photo says it all...

Totally Artificial Beverage: TAB!

My new FAVORITE show is The Sarah Silverman Program on Comedy Central. It is the most politically incorrect show I've ever seen. THANK GOD. It's stealth in its offensiveness however. Racism, homophobia, antisemitism. etc., all point to the viewer. Are we laughing with the show, at the show, society, ourselves, farts? It's very grey and very blurred. Our protagonist, Sarah, is above all else, self-centered. The show is gaspingly funny and extremely realistic. I love it.

In a recent episode, the bearish gay couple get into a passive-aggressive war over TAB, the diet soda. Instead of just letting go, they spiral into a TAB vortex of their own making. It's outrageous and very relatable. They are the most realistic gay couple I've ever seen on television...and I watch a LOT of C-SPAN.

The image of the two guys trying to out-TAB each other reminded me of a first season episode of one of my favorite TV shows growing up: The Facts of Life. To say I wanted to be Blair Warner would be an understatement. I was her... Snotty, snobbish, superior and condescending. The problem was, no one in my 5th grade class knew it. Not Ms. Pelletreau, not my best friend Roland Dong, no one. I had to come out. They had to know the tallest boy in class whose mom worked as a teacher's aide in room 6, was a Warner.

Blair was rich. I, however, was not. Blair had been to Paris many times. I had been camping many times. Blair went to a private boarding school in upstate New York. I attended Dover Elementary in San Pablo (a tiny town in the San Francisco East Bay Area). Somehow I had to make them UNDERSTAND I was different. It had to be soon and it had to be tasteful, subtle...Blair-like.

One evening I was watching my beloved Facts of Life, desperately waiting for Blair's scene. She usually made a big entrance. Coiffed, decked out in burgundy corduroy knickers, she burst in on the others. Numerous shopping bags in tow, she dropped them and in one line, stole the show. I had my line for school the next day.

I woke up very early from the excitement (to this day I wake up early when excited or worried about something). I could barely eat my usual breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast with a glass of whole milk. I pushed said eggs around nervously sitting at my mom's oval, brown tinted glass coffee table. I'd sit with my legs crossed watching The Today Show on channel 4 until my mom proclaimed it was time to go. It was time. Throw the dishes in the sink ("We'll deal with those later!") and into the red Ford Fury with white vinyl top. We'd drop my sister off at East Bay Christian High School then double back to Dover. I felt like a million bucks!

All morning in class I couldn't decide when to say my witty, stolen line from the night before. Obviously I had to ENTER then say it. I also had to be exhausted for it to make sense. After lunch recess would be perfect. All I had to do is NOT blow it and use the line too early out of nervousness. I had to be patient. I wiggled in my chair like I had to go pee. This went on for 4 hours.

Finally, after lunch recess, the bell rang. The whistles blew, the balls were collected, the jump ropes wound up around forearms and elbows. The kids began to run to their respective classes. I held back. I walked very slowly and very smugly to Room 11. I had to convey an aire of aristocracy, world-weariness, and true exhaustion. I stumbled into class, late. My heart was racing as I staggered to my desk, collapsing into the chair with it's cubby-holed, wrap-around desk. All eyes were on me. I took in a DEEP breath and announced, "I’d give my VISA Card for a TAB!"

After a long, awkward silence, Ms. Pelletreau told the class to open our social studies books to chapter 23. Not a word was said in response to what I had said. By anyone. At all. Clearly the 10 and 11 year old students had no idea what a charge card was... but TAB!? Everyone knew that at least... Sure it was pink, sure it was "diet"... but it was a funny line. It should have killed! It had made me laugh all night with hope and envy and admiration. Clearly, they did not get it. Clearly they did not get me. Clearly, my fifth grade class was a pack of philistines…

I HATE Monkeys.

The moment I realized I hate monkeys was probably around 1998. I was watching a National Geographic special on India and they were showing the kind of toddler-sized, beige-ish monkeys with fangs... they were running around stealing things... with their human-like hands and shifty eyes. I almost started crying...okay I DID start crying... but just a little.
After seeing this horror show, I REALLY started to dwell on them. I figured, if they terrify me, I might as well think about them ALL the time... As I shared this newly discovered information with friends, they laughed in a kind of, "Isn't he cute" sort of way. A grown man brought to tears over the televised image of monkeys... adorable.
The next monkey-haunted year I traveled to Tokyo to visit my best "girl" friend Monica. We went to UC Davis together and literally became INSTANT friends. She had married a wealthy American living in Tokyo and moved there. This was to be my second visit to Japan to see her. She needed furniture for their new MASSIVE apartment larger than most suburban homes... so where else? Bali. I stayed a week in Tokyo then off to Hong Kong en route to Indonesia. As we got off the plane in Hong Kong, a woman in a Chanel suit stopped to gaze into the Gucci duty free shop. Then she burped. Not a polite little poot of burp, hand-covered with an embarrassed giggle, no... she literally let out a TGIFridays' Awesome Blossom Pitcher of Rolling Rock Frat Boy BURP. It was not unlike Homer Simpson's buddy Barney letting one rip at Moe's... "Welcome to China," Monica deadpanned.
After two INSANELY opulent nights at the Shangri-La hotel and the worst hangover of my life, we boarded the plane to Denpasar, Bali. Since I fly American Airlines and am Platinum, we were bumped up to first class. Thrilling, except for the fact that I still had a hangover. A very VERY serious hangover... After vomiting in the beautiful restroom (there were ORCHIDS on the counter) I felt much better... away we went!
Bali is BEAUTIFUL. It's everything it's supposed to be and more. Also, exotic, solid teak furniture is dirt cheap. We'd relax a few days then hit the furniture dealers. You secure a cargo container then run around town buying things. It's kind of just...handled. Very honest people (except for the ones who want to bomb you in nightclubs).
Our hotel lobby had the requisite brochures for activities, tours, etc. One immediately grabbed my attention, "Visit the Monkey Forest". UMM..................... I started to sweat a little, and by a little, I mean I looked like a pork chop. We went to the pool to drink. After a nice buzz I decided to go SEE the monkeys. Since I'd never actually encountered a monkey (EVER) It had to be psychosomatic, right? I'm sure if I saw them in person, I'd fall in LOVE with them, right? It would cure me of a self-induced paranoia that probably had something to do with my father...right?
Our driver, Maudi (or something like that) whisked us away to the monkey forest. The monkeys are worshipped as gods the literature stated. As it turns out, they are merely tolerated for tourism purposes... that's a BIG difference. We arrived at the site and it looked like a touristy flea market. Stalls with vendors, carts with candy, Coke, etc. I was starting to relax. Then, out of nowhere, I saw a monkey. A real-life, National Geographic monkey.. it was sitting eating little pieces of dried apple... from a plastic bag, with its hands. I almost passed out. "Are you okay...?" Monica asked tenderly. I took a deep breath and whispered something... we moved on. Next, we were met by a guide to walk us around. She was not at all armed as I thought she should have been. At the airport, guards had machineguns. She must have set hers down (they ARE heavy). I was sure she'd collect it when the tour began...right?
The deeper we went into the tourist attraction, the more monkeys we saw. I became more and more dizzy. We bought little treats to give them. My stress caused me to become VERY shiny. Stuck in my brain to this day is the image of a mother monkey, sitting with her legs crossed nursing her baby. Universal. Mother-love. BUT, in her free hand she was also holding, AND DRINKING a can of Coke. A monkey. The can was as big as her head which only helped to further disorient me. I had to file it away and move on.
We heard screaming. I stopped realizing it was a teenage girl, being a teenage girl. A monkey had jumped from a branch onto her shoulders and was teasing her..."Gotcha!" She was screaming bloody-murder. It was over-the-top and ridiculous... priceless. The one thing that really seems to help a stressful, frightened situation is feeling superior to otheres. I was immediately better and actually kind of laughing...AT her, not WITH her. "Stupidass" I snorted. Then a monkey pounced on MY shoulders.
All time stopped. I was SO confused as to what had happened. Was I getting mugged? There was clearly a man on my back... a heavy man. Then I saw the tail and felt its hands pulling my hair. It was pulling my hair and screeching in my ear. Our guide SPRANG to my defense. She, in fact, DID have a weapon. A Kleenex. One sheet. She waved it half-heartedly at the monkey commanding, "Shoo monkey, shoo. Shoo monkey, shoo". I wanted to KILL her. If the tables were turned, I'd defend her from a vicious attack. Monica laughed HYSTERICALLY. She laughed and took PHOTOS. I was literally whimpering. And Crying. "Get it off...get it off...get it off..." Finally it sprang off. The force of it's kickoff was unreal. They are very strong and very muscular. I was very small and very weak.
We hurried back to the car and got back to the hotel... to say I was merely teased by the monkey would be a huge injustice to both me and victims of assault around the world. We quickly changed and jumped into the pool... thank GOD it had one of those cheesy swim-up bars. We swam RIGHT up. As the bartender made our drinks, he casually asked what we had done that day. When we said we went to see the monkeys he stopped cold, mid cocktail shaker shake. "Monkeys are VERY dirty," he whispered. "Yes they are," I thought. Yes they are.

Paparazzi Starbucks

Sometimes... okay EVERY time, I leave Starbuck's I have a weird fantasy that I'm being observed by photographers THEN secretly photographed to appear in either US Weekly or the Star... "Leaving a Local LA Starbuck's, Eric looks spring-like in his Juicy Couture Lime Tracksuit!" This fantasy also happens (and in fact BEGAN at) the Los Feliz Coffee Bean on Hillhurst. I used to see Gwen Stefani there (a LOT) getting a latte and I think that's where the "fantasy" began. What a pain in the ASS it must be to have someone recording your EVERY coffee purchase... poor starlettes....
Back to me... I almost ALWAYS head back to my car, iced latte in tow with a knowing smirk that SOMEWHERE in the parking lot, a photographer is ready to POUNCE on my image. GOT IT. Run back home, upload to the service... Eric's image for the MASSES...

One day... one day...

Into the Breeches...

The most rewarding aspect of being a year-round, inner-city public school teacher is by far the look of glee on the teachers faces as we leave for our two month breaks (we get TWO a year). So for those of you who are bad at math... that's FOUR months off a year (with Christmas and holidays, it's closer to 4.75 months off a year... paid). Well actually, our pay is defered so it's my money spread over 12 months. All I know is I can access my pay via ATM anywhere in the world thanks to electronic deposit.
Today I did nothing. Nada. Zilch. Well I did do some laundry, but my heart was not in it. I phoned it in. Fabric softener? You bet. Pulling the laundry out snuggling it, eyes squinty, deep inhalation? Not today. No, today I was lazy. I was functioning, but lazy. I made and took some calls. I surfed the web (hate that term). Had a sandwich (turkey and cheddar). It was beautiful.
Back to the surfing-of the internet variety. The internet not ONLY supports Joycean stream-of-consciousness, tangential thinking.... it also can really keep you connected to people in your life. I'm not talking about the people you see everyday: "Dude that was SO funny today LOL" or "WTF, pass the peas..." No, I'm talking about reconnecting with people you truly love but just lose contact with. It happens. Life happens. YEARS happen. The beauty of friendship though, is that NO time passes. Nothing changes. Love it. Doubleplusgood. Oh- I also talked to some girl named Traci... something about Fresno... Love you Traci! ;-)

The Proverbial Bone